CHAPTER TWO

Slog's Domain

The feared foursome was deep inside Slog's well-equipped living quarters, located in a particularly damp part of the city. Bristleback, known for his use of foul language, was cursing to himself about some prior altercation with a native. He was always angry and aggressive, no matter how well things may actually be going. His teammates often turned a deaf ear to his constant string of complaints, keeping him around only for his impressive fighting skills. His weapon of choice was a rapid-fire electrostatic pulse rifle... a pretty long name for something he proudly refers to as his "stun gun".

Birdbrain is a unique Pretender. While most enjoy and even relish the fact they have, in essence, a 'double' in battle, Birdbrain did not. Due to his sensors only working a third of the time, he had grown to hate his outer shell. He also suffers from a slight delay in his vocal compartment, earning him mocking laughter from his comrades. They think he suffers from sub-standard intelligence, but he suffers no such ailment. A double-barreled laser rifle is always in his hand while in robot mode. The beak located on his Pretender shell can cut through pretty much anything.

Reptiles fascinate Iguanus, and luckily for him Dag is home to several species. On his personal time, he's been seen staring at his reflection and admiring his outer shell. He has taken his appreciation so far as to imitate reptilian behavior and attack tactics. Of the four Pretenders, he stands as the most powerful and combat ready. His shell's optics contains hypno-beams, which can allow him to control his targets to a degree. His air-blaster sidearm is extremely forceful, able to generate winds of hurricane levels. Internal mechanisms generate equilibrium distorting effects that strikes his targets with intense vertigo, leaving them wide open for a savage hands-on beating.

Finally, there is the owner of the dwelling. Slog is both feared and respected for his specialskills. He turns his victims into works of art in an effort to honor their memory. These twisted pieces of broken warriors filled every empty space in his domain. He was also known for his sculptors and art pieces depicting the glory of the Decepticon Empire and its leaders, most notably Megatron and Onslaught- commander of the Combaticons. Being an artist allows Slog to view the war differently than his comrades, as he openly wonders about the lives lost in battle, both Decepticons and Autobots.

"I grow tired of this waiting," Bristleback growled. "When do we get to blow things up?" The ground assault Pretender was hardly known for his patience. "When?"

Iguanus, the terror trooper, and Birdbrain, the aerial attack trooper, echoed their teammate's enthusiasm. "This planet is rich in energon and poor in defenses," Iguanus stated.

"We attack when I say so," Slog sternly announced. "This is a new dawning for the Decepticon Empire. Gone are the days of thoughtless attacks that only led to failure. Combat is an art," he continued. "And art takes small, soft strokes until the picture is complete."

"Actually," a voice called out from the distance, startling the gathered Pretenders," Combat is nothing like art, it is a destructive force that cannot be contained." The owner of the voice entered the room, garnering a sudden salute from the others. "And we attack when I say so."

"Roadblock!" Slog stated with a hint of both surprise and aggravation. It had been a long time since the infamous Ground Forces Commander made an appearance. Most thought him to be dead, and many more wished it. "What are you doing here on Dag?"

Roadblock approached Slog slowly, each step rich in authority and purpose. He knew no fear, and zero compassion for those who showed weakness in his presence. "I'm taking over this little battalion of yours to ensure victory." Strapped to his legs, for all to see, were two plasma blasters. As he walked ever closer to Slog, a stray light bounced off their handles making them glisten like two deadly diamonds. "My partners and I are very interested in your operation, and we plan to use it to re-establish a true Decepticon Empire... with us as its leaders!"

"Partners?" Slog asked. "What partners?"
"In due time," Roadblock answered. "But first, we make preparations."

City of Caltraxx...

Wheeljack and his band of Autobots reached their agreed upon contact site. To the uninitiated, the building looked little more than a death trap waiting for an excuse to collapse. Even the local 'empties' found it unsafe for shelter. This of course made it a perfect place to prepare an offensive strike.

A hidden passageway within the crumbling structure led to a much more stable area beneath the foundation. It had the unexpected luxury of modern essential necessities, primarily power to run and maintain a moderate computer console. Whirl and Roadbuster were hard at work mapping out various strategies and scenarios, while Bluestreak was busy taking inventory of their weapons supply. "Quite the set-up you have here," Windcharger said. "All the comforts of home."

"It gets the job done," Roadbuster answered, leaving Whirl on his own and walking over to greet Wheeljack properly. "Been a while, old-timer."

Wheeljack nodded in agreement. "Yes it has. I wish our little reunion was under more... optimistic circumstances."

"It's the way of the beast," Roadbuster stated. "Peace is a fragile creature. You know as well as I do, there can be no true peace as long as a single Decepticon functions. Us gathering here today is proof of that fact."

"How long have you guys been using this place?" Windcharger shouted, still in awe of the make shift base. Nobody bothered to offer up an answer.

Trailbreaker stood behind Whirl and glanced at the data he was overlooking. "Any idea on where or when these Pretender scum are going to make their move?"

"Our informant tells us they plan to attack Outer Drek in two days," Roadbuster answered. "After claiming that as their stronghold, it doesn't matter where they go next. From that position, and with the amount of energy and weaponry stock piled there... nothing we could do would be able to shut them down."

"So we hit them before they hit Outer Drek?" Bumblebee asked, himself not quite as impressed with their surroundings as fellow minibot Windcharger.

"That's the plan," Bluestreak replied. "Hit 'em hard and hit 'em good!"

Wheeljack tensed up a bit after hearing of an informant. The only one he knew Roadbuster to use was not on his list of good personal friends. "Your informant," he said. "You don't mean that pile of slag Ramjet, do you?"

"That's the one," Roadbuster answered.
"You know how I feel about that leech," Wheeljack complained.

Roadbuster and Ramjet, while engaged in a vicious battle many years ago, crashed on a hostile planet. They formed an uneasy alliance and put aside their differences, working together to survive the incident. Since that time, the two shared a common respect and called upon the other for aid every great once in a while.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me using him any more," Roadbuster said. "He's dead now."

"Dead?" Windcharger chimed in from across the room.
"Blasted to bits in the crossfire of two local gangs." The words were void of emotion.

Wheeljack stood silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry," was all he could come up with.

"Don't be," Roadbuster coldly replied. "It's the way of the beast."