As promised, here you have a fast update. This is going to be one intense ride, so please attach to your seat belts or to whatever you can.
Many thanks to my beta reader iratepirate. She revised this chapter the very same day I sent it to her, so I take it she liked it.
No more preambles. I hope you enjoy this update, my favorite of this story so far.
Chapter 14
A flying car! How droll
At first sight, it looked like a giant chess game in its final stage. On one side, there were the winged ones, standing straight with their pair of extra limbs pointing towards the sky. And there were also the ones with wheels, more like scattered through the junkyard than actually aligned in any kind of formation. Both Kings were dangerously close; one cautious, the other one deadly.
"Is there a reason why I should fear an ambush, Motormaster?" Silverbolt asked, keeping his optics on Dead End, who was leaning on a pile of shattered automobiles, visibly distant from his group.
"It's natural that you talk about fear. You have been scared all your life," Motormaster responded cruelly.
Silverbolt's face hardened, but the gears of self-control were certainly working inside his frame. "Where's Breakdown?"
Motormaster cast a glance toward the two Aerialbots positioned behind their leader. "Babysitting, just as your missing teammate."
"What's Air Raid's status?"
"Alive."
"That's not what I asked, Motormaster."
The tension between both was escalating. It wouldn't take too long for one of the sides to make a move.
The Stunticon leader smirked. "Drag Strip! Was the Aerialbot scum complete when we left him?"
From his place behind Motormaster, Drag Strip laughed, a sound he seemed to like. "That depends. Does having his wings torn out count as complete?"
"You fraggin' psycho!" Skydive said, taking a step forward and subspacing his Nega-gun.
"Stay where you are, Skydive!" Silverbolt contained his teammate before addressing Motormaster again with a trembling fist. "Do you think this is a game?"
Motormaster shook his head slowly, the gesture emanating nothing but superiority. "Fortunately for you it's not, otherwise I would've already won it."
The board seemed to close around the Aerialbots, the Stunticons gaining an important advantage without moving a single square.
"We didn't harm Wildrider," Silverbolt stated seriously.
"Your mistake," Motormaster spat. "You should try and see what happens. He's not that easy to harm."
"I don't want to do it! Can you please understand that all I want is to restore things as they were? I want Air Raid back!"
Silverbolt's little outburst seemed to have an effect on Motormaster, or at least managed to erase his smirk.
"What's your suggestion, then? You talk too much but you only manage to come up with the same slag."
"I…" Silverbolt hesitated. "I was hoping there could be a way to reverse the procedure…"
Motormaster pointed his finger towards his rival. "I thought about that the single moment this entire fraggin' curse started! What do I need you for? Stay out of my way, that's something you can do, and return Wildrider to me or I'll make you do it! I may be generous and return your glitch of a teammate in less than five pieces."
Silverbolt stepped forward. "There's no way I'm going to allow you to hurt our brother! And whatever procedure you are thinking of, we are going to be part of it, make no mistake about tha—"
Silverbolt was propelled towards the floor, the mark of Motormaster's fist still smoking on his face.
"Aerialbots, stand down!" he cried when he felt his teammates on the edge of pouncing toward his aggressor. He got on one knee and looked at Motormaster, who had folded his arms across his chest. "I thought we had agreed to a truce."
"Oh, and the truce still stands," Motormaster replied, smirking, "otherwise you and your teammates would be junk by now."
"I see," Silverbolt stood up and rubbed his cheek plates. "I should have guessed you would try to solve things like this. You don't know any other way."
"Is there any other way at all?"
"Not any you would even try to listen to. Alright, you have my attention, Motormaster. What's your suggestion?"
"You and I fight," Motormaster said bluntly. "The winner takes all, the loser retreats and waits."
"Takes all? You mean both Air Raid and Wildrider?"
"You are not as stupid as you look, Aerialbot."
Silverbolt remained silent for a moment. "Fine… I accept."
"Did you lose a bolt?" Skydive complained immediately. "You can't solve something as delicate as this with some brutish duel! Air Raid's life it's at stake!"
"Silverbolt, you may want to reconsider…" Fireflight almost pleaded.
"When I said stand down I meant it, Aerialbots," Silverbolt said severely before addressing his enemy again. "Remember that your honour is on the line, Motormaster, in case you are considering failing your word."
"Honour is the last thing you should worry about," Motormaster said, one second before attacking with devastating force.
The sounds of battle were always bringers of joy – of course, when they didn't imply his own pain or any kind of damage to his polished finish. Drag Strip chuckled to himself as he saw Motormaster and Silverbolt clashing in the middle of the junkyard, such a pleasant sight indeed. Hopefully they would tear each other to pieces, and neither he nor Dead End would have to lift a finger to give their leader a proper funeral ceremony. They were already in a waste disposal place after all.
The fight seemed uneven. Motormaster was bigger and stronger than the Aerialbot, but Drag Strip didn't lose hope. The Autobots always had tricks up their sleeves, and hopefully fate would show the Aerialbot its good face. Then Drag Strip would kill the Autobot, rescue Wildrider and become the new leader of the Stunticons. Beautiful.
Still savoring the honey of anticipated glory, Drag Strip opened a private channel on his comm link. "Hey, Dead End."
"Mm," the indifferent response came after a moment.
"Who do you think will win?"
"Who cares?"
"Ten energon cubes on the Aerialbot, and my Need for Speed games."
"Big deal. Ten energon cubes is nothing, and I don't like videogames."
"Okay, what do you want then?"
"What do you want to lose? It's obvious that the Aerialbot has nothing against Motormaster."
"So you say— whoa!"
"I'll rephrase. What do you want to lose besides your head? Silverbolt almost separated it from your body."
Drag Strip stepped back and shook the dust from his legs as the fallen Aerialbot got to his feet and returned to his fight. "Mmph, he can consider himself lucky that he's fighting Motormaster and not me… yet. Besides, I'm sure Motormaster threw him in my direction on purpose!"
"I don't think Motormaster gives you that kind of importance."
"He's always been jealous of me!"
"Whatever you say, Drag Strip."
The sound of metal denting and a very familiar voice groaning in pain indicated that the Aerialbot was no weakling. "See?" Drag Strip insisted through the comm link. "I knew that Autobot had something up his sleeve!"
"Well, you don't expect him to stay still as Motormaster destroys him, do you?"
"Let's just hope the fragger doesn't subspace his sword or the Aerialslag is history—" Drag Strip froze as a third Stunticon entered his private channel with Dead End.
"Dead End, Drag Strip!"
"Yes? Shouldn't you be focusing your attention on your current fight, Motormaster? The Autobot is proving to be stronger than he looked," Dead End said.
"Shut the frag up and be ready to take down the two remaining Aerialscums. I want them offlined and secured, got it?"
Drag Strip sneered. "You want us to attack the Aerialbots? What about the truce and your, heh, what did the Autobot say… honour?"
"Just see it done!" Motormaster ordered before ending the communication on his side whilst he tackled Silverbolt at the same time.
"That will go straight to his paintjob," Dead End said flatly.
"Whose paintjob?" Drag Strip scowled. "Okay, I'll take care of the goodie-good one. Skydive is all yours."
Drag Strip had chosen the easiest rival. He was aware that Dead End knew that, but didn't mind either. Certainly his pessimistic teammate was thinking that, at the end, the outcome would be the same. No matter how many times the Stunticons fought their sworn enemies, one day it would be the last one.
A nearby explosion shook Dead End, who was forced to break his still posture to cover himself from the debris.
"What were you saying about losing heads?" Drag Strip mocked, this time using his vocalizer.
Dead End made good use of the annoying cloud of dust and smoke around him and prepared his laser cannon. "I guess we have our orders," he said through the comm link, not being able to repress the slight tingle of embarrassment that circulated through the Gestalt bond and which naturally didn't go unnoticed by Drag Strip.
"'kay, Dead End, here's how this will go: I'll sneak through that shed over there whilst you attack your Aerialbot slag. I'll cover your back and take down Fireflight at the same time." Oh, how he loved to give orders. It suited him just fine.
Static in the comm channel exposed Dead End's hesitation. "I fail to see the logic in such plan."
"What? But it's kind of obvious! Look, the thing is that we will slag both Aerialbots, okay? Now see it done!" Drag Strip ended the communication, satisfied with his natural leadership skills. He had been built to command, there was no mistake about that. It was just a matter of time because he showed who the real leader of the Stunticons was.
He made his way through the piles of rusted metal and found the shed, which looked more like a giant tin can made of spare parts. He sneaked carefully through the entrance, keeping his optical visor occupied on his own paint job instead of what was ahead. That's why he was sincerely surprised when he found the Aerialbot Skydive standing on the other side.
"Going somewhere? The fight hasn't finished," the winged glitch greeted him.
Drag Strip cursed. He was supposed to fight Fireflight, not Skydive!
Still, he managed to sneer. "Yeah, suddenly I had the urgency to lubricate my valves. You know, when you have to do it, you have to do it. Mind giving me some privacy here or do you want to take a look?"
Skydive didn't seem amused. "The fate of both our Gestalts is being decided out there, so please return to your seat. You don't want to miss the show."
Drag Strip looked over his shoulder. "Who's winning, by the way?"
Skydive folded his arms across his chest. "Who do you think?"
Of course that Drag Strip would have liked to see Motormaster's aft plates handed to him, but he had the honour of his team to protect. "Motormaster, obviously. He will make Aerialbot soup with your bot."
"That is yet to be seen," Skydive scowled. "Now get back. I'm not going to repeat it."
The Aerialbot's tone of voice awakened the always rebellious side of Drag Strip. "Was that an order? I don't take orders from Autobots."
"Take it as you want, just do as I say or there will be trouble. I have no quarrels against having our own private little fight in here."
Drag Strip considered his enemy's words. Of course he was willing for a fight, he was always willing for a fight. But it was one thing to ambush a stupid Autobot and other to have a fully prepared rival ready to mess with his paintjob.
"Okay…" he finally said, turning around and trying to sound resigned. "Guess my valves have to wait."
"I'd say so," he heard the voice behind him.
Closer, closer… Foolish Autobot, you should know better than to walk behind me.
Gravito-gun already in hand, Drag Strip turned around as fast he could and shot. Skydive was impacted point blank on the chest, and was immediately propelled upwards only to meet the hard surface of the ceiling, accompanied by a ton of junk.
"Did you enjoy your flight?" Drag Strip laughed, seeing his enemy returning brutally to the ground. "I hope you did, 'cause I'm going to send you all the way back to Cybertron!"
He pointed his weapon towards the fallen Aerialbot and congratulated himself for his good luck. Explosions outside could be heard as well, which meant that Motormaster was taking the fight to a serious level, or that Dead End had decided to engage the remaining Aerialbot. But none of that mattered. Drag Strip was about to finish one of his sworn rivals and that's what mattered. Perhaps he wouldn't make it to leader of the Stunticons that day, but still there was a good amount of glory for him to collect. He could imagine Megatron praising him for his achievement, maybe promoting him…
"Uh, you'd better not do that," he heard a voice to his left, a very familiar voice.
He turned to the sound of the voice and almost dropped his Gravito-gun when he saw Wildrider standing very close to him.
Drag Strip's mouth plates had never been so stretched. Surprise, happiness, confusion, excitement… all together pounding in his unstable spark.
"Where the slag did you come from?" was all he managed to say. He couldn't believe it. Wildrider was there!
Wildrider broke optic contact with him and walked toward the Aerialbot, who was sprawled over the debris with his optics off. "I made a door," Wildrider said, pointing toward a hole in a wall.
Drag Strip was so overjoyed that he almost didn't notice when Wildrider knelt before Skydive and slowly rolled him over.
"But how did you— Ah, who cares? What matters is that you're here! I can't fraggin' believe it!"
The first dot of mud appeared in Drag Strip's excitement. Wildrider didn't seem to share his happiness. He wasn't even looking at him. He was still kneeling beside Skydive, looking at the scorch mark on his chest plates.
"Care to finish that Aerialbot scum and join the fight out there? Wait till Dead End sees you… and Breakdown. He's at the base right now but I bet he'll be thrilled. Heh, race you to the Nemesis when we're done here. I'll give you an advantage, how about that? And… and I'll let you use my polishing wax, all of it if you want. Oh, and you're not gonna believe this, but Motormaster was really worried about you. I could notice!"
Wildrider didn't react. Now that was just becoming unnerving. It was as if Drag Strip hadn't spoken at all. All that seemed to exist in Wildrider's world was that wound on the slagging Autobot's chest.
"Wildrider," Drag Strip said carefully.
Wildrider finally looked at him. "Mm?"
"Why aren't you shooting the Aerialfrag to pieces?"
The question seemed to surprise Wildrider as well.
Drag Strip snorted and tightened his grip on his Gravito-gun. "Never mind. I'll do it myself. Get out of the way!"
Wildrider didn't move.
"Didn't you hear me? Move, slaggit!"
Wildrider looked from Drag Strip to the offlined Aerialbot. "You shouldn't do that… Nope, not a good idea at all."
Drag Strip threw his patience to the Pit. "What the slag is wrong with you? Did those Aerialbots remove your struts or what?"
"I… I just think you shouldn't hurt him, that's all."
Drag Strip felt his denta plates gritting. Why wasn't Wildrider happy to see him? They have been away for very disturbing days, and now that they were together again Wildrider didn't seem to care. And why was he so worried about the Pit-face Aerialbot? Drag Strip scowled, jealousy making its way through his overworked processor, opening wounds but offering no explanations.
"And why shouldn't I hurt him?" he heard himself saying, his voice sounding more rancorous than ever.
Wildrider shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. It just feels wrong."
"I'm getting really tired of this!" Drag Strip spat, taking one sonorous step forward. "If you are not going to do this, stay out of my way! I'll show this Autobot slag what my Gravito-gun can do!"
Wildrider seemed more and more like a stranger. He looked from Skydive to Drag Strip again. "Drag, come on… I can't let you do that, you know that, don't you?"
The fact that Wildrider had called him by the familiar name in which he used to address him only infuriated Drag Strip more. A very different feeling should have been operating after such familiarity, but there was something so distant, foreign in the way he had said it…
Still, Drag Strip made his best effort to give his voice a cold tone. "Oh yeah? And what are you going to do to stop me?"
Drag Strip prepared himself for a fight. He was eager for a fight. It wouldn't be the first time in which he and Wildrider exchanged punches, only that this time he would have to do it a little bit more seriously, that was all. He needed to return Wildrider to his senses as soon as possible and then they could go home.
But Wildrider didn't seem to be in the mood to start a fight. The entire Universe collapsed around Drag Strip when the mech that had been closer to him in his entire life leaned over the Aerialbot enemy and covered him with his body.
"Okay, shoot now."
"What... are you doing? Why are you doing it?"
Wildrider shook his head slightly, both of his hands besides Skydive's helm. "I don't know…"
Drag Strip couldn't believe it. He felt insulted, stepped on as if all the Gestalt robots together were using him as the ball of a very cruel basketrek game. He put both of his hands around his gun and forced himself to remain steady.
"You brought this on yourself, Wildrider."
And he shot.
Aim, aim… Never in his life had Drag Strip been so careful with that issue. He felt very tempted to target the Aerialbot's head, but that increased the possibilities of hitting Wildrider as well. And as much as he wanted to shoot his blasted brother in that moment, he chose the ground instead, close enough to send Wildrider flying, but not to harm him.
His calculations proved to be wrong when the impact of his Gravito-gun sent both Wildrider and Skydive spiraling through another self-made entrance, bringing the shed down in the process, along with Drag Strip's hope.
Entangled in a deadly embrace, Silverbolt and Motormaster stopped struggling the moment two shaken bodies fell in the middle of the junkyard, sent there by a powerful energy that made fun of gravity.
Not only them, but also Fireflight and Dead End – who hadn't moved from their respective places – stared astonished at the newcomers.
"Now this is unexpected," Dead End said, being the first one in overcome the initial surprise.
One of the two fallen Transformers didn't remain motionless, though. Wildrider got to one knee and looked instinctively towards his right, where Silverbolt had disengaged from Motormaster's grip. Wildrider didn't even look at his former leader.
"I think he's hurt," he said simply, as if the future of two Gestalt teams were not being decided in that bare moment.
Fireflight hurried to get to his damaged teammate's side, but a bolt of energy coming from Motormaster's sword stopped him before he could reach his objective.
"You stay where you are, Aerialbot! The same goes to you!" Motormaster roared, pointing his sword towards Silverbolt before returning his attention to Wildrider. "You idiot! If you had already managed to escape from the Autobots you could have radioed me and spared me from this circus!"
Wildrider didn't seem to understand. It was as if he was noticing Motormaster's presence for the first time. "I didn't escape. They kinda, uh, let me go."
Motormaster narrowed his optics, considering the words only to disregard them almost immediately. "Whatever. Now finish that Aerialbot and get back in formation!"
Wildrider kept his empty stare whilst Motormaster's sword remained pointed at Silverbolt, who didn't seem in a hurry to intervene.
"Are you fraggin' deaf? I said kill him!"
The tension stretched to its limit, as well as the silence. A metal panel that had remained standing after the collapse of the shed chose that precise moment to crash, although none of the Transformers present paid the slightest attention to it.
Motormaster stepped forward, his optics vomiting fire. "I gave you an order, Wildrider! KILL THE AUTOBOT SCUM!"
"He won't do it," Silverbolt calmly said. "And you know the reason as well as I do."
"You…" Motormaster said, trembling in pure rage. "This is your fault! Yours and your team's! Whatever you did to Wildrider you will pay for right now with your fraggin' lives!"
Motormaster raised his sword but before he could do anything a round of laser fire snatched it from his fingers. All the optics went upwards, where Slingshot floated in mid air, his Neutron-rifle aimed at the Stunticon leader.
"You may want to reconsider who pays and who charges, Motormouth!" he said. "You and your team are outnumbered."
Motormaster cast a frantic glance behind him, where Dead End and Drag Strip were standing with the most idiotic looks they had ever had. But almost immediately rage took the shape of an evil smirk on the features of the Stunticon leader.
"Outnumbered?" he hissed. "I always knew you were an idiot, Aerialbot, but I'm surprised you can't make a simple addition. We are four Stunticons."
Slingshot snorted. "You are the one with a fried central processor. I see five Aerialbots here, which means my team is complete."
Motormaster seemed to become bigger, confident in his victory on all accounts. "There is only one member of my team missing, one, but we can perfectly function without him. The time has come to correct whatever slag happened in our Gestalt. Watch and die, Autoscum! STUNTICONS, TRANSFORM AND MERGE INTO MENASOR!"
"Wait!" Dead End said, exercising for the first time the abilities of shouting and running towards his leader, two skills that not even himself knew he had. Something very serious was happening if even the unbreakable was being broken.
Motormaster stared in awe at the normally reserved Dead End, who was grabbing him by the arm in another excess that Dead End would have never conceded. Not until the current day.
"We can't merge…" Dead End said, fear tingling his voice. "There's only three of us… there's no way—"
Dead End hit the ground heavily when Motormaster backhanded him, but he wasn't the receiver of Motormaster next words.
"Transform and merge, Wildrider. NOW!"
Wildrider looked from one leader to the other one, a child lost in a sand box looking for any glimpse of reality.
Motormaster advanced threateningly. "Didn't you hear me, you fraggin' idiot? TRANSFORM! Return to Menasor and end this fragging joke!"
"I can't," Wildrider finally spoke.
Motormaster seized Wildrider by the neck so fast that nobody had time to react. "What do you mean you can't? You will return to Menasor right now, do you understand?"
Wildrider didn't try to release himself, his body brutally shaken by the desperation of the one mech who wantedhim back more than anything he had ever wanted.
"I can't…" he said again, once Motormaster's grip on his neck plates allowed him to speak again. "I wouldn't know how to do it. I guess I forgot it."
Motormaster was paralyzed, the fluids inside his frame freezing by the action of a nightmare that would give him no release. He didn't even react when a red dot positioned itself on his head.
"If you're done with your rant you should let him go, unless you wanna lose that ugly head of yours, that is," Skydive said, already recovered from the attack of Drag Strip and pointing firmly towards Motormaster's helm with his Nega-gun.
But Motormaster heard nothing, he even forgot about whoever else was present in that anonymous junkyard that had become his own descent to hell. At that moment, only he and Wildrider existed, his grip on his former teammate burning due to the red-hot line dividing them.
His confusion consumed him, but not immobility. With an animalistic growl that came from the deepest part of his spark and that his vocalizer failed to contain, he threw Wildrider aside and transformed into his alt mode, an eighteen wheel, black Kenworth truck roaring deception and betrayal.
He charged Wildrider with all the potency of his engine, his instincts set to kill. Wildrider didn't move, tacitly accepting a fate he hadn't chosen. He didn't even react when Silverbolt tackled him and saved him from being crushed.
"Stop this madness, Motormaster!" the Aerialbot leader cried. "We didn't come here to fight!"
Motormaster braked thunderously only to charge against his target again. "You came here to die!" Although directly responding to Silverbolt's words, everybody knew that the threat hadn't been meant for him.
Silverbolt closed his arms around Wildrider's waist and activated his thrusters, leaving the ground and once again avoiding being rammed.
Motormaster braked again and transformed back to his robot mode. "Stunticons, kill the Aerialbots! All of them!"
Drag Strip and Dead End looked at each other, impossible to say which one was more confused, but when Motormaster started to shoot randomly they seemed to understand that they would be included on the casualties list if they didn't put their weapons into motion.
"Hold your fire, Aerialbots, and take cover!" Silverbolt commanded, noticing how Dead End and Drag Strip were keeping him and Wildrider out of their shooting range. Motormaster, however, seemed to have only one target, so Silverbolt hurried to get out of his reach.
"Last warning, Motormaster!" he said after he had gained some altitude, height not disturbing him for the first time in his life. "Lower your weapons or extreme measures will be taken!"
When his words found nothing but deaf, infuriated audio receptors, Silverbolt knew that Motormaster wouldn't stop until his blind rage found any satisfaction, that he would die to punish the ultimate betrayal, and that he would have no problems in leading his teammates to the same fate. It was in Silverbolt's hands to avoid it.
"Aerialbots, unite and transform into Superion!"
"NO!" Motormaster roared. "You will ruin it all!"
Motormaster's ultimate plea found no echoes. The trigger had been activated and the Aerialbot Gestalt bond was not to be stopped.
Drag Strip fell to his knees, a groan of pain leaving his vocalizer as his two teammates turned into statues of steel at his sides. Seeing Wildrider merging into Superion so naturally and graciously was the ultimate proof of a defeat the Stunticons would never be ready to handle.
Dead End hurried to retreat, dragging his kneeling teammate with him. Motormaster didn't move an inch, didn't even try to avoid the giant arm that literally swept him and buried him within a mountain of piled cars.
"STUNTICONS, SURRENDER," Superion said, his voice displaying a new harmonic that hadn't been there some days before.
"We are doomed… we are doomed I tell you…" Drag Strip mumbled, trembling in Dead End's arms.
For once, Dead End's processor wasn't occupied by fatalist thoughts concerning the unavoidable destiny that awaited him. "Why, Wildrider?" was all he managed to say in very low voice.
The sound of engines added to the already surreal panorama. The Autobots Prowl, Bluestreak and Jazz arrived and transformed into their bipedal forms.
"We have much to discuss about this unauthorized operation, Aerialbots," Prowl said, before addressing Jazz and Bluestreak. "Immobilize the Stunticons and take them into custody."
Dead End and Drag Strip didn't attempt to defend themselves when the Autobots advanced towards them. They were two empty shells, their youth and inexperience showing them exactly how raw a war then never fully understood could be.
But confusion was to be the only winner that day. Gravel started to float as a high sound pierced the air.
"Aarrrgh! What is that?" Bluestreak cried, falling to his knees and uselessly trying to protect his audio receptors with his hands.
Five small figures assumed a battle formation around their master, immune to the destructive sound waves that threatened to deafen everything around.
"Autobots: retreat. Combat protocol: unintended," the newcomer said coldly, stopping his sound attack.
Prowl was already analyzing the situation, somehow seeing his intentions mirrored in those of the newest addition to the twisted scheme the Aerialbots and the Stunticons had created.
"Combat isn't my intention either, Soundwave," he said, rivaling his enemy's lack of emotions. "But violent events have taken place and it's my duty to intervene."
"Intervention: unnecessary. Stunticons and Aerialbots had agreed to a truce."
"A truce that your comrades in arms had no trouble in breaking," Prowl added calmly.
"Mistake: reversible. Truce remains. Retreatment: recommended."
"That could be arranged, if you are willing to do the same."
"Affirmative."
Prowl made a head signal to Jazz, who seemed to read through all the lines spoken. Bluestreak looked like he didn't even know where he was standing, but remained silent whilst the Aerialbots disengaged from Superion and returned to their root modes, four of them tormented by their own betrayal.
Soundwave ignored Dead End and Drag Strip and walked toward the junk piled over the fallen King of the Road. His extended arm was greeted by five gray, dented fingers. Motormaster emerged from the debris with a blank expression on his face, all traces of his rage vanished.
Despite his defeat, he stood straight, clinging to the one thing he had left: his pride. But it wasn't pride that made him cast a last glance towards Wildrider, whose optics were also attached to him.
Soundwave didn't speak, but still Motormaster could hear him inside his head as clear as only truth could be.
"Wildrider: lost."
The two words kept drilling Motormaster's processor long after he activated his anti gravitational system and got lost within the last sunrays of the day. Dead End and Drag Strip followed in silence.
To be continued.
Okay, with this chapter we end our little travel to the past we took two chapters ago. After this turn of events, things will change drastically both in the Ark and the Nemesis.
Who do you think took the lowest hit during this chapter? I have my personal favorite, but I won't tell :oP But yeah, I'm feeling very bad for him…