"So, care to explain this? Hawk?" Asks Iris Lynson, a tall, elegantly clothed woman currently hand waving around a half opened file in front of her coworker, one Dr. Marcus Hawk. Both of them are the only remaining employees of Lightning Tech after a recent massive downsizing/automation/culling all courtesy of their frankly insane boss, Jack Spectrum.
"Just read the whole file, Iris. It will explain it better than I can. Even better then Varsha will as well." Hawk writes off as he collapses back in his swivel chair. The man brings his hands to his face and groans as Iris flips through the rest of the file.
"Does Jack know? Who is this Agent Fowler? Why am I involved?" Iris shouts.
"Of course I know! One of my own employees is an alien from outer space. Don't worry about any collateral damage you cause and I pay for won't exceed the profits I'll generate from all that robot tech tinkering away inside you!?" Bursts Jack, a slender and sharply featured man compressed into a brillant blue suit.
"Agent Fowler is our government contact and representative. I do not know who they are, it changes every few decades for Varsha and I. You both are involved as "witnesses and carers". You watch over Varsha and I's actions done in robot mode to protect the Earth from the Decepticons. In return, you both get monetary gain and any disregarded Cybertronian technology." Hawk explains.
"One alien's trash is another earthling's treasure." Chims Jack, a wide toothy smile across his angular, pale face.
"I have been on Earth for 100,000 years. I consider myself an earthling." Hawk corrects.
"Why have you been here so long?" Asks Iris, lifting an eyebrow.
"There have been decepticons on Earth for a long time." Hawk responds.
"So, when do we get to meet your partner? This Varsha Thunderbolt person bot." Asks Jack as he leads them to the door and together they leave the building. He turns back and looks at the bright blue neon sign shining above before shutting off the shop front. The businessman smirks. His only two employees glance at him like he's crazy. He squandered his dad's west coast upstart tech company, seemingly layed off a bunch of loyal long time employees, sold the whole factories, got rid of the board, and etc. Hired a well-renowned physicist only to find out now that he was a shapeshifting alien robot! And a premium government contract! It was a field day for insanity.
A maroon 60's muscle car rolls up to the curbside. The driver rolls down the window, revealing a muscular woman in a blue hoodie and a smile that could rival Jack's cocksure grin. "Hey losers." She snorts.
"Everyone, meet Varsha Storm. Otherwise known as Thunderbolt." Announces Hawk as he gets in the passenger seat. Jack and Iris saddle up in the back seat. Varsha hit the gas and blasted up the stereo.
"So, what's it like being a car robot and driving in a car?" Asks Jack. Iris glances incredulously over at him
Varsha laughs, "Neither of us turn into cars. Hawk turns into a slagging sick fighter jet. I am from Eukaris, all the bots there turn into beasts. I turn into a mechanical raptor."
"Awesome! How do you do it!" Asks Jack.
"I think that's enough Jack." Iris interrupts.
"It's okay Iris. I like a little attention thrown my way…" Varsha stops as she and Hawk stare at a procession of cars in the left lane beside them as they drive down a four lane street through the suburban downtown of Sterling City; an aggressive black and red striped lowdown sudan, a strapping red sports car closely guarded by a looming navy blue armored truck, and an ugly buggy the color of spilt oil. Hawk squints at the tinted windshields, no driver returns the harsh glance. An angular, purple badge replaces the hood emblem on each vehicle. "Hawk, you want to go on them or should I?" Asks Varsha, her voice sharp and serious as she lets go of the wheel and sets the car on cruise control.
"No, keep your hands on the wheel. They might not know it is us." Hawk replies, eyeing the procession next to them.
"Who are they?" Asks Iris, panicking.
"Trackers. They are Decepticon soldiers. They track down Autobots on the roads of populated planets and get rid of them. We need to lead them out of the city." Hawk informs.
"How can we lead them out of town if they don't know that we are in the car?" Iris asks.
"Easy, I'll go out and lure them away." Varsha scoffs as she goes to open the door.
"No, we don't need to draw attention to ourselves. Iris, your apartment is coming up soon, right?" Asks Hawk.
"Yes." Confirms the woman, glancing nervously at the Decepticons right outside the car.
"Okay, I'll get out of the car with Iris, go into jet mode and lead the Trackers to somewhere else so we can have a standoff." Hawk plans.
"So, I don't get to see a guy turn into a giant robot turn into a fighter jet?" Jack huffed before smirking at Iris's stern look.
Varsha slows down the car and turns into the yellow lane. She enters the parking lot of a snazzy looking, 4 story apartment complex and lets Iris and Hawk empty out before rejoining traffic, trying to keep pace with the Trackers.
"So, what should I do now?" Calls out Iris as Hawk walks down a nearby alley.
"Agent Fowler should get in contact with you shortly. Answer any of their questions truthfully. Suit on!" Explains Hawk as he taps his wristwatch. His human shell explodes and is replaced by a mechanical suit as he grows to 8 feet tall. The suit gives way as a giant dark blue and gold robot stands in his place. Metalhawk smiles down at the astonished Iris as he leaps into the air and transforms into a gleaming fighter jet. The autobot flies overhead of the Trackers, gleaming a red symbol on the underside of his wings. The sight of it causes the Trackers to merge off the city street and towards the highway as Metalhawk lures them away.
Along the war torn, scorched surface of Iacon, lie a series of buildings huddled together as the Autobot Resistance's Headquarters. Within one of these buildings, is the office of one Ultra Magnus. The mighty blue, white, and red mech suits upon his utilitarian desk, a neatly clean slab of polished metal upon which sit four polished plaques reading out his name and many titles; Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, Supreme Commander of the Autobots, and Overseer of the Wreckers. When going against the Decepticons, every bot had to play double duty. He reaches out to readjust the plaques and listen to a message that just sprung up before him.
Tapping the red button on the holo-screen, Ultra Magnus listens to the message from Earth. "Hey, Mags. It's me Thunderbolt. Sorry, Metalhawk can't talk right now. He's distracting some Decepticreeps. Anyway, I am messaging you because we gotta renewed our deal with one of Earth's governments and got a new contact and sponsor. Both of us are fine. I recently got over an ACL injury from work. Props to Wheeljack for making these disguises so accurate that we get accurate human injuries that take months to heal…" Thunderbolt's message starts. Ultra Magnus's optics glaze over as he listens to the pretender's retelling of an injury at one of the pointless occupations she had to take while disguised on Earth. All the while he heard snickers and gasps from some other passenger in a vehicle judging by the rumble of rubber tires against the road. "Anyway, I just want to request one more time for some back up here. Talk to ya later, Thunderbolt out!" Her message concludes.
"That is what I am trying to do." Utters Ultra Magnus as he turns off the holo-screen and eyes the door. It slams open as Rattrap enters. A tiny yet lanky mech drinking out of an oil can, he slowly saunters over to the seat opposite Magnus.
"Why'd you call me, Mags?" Asks the grey and bronze cycle-bot as he sits down. He places the can on the desk, letting a few drops land on the desk. As he pulls back his arm, rust, flecks of chrome plating, and primer chips sprinkle off. "Uh, Magnus. You look like you'll blow a gasket. Take a sip of oil. It'll loosen those smile servos so you can take a joke." Rattrap observes as he smirks, revealing two bucked teeth, one rusted over, the other chrome plated.
Ultra Magnus fumes out slowly as he tightly grips the edge of his desk and looks down at Rattrap. "I have called you here because you are being reassigned to lead a new division of Autobots to Earth." Ultra Magnus declares.
"Oh. Cause I got prior experience there." Realizes Rattrap as he caves in under Ultra Magnus's knowing stare. Rattrap glances over at a meaty datapad, hard drive, and stamp, each embellished with and a part of earning one's Autobot insignia. Not long ago, he traded the purple burned straight to his spark casing for the red stamp.
"Yes. You will find the rest of the 54 Epsilon Division at docking bay 54. From there you will remain on Earth and are to take on new alternate modes that mimic vehicles made by the main terrestrial life on the planet, humans. You are to also defend the humans and planet from exploitation and destruction caused by the Decepticons. The Pretenders have identified at least two groups on the Earth. The Storm Seekers and a Tracker division…" Ultra Magnus starts before Rattrap lifts up a hand to shush the Supreme Commander.
"Imma stop ya right there Mags. I already, sadly know a lot of those 'cons. No need to brief me any further. I'll head on out. 54. Ya da, ya da, ya da." Rattrap snarks.
"Unicron is the Earth." Ultra Magnus exclaims as Rattrap starts to get up.
"What Unicron? Isn't he some myth or swear? Giant monster eating planets or somethin'. I don't know. I'll ask your conjunx, Pyra." Snorts Rattrap.
"No. Unicronis real. Or at least all archaeological evidence supports that he or it existed and now forms Earth's core. Thankfully, all the knowledge about it was stored here at Iacon and the Decepticons never copied the files on it. However, if the Decepticons were to ever find out that Unicron sleeps at the center of the Earth, they will surely use him to destroy the Earth and many other planets." Explains Ultra Magnus as he pulls up graphs of seismic data from Earth and texts full of ancient words written in the Primal Vernacular flash across the holo-screen.
"Huh. They never told me that. Does anyone else on my team know?" Asks Rattrap.
"One member of your division is an archivist and historian. He knows but unless it is imperative to the integrity of your mission, you both are not to discuss or reveal this information in the company of the rest of your division." Informs Magnus.
"Kay." Accepts Rattrap as he slurps down the last bit of his oil. He lazily throws the can away to the pristine floor and looks at Ultra Magnus. "Anything else, chief?"
"Nope! You are dismissed Rattrap." Replies Ultra Magnus as Rattrap gives a brief salute and leaves his office. "Thankfully." Magnus whispers as he begins riding his office again.
Rattrap enters the hallway and transforms into a rusty, half-track chopper looking thing. He bolts down the hallway and ducks around other bots as they meander about. The cycle exits the building and merges on a one-way street heading towards the Central Spaceport. He weaved around the larger truck and car formers and under any hovers.
Out of the brilliant blue sky that slowly fades to a polluted yellow horizon, a giant structure towers above. Partially broken with hasty attached scaffolding ringing the tower, a doming sprawl of hangers and runways dominate the top third of the spaceport. Rattrap reaches the entrance and turns back into robot mode. He struts in and heads toward the receptions desk past other bots on route to reassignment or as reinforcements. "Hey Cyberwarp. Ya know where docking bay 54 is?" Rattrap asks a stern looking teal receptionist.
"54th floor. It's below the main top port." Cyberwarp reports, glaring down at the sneezy bot.
"Thanks." Rattrap says, then giving a cat call. He walks over towards a crowd around one of the many elevators.
"Due to recent actions, the Left Beam elevator is now not functional. Please take the stares." Announces Cyberwarp through the intercom.
"Fine." Growls Rattrap as he walks up the spiralling staircase all the way up to the 54 floor. Upon reaching the top, he grips down on the scaffolding as he looks down at the wartorn cityscape of Iacon. Wind whips at his plating. He clamps a hand over the silver gribbled plate loosely covering his otherwise exposed brain module. A rickety ramp braves out against the buffeting breeze and careless jetformers dashing by.
"Hey." Calls out a voice. Rattrap looks away from the edge and sees four other bots; a tiny tangerine cycle-bot, a lean magenta and orange mech with a flashy yellow spoiler on his back, a deathly thin black bot with a snake-like face and stance that unnerves Rattrap, and a tall, blue helicopter bot with one wicked yellow optic remaining on her scarred face. He eyes the stasis cuffs around her talon like hands. "I'm Hot Rod," Introduces the magenta mech who Rattrap thinks must be some kinda racer type. "That's Joyride," he points at the other cycle-bot, she smiles happily. "This is Night Viper." He flashes a look at the stealthy femme who shifts into a mechanical, dark cobra. "She's from Eukaris. And that's Whirl." Hot Rod finishes as he glances respectfully to the looming bot.
"Nice to meet ya guys." Says Rattrap as he leans against the wall. "Do ya know when the other two will come?"
"No. I came here first. I am really excited. First assignment of mine. I just graduated from the Iacon Autobot Academy!" Replies Joyride cheerfully, the two prongs on the side of her face spring up with excitement.
"Okay. What's the rest of yours story?" Asks Rattrap, looking to make small talk.
"This is also my first assignment. I am from Eukaris. It is weird seeing so many buildings and cars everywhere. I am used to the jungles and beasts of my homeworld." Night Viper recounts as she slithers over a sticking out steel rod to watch the bustling city below.
"You know there are trees on Earth right? Anyway, I have been stationed in the Sol system before. In the asteroid field. I was mostly meteor surfing. And doing daring tricks." Hot Rod explains with a cocksure grin on his face and a gleam in his cyan optics.
"I was a wrecker for three million years 'til I got a bit too reckless for them. Still, wreck and rule!" Shouts Whirl. She punches her claws together, breaking the stasis cuffs.
Rattrap goes to speak about himself when he jolts back from the runway as a white shuttlecraft with a bulky teal and red crawler transport on the underside sweeps closer. The shuttle spreads its wings in a magnificent flourish of teal steel feathers. A long plated neck and fanged, grinning maw erupt out of the cockpit. Four strong, clawed limbs fold out of the shuttle's undercarriage as a whip-like tail lashes out from the back stabilizers. "Hello 54th Epsilon Division. Tis' I, Sky Lynx of Devisiun. I shall happily take you all to the third planet of the Sol System. Now, is this everyone?" Inquires the bestial shuttle.
"Ugh, no. We're still waiting on one last bot. Unless any of ya are a historian." Explains Rattrap as he looks around at the others.
"I am not a nerd." Dismisses Hot Rod.
"I did like my history classes at the Academy." Pipes up Joyride.
"I've probably destroyed more ruins and things of historical significance to get death wishes from many historians." Whirl admits.
Night Viper remains silent.
"Okay, let's wait a bit longer." Rattrap decides.
Elita One waits impatiently just outside of Kaon. She looks over the rusty plain of metal, the stretches to the scattering of warehouses, bunkers, and fortresses that make up the Decepticon Capitol. Smoky grey skies crisscrossed with Seeker chemtrails are pierced by Darkmount. A five mile high spiky structure which served as the dwelling for Cybertron's own Emperor of Destruction. Or his secretary, who ever was in control this solar cycle. "Come on Orion. You ain't got all day." She whispers under her breath as she grips her laser rifle tightly.
She looks up as a procession of tetrajets fly overhead. Bringing the rifle's scope close to her optics, the purple-pink femme fires at a silver and black jet. The laser fire hit's their wing triggering a mid-air transformation. The seeker falls to the ground and looks around for whoever shot at them, Elita One scoots around the pile of scrap to stay out of sight from the downed seeker. All the while she flashes back a look across the rusty meadow and spies the outline of a truck kicking up dust. The seeker also sees the approaching red and blue pickup. The black decepticon dashes up to the truck. Elita One stands up and walks away from the scrap pile. She raises up her rifle and takes another shot at the seeker, striking in between their wings. The autobot transforms into a strike bomber and rushes over toward the truck.
"Need a lift?" She asks as the truck transforms into a tall, lanky mech with crooked antenna on either side of his face.
"Yeah, that would be nice." Accepts Orion Pax as he grabs a hold of Elita's wings. She rolls through the air and tosses Orion onto her back.
"Did you get the files?" Elita asks.
"Yes." Orion confirms as he flattens himself along Elita's back. He felt around his internal compartments to make sure the Decepticon data was still there.
"Good work." Elita replies before hitting her engines into maximum burn. Shortly, Orion sees Iacon's ruined cityscape against the starless sky, blocked out by debris and faulty shielding. Elita passes through the security measures and flies low through Iacon, hugging against the one-way streets until she reaches the Central Spaceport. "54th docking bay?" She asks.
"Yes." Affirms Orion as Elita takes a steep, near vertical blast up the side of the tower. Orion scans around and sees a group of five other bots along with a beaming white beast standing on a crummy little side runway. Elita flies over to them and transforms, shaking Orion off. The truck-former takes out the hard drive and hands it to her before exchanging a few words of farewell.
"Guessing you the historian?" Asks a scratchy voice.
Orion turns around and sees it came from a tiny, dirty bot standing in front of a few others.
"Yes, I'm Orion Pax. I was a data archivist from Iacon's Hall of Records. Apprenticed to Alpha Trion. Also do some espionage and data encryption on the side… and I guess I founded this whole Autobot movement." Introduces Orion with a sheepish shrug of his smokestacked shoulders.
"You are the reason we are even fighting!" Cheers Whirl, throwing up a clawed fist in the air.
"I heard all about you in my classes!" Exclaims Joyride, looking up to him with admiration.
"Your messages have spread far, inspiring me all the way back on Eukaris." Night Viper acknowledges with a respectful node.
"Can we please put the attention back on me? Now that every bot is here, we can depart for Earth." Moans Sky Lynx as he transforms back into a shuttle and opens his cargo bay.
"The bird cat's right. Get inside." Orders Rattrap as he heads in first. "Next stop, Earth."