Chapter Four - Threats

The ebony black jet roared across Slaughter City's sky, not caring who he alerted his presence to as he went about his business.

Razordrift was returning from yet another offcycle of competing in the gladiatorial pit.

Boring.

It wasn't like anyone in his area had a chance of beating him. He basically got credits for simply showing up. The pit's owner never brought in anyone good enough to give Razordrift much competition anymore.

Tragic really, that there weren't any decent fighters in the surrounding sectors.

Maybe he'd have to visit a different pit for a while. Even one in Kaon or the barren parts of the Badlands perhaps.

It would be at the very least, a change in scenery.

Other aspects of Razordrift's life were starting to get boring too. His boss sent him and the others to rob and sabotage the same Council owned establishments. Terrorize the same groups of mecha. Assassinate mecha from the same group.

It was utterly monotonous.

Oh, it was alright for mecha who had much to learn still like young Nitro and some of the others.

But for Razordrift?

He knew his experience and talents would be useful, and perhaps more appreciated, elsewhere. Somewhere more to his liking than the old warehouse their crime boss operated out of.

"When was the last time he sent me to do something interesting?" Razordrift asked himself out loud as he drew near home.

After considering for a few kliks, he remembered. "Ah, yes. The heist at one of the Towers. Now, that, was exciting. Too bad we don't do that more often.

"Hmm, even graffitiing that Hall of Records or something historic like that would be better than breaking into the same factories every jour or two."

The jet chuckled to himself as he transformed and dropped to the warehouse roof. He casually rose from his crouch and strode to the hatch. Once he entered, he began walking towards his personal quarters.

"No wonder Roadrage left," the gladiator mused internally. "He's a smart mech, getting out while the goings good. No telling how our esteemed boss will react once he realizes he's losing mecha.

"And Nitro never returned from the run I sent him on three orns ago. I highly doubt he's offlined, he's too clever for that. Plus, the guards at that factory are the absolute worst. It's not surprising that the mechling ran off. He never was too happy here. Especially after the inventor offlined."

Razordrift paused at his door, punching in the key code before entering. After locking the sliding door behind him, the gladiator stood, considering.

With a curt nod, he then began to sort through his belongings. After this, he'd go to the armoury and see what was there.


Lifting a hand, Razordrift knocked on the door of what used to be the warehouse's head office.

"Enter," called a voice, neutral in tone.

The gladiator slid open the door and entered the dark room. Once he'd shut out the dim light from the hallway, Razordrift turned his attention to the shadowy mech seated near the back of the room.

All that was visible in the darkness, was the two pairs of red optics of the two mechs.

"What brings you here, Razordrift?" the crime boss asked, a clearly fake pleasant tone in his voice.

"Are you aware that both Roadrage and Nitro left and have not yet returned?" Razordrift inquired coolly, getting straight to the point.

"Ah, I wondered why I hadn't seen Roadrage lately. Or the supplies that Nitro was supposed to retrieve," mused the mech behind the desk. "Did they offline on their missions?"

Razordrift rolled his optics. "If they had, I would have said so."

"Hmm, so they decided to run. How unfortunate. They were some of my best."

The boss picked up a dagger from his desk and began fiddling with it, carving the tip into the top of the desk.

Ignoring the scraping noise, the winged gladiator crossed his servos. "True. You don't have much going for you or your operation here anymore."

The scraping continued.

"How so."

"You are running out of things worth doing."

"I keep those I terrorize wary of me. I have no need to continually spread my reach when mecha's fear already does that for me. I simply need to strike in a new place just often enough to give them a concern that they might be next. Our domain gradually gains ground. It works quite well.

"Mecha fear us enough to have a healthy respect and to keep away. Enforcers here in Slaughter City are paid generously by me to keep quiet and leave us alone. And any enforcement from the outside wouldn't dare step pede without enough reason to.

"What complaint can you possibly have. Your career is set. You, Razordrift, might as well be king of your gladiator circle."

The gladiator scoffed. "The ignorant fool. We've had this conversation before and my reasoning goes nowhere. It's pointless."

Taking a step forward he spoke again. "You may think you are untouchable, Savage. But unlike you, I don't stay hidden in the dark all orn. I know what the real world looks like and it's not as simple as your little fantasy one.

"Something is coming. Surely, you've noticed it. Mecha speak of the gladiator from Kaon. They think he will be quite successful in this revolution of his. And some of his closer followers, they know he is up to more than he claims."

The pair of optics across the room narrowed. "Surely you do not believe that I am blind to this Megatronus' claims, Razordrift. I am very aware of what he intends to do, whether he himself has fully realized what that is or what it will truly mean."

"And that is," Razordrift prompted, somewhat sceptical.

"War."

"So, he does figure on that too," thought the gladiator. "Well at least this fool is not totally a lost cause. I actually wouldn't be surprised if he's somehow in on it."

"I suppose then, I do not have to warn you of that, having also come to that conclusion."

"No, you do not."

"Regardless of this and how you may or not be involved, I still say your operation is failing."

"And why is that, Razordrift."

The gladiator snorted. "The inventor is offline. Your two best thieves are gone.

"Now, you have lost your top warrior and gladiator."

The scraping noise from the dagger, which had been going on still throughout the conversation, suddenly jerked to a halt with a screech.

"Excuse me?"

Razordrift said nothing, simply staring back into the cold, menacing optics that bored into him.

"Razordrift," the mech said, smiling darkly. "You're giving up a very unique and exclusive opportunity here." He paused, gripping the handle of his dagger tight. "If I were you, I would not throw it away. You would be wise to stay."

Hearing the veiled threat, Razordrift smirked. He shook his helm, calmly returning, "And I would not come after me or try to locate me, Savage. It would not be wise. For your prolonged existence."

With that, the gladiator stepped back, opening the door behind him. Then, he turned and left without another glance.

Savage snarled, driving his dagger into his desk up to the hilt. With narrowed optics, he stood up and began to pace.

"You will not get away with this, Razordrift. That, is a guarantee."


As Razordrift flew away from the warehouse, he pondered what he'd just done.

Savage may send out other mecha to do his dirty work for him, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous himself. He had power and influence throughout the Badlands and some other areas of the planet.

But even by himself, the crime boss was a force to be reckoned with.

He was the boss for a reason.

Razordrift changed direction, heading to the south. Knowing that from now on, he would have to watch his own back even more.

Whether Savage sent someone after him or came to hunt him down himself, Razordrift would be ready.

Because, the gladiator knew, the time would inevitably come.

He just didn't know when.

"Just try me, Savage," the gladiator growled. "I'll be ready. And I will be the one to come out on top."


Thanks for reading!