Timeline: 2014 AD (concurrent with XV)
PROLOGUE
--A week ago--
"I'm here to see a Mr. Joyce."
The secretary at the desk-- whose name tag read "Garcia"-- lifted his gaze to meet the young woman standing before him. "Ah, yes, you're the new gal. Evelyn Knight, correct?"
"Yes, I'm applying for a job in the test field, specifically for weapons and gadgets."
Garcia snorted. "About time someone applied for there. We've already got enough test drivers and pilots."
After giving Garcia her application papers, Evelyn was allowed to enter Joyce's office. The room was already occupied by three others-- Joyce himself and two scientists, male and female. As all three of them were hunched over blueprints scattered across a desk, Evelyn had to clear her throat to get their attention.
Joshua Joyce looked up at her. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I'm here for the job opening in testing gadgets--"
"You're hired."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Call us desperate, but we're really low on hands," Joyce said bitterly. "If you're good at your job, then great. If not... well, we'll be able to tell by the explosion."
Baffled by that statement, Evelyn fumbled for a response. "Um... thank you?"
Joyce pointed her to the door. "Testing field is to the left, three doors down. Just ask for Doctor Arkeville and he'll put you to work."
Once the new girl had left, Joyce returned his attention to the blueprints, still bewildered by what he was saying. "He wants all of this done by when?"
"Next week," said Lyman Smith, shaking his head in bemusement. "He's asking the impossible."
"But that's we do here, isn't it?" Darcy Tirrel murmured. "Do the impossible. I don't believe anyone else has made their own Transformers."
"Yes, but this is... this is beyond even that," Lyman said. "I don't even think he can supply us with the technology we need."
"Perhaps not." Joyce lifted a finger to his lip. "But perhaps someone else can."
--Now--
Most people would probably tremble in the presence of a robot with a hook for a hand. Most people would probably run for their lives, regardless of how futile it was.
Harold Attinger was not most people.
Standing before the Cybertronian who called himself Lockdown, the newly-appointed CEO of Machination had his inside the pockets of his sweatshirt, acting casual as if he were speaking to a fellow human, an old colleague. He was aware that the feeling was not mutual.
"You know, when Scorponok called me down here, I didn't think he was gonna have an organic serving as liaison." Lockdown regarded him coldly. "Surely you realize the dangerous spot you've put yourself in."
Attinger smirked. "I certainly do. Do you have our shipment?"
Lockdown snorted. "Of course I do."
From out of thin air (Attinger believed it was something called a subspace portal), the bounty hunter conjured a metal crate, which was as large as a semi-truck's trailer.
"There," Lockdown grunted. "A crate full of ununtrium. Use it well, 'cause there's no hope of getting it anymore."
Attinger nodded in satisfaction. "We shall use it wisely. Thank you for your services. Anything you desire as repayment?"
Lockdown thought for a moment before saying, "Since you ask, I could use some of the drones you've made. They would be helpful... especially for the bounty I have to catch."
PRELUDE TO CHAOS
Part 2: Primal Calling
CHAPTER ONE
Part 2: Primal Calling
CHAPTER ONE
"Take it easy, Trailbreaker. You're acting like you've just consumed a can full of engex."
The black and red Autobot chuckled as he steadied himself. "You know me too well, Ratchet. So, how long was I out?"
"Over a hundred years," Ratchet said casually.
Trailbreaker shook his head, thinking he had misheard the medic. "I'm sorry, did you just say--?"
"I did," Ratchet said, kneeling before Windcharger's deactivated form as he prepared to revive the smaller Autobot. "It was a pretty nasty crash we suffered. Only a handful of us awoke at first; I've been gradually reviving everyone else overtime."
"Wow," Trailbreaker murmured. "So, how many of us are back online."
"With you and Windcharger, twenty four." Ratchet grimaced. "Which is barely a quarter of the crew. If I don't revive the others quickly, they might be lost forever."
Trailbreaker frowned. "I take it things are going rough on this new planet we're on?"
"Very much so; both here and on Cybertron." Ratchet brought out a pair of jump cables to use on Windcharger. "Jazz will fill you two in on the details when we get back to base."
"Does Prime have any idea on how we're gonna get out of... whatever predicament we're in?"
"Not as far as I know," Ratchet said softly as he plugged the cables into Windcharger's chest. "No one's seen him for a month now."
* * *
"This planet sure is something," the green Jeep commented as it drove down a country road, accompanied by a blue motorcycle and a yellow hatchback. "The sun is gorgeous, the clouds are pristine, and the-- what are those flying creatures called again?"
"Birds," Bumblebee supplied.
"Right, birds! And the birds are beautiful. Wish it looked this good on Cybertron, even before the war."
"Hound, I like this planet as much as the next Autobot, but we have a mission," Arcee said. "Prowl said there was an energon signature detected not far from here. It could be Optimus Prime's."
"Just because I'm older than you doesn't mean I have a bad memory, 'Cee," Hound said. "I'm just doing a scout's job: observing."
"Well, you could at least be quieter about it...."
The three Autobots continued their uneventful drive, following the energon signature. Upon reaching an isolated gas station, Arcee suddenly brought the other two to a halt and transformed to her robot mode.
"The signature is coming from here," she said as Bumblebee and Hound changed form as well. "Do you think it's the fuel tanks?"
"That or the fancy automobile over there." Hound pointed to a white sports car with red stripes, parked next to the gas station's abandoned convenience store. "If it's an Autobot, it's not one I recognize."
Optics narrowing, Arcee readied her arm blades and cautiously approached the mysterious car. She barely came within a few feet of it when it began to change shape. The front split to become shoulders, arms sprouting out from it; the entire rear section unfolded to become legs; the windshield and roof ended up as part of the chest, while the doors became panels on the hips, each containing swords. Blue optics glowed from a pristine white head, which, coupled with the red insignias on his shoulders, indicated his allegiance.
Regardless, Arcee was suspicious of the stranger. "Who are you?"
"My name is Drift, Autobot warrior," the mech said as he pressed his hands together and bowed.
"Never heard of you."
"Do you know the names of every last Autobot in existence?"
"I used to work for Intelligence, so I know a good majority of them." Arcee continued to eye him warily. "Why are you here on Earth?"
"It's a long story," Drift said, looking off into the distance. "You could say I'm searching for something, though it's not necessarily physical."
"Well, we're searching for something as well," Bumblebee said. "Optim--"
"'Bee!" Arcee interjected, but Drift had already heard the yellow Autobot.
"Optimus Prime? He's gone missing?"
Still glaring at Bumblebee, Arcee muttered, "Yes. We're thinking-- or rather, hoping, that's he's here on Earth."
"I see. Mind if I lend a hand, then? It's been rather... boring hanging around here in the middle of nowhere."
Arcee opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Hound. "Sure, why not? We could always use an extra hand."
"Except-- no offense-- we hardly know you," Arcee said sternly. "I'm not entirely keen on trusting an Autobot who randomly shows up on Earth, especially one no one's heard of."
"Allow me to prove my worth then," Drift said. "Let me help you find Optimus Prime."
Arcee looked from him to her companions. Seeing Bumblebee and Hound's eager expressions, she knew that she was outvoted.
"Fine," she said with a huff. "You can tag along. Now let's get a move on."
With that, she quickly transformed back into her motorcycle form, barely waiting for Drift and the others to catch up.
* * *
Four Autobots detected on Route 84.
The driver of the black muscle car smiled to himself. It was the smile of a hunter, a hungry one at that. Speaking into his headset, he murmured, "Start your engines."
In response, five Chevy Traxes-- all red in color-- roared to life. His eyes fixed on the road up ahead, he began the countdown.
"On your mark...."
He paused for effect, something which would have agitated the Traxes' drivers had there been any.
"Get set...."
The sound of approaching vehicles could be heard. The man's mouth watered in anticipation.
"Go."
The cavalcade of driverless vehicles shot forward, zooming down the road. Their commander, in the meantime, merely sat back in his seat and waited for his turn. He knew it would come soon.
* * *
"Aw, slag," Bumblebee muttered, seeing the five Traxes approaching them.
"Not friendlies, I take it," Drift asked.
"Far from it. They're Transformers made by a group of humans working for Scorponok."
"What makes them different from normal Cyber--"
Drift's unfinished question was soon answered when the motorcade of Traxes transformed in unison. Exploding into a swarm of component fragments, they swirled around together before reassembling into their robot forms.
"Oh," Drift murmured. "I see."
The four Autobot quickly transformed from their vehicle modes and brandished their weapons. The Traxes did the same, altering the molecular structure of their arms to create guns and blades.
Ever eager for action, Bumblebee grinned. "Let's give these knock offs what for."
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