Cliffjumper reported what was going on to Goldbug. He and Arcee then arrived, and they took up positions around an oil reserve late at night. “No one touches this unless they’ve got clearance!” declared Goldbug.
“You know, I was gonna do some maintenance on your arm and leg,” muttered Arcee.
“This took priority,” answered Goldbug.
“More priority than making sure that you’re up-to-date body-wise?” muttered Cliffjumper.
“This is war, we can’t be distracted.”
“Not even by Enreil?” The soldiers then looked at Cliffjumper. “It’s like milk for Transformers. Same health benefits too. This guy, on the other servo,” his thumb pointed to Goldbug, “left the bottle full this morning, from what Ratchet told me.”
“…You didn’t drink your Enreil?” hissed Arcee. Goldbug looked away, embarrassed. “…Goldbug!”
“Why should I? I hate it. You drink it, I won’t. It’s like drinking vomit.”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! ENREIL’S GOOD FOR YOU! DRINK IT NEXT TIME!”
“FORGET IT! I HATE WHAT I HATE! IT’S NOT LIKE I’LL DIE BECAUSE I DON’T DRINK THAT SCRAP!”
“PRIMUS! AND THIS IS THE REASON YOU’RE ALWAYS GONNA BE THE SIZE OF A BEAN!”
“A BEAN?!”
“Yeah! A bean! Right, Cliffjumper?!”
“Will you just do what she says and drink the stupid thing?!” argued Cliffjumper.
“Not a chance in the Pit!” replied Goldbug. “I already told you I hate it!”
“YOU’RE GONNA BE SMALL AND STUNTED FOREVER IF YOU KEEP USING THAT STUPID EXCUSE!”
“SHUT UP! I DON’T HAVE TO DRINK IT IF I DON’T WANNA!”
“YOU SOUND LIKE A SPOILED LITTLE BRAT, GOLDBUG MAGNUS!” shouted Arcee.
“These are the…” the soldier stopped as he saw something. “Er, guys!”
“That’s our que!” declared Goldbug, abruptly ending the argument. Cliffjumper and Arcee then leapt onto the jet that was flying towards them.
“Time for some jet judo!” laughed Arcee. There was a Male Mobian Pharaoh Eagle-owl in the cockpit. He tried to fling the two bots off of the jet.
“Afterburn! AFTERBURN!” he shrieked. A tank then rolled up to Goldbug.
“Pulverize! PULVERIZE!” roared the rhino pilot. The tank fired, but Goldbug then knocked the blast back with the Magnus Hammer.
“Nice try, Decepticreep!” he taunted.
“PULVERIZE!” roared the rhino again. A motorcycle then tripped Goldbug up. The rider was a male Mobian lion.
“OVERDRIVE!” cheered the lion. The three then fled the scene.
“AFTER THEM!” shouted Goldbug.
“CLIFFJUMPER, TRANSFORM!”
“ARCEE, TRANSFORM!” Arcee’s transformation consisted of her arms folding behind her back, her backpack covering her head, and her legs collapsing into themselves to make a sleek sports car with a pink honeybee holo-form in pink overalls, a blue shirt, and white gloves and boots.
“GOLDBUG MAGNUS, TRANSFORM!” Goldbug’s feet rotated, and his legs sunk into his torso as his shoulder pads folded up and his arms folded across his chest. The shoulder pads came together to complete the transformation into an armored van with two cockpits. His holo-form, still a honeybee, but in gold, sat in the left cockpit. The three Autobots and a few soldiers pursued the three. The chase went into the nearby desert. The chase was interrupted as the desert’s sands were flung into the air by weapon-fire. A twin-rotored helicopter with a Male Mobian Osprey pilot was firing on them.
“OBLITERATE! OBLITERATE!” chanted the Osprey as he fired, scattering everyone, and forcing Goldbug and his fellows into robot mode.
“Something’s not right,” muttered Goldbug. “At least one of them should have doubled…” A rumbling came from beneath their feet. “SPREAD OUT!” shouted Goldbug. Everyone ran as a tank-treaded mining vehicle with six drills circling in two groups of three above two shovels on the front burst from the ground.
“TERMINATE!” shouted the pilot, a female Mobian Russian Desman with a thick Russian accent. The now five vehicles then fired again at the heroes.
“You’re right!” muttered a soldier to Goldbug. “One of them should have returned to the reserve! Something doesn’t make sense! One-word idiots shouldn’t be this clever!”
“…Unless they were playing us!” realized Goldbug. Arcee and Cliffjumper then realized what was going on.
“The oil reserve wasn’t the real target, WE were!” yelped Arcee. The five then grinned as the Osprey spoke.
“Although he wields the Magnus Hammer,” he chuckled, “Goldbug never truly learned the first rule of warfare: NEVER underestimate your opponents!”
“Terminate, obliterate,” scoffed the Desman, “can you boys believe they fell for that?” She then laughed quietly before speaking directly to the Osprey. “Dear, would you like to invite them or shall I?”
“If you don’t mind, Sweetspark, I’ll do it. It’s been a long time since I did it.”
“True, I DID take up a lot of chances. Very well, enjoy yourself.”
“Invitation to what?!” demanded Goldbug.
“Goldbug Magnus,” called the Osprey, “you and your compatriots are hereby invited to surrender to the Lords of Cybertron!”
“Whoever you are, you woke up in the wrong time! The AUTOBOTS control Cybertron, not the Decepticons!”
“On the contrary, we were configured to ensure that the Decepticons remained in power or would return to it, and such has ALWAYS been our mission.”
“…Always? Who are you?”
“We are as we have always been…the Thrashracons!” Terror then gripped the Autobots’ Sparks.
“Require proof?” chuckled the Desman. “Let us oblige. Thrashracons, transform and show them TRUE terror!”
“Oh, I’ve been waiting a long time for this!” laughed the Pharaoh Eagle-owl flying the jet. “JETSTORM, TRANSFORM!” The sides of the nosecone split away from the cockpit as it folded to the underside of the jet as the sides of the rear split away from the rest of the jet and sprouted hands under the main guns while the thrusters folded down and to the jet’s underside to reveal the head when feet folded out from the front. The bot then landed and grinned.
“OVERDRIVE, TRANSFORM!” As the motorcycle’s rider vanished, the exhaust pipes split away from the rear wheel as the front twisted to reveal the head and the piping became arms terminating in three-digited claws, revealing a robot that uses a wheel for locomotion instead of legs.
“TANKOR, TRANSFORM!” The sides of the tank’s front split away, and the rear tread assemblies unfolded into arms and pushed the bulk of the tank upwards while the barrel rested on the right shoulder and the unfolded part folded around the legs to make the front of the tank into feet. The cockpit of the tank then folded down to reveal a head with a Cylon-like visor.
“OBSIDIAN, TRANSFORM!” The helicopter’s underside split away and folded to the back, sprouting feet as the tailfin folded up between the wings. The guns then folded down from the wings and sprouted hands while the cockpit split in half and opened down the middle to reveal the head.
“STRIKA, TRANSFORM!” The shovel assembly under the drills sprang forward and revealed hands, making the drill assemblies shoulders with the drills pointing outwards as the rear unfolded and split into two legs with feet. The cab then folded to the back and revealed the head of a femme that wore lipstick like Arcee. All of the Thrashracons grinned evilly as they observed the terror on the Autobots’ faces. “Now, I will admit,” mused Strika, “that argument you staged DID throw Jetstorm off a little. No one’s been able to do that with any of us at all. I mean, he recovered quickly and turned the battle to his advantage, but your strategy was still innovative enough for one of us to falter by a fraction. You’ve actually impressed me, so you will have the honor of me speaking directly to you.”
“Oh man!” gulped Arcee. “We’ve been tangling with the greatest group of tacticians in Decepticon history!”