The Tormentor presents...

Stuntikids

High above the atmosphere of the lands of Earth, the Nemesis flew. The massive alien warship, comprised of a Decepticon once known as Trypticon stretched nearly two miles long. The very front of the warship stretched like a dagger-like beak, and red stripes glowing from the shard-shaped wings. Armed to the teeth with some of the most advanced weaponry in the galaxy and equipped with heavily encrypted stealth cloaking, nearly all of humanity has never even seen the Nemesis either with radar or their very own eyes.

If one were to look closely enough, the warship's cockpit resided underneath the beak-like shape, with large monitors and hyper-advanced control systems. The purple and white lighting gave the pilots and staff availability to see what they typed into the deep crimson glyphs on the holographic keyboard.

At the forefront of the entire cockpit near the command terminal and pilot's nest of the Nemesis stood the infamous Lord Megatron, founder and leader of the Decepticon Empire and future ruler of Cybertron. The massive gunmetal grey Decepticon watched uncaringly as the warship passed unseen to human eyes over the city of Hong Kong at midnight, which to Megatron looked nothing more than a brightly lit nest of insects.

Behind Megatron was Starscream, Second in Command and Air Commander of the Decepticons forces. Next to him was Soundwave, the Decepticon communications officer and one of Megatron's most loyal followers, and among his first. The silent 'Con was currently projecting an image on his screened face, which compensated for him barely speaking.

Which was about the third occupant accompanying Lord Megatron; Motormaster, commander of the Stunticons and one of the mightiest Decepticons alive. He was here in the ship because he, his team and some others hailed the request for reinforcements sent out to the stars three years ago, their arrival unfortunately bringing some unwanted Autobots as well. So far, instead of impressing Megatron about his Autobot kills or his team's conquests and victories, Motormaster was now annoying Megatron with his chit-chat.

"My Lord Megatron, I do believe that we can goad the Autobots into releasing our trapped comrades, but-"

"I know the predicament, Motormaster. Do not think that a moment never ceases in my mind that one of the Stunticons and her child has been taken by the Autobots." Megatron groaned. It had been some time since Wildrider, the femme Stunticon and the team's medic had been taken by the Autobots here on Earth, along with her human charge Ethan, a young male just into his sixteenth year. Megatron still wondered to that after ordering the Stunticons to find appropriate human charges for "behavioral discipline" was even a good idea to begin with, despite the overall increase in motivation and success in battle.

"Lord Megatron, Motormaster does have a point." Starscream said from his place. "If we don't rescue Wildrider, we lose a huge advantage over the Autobots." And with that said from Starscream, Soundwave deployed an image on his face-screen, one of a huge Cybertronian gestalt combiner, and a major trump card for the Decepticons.

Menasor.

Megatron rumbled from his standstill in front of his officers. They did have a point: without Wildrider, there could be no Menasor to fight the newly rejuvenated Wreckers, which had increased their number from two to five, and the other Autobot forces that arrived since Optimus Prime had followed his footsteps in sending out a beacon for help. Menasor was certainly a big bonus since the Wreckers didn't have combiner technology.

"Lord Megatron, my scans indicate that there are several Autobot signatures in mine 32-40." The speaker belonged to the blue Seeker Thundercracker, whom had arrived when Megatron issued the call for reinforcements along with his purple and black comrade Skywarp. He was currently in front of his own computer terminal when the flashing purple bar above his screen began to beep as an alarm.

"It's Prowl, sir. Dunno what he's doing here. If we were to rescue and find Wildrider, it would be a logical thing to bring his corpse and crack open it's secrets." He said as he typed in a code for more data, and an Autobot signal began to appear. "We could have Flatline preform a mnemosurgery and maybe that will give us the Autobot base."

"Just leave the cracking ta' me, TC" Skywarp snickered and smashed his hands together. "I've been eager to pound that aft-face prick."

"Alright then." Megatron said. "Decepticons, destroy the Autobot, and bring his corpse to me!" The Decepticons currently on the ship, save Megatron, Soundwave and Motormaster quickly left the cockpit and filed out through the ground-bridge that Soundwave had spawned on the runway of the Nemesis, all of them eager to kill some Autobots. Motormaster was about ready to go before he felt Megatron's hand on his shoulder.

"Motormaster, I do believe that you and your team need some time to recuperate and hold off fighting for now. If I sent you, or any other Stunticon, there could be the chance of losing yet another soldier to our ranks. You'll return to the fight after we rescue Wildrider. Are we clear?" Motormaster opened his mouth in protest, but Megatron's words were sound; he would not risk another capture of one of his prized combiner soldiers.

Skulking out of the command room, he began his walk to his team's quarters to deliver the news.

As he stomped out of the command bridge, Motormaster was suddenly interrupted by a voice below his knees.

"Hey Mos', Lord Megatron let us get the dynamic duo out yet?" The Stunticon leered his purple optics to the human woman that was talking to him. Motormater leaned down, picked up the girl and placed her on his huge shoulder.

"Not today, Bridge. Lord Megatron said he didn't want another one of us to get captured."

Bridgette, Motormaster's human charge and the commanding human officer on the Nemeis, was far from your typical punk chick who didn't give a damn about her image; she was clean, intelligent and very observant. Her hair, thrown upwards in a fohawk was colored entirely purple. Her torn jean-shorts, loose purple and black tank-top (Bridgette prided herself on having the largest bust out of the five Decepticon humans and wasn't afraid to show it) only amplified her appearance as a dangerous human to be reckoned with. Not only that, as a skilled mechanic, she was helpful with Knock Out in treating injuries to Cybertronians.

Despite her appearance, the reason Motormaster chose her was not because of the style of her clothes, but because of her ways of keeping people in line, which was a good thing for the human leader of the Stunticon's charges; Bridgette's tolerance for failure or screw-ups was microscopic at best, and her temper was powerful enough to make even the most hardcore Decepticon think twice about crossing the woman.

And there was the horrible accident back in Montreal, where Sideswipe accidentally blew up an entire highway with a misplaced shot and an oil tanker, which killed her parents before she was suddenly rescued by Motormaster. Bridgette, to this day, despised the Autobots for what they did to her family.

"Awww!" She whined and flipped her hair up. "If Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum hadn't been caught then we could go out and smash some Autobot heads."

"No jokin'." Motormaster snorted." When Wildrider gets back, the others ain't gonna be happy with her."

"And neither are the others. Samantha and Holly were really looking forward to some Auto-crushing." Bridgette said, thinking of her guardian laying holy hell on Optimus Prime and all of the other morons who tried to kill her.

"I'm thinkin' two cycles of monitor duty; you?"

Bridgette huskily drew breathe. "Ooh, that's a tough question. Maybe some leather would be good for him." Motormaster drew a scowl on his face; Bridgette might be slightly lenient to her fellow Decepticon humans, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Bridgette, completely acknowledging that she was far from any human law, used the darkest pits of her mind when it came to more elaborate punishments.

"You humans and your mating activities; sometimes I feel bad for Ethan. After all, he is the only male human of your human squad." Motormaster grumbled.

"Oh please, the guys a masochist; he gets off on pain." Bridgette stared on for a second. "Oh, and we're called the Stuntikids Mos'."

"That's... actually not a bad name." Motormaster replied to his twenty-year old charge as he opened the door to the Stunticon rec-room, where the rest of the Stunticons and Stuntikids hung around a huge monitor television and an equally sized sofa, seemingly designed for Cybertronians. On the couch was Drag Strip, the victory-obsessed formula-one racer from Altihex and his human charge Samantha, an equally victory-loving former street racer who lost her adoptive uncle in a firefight with the Autobots and Decepticons. She wore a pair of gray shorts, a nice yellow shirt and had the most golden hair on any female human Motormaster had ever seen. It was no wonder that Drag Strip protected her and her beauty so highly.

"Hey boss." Drag Strip said rather sharply as he and his human charge were playing a racing game from the black game console near the monitor. Currently, Samantha's avatar was beating Drag Strip only by the skin of her teeth, and seemed that Drag Strip would catch up and beat her.

"Yes!" Samantha cried out as her car crossed the finish line milliseconds before Drag Strip did, much to the yellow Stunticon's displeasure.

"SLAGGIT!" Drag Strip howled in defeat an threw his controller on the couch. "You cheated! I thought you said NO BOOSTERS, and what do you do? YOU USE BOOSTERS!"

"Well, excuuuuuuse me princess," Samantha sneered at her guardian, "I don't see you coming in first."

Motormaster ignored his teammate's cries of furious blaming and Samantha's victory taunting as he walked further from the rec-room and into his office, where Breakdown and Dead End were waiting, along with their human charges, Holly and Zoey.

Holly was Breakdown's human charge, and to say that the two weren't alike would be a total lie. A muscular pyromaniac with an appetite for bloody brawling and all around beating-people-to-death-with-their-limbs, her short hair was tied around in a small ponytail on the back of her head, and the scars on her face said that she had some experience on the receiving ends of fights. Coincidentally, the rivalry between Breakdown and Bulkhead seemed to reach down to their charges; Holly and Miko, while being on the same species, were not on the same side, and did not hide their displeasure from each other.

Dead End, the nihilistic fatalist Porsche and resident mope, had the most trouble finding a human charge, which did not surprise anyone at the time. That is, until he stumbled across Zoey, a meek twelve-year old girl whose problems were nearly as deep as the ocean itself; born into a poor family with little to nothing and living with a psychotic mother, her drunken father and abusive older brother, she saw that life was too cruel for her liking and decided to try and end her misery via suicide, until Dead End found her perched on the ledge of a bridge, and coaxed her to join the Decepticons as his charge, desperate to please Megatron. Since then she has never left his side, and sees the purple-visor Stunticon almost as a father.

"What'd Megatron say?" Dead End asked, as if he knew the answer already. His arms were crossed over his chest and the gold mouthplate was perked upwards in a mood. Then again, Dead End was almost always in a mood.

"None of us is going out until we find their base." Motormaster growled as he sat down at his desk, noticing the displeasure mounting in his troops.

"Unbelievable." Breakdown threw his hands in the air. "We can barely trace them through a ground-bridge; how are we gonna find their super secret base then?"

"Lord Megatron wants to bring in an Autobot corpse and have Flatline do a mnemosurgery in his head and find the Autobot base."

"It better be Sunstreaker!" Samantha cried out from the rec-room, the sounds of chainsaws and machine guns echoing from the monitor screen. "I wanna see his ugly dead carcass slapped on a bench with his eyes gauged out!"

Breakdown put his head in his hands, muttering "Psychos" underneath his breath while Dead End shook his head. Motormaster closed the door to his office to try and shut off the noise, which was to little effect as the two in the rec-room started to get heated.

"Wildrider and Ethan ain't missing out on much." Holly spoke from her place near Breakdown. "Hey Boss-babe, you and Boss-bot gotta true plan to really bust out those two idiots?"

"'Course we do." Motormaster spoke, and laid out a gigantic holo-map as he spoke about his plan.

-Autobot Outpost Omega-1-

The old military silo where the Autobots called home still had some memoirs when it was built in the Cold War, back when it was an advanced military component for the US Army against the Reds. Now serving as Optimus Prime's secret base of operations for the Autobots located on Earth, it was the perfect size to fit the large Cybertronians that currently resided there.

Though not all of them were soldiers of the Autobot cause.

Deep inside the base in a cell, behind energon bars that could fry a human to ashes if touched, sat two beings that wore purple instead of red.

"This sucks." The human male spoke, looking extremely bored with being stuck in a cage for so long (though not that long). He had spiky blonde hair, a blue shirt that said "BAZOOKA" and white sweatpants. His expression? Bored to his very core. Who wouldn't be? Trapped in a large cube for nearly a day could suck the fun out of anyone.

"We could make out." The second occupant said. The Decepticon femme had a sleek, robust shape that said speeder or racer, but the spiked knuckles, the two horns on the side of her head and the sharpened dental plates just screamed warrior. The crimson and grey Stunticon was currently sitting opposite her human charge, her legs crossing over each other.

Ethan is (unfortunately?) the only male member of the Stuntikids, which was a large problem to a young teen going through some changes. Normally cheery and smart-mouthed, Ethan had lost more than he should have due to the Autobots, involving his father's death and the loss of his left arm, which was replaced by a jet-black mechanical arm with an embroidered Decepticon symbol on the shoulder and wrist. It also doubled as his medical storage, cylinders and syringes laden inside with his hand being able to transform into a razor-sharp circular saw in case of amputation, which thankfully had not been used yet.

Wildrider definitely lived up to her name, as she was as crazy as they came, the battle-hungry femme was a fighter of the most ruthless ways. She chose Ethan mainly for his love of thrills and spills, but also because she felt that the kid had some of her own spunk inside of him. Hence, the forming of an odd yet lovable older sister-younger brother bond between the Decepticon and the human sixteen year old.

Ethan gave Wildrider an unsurprised look.

"Seriously, Wildrider? You really need to go and get yourself a boyfriend or something." He said as he put his head in the palm of his hands and cast the femme a bored look, obviously uninterested by her appeal.

"I don't need one." She frowned. "Besides, I don't want Bridgette chewing me out like she's gonna do to you when we get back."

Ethan buried his face in his hands and let out a pathetic moan. "Oh my god, she's probably furious with me. Monitor duty, here we come."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Wildrider groaned as the Ferrari LaFerrari sat down nest to her charge and picked him up in a clawed hand and placed him on her large chest. She leaned over to face the front of her cell and yelled down the hallway.

"SURE WOULD BE NICE FOR THE COMPASSIONATE AND FREEDOM-PREACHING AUTOBOTS TO LET US GO!" She screamed as Ethan covered his ears, the sheer volume the Ferrari could deliver was staggering. The two guards outside the cell flinched as the massive vocal explosion erupted behind them.

Smokescreen and Warpath stood guard to make sure that the two Decepticons didn't try anything extremely stupid, or escape. Warpath, the huge red Abrams tank stood with the Lotus Exige Smokescreen, an Elite Guardsman under the command of Ultra Magnus. Smokescreen flicked his audio sensors to make sure they weren't broken while Warpath shurgged it off; he had heard louder things than the femme's fat mouth.

"Can it, Decepti-creep." Smokescreen snarked from the other side of the cell. "We ain't letting you go, not with the thought of Menasor returning to the Decepticons."

"Oh slag off Smokescreen. Weren't you asleep for half of the war in some pod?" She shot back at the rookie Autobot.

"Just because I missed some of the bigger things in the war, like fighting Unicron and getting Optimus' memories back, doesn't mean that I won't hold back just because you're a femme and I'm a little inexperienced." Smokescreen snarled as he and Wildrider faced off in a deadly staring contest.

"And not one of the prettier femmes, either." Warpath mumbled to himself.

"The HELL did YOU SAY?!" Wildrider screamed at the red Abrams, who merely chuckled to himself.

Wildrider bared her denta and bounced her chest up allowing Ethan to finally perch himself up comfortably. She resisted the urge to grab the smirking rookie's head and beat it into a pulp, but knew that Warpath could easily tear her in two. She knew better, unlike most of her fellow Decepticons. Warpath looked back at the prisoner to see Ethan begin to try and balance himself on Wildrider's huge chest, much to his internal chagrin.

"That boy really doesn't know how lucky he is." He groused, sparing a look at the two talking inside the cell.

"He's human Warpath, he doesn't really know Cybertronian anatomy." He whispered back. "He'll learn in time." Smokescreen looked on the chronometer in his wrist.

"Speaking of time, it's Arcee's turn to guard her." Smokescreen mentioned the Stunticon behind him with a thumb.

The two Autobots left, leaving Ethan and Wildrider to themselves yet again. Wildrider huffed in relief as she and her charge were finally free of Autobot scum for several minutes. As she looked down, she saw Ethan lie down on her chest, lean on her thin lips and pull out a handheld gaming console from his pocket and began to play. Wildrider shrugged as she watched her "younger brother" play some sort of party game while she massaged his back with her mouth, denta and glossa rubbing against his soft flesh.

Ethan let out a sigh of pleasure and turned to face his "big sister". "Thanks, 'Rider. You're the best."

Wildrider giggled.

"I try."