Foxtrot and Stilts both look stunned.
“I thought that bot got blasted on the moon of Athena,” Foxtrot says.
“Yeah, no one ever saw him after that,” Stilts adds, thinking back to that fateful mission. “We figured he was spare parts for sure.”
“Well, if he was spare parts, someone sure put him back together well—and slapped an Autobot logo on him as a finishing touch,” Forager replies.
The Ronins’ trip down memory lane is short-lived, however, as Foxtrot’s keen audio receptors pick up the sounds of Bumblebee, Strongarm, Sideswipe, and Grimlock attempting to sneak back into the scrapyard.
“The Autobots have returned, brothers,” Foxtrot informs his fellow mercenaries. His face twists into garish grin. “Shall we escape or take this place over as our new base on Earth?” Stilts and Forager let out wicked cackles.
“As if that was even a question!” Stilts exclaims. “This’ll make the perfect hideaway while we plunder and pillage as we please!”
“Sounds peachy, Foxtrot, but it’s still three versus four, and I don’t like them odds,” Forager reminds him. “I ain’t goin’ back in that freezer.”
“Don’t worry, I think I have an old holo-cloak in my records that’ll make this fight a lot more interesting.…” Foxtrot replies with a sly smile.
The Decepticon punches a few codes into the display screen on his tail and two small discs pop out. He sticks one to his chest and pockets the other. “I’ll save this hologram disc as a surprise.”
With a press of a button, Foxtrot dons a perfect hologram of Drift or—as they knew him—Deadlock!
“How do I look?” he asks.
“Like a sight for sore optics,” Forager replies.
Across the scrapyard, Bumblebee and the others walk nervously toward the diner with their blasters drawn.
As they turn a corner, they see Drift standing with their back to them.
Bumblebee whisper-shouts to their cryptic colleague, but Drift doesn’t move or respond.
The Autobot leader walks closer… and closer… reaching out to put his hand on Drift’s shoulder when—WHOOSH!—it goes straight through!
“It’s a hologram!” Bumblebee shouts to the others—a moment too late.
A second, solid “Drift” leaps out from behind a stack of cars and pins Grimlock to the ground.
“This is an ambush!” the pretend-Drift yells.
Before the big Dinobot can pummel his opponent, he is shocked with an electrical charge.
ZZZARK!
Sideswipe and Strongarm hurry to help their fallen friend, but Stilts and Forager appear and grab them by the wrists.
With a quick spin, the Ronin throw the two young cadets into each other, knocking them both out!
WHAM!
As pretend-Drift and his allies tie up Bumblebee’s teammates, the Autobot leader dashes behind a scrap pile and calls for help.
“Mayday, mayday!” he yells into his communicator’s open channel. “Drift and his Decepticons have attacked the scrapyard. If anyone is left, send help!”
“Sorry, little guy,” the disguised Foxtrot says, leaning over Bumblebee’s hiding spot with Forager and Stilts behind him. “Those nice big wings of Stilts’s block signal transmissions. You just spent your last moments of freedom sending out static.”
The villains laugh and quickly pile on Bumblebee, overpowering the struggling hero. Soon, Team Bee is dragged to the stasis pods. As quickly as they were captured, the Autobots are locked away and the Ronin are left in charge of the scrapyard!
Chapter 7
Out in the woods, Jetstorm and Russell continue trudging along in hopes of running into other Autobots. As they near the quarry, Jetstorm picks up on a fragmented communication:
“Mayday, mayday… Drift… attacked… scrapyard… help!”
“Hey, that’s Bumblebee’s voice!” Russell says. “But that means Strongarm must have been right—Drift really is a traitor!”
Just as Russell puts Jetstorm’s worst fears into words, the two of them look up to see Drift speeding toward them from across the quarry!
“Run!” Russell shouts at Jetstorm.
Jetstorm reluctantly complies, and the young boy hangs on tight as the Mini-Con sprints through the branches.
The roar of Drift’s motor gains on them.
VROOOM!
Jetstorm bounces off trees left and right, cutting into a denser part of the forest. Together with Russell, he hides under a big, overturned tree trunk.
Suddenly, a large shadow passes overhead and lands in front of them.
It’s Drift!
Russell and Jetstorm scream.
“Why do you flee from your master?” Drift booms, making Jetstorm shrink down on himself.
The Mini-Con may be easily intimidated, but Russell is not. The human climbs off Jetstorm’s back and confronts Drift.
“Because you betrayed us!” Russell shouts.
He beats his fists on the cold metal exterior of Drift’s shin. “You and your real team kidnapped my dad!”
Drift is instantly taken aback. “My ‘real team’?” he asks.
“The Decepticons!” Russell yells. “The tall one with wings and a beak and the mean-looking orange one with the big tail.”
Drift’s normally calm exterior breaks. He bends down and puts one massive hand around Russell’s back to comfort him.
“Russell Clay, I did not attack the others, but I think I know who did,” Drift says to the distraught young boy. “You must believe me if we are to rescue them.”
Russell looks up into Drift’s face, unsure of what to do, but Jetstorm slowly walks over and kneels in front of Drift.
“I trust you, master,” Jetstorm says, eyes averted.
Drift looks at him for a moment.
“Stand, student,” he says. “I have not earned your trust. It is time that I come clean about my past. I had hoped to put it behind me, but I see now that my silence has put others at risk.”
Drift shifts back into his sleek vehicle mode and opens the door for Russell to get in. Jetstorm takes his place on Drift’s side.
Driving back to the scrapyard, Drift explains how he came to know the Ronin.
“Many cycles ago, Cybertron was a very different place,” he begins. “When the Decepticon movement first began, it wasn’t clear how evil they were. They spoke about equality and political reform on Cybertron. It was easy to get swept up in all the talk, especially if you started life as a homeless bot stealing Energon just to survive. The skills I learned on the streets drew the attention of Megatron, the leader of the Decepticon movement.”
Russell’s jaw drops at the mention of Megatron. He’s been around the bots long enough to know that Megatron means serious trouble.
“Megatron brought me in, gave me a purpose—and a new name: Deadlock.” Drift continues. “I worked alongside the Decepticons for many cycles, watching the movement grow increasingly destructive and distanced from its original goals. I did many things I am ashamed of, and for which I can never atone. When I was nearly destroyed in battle, a group of peaceful bots called the Circle of Light repaired me and allowed me to live among them, trading unending conflict for honor and self-control.”
Drift sighs, sifting back through painful memories.
“Eventually the war reached even the Circle of Light, and my peace was shattered. For countless cycles after that, I wandered aimlessly, a samurai without a master or a cause. Which is exactly what the Ronin were looking for.”
Drift rolls to a halt in the trees surrounding the scrapyard.
“What you must understand about the Ronin is that they answer to no one. Like me, they were Decepticons who grew disenchanted with Megatron’s goals. There were many of them, and no single leader. They accepted me without questioning my past deeds. It was… comforting. But in time, I discovered that what they did, they did without honor.”
“What did they do?” Russell asks nervously.
“They are bounty h
unters, but they recognize no code of virtue. During my final job with them, a group of us followed a bounty to the moon of Athena, a distant planet with a large native population. The target retreated to a sealed bunker deep under the moon’s surface. Rather than retreat, one of the Ronin, Foxtrot, suggested blowing the moon apart from space. The explosion would have been devastating to the inhabitants of the planet below.”
Russell gasps.
“So what did you do?”
“The only thing I could,” Drift replies. “When our ship neared bombing range, I set off a small explosion that scared everyone else into the ship’s life pods. After they were clear, I triggered the rest of the explosives and then escaped myself. Our ship detonated in orbit. The Ronin were stranded in space until other members of the guild could rescue them, but I fled… determined to follow my path alone, and with honor.”
His tale done, Drift shifts back into robot mode, letting Russell out first.
Jetstorm again kneels before his master.
“I trust you, master,” Jetstorm says.
Drift bows to him.
“I trust you, too, student,” Drift responds. “And you, Russell Clay of Earth. Now I ask that you maintain that trust. It will not be easy to defeat the Ronin that have captured your—our—friends. We will need to deceive them.”
Chapter 8
Drift, Jetstorm, and Russell approach the entrance of the scrapyard. The bright afternoon sun has set, giving the normally welcoming front gate a sinister vibe. A bot that appears to be Grimlock immediately greets them.
“Hello, big bot, small bot, and soft bot,” pretend-Grimlock says in his dumbest voice. “Me am your Dinobot friend! It am safe to come inside.”
“I do not think so, Stilts,” Drift says, a serious look set on his face. “That is you under there, is it not?”
Pretend-Grimlock frowns and drops his holographic disguise.
“I thought Forager had brain rust when he told us he saw you, Deadlock,” Stilts replies. “But it must be you with a malfunction if you’ve allied yourself with these pathetic Autobots.”
Without warning, Drift snatches an unsuspecting Russell in one hand and pins Jetstorm to the ground with the other.
“You mean these two?” Drift asks. “I was just tracking down the strays. The Decepticons have a sizable standing bounty for these bots, and I mean to collect.”
“Is that so?” Stilts asks, not quite believing Drift’s story. “Forager said you seemed pretty chummy with them when he got locked up.”
“Do you know of an easier way to capture this many bots solo?” Drift responds without missing a beat. “I was about to start picking them off when Forager blew my cover. Now let me in and we’ll discuss how we are going to split the payday.”
Stilts still looks unconvinced.
“A nanocycle ago I thought you were nothing but debris drifting through space in a galaxy far, far away,” Stilts says. “You’re going to have to talk to Foxtrot before I trust anything that comes out of your speech module.”
“Oh, is Foxtrot your leader now?” Drift challenges.
“The Ronin have no leader,” Stilts says through an angrily clenched beak. “We take care of our own.”
The tall Decepticon reluctantly lets Drift in with his struggling prisoners.
When they pass the makeshift holding cell, Drift roughly tosses Russell and Jetstorm inside. Russell just catches the slightest hint of a wink as the former bounty hunter leaves them locked up.
Inside the command center, Foxtrot and Forager are flipping through the prison transport records, taking note of which other members of the Ronin were on board when the ship crashed on Earth. Foxtrot isn’t happy to see Drift.
“Shouldn’t you be in stasis, traitor?” Foxtrot hisses, flexing his claws.
“Whoa, whoa, wait-a-minute, tough guy,” Forager interrupts, putting himself between Foxtrot and Drift. “I’m sure our old pal Deadlock—or should I say Drift—has a solid explanation for why he’s here and how he’s still in one piece.”
“There is not much to say,” Drift states in his typically stoic fashion. “Our ship went down. I thought you blew up. You thought I blew up. I work alone now. End of explanation.”
“You work alone until now, right, old buddy?” Forager says, chuckling.
He wraps a thick arm around Drift’s shoulders. “This is fate! We’re getting the gang back together. With all them stasis pods and fancy equipment, we can sell the Autobots to the Decepticons and the Decepticons to the Autobots. We’ll be rich!”
The cunning crook cackles at his own idea.
“We’ll be richer if we don’t split the bounties with this backstabber,” Foxtrot growls.
“And how long will you waste learning about this equipment and this planet?” Drift asks. “These foolish bots taught me everything.”
“Did they teach you how to use the trash compactor?” Stilts asks. “We were just brainstorming fun ways to deactivate the Mini-Cons. No bounty on those runts.”
Drift’s face remains calm and unreadable.
“No, but I do know the locations of all the Energon caches they’ve discovered,” Drift says.
The Ronins’ optics go wide.
“And we’ll need more Energon to power the locators and track down the rest of the bounties,” Drift adds. “I’ve been itching for some action after holding back around these law-bots. Anybot who wants to join me is welcome to follow.”
Stilts and Forager look at each other and grin. These rough-and-tumble Decepticons are always up for causing a mess. Foxtrot doesn’t hide his distrust of Drift, but he reluctantly joins along.
On the way out of the scrapyard, Forager stops to taunt the prisoners.
“Enjoy the scenery while it lasts, you byte-sized bots,” Forager says, rattling the makeshift cage containing Denny, Russell, and the Mini-Cons. “When we come back, we’re gonna have fun recycling you.”
Drift stands idly by while the Ronin harass his former charges.
When Forager grows tired of the game, they all shift into their vehicle forms and roll out.
Forager turns into a Cybertronian dirt buggy, Foxtrot becomes a sleek alien sports car, and Stilts takes flight as an otherworldly jet plane.
Drift—or, rather, Deadlock—leads the way in his Earth car mode.
Once they are alone, Russell helps his dad to his feet and turns to Jetstorm with a nervous look on his face.
“So this is still all just an act, right? Drift hasn’t betrayed us for real?” Russell asks.
“We will soon find out,” the Mini-Con replies.
Chapter 9
“Where are we headed, Deadlock?” Stilts asks, soaring through the air above the other three bots. “Maybe we can try out the old bomb-from-above move again—get it right this time!”
“No need,” Drift replies. “The last Decepticon those do-gooders captured hid his stash in an auto factory that should be deserted at this time of night. The native population does not understand Energon, so there was no risk of them stealing it for themselves.”
Foxtrot banks a hard turn to the right, fender-checking Drift and nearly pushing him off the road.
“A deserted factory?” Foxtrot growls angrily. “I thought you were taking us someplace we could cut loose and have some fun. If I wanted to just have a peaceful picnic, I’d have stayed in the woods.”
Drift revs his motor and pulls ahead, kicking up dirt and rocks that bounce off Foxtrot’s windshield.
“There is no sense in exposing our existence to the humans until we are at full strength,” Drift replies curtly.
He grinds to a halt in front of an imposingly large factory, set off from main roads and the general populace of Crown City. The sun is down and all the factory workers are home for the night.
The Ronin switch back into their bot modes, ready to rampage and nab some Energon.
“We’ll scale the exterior and enter through the skylight,” Drift says.”
“No can do, old pal.
This bot doesn’t climb,” Forager says, pointing to himself. “I ain’t no good unless I got both paws planted firmly on the ground. Let me take care of this.”
The crafty crook pops a lockpick out of his claw to open the large delivery bay doors. Before he can finish tinkering with the lock, Foxtrot steps forward, pulls out his blaster, and shoots a hole through the door.
BLAM!
“Oops,” he says sarcastically. “Trigger digit slipped.”
“Get a load of this bot, will ya?” Forager says, slapping Foxtrot on the back. “That’s why they call him the Trigger-Happy Terror!”
“That’s not what I call him,” Stilts replies with a smirk.
Foxtrot flashes his teeth at his comrade. “Quit grinding my gears,” he snarls.
“Ah, shove it down your intake valve,” Stilts retorts.
The bots pile inside, towering above the human-sized proportions.
Stilts’s cranium grazes the factory ceiling.
“You know, maybe I better wait outside,” he says. “I’m not a big fan of tight spaces.”
Foxtrot gives the bot a shove to keep moving and stop complaining.
Drift leads the Ronin to a decommissioned part of the factory, blocked off with yellow caution tape. They smash through equipment and knock over auto parts as they walk along.
“I see you have mastered the art of stealth in my absence,” Drift observes dryly.
He directs them toward a hulking tarp-covered shape and pulls the cover off.
The Decepticons have discovered a gargantuan, glowing stack of Energon cubes—ripe for the taking!
“Well, hello, beautiful!” Forager squeaks.
They each grab as many cubes as they can carry and turn to leave the way they came in.
As they near the exit, Drift is the first to spot a human security guard at the far end of a long hallway. The man is inspecting the smoldering remains of auto parts the Decepticons trashed on their way in.
Drift's Samurai Showdown Page 3
