Despicable Mo…tormaster

Written by Taipan Kiryu

This story won't be actually related with the 'Despicable Me' movie. Mostly I will be using some quotes from the movie as chapter titles or to insert them in the story every now and then, but this fanfiction will be original and will have no relation with the movie whatsoever, the exception being, of course, Agnes.

So, in other words, it doesn't matter if you haven't watched the movie, you will be able to understand my story quite fine.

Although this will be a humorous fic, my biggest challenge will be to keep Motormaster in character all the time. He's called the terror in eighteen wheels for a reason, and I have no intention to forget that.

Enough said. I hope you will enjoy this story, my first Stunticon-centered fic, also a sort of warm-up for my incoming Stunticons-Aerialbots story, which should see the light soon, as soon as I finish a couple of my other ongoing fics, that is…

Many thanks to iratepirate for all her grammatical and emotional support.

Also many thanks to QoS. Her Stunticon stories are an inspiration.

DISCLAIMER: Transformers belong to Hasbro/Takara and Agnes to Illumination Studios/Universal Pictures.

Motormaster belongs to no one.

Chapter 1

You're funny!

"Sir, would you like to buy some cookies?"

Breakdown only sighed with annoyance as Wildrider burst into laughter, enjoying his own joke for the second time that day. The insane Ferrari was still submerged in his feverish attack of laughter when he was already on his way to the next door.

Breakdown opened his comm link, not daring to use the gestalt bond in fear that a certain ill-humored semi would hear him. "Did Wildrider just knock on your door and ask you to buy um… cookies?"

"Yes," Dead End replied, noticeably bored. "I supposed you would be next on his list. Although I confess I have no idea what he would do if his offer were accepted. I didn't see him carrying any cookies."

"He's at Drag Strip's door now… And he just got punched in the face. You don't suppose he will try his stunt with Motormaster, do you?"

"Impossible to know what happens in Wildrider's processor, one of the mysteries that none of us will live to find out about."

"He's going to get slagged if he continues like that… why don't you take him for a ride?"

"I fail to recall the moment in which I was appointed as his guardian. Why don't you take him for a ride, Breakdown?"

"Uh… no… I hate going out with Wildrider. He calls so much attention… If at least all those humans would stare only at him … But no, they stare at me, as if my chassis has some sort of magnet for their little organic optics…"

"Please spare me another one of your episodes. As for Wildrider, I suggest you make the proper preparations for his funeral service. Motormaster won't tolerate it if he tries to sell him cookies."

"Okay but…"

A crack in the gestalt bond interrupted the private conversation. Both Breakdown and Dead End closed their comm links and focused only on the commanding voice to come. They didn't have to wait more than one second.

"Stunticons, report to the Command Centre at once. Megatron has summoned us."

Breakdown sighed. So Wildrider would live to see another day… and sell more cookies.

Wildrider was still snickering and mumbling something about orphans and cookies by the time the Stunticons hit the highway, forty three minutes after Megatron gave them his new orders.

"I don't understand," Drag Strip spat as he swerved to avoid a big advertising board that Motormaster had just taken down, the race car clearly annoyed by having to restrain his speed to stay at his commander's rear. "Why the slag did Megatron send us to kidnap one single human? Soundwave's minions could have taken care of something so simple, something so… so…"

"Unwary?" Breakdown suggested.

"The correct word would be unworthy, Breakdown, but yes, that term could also be used to describe our current assignment."

"If you three value your filthy vocalizers, you may as well consider keeping them slagging shut!" Motormaster roared.

"Sir, would you like to buy some cookie—"

Motormaster swerved to the right and violently crushed Wildrider against the road railing. The Ferrari broke it and got projected to the ravine below, but his disrespect toward gravity allowed him to be back with his four wheels on the road in a matter of seconds.

"I'm just saying that I see no point in sending us to kidnap some human flesh bag," Drag Strip continued, carefully softening the tone of his voice. "I understand that we need to get to her creator, and that he's currently missing in action or something, but what use could Megatron get from that human's midget?"

"Humans are fond of their offspring," Dead End explained. "We get the girl and the father will follow."

Motormaster growled, exasperated. "Lord Megatron sent us, his elite team, to acquire a vital advantage for his newest plan. Stop talking nonsense and concentrate on your assignments. Know that I will not accept failure this time. I'm always so tolerant with all of you morons, but that is about to change."

"Girl, girl?" Wildrider asked, still submerged in his most recent psychotic attack. "Does the girl sell cookies? Is she an orphan?"

"No," Motormaster said darkly. "But soon she will be."

As much as he would have wanted to order a hit-and-run assault on the vast and luxurious mansion that was ahead of them, Motormaster knew that he would have to resort to more... subtle ways, as much as the simple word disgusted him. Megatron had emphasized that the target was not to be harmed under any circumstance, and Motormaster would make sure that his order would be strictly followed.

So bursting into the humans' dwelling and shooting everything that moved was out of the question. He would need finesse for this mission, something that would certainly require his team to exercise their stealth. It was one of those skills born from cowardice that Motormaster despised so much, but that for the moment it would have to do.

And finesse itself approached rolling from behind, grumbling and complaining. Nothing rare, because Drag Strip always complained, no matter if he was about to be used as a decoy or not. Of course, the slagging fool found some comfort in thinking that he had been chosen because of his superior looks. With teammates like that, there was no doubt why the Stunticons hadn't reached the peak Motormaster desired so much.

Wildrider walked beside the yellow Formula One car, filling his trunk with all kind of colorful objects.

"What's all that?" Breakdown asked, his head peeking out from behind Motormaster's trailer, abandoning his hiding spot in the parking lot for a moment in order to satisfy his curiosity.

"Candies, stuffed animals, articulated figures of Charles Manson… the kind of things human kids like," Wildrider happily replied, already on his average level of 'sanity'.

"Who is Charles Manson?" Breakdown asked.

"Who cares!" Motormaster spat. "Finish conditioning Drag Strip and send him in. The target is already in the extraction area."

"It's done, boss. Oh, wait, I almost forgot!" Wildrider said, slamming an Autobot badge on Drag Strip's hood.

"What the slag is that?" Drag Strip snapped, as predicted.

"You're the Autobot visitor, remember?" Wildrider explained as if he were imparting a lesson to a recently created mech. "That's why you are filled with all this stuff. The kids will jump at you, you will tell them all that freedom-is-the-right-of-all-slagging-beings nonsense that the Autobots are always preaching, and boom! We get the girl."

"Boom?" Dead End asked, polishing a small section of his forearm that looked slightly less polished than the rest of his armour. "I thought we would restrain from using deadly force this once."

"Deadly force will only be applied on you fools if you don't shut up!" Motormaster growled, his patience reaching its limit. "Dead End, Breakdown, Wildrider, transform and proceed to your positions. Drag Strip, I want you inside and creating the distraction in exactly five minutes. Dead End will provide you support and Breakdown will disable the mansion security system. Wildrider will isolate the target and I will secure it. If any of you idiots have any doubts, I'll be happy to carve my orders into your spark chambers."

As he expected, none of his teammates dared to speak. Motormaster also transformed to his vehicle mode and attached to his trailer, mapping the positions of all his team. "Remember to keep a low profile. Except for Drag Strip, we are nothing but simple human vehicles from now on. Stunticons, go now!"

Exactly five minutes and thirty seven seconds later, Motormaster felt a clear wave of desperation and rage coming from the gestalt bond. He felt authentic, sick amusement at the predicament of his teammate.

"Come on," Motormaster said maliciously through the bond. "Dare to ruin this and Menasor will lose one arm for good. Come on!"

"T-they are touching me… Everywhere… with their sticky, sweaty hands… I'm in hell!" Drag Strip cried.

"Just hold on a little longer, you fool. Dead End is currently arriving to assist you."

From his location outside the main gate, Motormaster could see the maroon Porsche driving slowly but recklessly through the big garden. Some human adults shouted something at him and waved their arms frenetically, but the "drunk driver" ended up crashing into the nearby pond anyway. The grown up flesh bags and some of the small ones ran toward the half sunken car, but the rest of the little humans stayed mounted on Drag Strip's sides, making sure to strip him of all the goodies he was carrying.

"Breakdown, report."

"Security system offline," Breakdown announced through the gestalt bond. "Not even one of those cameras is working anymore."


"Here boss, already inside the garden and isolating the girl… Hey, more kids are coming. Can we kidnap them all? I have always wanted to open 'Wildrider's day care'."

"Focus, you idiot! Isolate the target and get rid of the other flesh bags. Now! We are running out of time."

"Sure, leave it to me, boss!"

When Wildrider started to perform a light and sound show that would have made Jazz shoot himself, Motormaster decided he had to intervene. It hadn't been a good idea to leave so much responsibility to Wildrider after all, and Motormaster wasn't willing to fail only for the stupidity of his insane subordinate.

He transformed, his imposing structure shaking the ground when he landed on his two feet in the garden. As predicted, all humans, adults and younglings alike, started to run as if they were facing the ultimate shutdown itself. All but one…

The tiny and bubbly black haired flesh bag remained in front of the giant gray robot before her with an astonished stare… and absolutely no fear at all.

"Heh," she grinned, looking at Motormaster. "You're funny!"

Motormaster seized her with his hand and put her into his cabin. "Stunticons," he said through the gestalt bond as he transformed. "Abandon positions and proceed to the base. Mission accomplished."

To be continued.

Chapter two is almost done and should be posted soon. Please let me know your opinions :o)