A simple one-shot on a day in the life of Combaticon leader Onslaught Characters/setting do not fall under canon continuities. Simply an imagination of Meta777 His internal chronometer was the first prmary system to activate, declaring the Earth time to be 05:00 AM, and it promptly activated the energise sequence. Onslaught's processor whirred into life as his sytems booted up from recharge, and for a moment, he felt somewhat tired from the lack of activity in his mainframe. Within the next moment, he became more aware, and his primary neural network reactivated in time for him to transform. With a shifting of metal, he unfolded from his vehicle mode, the front cab splitting apart and twisting into legs, the artillery missile peice splitting into his arms, hands emerging from the weapons, as his plasma turret locked onto his back. With a heave, he pushed himself onto his feet and idly stretched his limbs, his joints hissing as his system finally exited recharge. Onslaught always preferred to sleep in vehicle mode (Said mode being a Cybertronian Artillery Mobile), an old habit of his from before the war. It was simply more comfortable to him, plus it kept his joints from locking up as often as those who did not. His quarters was empty, save for the massive rectangular rock at the back, flanked by twin storage units, the former of which he used as a desk to formulate strategies and plans, the latter for, well, storage. He had no use of anything other than the bare essentials. "Another day, another dollar." He mused, as he turned towards the door. The human species of this planet Earth always had a colourful variety of phrases to put to situations. Alas, Onslaught did not have an Earth job, hence he made no Earth dollars. Regardless, the past two months had been repetitive. There had been no missions, no Autobot incursions, nothing. Just plain nothing. Exiting his room, he, as he did every day, turned right and stopped outside Brawl's room. Typing in the command code, he entered, and walked over to the still form of the tank. Like himself, Brawl recharged in vehicle mode, a habit he had copied from his commander. Vortex called it sucking-up, but Onslaught appreciated the gesture of the younger soldier. For all his sheer power and size, Brawl looked up to his leader and was always eager to please. Onslaught knelt down and tapped the left cannon (Brawl's particular vehicle mode had three. Swindle called it overcompensation): "Rise and shine, Brawl. It's a beautiful day." Granted, he hadn't looked outside the Combaticon's base yet (They were positioned underneath a mountain, so windows weren't an option), but he had faith in the sun shining on a desert region. Nevertheless, the tank's engine rumbled to life under the outside stimulus, and after a moment, Brawl transformed. Onslaught was taller than the other Combaticon, but Brawl definitely beat him in terms of sheer bulk; the largest of the team without a doubt. And also probably the laziest, as he murmured blearily, optics dull and tired: "Morning, sir. Anything cool today?" "I'll check. Would you wake up Vortex for me?" Brawl nodded, and with that, the truck took his leave. Waking up the erratic chopper would pick Brawl out of the tired slump, as it always did; Vortex always did like to cause a commotion. There was no point visting Blast-Off or Swindle; Onslaught knew them well enough that they were awake by now. Treading casually through the base, he eventually reached the operations centre, a massive chamber covered with Decepticon technology; computers, a main screen, an Energon dispensor, boxes of ammo and repair supplies. Everything a mercenary team hanging out under a mountain on an organic planet needed. Swindle was on one of the three smaller terminals, playing the human game of Online Poker. Noting his leader's entrance, the silver-tongued jeep cheerfully said: "Morning, boss! Gotta say, weather forecast calls for a beautiful day today. You want to go out for a drive later, take in the sights? No price-tag on this trip, let me tell ya'!" If it wasn't for the fact his face was half-covered by a permanent mouth-plate, Onslaught may have smiled. As it was, he simply walked over, took the mouse, as humans would call it, from his subordinate, minimised the game, brought up another screen (Youtube, some kind of Earth car race) and clicked on the second tab. As expected, even before the screen display confirmed it, Swindle had been going through the human stock market again. Onslaught sighed and stated: "The human economy is inefficient enough as it is. Don't alter it further for your own taste. We need to remain discrete." Swindle sighed with exaggerated annoyance and shock, flailing his arms around to complete the effect: "You wound me, Onslaught. As if I would do such a thing!" "Of course you would." The truck replied, deleting the tab. "And a good morning to you as well." Leaving the smaller Decepticon to pout and go back to his poker game, Onslaught moved over to the Energon dispensor, grabbing the translucent cube that had a black O drawn on it (The letter represented which Combaticon the cube belonged to, of course). The dispensor was part of a brilliant scheme he and Swindle had hatched; using an Internet alias of the latter, they had founded plans for a technogically advanced wind-farm to provide energy for the nearby human town. As it was, they had tapped into the farm when it was complete; a free supply of energy, and the humans completely unknowing, since the wind farm satisfied their needs also. Onslaught set his cube into the machine and watched it fill with glowing blue liquid. He remembered a funny event, when Blast-Off had taken the O and B cubes, declaring that his name needed both letters, and requested that Onslaught and Brawl share the BO cube. Vortex had a job sorting out the dents on the other flyer's chest after Brawl had 'disagreed' with the idea. Regardless, Onslaught took the full cube from the dispensor, panels on his lower torso sliding open to accept it. He inserted the cube, and felt a satisfying wave of enpowerment slide through him as the Energon energised his systems. Perfect. Removing the cube and setting it next to the others, Onslaught moved over to one of the other computers, setting himself down in the chair and activating the machine. It would be productive to go over his planner, and to check to see if he'd recieved any messages. So, first off, he brought up his planner. According to the calender, it was the 21st of April, a Tuesday. Humans had such interesting choices in relation to days, weeks, months and so on. Anyway, today was predominently a simulation training day. Onslaught, were he capable of it, would have smiled. Despite the reptition nowadays, it was always nice to test out new strategies and tactics in a simulation; he found it very useful practice, and it helped him identify any lacking aspects of his team's performance. Onslaught never really did approve of the domineering nature of other Decepticon leaders, such as that of Motormaster, and even Lord Megatron. He believed that power was maintaing through respect, not fear or dominance. He respected his team, and they respected him; there was no fear or power struggles here, only loyalty. Weakness was to be learned from and to be turned into strength, not full-on removed. Even without the unique link that came with the ability to combine, Onslaught knew nothing but respect and loyalty for his troops. That was the aspect of a good leader. The Combaticons were brothers, and they were at their best when together. The noise of chatter revealed that Brawl and Vortex had entered, and the tank was currently laughing about a joke the latter had told him. Swindle exchanged greetings with them, and Vortex, sniggering in that demented fashion of his, went off to the dispensor while Brawl went to see what Swindle was playing. With the day's plan in mind, he turned his attention to his messages. He had three, and the third one struck him instantly; a mission request, personally prioritised by commander Starscream, who was managing the Decepticon presence on Earth. Onslaught was interested, but he decided to check the other two first. One was from Barricade, who had sent a list of things that made him hate Starscream. Onslaught chuckled slightly, earning an inquiry from Vortex: "What's so funny, boss?" "Starscream isn't exactly popular with his troops, Vortex. According to Barricade, his vocal processor is reminiscent of the strangled wails of a dying Insecticon." Vortex burst into laughter, cackling away, and Onslaught went to the next message. Surprisingly, it was from the Stunticon Breakdown, who had seem inclined to tell Onslaught about a good day he had, featuring a race with Dead End and how he had pulled a prank on a scout called Sideways. Onslaught was somewhat flattered that the racer had felt it fitting to send him a message. It wasn't that long ago, before the Combaticons had relocated to Earth, that he had given the Stunticons, excluding Motormaster, the option to join his team if they ever needed to. Put bluntly, they hated the Stunticon leader, how he was cruel and hate-filled, and Onslaught disliked those who ruled with fear, so he had decided to see if the four of them would want to relocate. A Decepticon he may be, but he was above such petty tyranny as other higher-powers loved to indulge in. How could one win a war if one could not truly depend on their soldiers to remain loyal? Regardless, the Stunticons had ultimately turned him down, since they had their own missions, but Drag-Strip assured him that they would contact him if they changed their minds. Onslaught mused on having four extra team-mates, and considered a Bruticus made of nine Decepticons. The thought made him chuckle. He sent Breakdown and Barricade respectively themed replies, before bringing up the message from Starscream. It was a job offer to raid a human test facility of an experimental reactor system. A crude concept, but the jet had remarked that Soundwave could improve the device into something that would definitely help off-world war efforts, so that was okay. Stealing tech from humans was a pitifully easy concept, and something to break up the routine, so Onslaught accepted. Coordinates and timings (later today, in fact) were provided, and the reward was tantalising; spare parts for repairs, ammunition and a Dimension Distorter! Lord Megatron was clearly in need of energy supplies if he was willing to provide such a powerful device, one that could split the fabric of space into a concentrated black hole, so it was clearly obvious this job was going to recieve best priorities. A glance at the base's scanners revealed only four Combaticons present, so Onslaught activated his com-link and contacted the missing soldier: "Blast-Off, acknowledge; where are you?" "Onslaught, my friend: I am currently situated upon the Moon. I must say, while the organic infestation that pollutes this planet is disgusting, the Earth itself looks quite beautiful from this view." "Take a picture for me, and return to base. We have a mission." "Ah yes, the foolish Starscream requires our help, again. Very well, I am returning to base. Can't have a mission without the most competent of our number." Onslaught chuckled: "No we cannot. Onslaught out." Deactivating his comm, he stood up and moved to the main screen, before turning to the other three and declaring: "Combaticons, line up." There was no mistaking the commanding tone, and they moved instantly; Brawl was first in line, as per usual, and the other two moved to flank him, Swindle asking: "What's up, boss?" "Starscream has provided us with a mission, one that could see us with impressive results should we succeed." "I love results!" Vortex cackled, flexing his rotors in excitement. "What's the job?" He was interrupted by Blast-Off's return. The Cybertronian jet entered via a hatch in the ceiling, transformed, and landed gracefully next to Vortex. Just like the other Combaticons, Blast-Off had not taken an Earth disguise; as if one with a superiority complex as big as he could tolerate adopting a crude design. Regardless, he asked: "What is our mission, Onslaught?" The answer was simple: "We are to raid this facility-" He slid over to the compter and brought it up on the main screen so the others could see. "-And steal a device from the humans for Commander Starscream. In exchange for our service, we will recieve additional supplies." He considered telling them of the Dimensional Distorter, but such a powerful weapon was better kept under wraps until it was need; due to their rarity, they were best used as last resort or truly important sieges. Regardless, he moved back in front of his team, whom were exchanging glances, and said: "We will strike quickly and efficiently, as we always do. Vortex and Blast-Off will remove any obstacles and defences, Brawl and Swindle will maintain a perimeter, and I will personally retrieve the device. Objectives may vary depending on changes of events. Now then, are we ready?" "Yes sir!" Onslaught nodded in appreciation of their swift decision. "Excellent. Let us prove our worth once more. Combaticons, mobilise!" With a shifting of metal, three Cybertronian vehicles emerged from the entrance of their base, disguised with a holographich generator, while the two flyers soared out of the entrance higher up on the mountain. As one, the team moved out for their objective. Not the average Tuesday he had grown used to these past months, but Onslaught had no objections.