I finally got a start on my new fic, after spending spare minutes here and there typing in short descriptions of my characters, who collectively are an amalgam of all generations plus a few cool characters from other TV shows and movies.
I've altered the relationship between Bulks (i.e., non-Mini-Cons) and Mini-Cons slightly in that it is more of a traditional "master" relationship, as in Headmasters, Targetmasters, and Powermasters. Mini-Cons do figure in the story, but I haven't fleshed out their characterizations yet.

Optimus Prime: G1 Prime in Cybertron Prime’s body.
Ultra Magnus: G1 Magnus in RiD Magnus’s body.
Vector Prime: Powers and abilities similar to Beast Wars Tigerhawk in Galaxy Force Vector Prime’s body, along with a healthy dose of The Matrix’s muscular mystic Morpheus, binary bonded to Mini-Con Targetmaster Safeguard.
Warhead: Beast Wars Rhinox in Cybertron Defense Red Alert’s body.
Deadlock: Beast Wars Depth Charge in Cybertron Jetfire’s body.
Ironhide: G1 Ironhide in Armada Overload’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Headmaster Rollout.
Ratchet: G1 Ratchet in Armada Red Alert’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Longarm and Mini-Con Targetmasters Firebolt (Armada Firebot), Recoil (Armada Prowl) and Makeshift.
Treadbolt: Quiet and reserved yet friendly and personable, a lot like John Locke from Lost, i.e., this joker just seems to know how to do everything.
Springer: G1 Springer’s personality in Energon Bulkhead’s body.
Skyline: Energon Jetfire’s body, the Autobots’ answer to Shockwave and Mr. Spock. Emotionless, logical, and highly efficient.
Rodimus: G1 Rodimus Prime (just grumpier) in Energon Rodimus’s body, is not a Prime.
Overdrive: Cybertron Hot Shot, general badass…Think Anakin Skywalker, all grown up and having never turned to the Dark Side, with a mix of Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. Effortlessly adept at combat and personality as smooth as ice.
Wheeljack: G1 Wheeljack in Energon Downshift’s body.
Roadblock: Typical foul-mouthed “construction guy,” part of the close-knit posse of construction vehicles, including Scoop, Dredge, Treadbolt, and Grapple
Landmine: G1 Brawn in Cybertron Landmine’s body.
Silverbolt: Beast Machines (not Beast Wars; there was a difference) Silverbolt in Armada Blurr’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Incinerator.
Dredge: Beast Wars Dinobot in Armada Hoist’s body and with a dash of Lost’s Sawyer, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Refute.
Grapple: G1 Kup in Armada Smokescreen’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Liftor.
Hot Shot: Beast Wars (Season 3) Cheetor in Armada Hot Shot’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Jolt.
Nightbeat: Armada Sideswipe; personality is based on what little I remember about the comics version of G1 Nightbeat. i.e., believes he’s a private investigator. Binary bonded to the Mini-Con Powermaster Wheelie (Armada Nightbeat).
Hot Rod: G1 Hot Rod (brother of Rodimus) in Armada Powerlinx Hot Shot’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Haywire (Powerlinx Jolt).
Clocker: Beast Wars Rattrap in Cybertron Clocker’s body.



Megatron: G1 Megatron (with a healthy dose of Beast Wars Megatron) in Cybertron Galvatron’s body.
Shockwave: G1 Shockwave in Energon Shockblast’s body, is coldly logical and only loyal to Megatron for as long as seems logical.
Scourge: Similar to G1 Cyclonus (i.e. loyal and powerful) in RiD Scourge’s body.
Tidal Wave: The consummate surly sailor, is an excellent naval fighter and seaman. His whole life is the ocean, and detests leaving it for any reason, although he is also a great space warrior. He is consumed by the sea life, and brutally protective of his territory.
Starscream: G1 Starscream in Galaxy Force Starscream’s body.
Thrust: G1 Thrust in Armada Starscream’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Swindle.
Skywarp: G1 Skywarp in Armada Skywarp’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Thunderclash and Mini-Con Targetmasters Terradive, Thunderwing, and Gunbarrel.
Thundercracker: G1 Thundercracker in Armada Thundercracker’s body, binary bonded to Mini-Con Powermaster Zapmaster.
Crumplezone: Ferociously, blindly loyal to Megatron; a lot like Beast Wars Inferno, only sane.
Dreadnought: Energon Mirage, and female (sorry, I think the figure looks feminine). Solitary and scornful of most others, she is fiercely dedicated to Tidal Wave, who all but ignores her.
Sharkticon: Abilities and personality similar to Actionmaster Banzai-Tron. A loner, he steers clear of fellow naval Decepticons Dreadnaught and Tidal Wave, and also from most fellow flyers (as he can do both). He does, however, get along fairly well with Scourge, Slugslinger, and Backlash. Energon Sharkticon.
Dropshot: Practical joker whose tricks and jibes more often than not cross the line into vicious cruelty. He enjoys and is amused by the pain and destruction he causes. Cybertron Thundercracker.
Slugslinger: The fastest shot on Cybertron, is the quintessential gunslinger. Quiet and reserved, he explodes into cold, efficient brutality when called into action. His miniscule target-lock time and hideously rapid firing rate make him one of the most feared warriors in Megatron’s army. Energon Slugslinger.
Razorwing: Not as wild as Dropshot or as noncommunicative as Slugslinger, Razorwing acts as liaison between his partners and the other Decepticons. Silver-tongued, smooth and glib, his speech is nearly as dangerous as his aim. A sniper by trade, he can deliver kill-shots from miles away. His victims often never know the source of their demise. Energon Energon Starscream’s body.
Dirt Boss: If there was such a thing as a Cybertronian redneck, Dirt Boss is it. He exemplifies the Earth concept of “white trash” through his drunkenness, abusive and vulgar language, his love of mud and dirt, and his complete lack of a work ethic. Often lazy to the point of nearly complete inactivity, he can be goaded into battle with the promise of straight-up hand-to-hand brawling. A warning, however: “fair fight” is not in his vocabulary.
Backlash: Armada Wheeljack. An unapologetic and unrepentant traitor, he looks upon his former Autobot teammates with utter disgust. Is a disciple of Sharkticon, who is training him in the martial art of crystalocution. He is getting quite proficient, and longs for the opportunity to face Overdrive in one-on-one combat and reduce him to particles.
Cyclonus: Armada Cyclonus. Absolutely, irreversibly, irreparably, barking mad. There is simply no other way to describe him. He is sadistic and twisted, and has no value for life, Cybertronian or otherwise. Although he is known to mutilate himself when bored, he prefers to torture others. Megatron likes to keep him around because he makes the best kind of interrogator: one who truly enjoys inflicting pain and can stomach any manner of cruelty, no matter how grotesque. Were he human, he would be right at home in Rob Zombie’s House of a Thousand Corpses.
Demolishor: More like Dirt Boss in terms of personality and preferred methods of inflicting pain, is nonetheless teamed up with Cyclonus for two reasons: He and Dirt Boss simply can’t stand each other (as Demolishor enjoys mindless manual labor and hard work), and Cyclonus’s nauseatingly vile pastimes are morbidly fascinating. If Megatron isn’t careful, he may have two psychopaths on his hands before long.
Ramjet: G1 Ramjet in Armada Thrust’s body. Is a simple soldier dedicated to the Decepticon cause. Of average intelligence, is a solid and dependable (if uncreative) warrior.
Dirge: G1 Dirge in Armada Powerlinx Thrust’s body. Enjoys instilling fear in his victims, and one of his favorite hobbies is capturing victims for Cyclonus. He simply enjoys hearing his prey plead, terrified, for release. He never sticks around long enough to watch, however. He enjoys psychological torment over the wetwork of physical torture and disfigurement.
Sunstorm: Amalgam of Beast Wars Tarantulas and Dreamwave’s Sunstorm. Is sneaky and scheming, and is always on the lookout for a likely ally to help him overthrow Megatron. Not as overt as Starscream, he prefers to keep his motives secret rather than shouting about his superior abilities like Starscream does.
Hardtop: Beast Wars Quickstrike in Cybertron Hardtop’s body. Fancies himself a quick draw like Slugslinger, but is a poor imitation and sorry substitute. Is also incredibly stupid and gullible. Spends much of his time hanging around with Dirt Boss, who only tolerates him because Hardtop is his bitch.

 

The year, had anyone still been keeping track, would have been 3120. However, no one kept track any more, so it didn’t matter. The planet that had once been so vibrant and full of life was now a burned-out husk of a world. What little vegetation could be found was stunted, twisted, and alien. Animal life was nearly nonexistent; after the initial meltdown, all but the hardiest life forms had perished as a result of lingering fallout and the frigidity of nuclear winter. The fate that Earth’s tree-hugging hippies and lunatics had foreseen had befallen it. In a matter of sixteen hours, the world’s nuclear superpowers had wiped each other off of the globe. The countries not involved in the skirmish did not last much longer, as the shockwave of radiation and skin-splitting cancer had advanced to cover the land with pustule-covered zombies whose teeth and hair fell out faster than they could bemoan their fates. The end had not been pretty, coming as it did with both a bang and a whimper. The bang had been for the lucky ones. The others were left with the whimper…not to mention the sobbing, bleeding, and festering.

It seemed that only the cockroaches and rats remained, and the mutations they had undergone had left them nearly unrecognizable. They were the only ones that were commonly seen, anyway. Who knew what lived beneath the surface of the land and sea? Who wanted to know?

“Not me,” said a voice, whose owner surveyed the land while the instrument in his hand clicked and clattered and squawked. Thundercracker pulled his gaze from the wasteland and examined the data screen. As expected, the numbers were off the charts. He glanced over at Thrust, who was his cohort for this sortie. Thrust shrugged and nodded, as if to say, “let’s get the slag out of here.” They quickly transformed and sent themselves rocketing up through the stratosphere. They finally exited the planet’s infected bubble of deadly gases and achieved orbit. Once into the safety of space, they opened radio communication.

“Why does Megatron bother with that place?” Thrust said.

“He wants to get back to stripping it of energy. When the fleshlings fried themselves and sent us scattering for cover, there was still loads of resources left for processing. The geothermal energy alone is enough to keep us in energon for the next couple thousand years.”

Geothermal energy…the power of the Earth’s core. An almost inexhaustible source of energy, if only the surface was safe enough to inhabit. As it was, the massive amounts of radiation made it inhospitable to even Cybertronian life forms. Bots who spent too much time on Earth either lost their capacity for rational thought (like Cyclonus) or simply died, like Astrotrain. One Decepticon had done both: after two days spent on Earth running the geothermal energon stations, Onslaught took a nosedive off the deep end of sanity and tore each member of the Combaticon team to pieces before tearing his own leg off and beating himself to death with it. The video surveillance feeds had recorded the whole incident, and even some of the toughest Decepticons could hardly bear to watch Onslaught smash himself in the face with his own leg.

Current trips to Earth were few and far between, and whoever was unlucky enough to have his name drawn for “Meltdown Patrol” did everything possible to spend less than a minute on the surface.

With this mission over with, Thundercracker was bringing back more bad news for Megatron: Earth was still off-limits for energon production. Megatron used to fly into a rage every time he heard this, but after sixty or seventy such reports, he seemed to have become resigned to the situation. After all, Shockwave had told him that it took a long time for radiation of the sort that was currently poisoning the Earth to burn off.

Thundercracker and Thrust rendezvoused with Ramjet, Dirge, and Sunstorm on their way out of the Sol System. The three had been patrolling the system’s exit point to keep watch for any Autobot forces, which was normal protocol for Meltdown Patrol. Two into the Pit, and three to do loop-de-loops while pretending to stand watch.

Thundercracker had never particularly liked the old threesome of Ramjet, Dirge, and Thrust, as they had been of the slightly different “conehead” seeker design. After proving himself in battle on multiple occasions, however, Thrust had finally earned the respect of Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp. During the big reformat some decades back, when Starscream took on a beefier version of his original Cybertronian design, Thrust took Screamer's place among Thundercracker and Skywarp. This left a vacancy in the conehead trio, which was filled by new recruit Sunstorm.

Thundercracker still hazed the coneheads on occasion, as did Skywarp to a lesser extent, but for some reason Thrust never caught the habit of knocking them around. He simply ignored them. However, he was not deaf to the whispers of “sell-out” that frequently came from Dirge and Ramjet. He did not need to bluster and rant about his abilities, as his performance spoke for itself. He preferred to let his old teammates waste their energy. It made him look better in Megatron’s optics in the long run, anyway.

 

hmmm...interesting start...like the character profiles...looking foward to more  

 

“Gamma Team, you are go in 3, 2, 1…and now.”

Three robots broke cover and scattered, each staying low and heading for their next cover. They were each armed with laser rifles capable of burst fire rates of 100 shots per second. They each had twenty 5000-round clips in addition to the clips already snapped into their weapons. All three had ion scythes that could slice through virtually any Cybertronian metal. Their target was equipped with a railgun, missile launcher, two ion scythes of his own, as well as dual hand-held chain guns. Before they had broken cover, they could make out his silhouette about 1000 meters away, pacing back and forth against the red glow of the emergency beacons behind him.

Hot Shot, who held the extreme south position in the formation, looked to his right and made optic-contact with Hot Rod. The siblings were built from the same design parameters and had the same altmode, but were distinguishable by their radically different paint schemes. Hot Shot was bright yellow and Hot Rod was red with flame markings. Hot Rod returned his gaze and jerked his head to indicate the third member of their team and winked. Hot Shot looked past his brother at Overdrive, who was crouched comfortably behind a short battlement. While Hot Shot was nervous and jittery and Hot Rod was keyed up, hyper, and grinning like a lunatic, Overdrive showed no sign of emotion. He peeked around his cover and jerked back again, narrowly avoiding having his head blasted off. He seemed not to notice as a corner of his hiding place was sheered away by a bolt of lightning from the target’s railgun. His face stayed perfectly blank. Rod grinned even more widely, and imitated a gesture he’d seen performed on by Daniel Witwicky a few times: he pantomimed grabbing a huge pair of testicles between his legs, then pointed a thumb at Overdrive. That guy’s got some balls, the gesture said.

Hot Shot smiled anxiously, and looked back at Overdrive, awaiting the signal. Hot Rod did likewise. Overdrive glanced back at the target once more, and gave a nod. He broke cover, followed immediately by Hot Shot and Hot Rod, and the three of them made their way to a trench fifteen yards out. Their adversary launched a missile at Overdrive, who transformed a split second before the projectile found him, and dropped below its path. As soon as the missile was gone, he reverted back to his robot mode. The next instant, the missile found Overdrive’s previous hiding spot, and obliterated it.

Hot Shot, although scared for his life, had time to be impressed by Overdrive’s speed and adaptability. A second later, however, and he was diving into the trench. Another missile hit the surface not far from Hot Shot’s position, and he was struck by falling debris. He knew that Rod and Overdrive were in the trench with him, as he had seen them leap into it while he was stealing himself for the jump. He made his way northward, and just a few seconds later he and Overdrive converged on Hot Rod’s position.

“Nice move out there, my man,” Hot Rod said.

“You guys were slow on the jump,” Overdrive replied. There was no malice in it, nor the slightest hint of a tease. He said it the same way someone might say “today is Monday.” Hot Shot and Hot Rod looked at each other and shrugged. Overdrive never meant anything beyond the simple literal message…he just stated facts.

“Hot Rod, this time I want you to flank right. Stay in robot mode so you can provide cover fire. Hot Shot, go left, but I want you in altmode. Keep your headlights on. Show our enemy that flashy yellow hide, get his attention. Between the distractions that the both of you set up, I should be able to go in lightless and low in altmode and get within a few meters of him before he realizes what’s going on. It’s dark enough that I shouldn’t be noticed until it’s too late for him to do anything about it. Once you see me drop into cover again, I want the both of you to circle around him and get him to turn his back on me. I should be able to get the drop on him from behind and take him out with my scythe. Maintain radio silence as well as vocal silence. If something goes awry, I’ll try to audible an improv, so be ready to go with what you have, where you are. Are there any questions?”

“Yeah,” said Hot Rod. “How’d you get to be so cute?”

Overdrive sighed and shook his head. He peered over the edge of the trench to get a visual of their enemy, but pulled back hastily when he was greeted by automatic fire. “On my go…”

Hot Shot trembled with fear and exhilaration. His legs tensed, ready to launch him onto the surface where he would transform and drive like mad trying not to be killed. Hot Rod transferred his weight from foot to foot, and he clutched his rifle at the ready. Overdrive gave them both one last glance and popped his head up. A barrage of automatic fire shredded the space immediately surrounding him. He dropped back down and shouted: “Go!”

As Hot Shot and Hot Rod both leapt from their positions, the gunfire was still passing over the spot where Overdrive was hidden. Hot Shot’s feet never touched the ground as he transformed mid-air and hit the accelerator—hard. Rubber shrieked and at the same moment gunfire erupted from nearby…Hot Rod laying cover fire. They both raced away, and for a moment it seemed as if their enemy was confused, as he did not immediately begin to fire on them. Hot Shot had just enough time to think, “This isn’t so bad” before he felt artillery passing very close on his right side. He swerved to avoid being hit and began to drive in a slightly zigzag pattern to make himself more difficult to hit. He knew that Hot Rod was running in much the same fashion, but he did not have time to look. All he was able to see ahead was the shadowy figure firing both his chain guns simultaneously. He swerved back to the right and was able to get a glimpse of Overdrive vaulting from cover and transforming. He sped forward with no headlights and was still able to avoid obstacles in the dark. Hot Shot guessed that he was using infrared vision. Then he lost visual as he had to swerve left again to keep up the zigzag. The path he was on dropped into a gully, providing him some cover. He wasn’t sure where the target was, but he deduced that he (Hot Shot) must be closer to it than Hot Rod, since Hot Rod was on foot.

He cleared the dip and tried to get a glance back at Overdrive, but he couldn’t find him. He focused his forward optical sensors to the front again and nearly dropped his fuel tank on the road. The target…the Enemy…was directly in front of him, and grinning madly. Hot Shot figured he must have come through the gully in a circular vector. The next few seconds seemed to Hot Shot to happen in slow motion:

The Enemy swung both chain guns in his direction, and Hot Rod caught him in the back with a few rounds, to no avail. The behemoth merely continued grinning. Hot Shot could see Hot Rod beyond and to the right, screaming at him, but Hot Shot could hear nothing but his own fuel and lubricants rushing through his conduits. As the chain guns found their mark, Hot Shot felt hot shrapnel pierce his armor in a multitude of blazing puncture wounds. He was hit, and oh Primus did it hurt. He was powerless to steer away or stop, and could do nothing but race forward and intercept more pain…there was already enough of it to tear him to pieces…and the last thing he saw as the lights went out was Overdrive, leaping from the shadows, ion scythe blazing in the night air. He swung the energy blade in a white-hot arc of death over his head. The blade found its target, burying itself in the killer's head, but Hot Shot knew no more.