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  A Sneak Peek of Transformers Robots in Disguise: Bumblebee Versus Scuzzard

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  Chapter 1

  “Decepticon attack!” Bumblebee shouts at his team. “The scrapyard has been breached!” He zooms through their makeshift Earth headquarters with his high-beam lights flashing and his horn blaring. “All bots to their stations! This is not a drill!”

  Strongarm is the first Autobot to respond to Bee’s alerts, switching straight from sleep mode to her robot form. This eager cadet is always at the ready.

  “I’ll protect the humans, sir!” she says, sprinting toward the vintage diner that Denny and Russell Clay call home. “I can see Sideswipe isn’t up to the task!”

  “Hey, this bot’s always got his motor revving,” replies Sideswipe, flexing his gears and shaking out his sprockets. “It just so happens to be the middle of a night cycle, and I was getting my beauty recharge.”

  The flashy, young Sideswipe flips through the air and lands back-to-back against the straightlaced Strongarm.

  Suddenly, the ground beneath them starts to rumble at the approach of pounding footsteps. The two Autobots draw their weapons.

  “AWW YEAH, LET ME AT ’EM!” Grimlock roars, stomping his way toward the scrapyard’s front gate.

  The massive Dinobot is always itching to turn some Decepticons into scrap metal!

  Bumblebee screeches to a halt in Grimlock’s path, blocking his stampede.

  “That’s not the plan, Grim. Follow our breach protocol!”

  Bumblebee spins his wheels while the Dinobot complies and turns around. Grimlock joins his teammates at the diner, grumbling all the way.

  Denny Clay stumbles out into the scrapyard he owns and operates, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and tying the belt on his vintage rockabilly flamingo robe a little tighter.

  “What’s all this racket? It’s after midnight, you know,” Denny pleads, stifling a yawn. “Humans actually need to sleep, remember?”

  Bumblebee pulls up next to the diner and shifts into bot mode. With his lights still shining, the Autobot leader peers into the darkness of the scrapyard. There are no Decepticons in sight. There’s also no sign of Drift, the stoic and mysterious former bounty hunter who recently joined up with them.

  “Where’s Drift?” Bumblebee asks. “This breach-defense drill needs full cooperation to work.”

  Strongarm and Sideswipe exchange looks as they slowly realize the “Decepticon attack” may not be as real as they had thought. They return their weapons to their holsters.

  “Um, sir, did you say ‘drill’?” Strongarm asks tentatively.

  If any bot understands the need for preparedness, it’s Strongarm, but that doesn’t mean she appreciates being left in the dark by her commanding officer.

  Russell Clay, Denny’s twelve-year-old son, steps out from behind a row of antique washing machines. He clicks a stopwatch in his hand.

  “Three minutes and forty-five seconds, Bee,” Russell says. “Two minutes longer than your goal time.”

  “Scrap, that’s no good. And Drift didn’t even show up! I don’t know about that bot.…” Bumblebee sighs. “In the case of a Decepticon attack on the scrapyard during typical Earth rest hours, we should all be able to meet at Central Diner Defense Point Delta in under two minutes.”

  Grimlock is still ready to rumble. He looks around and slowly—more slowly than the other bots—realizes what’s going on.

  “Wait a nanocycle… you mean I don’t get to demolish any Decepticons tonight?”

  “No, Grim,” Bumblebee explains. “This was meant to be a team-training exercise, but not all your teammates thought it was worth their time.”

  As the Autobots begin to disperse, Drift calmly joins the gathering, flanked by his two Mini-Cons, Jetstorm and Slipstream.

  “Nice of you to show up,” Sideswipe mumbles.

  “It is wise of you to train your team, Bumblebee,” Drift says dryly. “It is clear that they struggle with basic functions.”

  Drift’s deadpan insult noticeably upsets Strongarm, who prides herself on her professionalism and combat readiness. “But I do not need training. I have survived on my own for many cycles,” he continues.

  Jetstorm coughs as if to remind Drift that he has been alone except for his Mini-Cons. Slipstream steps on Jetstorm’s foot and quiets the less reserved of the two apprentice-bots. Drift is a stern master and doesn’t appreciate his students speaking out of turn.

  “I know you’re used to working alone, Drift,” Bumblebee says, taking on an air of authority. “And I’m happy to have you as part of our team here on Earth. But I won’t stand for you insulti—”

  BREEP! BREEP!

  An alarm screeches over the speaker system installed on the diner’s exterior.

  “Decepticon attack! Please retort… resort… report to the command center at once!” The jumble of words is the telltale malfunction of Fixit, the Autobots’ Mini-Con helper.

  Denny Clay covers his ears with his hands.

  “Is this another drill, Bee?” Denny yells over the siren. “If so, it’s way past Rusty’s bedtime—and mine!”

  “If this is a drill, it’s not one I planned!” Bumblebee yells back. “We better join Fixit and find out what’s going on!”

  Chapter 2

  Once everyone gathers in the command center, Fixit taps furiously at his console to pull up a large hologram of the Decepticon his systems discovered. The villainous bot is short and round, with a masklike marking over his eyes and a large tail circled by rings of alternating black and brown metal.

  “Aw yeah, I get to smash up a Decepticon!” Grimlock says, pounding his fists together.

  “Hey, he looks like a raccoon!” Russell observes.

  “What’s a ‘raccoon’?” Grimlock asks. “That’s not like a”—he gulps—“kitten, is it?”

  The typically bombastic Dinobot looks oddly nervous. He’s not very good at hiding his bizarre fear of Earth felines.

  “Actually, they’re not closely related,” Russell says, easing Grimlock’s mind slightly. “But they do look and act a little similar, I guess.”

  Grimlock suppresses a startled yelp.

  “My sensors picked up a Decepticon moving through the side streets of Crown City,” Fixit explains. “It appears that he is trying to stay hidden from humans, but who knows how long that will last!”

  “All right, bots, we need to apprehend this Decepticon before he’s spotted,” Bee says, stepping up to lead his team.

  “Oh, he’s not spotted,” Sideswipe remarks, pointing at the image. “He’s striped, see?”

  Bumblebee narrows his optics.

  “What?” Sideswipe shrugs. “I may be half-charged, but my funny bolt is always at one hundred percent!”

  Ignoring the hotshot Autobot, Bumblebee continues with the task at hand.

  “Grim, you’ll have to stay behind. We’ll be in the middle of the city, and you don’t have a vehicle mode,” he says.

  The Dinobot tries to hide his relief.

  “Fixit, what can you tell us about this criminal before we put wheels down and go to town?” Bumblebee asks.

  Sideswipe groans over Bee’s attempt at a catchphrase.

  “Deceptic
on identification: Forager. Mercenary, bounty hunter, and rabble-rouser,” Fixit says as he punches at the console processing data. “Arrested alongside other Decepticons calling themselves the Ronin.”

  Drift scoffs. “This Decepticon is not worth my time. I will provide you with my students, Jetstorm and Sliptstream, to assist in my absence.”

  Before Bumblebee can protest, Drift turns and walks out of the room.

  “I guess someone never learned teamwork in lob-ball youth league,” Sideswipe whispers loudly to Rusty.

  “Okay, team, we don’t have time for this. We’ve got to put wheels down and—”

  “Bee!” the rest of the room shouts in unison, cutting off their leader’s mediocre new rallying cry.

  “Fine, let’s just go capture this Decepticon,” Bumblebee says, leaping into vehicle mode and leading his team out of the scrapyard.

  Slipstream and Jetstorm jump onto Sideswipe’s trailer and Strongarm brings up the rear. Grimlock and Fixit stay behind as the yawning pair of Clays shuffle off to bed.

  The Autobots cut through the forest, cross the bridge, and arrive in Crown City in no time. Using Fixit’s coordinates, they quickly spot Forager in a dark alley behind an auto repair store.

  The dexterous Decepticon is sifting through spare parts.

  Bumblebee quietly directs Sideswipe to take to the rooftops. The younger bot zooms out of view, switches back to bot mode, and leaps into the air with Slipstream and Jetstorm in tow.

  Strongarm, in her police SUV mode, pulls around to block Forager’s exit.

  Once the whole team is in place, Bee honks his horn—BEEP BEEP—startling the Decepticon!

  “Oh, scrud, guess I gotta bust up some natives!” Forager growls, tearing an old tire in two with his bare paws. “Let’s dance!”

  “Heads up!” Sideswipe yells, drawing his swords and dropping down from above.

  The two Mini-Cons follow close behind.

  Sideswipe slashes and slices his blades at Forager.

  SWISH!

  CLANG!

  The Decepticon deflects the blows with his claws as showers of sparks light up the night sky.

  Slipstream and Jetstorm lunge at Forager’s legs.

  The cranky crook hops from one foot to the other, trying to kick the Mini-Cons off.

  “Looks like we are dancing after all!” says Jetstorm.

  While Forager attempts to hold off his three ninja-like assailants, Strongarm and Bumblebee rev their engines and charge at the Decepticon.

  In a flash, the two Autobots crunch Forager between their fenders!

  SMASH!

  The craven convict is down for the count.

  “Good work, team,” Bumblebee says.

  The Autobots load Forager’s unconscious frame onto the trailer, tie him down, and cover him with a tarp.

  Bumblebee radios Fixit and asks the Mini-Con to prepare a stasis pod.

  A short victory lap later, the bots arrive back at the scrapyard with their defeated target.

  “My, that was fast!” Fixit exclaims, greeting the bots near the stasis pods. “Not much fight in this one?”

  “This is just what happens when you work together, Fixit,” Bumblebee says, scanning the scrapyard for Drift. “Too bad not everyone on this team seems to have gotten the memo.”

  As if on cue, Drift rounds the corner.

  Slipstream and Jetstorm bow to their master.

  “I am glad the mission went well,” Drift says. “I trust my students were of sufficient help?”

  Slipstream bows and pulls back the tarp to reveal a still-unconscious Forager. Drift gives a barely perceptible nod of approval.

  Once the Mini-Con replaces the cover, Forager opens his optics. The raccoon-like bot was playing possum! He flexes his dexterous paws and two lockpicks pop out from the tips of his claws. With a swift twist of his wrist, Forager frees himself and makes a break for it, tossing the tarp at Drift and the Mini-Cons to distract them!

  “So long, losers—”

  WHAM!

  Forager runs smack-dab into Grimlock.

  “Looks like I got to demolish a Decepticon after all!” Grim says, proudly holding Forager down with one massive foot.

  Bumblebee helps Grim load the struggling captive into the designated stasis pod.

  “Let go of me! I have rights, you know!” Forager yells, straining against Grimlock’s powerful grip. “You can’t lock me up just ’cause I’m a convicted criminal!”

  Before the pod’s cover slides shut, Forager gets a good look at the other bots. His optics lock on Drift.

  “Hey! I know you!” Forager hollers, pointing at Drift through the stasis pod window. “From that Ronin job on the moon of Athena! You gotta get me outta here, pal!”

  Before Forager can say anything else, Fixit finishes the stasis sequence and puts the dangerous Decepticon on ice.

  Bumblebee quietly mouths Forager’s words to himself, processing what was just said. He turns toward Drift.

  “What did he mean by ‘pal’?”

  Drift tenses his shoulders. The mysterious samurai rests one hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “My past is my own, Bumblebee. Do not assume you have any right to know about it.”

  Strongarm and Sideswipe move closer to Bumblebee’s side.

  “If you’re going to work alongside my team, I think I have every right.”

  Jetstorm and Slipstream cast worried glances at their master, who refuses to meet their optics.

  “If that is your stance, perhaps it is time I leave this team, Bumblebee.” Drift quickly shifts into his vehicle mode and speeds out of the scrapyard!

  As the dust settles, everyone exchanges grave looks.

  Everyone except for Grimlock.

  “So, uh, what just happened?”

  Chapter 3

  Denny Clay’s alarm clock goes off at seven o’clock the next morning. Crawling out of bed to the sound of golden oldies, Denny’s first thought is that the Autobots can keep their Energon—he just wants his coffee!

  The Clays enjoy having Bee and the others around, but it can make for a lot of sleepless nights, something that exhausts Denny a bit more than it does his preteen son, Russell.

  As the man shuffles outside half-awake, he stumbles upon a full-on Autobot interrogation, like something out of one of his favorite vintage cops versus gangsters films.

  Slipstream and Jetstorm are sitting side-by-side on an overturned refrigerator. Bumblebee leans over the tiny bots, scowling, while Grimlock, Strongarm, and Sideswipe stand menacingly behind him.

  “Youse better fess up or it’s no more Mr. Nice-Bot!” Bumblebee says, affecting a bizarre accent.

  “Whoa, guys, what’s going on here?” Denny asks, sprinting toward them as fast as his retro bunny slippers will carry him. “And what’s with that corny gangster act, Bee?”

  “Sometimes you leave the TV on at night and that stuff starts to sink in,” Bumblebee replies. “Besides, we tried asking nicely, but these two won’t say a word.”

  “Why are you questioning your own guys?” Denny asks, surprised at Bumblebee’s behavior. “And where’s Drift? I don’t think he’d like you going off on his students like this.”

  “That’s exactly the problem, sir,” Strongarm pipes in. “Our newest Decepticon prisoner seemed to recognize Drift as a former ally, but Drift sped away before we could get any explanation out of him. Now we’re questioning his Mini-Cons to try to uncover if Drift is actually an embedded Decepticon agent!”

  Bumblebee steps forward to apologize to the frightened Slipstream and Jetstorm. Being a leader isn’t easy. Even Optimus occasionally made the wrong call.

  “I’m sorry. We might have… overreacted,” Bumblebee says. “We’re happy to have Drift and the two of you on the team, and it’s admirable that you want to protect him, but we really need to know what’s going on.”

  Slipstream and Jetstorm look at each other, their optics widening and narrowing in wordless conversation. Jetstorm opens his mo
uth to speak, but Slipstream glares at him to stay quiet.

  Soon, Russell Clay wanders outside, sleepy-eyed and confused.

  “What’s going on out here, Bee?” Russell asks.

  After Bee fills Russell in on the Mini-Cons’ strict silence, Russell steps forward to take charge.

  “Why don’t you let me have a shot with them?” Russell asks, cracking his knuckles. Slipstream and Jetstorm would have been intimidated, but it’s hard to be scared of an Earth boy in cartoon-print pajamas. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll have them singing like stool pigeons.”

  “I don’t need them to sing; I just need them to talk,” Bumblebee says, prompting an exaggerated eye roll from Russell.

  “I know I can do it,” Russell says with confidence. “But you’d better give us some space. Except for you, Sideswipe. You should stay.”

  Everyone else reluctantly heads to the opposite end of the scrapyard. Denny shoots Russell a look of concern before he goes, but Russell gives his dad a thumbs-up. Once the others are out of sight, Russell climbs onto Sideswipe’s shoulders.

  “Okay, boys, it’s time to play rough,” he says, looming over the Mini-Cons. “Tag, you’re it!”

  Russell leans down and slaps Jetstorm on the shoulder, then shouts at Sideswipe to run. After a moment’s confusion, Sideswipe grins and runs off through one of the winding corridors of junk and old trash that makes up the scrapyard.

  Jetstorm and Slipstream share a puzzled glance before Jetstorm cracks a sly grin, too, and runs off after Sideswipe. With a drawn-out sigh, Slipstream follows.

  “Tag, you’re it!” Jetstorm shrieks, knocking Sideswipe on the knee.

  “Not for long!” Sideswipe replies, leaping backward to bop an unamused Slipstream on the head. “Tag! Your turn!”

  Slipstream grumbles and refuses to move, but he can’t deny wanting to play, too. He runs after his fellow Mini-Con and tags him, keeping the game in motion until Russell is a sweaty mess and the three bots are running on fumes.

  They all meet back by the diner and plop down near the overturned fridge.