The autobot's swordsman

After tearing up the tracks and finally understanding the thrill of transforming, Oden decided it was time to get serious. He needed his first guild mission—and fast. Bills didn't pay themselves, and his new gear wasn't going to earn back its cost sitting idle.

As he walked through Kaon's busy streets, Oden scrolled through his holo-pad, skimming the available missions. Most bounties looked mundane: retrieving stolen tech, escorting cargo, and hunting down petty thieves. Then he spotted something.

"Destroy a scrappling nest. Decent pay, small target. Should be a breeze."

He tapped the screen, enlarging the image of the tiny, scuttling creatures. They didn't look like much—like glorified mechanical insects.

"This little thing's dangerous? Pfft. I could squash it with one hand," Oden muttered, grinning. But he wasn't stupid enough to rush in blind. He needed advice, and there was no better bot to ask than Showdown.

At Showdown's office, a femme assistant greeted Oden and disappeared to check if the boss was available. She returned moments later with a polite nod.

"Mr. Showdown is ready to see you, Mr. Oden."

Oden smiled and thanked her, stepping into the office. Showdown looked up from his desk, his optics narrowing. He still felt angry because Oden up and left the arena like that.

"What do you want, brat?" he barked, waving a servo toward the seat across from him.

Oden plopped down, ignoring the gruff tone. "I'm picking my first guild mission and need your help. I was looking at this scrappling mission, but I don't know where it is."

Showdown froze mid-motion, then slowly set his datapad down, leaning back in his chair. "Kid… it's a good thing you came to me. If you'd gone after scrapplings, you'd be in the smelter by now."

Oden blinked. "What? They're tiny! How dangerous could they be?"

"Dangerous enough to strip you to your bare endoskeleton in seconds," Showdown said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Four of them could take you out, and you were thinking of tackling a whole nest? Idiot."

Oden scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. "Guess it's my lucky day, huh?"

"Lucky? You're lucky you're not already being scraped off the floor. Hand me that holo-pad."

With a grumble, Showdown snatched the device and scrolled through the mission list. After a few moments, he handed it back to Oden, his expression more serious than usual.

"Here. This one's more your speed."

Oden skimmed the details:

Mission Brief:

Three days ago, a criminal group stole multiple weapon crates and two transport ships. The group includes the notorious offenders Battleslash and Roadtrap, who combine into the duocon Battletrap. All known members:

Stepper: highly dangerous. Targetmaster:highly dangerous.Roadtrap: Brutal melee specialist. Battleslash: Tactical genius.

Additional ten less-threatening members.

Difficulty: Extremely Difficult.

Location: Rucongai Forest, Badlands (western hemisphere).

Oden grinned. "Now this is more like it! A real challenge!"

Showdown sighed. "You battle maniac. Listen, these bots aren't amateurs. You'll need to proceed with caution. You won't be the only one hunting them down—other bounty hunters might cross your path. And if you frag up that ship I'm lending you, I'll make sure you pay for it."

Oden smirked, stood, and saluted dramatically. "You can count on me, boss!"

"Get out of here before I regret helping you."

The Badlands, Rucongai Forest 

The transport ship roared through the atmosphere, and Oden peered out the window, his optics widening. The Badlands were unlike anything he'd seen before. Fractured terrain stretched endlessly, glowing chasms pulsing with an eerie blue light. Metallic trees twisted unnaturally, their leaves humming faintly. The land seemed alive, whispering forgotten secrets.

"This place is incredible," Oden muttered. "Looks like someone mashed up Kaon and Wano, then sprinkled it with crazy."

The ship landed just outside the Rucongai Forest. Oden disembarked, transforming into his hovercar mode to avoid detection. His engines hummed quietly as he sped through the dense metallic foliage, his sensors pinging as he approached the target zone.

A dilapidated metal base came into view, its structure rusted and scarred. Oden transformed back, crouching low as he approached. He slipped through a broken window, his movements quiet thanks to his past-world ninja training.

Inside, the chaos of blaster fire filled the air.

Oden crouched inside the vent, peering down at the chaos below. The scene was explosive—blaster bolts streaked through the air, metal ricocheted off walls, and the acrid scent of molten steel filled the room. At the center of it all was a lone black-and-gold bot moving with calculated precision.

The bot's armor gleamed like a polished blade, and his movements were fluid yet deliberate. He wasn't just fighting; he was performing. Every kick, punch, and strike felt like part of an intricate dance.

"Dammit, Prowl!" roared a massive black-and-orange bot at the back of the room. "The Cybertron police force must think we're a joke to send just you! You're out of your depth!"

The hulking figure was Battletrap, his dual personalities locked in perfect synchronization. He towered over the other bots, his arms bristling with crude, reinforced armor.

Prowl didn't respond with words. Instead, he hurled a cluster of razor-sharp shurikens toward the advancing group. The blades struck true, embedding into their targets before detonating with fiery explosions. Four bots fell instantly, their bodies collapsing in sparking heaps.

"Impressive," Oden whispered from his hiding spot. "Looks like this guy's got some moves."

But the remaining enemies weren't fazed. Battletrap barked orders, and his crew moved in unison, firing a barrage of blaster bolts toward Prowl. The samurai bot leaped into the air, his body twisting as he narrowly avoided the shots. Mid-spin, he flung two more explosive shurikens, catching another bot in the crossfire.

Prowl landed lightly, crouching low, but his momentum was interrupted by the hulking figure of Stepper. The purple-and-black bot charged like a battering ram, firing off a plasma rifle in one hand while brandishing an energon axe in the other.

Stepper's axe came down in a devastating arc, but Prowl sidestepped just in time, the blade slicing into the ground and sending sparks flying. Using the opening, Prowl landed a swift, spinning kick to Stepper's midsection, forcing him to stumble back.

The reprieve was short-lived.

Battletrap charged like a freight train, closing the gap between himself and Prowl in seconds. Prowl barely had time to block the massive bot's punch, his arms straining under the sheer force. He retaliated with a series of lightning-fast punches to Battletrap's chest, but his strikes barely dented the heavy armor.

Battletrap laughed, a deep, grating sound. "Is that all you've got, tin can?"

Prowl flipped backward, narrowly avoiding a massive swing from Battletrap's mace. As he landed, he unsheathed a katana from his back, the blade humming with energon. In a blur, Prowl darted forward, slashing at Battletrap's exposed joints. Sparks flew as the blade cut into the gaps of his armor, causing the massive bot to growl in frustration.

"Hold still!" Battletrap roared, swinging wildly.

Prowl moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, ducking and weaving around the duocon's attacks. He used his smaller size to his advantage, landing precise strikes wherever he could.

For a moment, it seemed like Prowl had the upper hand.

Then Battletrap transformed.

With a thunderous roar, the massive bot split into two smaller bots: Battleslash, a helicopter armed with twin rotor blades, and Roadtrap, a ground vehicle bristling with cannons. The sudden transformation caught Prowl off-guard.

Roadtrap fired a barrage of missiles, forcing Prowl to leap into the air once more. As he dodged, Battleslash swooped in, his spinning rotors slashing through the air like deadly scythes. One rotor clipped Prowl's shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground.

Before Prowl could recover, Roadtrap barreled into him, pinning him against the wall. The samurai bot struggled, but the combined weight of the two smaller bots was too much.

"You put up a good fight," Battletrap sneered, reuniting into his massive form and lifting Prowl effortlessly. "But this is the end for you, cop."

With a sickening crash, Battletrap slammed Prowl into the ground, leaving the samurai bot motionless.

From the vent above, Oden grinned. "Well, that was fun to watch. But it's my turn now."

He kicked out the vent cover and leaped down into the fray, his arm transforming into a sleek energon rifle mid-air. With precise aim, he fired, taking out five lesser bots before his feet even touched the ground.

The remaining bots spun around, caught off-guard by the sudden arrival.

"Who the slag are you?" Targetmaster, the purple leader of the lesser bots, growled, raising his blaster.

Oden unsheathed his twin swords, spinning them with flair. "Me? I'm just your friendly neighborhood scrap dealer. And I see a lot of junk that needs cleaning up."

Before Targetmaster could respond, Oden charged. He dodged a hail of blaster fire, his agility honed from of training with . His first sword slashed through a smaller bot's weapon, leaving it useless, while his second blade severed its arm.

Targetmaster aimed and fired, but Oden ducked, the blast narrowly missing his head. "Nice try!" Oden shouted, closing the distance in a blur. With a spinning slash, he sent Targetmaster sprawling to the ground, his armor sparking.

Battletrap, now towering over the chaos, growled, "Another fool looking to die. Bring it!"

Oden smirked. "Careful what you wish for, big guy."

The fight was only beginning, and Oden was ready to prove why he was no ordinary gladiator.