Author's Note - Fun fact! Dinobot lacks any visible insignia (Maximal or otherwise). Go ahead and try to find one on him, you can't. And, yes, this little bit of trivia does pertain to this chapter.

Correction! I'd like to thank the reviewer Anonymous BW FG for pointing out that a small Maximal insignia can be seen on Dinobot's holster at least one time in the series. Because of that I have included a small change to the text. Thank you, Anonymous BW FG!

Night of the Hunter

Chapter 4

Tigatron hated the way the metal walls of the Axalon seemed to press in on him, suffocating him. The false, recycled air clung thickly about him, clogging up his vents, and he longed for the cool, sweet-smelling breeze of the wilds. He laid back onto the berth and tried to slip into recharge, hoping that his rest would be free of the half-remembered dreams for one night. Tomorrow Rhinox would remove the damaged memory tracks. He just had to wait until then.

"Dinobot, report."

"The underground volcano beneath the Darksyde has become active. The Predacons have fled nearby to wait out the danger. This is the perfect time to attack!"

"We need to have at least one of our bots here to guard the base and I can't risk Tigatron at the moment. That only puts five of us against seven of them. I'm sorry, but the odds just aren't in our favor, Dinobot."

"Then we attack the Darksyde! If we decimate their base it will leave them defenseless!"

"We would still have to contend with the automated defenses and, most likely, a number of booby traps."

"Then send the vermin. It would not be any great loss if he was to perish."

"Hey!"

"The point is, Primal, we might not have another chance. The best defense is an offense. Taking out their base could win the war!"

"… Alright. We'll be there soon. Hold position until then."

His optics flickered on and for a moment Tigatron had no idea where he was. The heavy, cloying heat of the jungle surrounded him, making his vents work overtime to keep his internal systems cool. Alien vines and thick, broad-leafed ferns cloistered around him, blocking out the sky with their thick canopy. Looking down at his servos he could see purple fur covering the green metal of his structure like armor. For one brief moment he thought the fur should have been white, but it was gone like a dream.

"Sir!" Tigatron turned to look at the mech running towards him. He called out something - a name Tigatron thought - but it sounded garbled. The mech had some sort of vehicle alt mode and the bright yellow paint splashed across his structure made him a glaring target against the cool blues and purples and greens of the alien jungle. What made him stand out the most to Tigatron, however, was the panicked, fearful expression on his face. "The base is secure, all enemy Predacons have been captured or neutralized, but one. I don't know what happened, sir, he just slipped out of the parameter. If he rendezvous with the rebel Preds and they find out we've taken the base before the plan can go into effect..." he trailed off, waving his servos helplessly.

"He couldn't have gone far," Tigatron replied. He spoke without meaning to, like an actor in a play that was somehow able to recite a script he didn't know. "I'll track him and take him out. The rest of you will remain here and keep this area secure."

And then he was moving, the scene jumping and skipping, everything not quite lining up correctly. The soft pads of his beast mode landed silently with each step he took. The great extinct beast was well-suited to the pervasive jungle. The first thing the Predacons did when they first conquered Corscion all those solar cycles ago was to exterminate the native fauna. They had no use for organics, the only thing the cared for was the energon that lay beneath the soil, an energy source for their ever-expanding war machine. It enraged Tigatron to see such mindless destruction, but he did take pleasure in the fact that despite all their attempts, the plants that had made their home on this little rock would not be easily subdued. The Predacons would burn miles and miles of lush greenery, only for the trees and flowers to spring back up in a matter of hours, more hardy and multitudinous than ever. Not even the Predacons could kill this little bit of life.

The Maximal scout followed the winding path carelessly made by the Predacon rebel. The indention left behind in the dirt was light and slender; a flier, then. Tigatron felt the hair on his beast mode rise up at that. Why would a flier bother running when he could soar above the canopy? The only possible explanation was that he was too damaged. That would make hunting him easier.

Tigatron kept his face close to the ground and nearly lost his head when a bullet sailed past his soft muzzle and embedded itself into the dirt in front of him. Tigatron looked up and saw the grinning Predacon perched in a tree, lazily waving his blaster at him. For a few clicks the alien jungle faded away and Tigatron found himself staring up at oddly familiar trees, similar and yet completely different than the ones found on Corsicon. A strange sense of 'home' settled over him and he thought he could hear a femme's voice calling out to him. But just as quickly the vision was gone and Tigatron found himself facing off with the flier once more.

"Hey there, Killer," he mocked. "Bang. You're dead."

Tigatron had taken cover behind a tree, already transformed and ready to shoot. "The base has been taken," he called out. "You are miles away from the closest Predacon camp. Surrender now before any more fluid is shed!"

The Predacon laughed at that. "It's already too late for that! I hate to break this to you, but you've got a spy in your midst! We knew about your plan from the beginning: send in your best, secure the base. It's a strategic location, isn't it? Capturing it gives you the perfect way into our defenses. Oh, Killer, did you really think it was going to be that easy? We let you take that base. It was the poisoned pawn. Well, now, listen to that. Can you hear it?"

He could hear the sounds of blasters and yelling floating towards them, muffled by the miles of thick foliage. Tigatron felt himself grow cold. It was his own regiment! Without a second thought he took off running in the direction of the battle, the Predacon's cruel laughter echoing in his audios the entire way."Run, little Maximal! Run, run, run! Your soldiers will be dead before you get there!"

"You idiot! You led them right to us!"

Tigatron focused his optics onto a blue-painted face and bearing razor-sharp dentals at him. There wasn't a Predacon insignia anywhere on the mech, but then again he couldn't find any obvious markings proving him to be a Maximal either. They had been betrayed. Tigatron could take no chances. He pointed his blaster at the large bot, who merely barked out a harsh, grating laugh at the sight. "I knew your short-lived pacifism wasn't real, but I hadn't expected this." He withdrew a sword, but before Tigatron could pull the trigger a Maximal jumped in front of him and aimed her wrist-mounted launchers at the imposing mech.

"Back off, Dinobot," she snapped. "Can't you tell he's having another flashback? He's not aware of his surroundings!"

"He was aware enough to give Rhinox the slip! He ruined-"

Suddenly Tigatron felt himself hurtling through the air as a wave of burning heat crashed into him. The Maximal femme landed against his side and above them he could hear a screechy voice call out, "The Maximals are fighting among themselves! This is perfect!"

Tigatron grabbed the femme's servo. "It was a trap. We need to reach our reinforcements and tell them what has happened," he hissed. With a sudden lurch he was on his pedes and running, his servo never letting go of her's.