Fire of Youth

Chapter 29

*Note for Julien:

The mini-con Preds are a little bit different than their modern counterparts. I haven't decided whether or not they can power boost others since they only have a biped and beast form, meaning it'll be difficult for them to link up with a host the same way Jetstorm and Slipstream can link up with Drift in RiD. I like to think they're a prototype mini-con model. They can work in groups, they can get places their larger brethren can't, but they can't boost them. I wanna say Micronus thought that over and was like "Eh, considering who they'd be linking with, maybe that's overkill..."

Note for Kaleia:

Yeah, Floodshed's little "posse of pricks" (to use Catscratch's term) are violently loyal to the Decepticon cause. Remember what Shockwave said Preds follow the strongest individual or group. With them, the best way to display dominance over others is through intimidation and fear. Catscratch's group has a more liberal interpretation of the 'Cons crusade and they're not so violently inclined. Sure, they'll cause a little trouble to the locals every now and again owing to their mischievous natures, but they don't have any blood on their hands. It's because of this clash of ideals that the conflict between the two packs really reached a head in the end; throwing neutrals and natives into the mix just made it more complicated.


Ratchet was honestly stunned by the Thunderbird's revelation. He knew Primes had unique characteristics designed to help them or else fit in line with their personalities. But being able to perform what amounted to a cortical psychic patch on a dead mech, hacking into their memories to see what had happened to them? That wasn't a talent he'd been expecting for someone like Smokescreen. What worried him most was Grimwing's warning not to perform this "link" he was doing – there was a serious risk he hadn't been aware of before now, one that hadn't been present with Optimus.

He wanted some more information, however. More details. If Infernus was in any danger, he needed to be aware of the specifics.

The medic made his way over to where Grimwing was investigating Raf's laptop screen on the elevated lounge. He had to assume Raf was still searching for Skyrender, his range becoming more obscure as he delved deeper into planetary myth and lore. When he came up behind he saw the boy was actually searching Celtic lore, and another tab detailed sea monsters.

"Grimwing? Could I have a word with you?" he asked quietly.

The Thunderbird glanced at him curiously but nodded in compliance. Ratchet drew him aside, out of immediate ear-shot of Rafael and Jack. He would have personally appreciated June's presence but she was absent obtaining supplies at the small on-site grocer. He cast one more sideways glance towards the others just to be safe. Infernus himself appeared lost in thought, gaze focused on Bluestreak yet somehow removed from reality. That was the look of someone reviewing large amounts of unfamiliar data. Whatever he'd seen was a little more than he'd probably expected, and without the vast cognitive processors a former archivist like Orion had possessed it would take him some time to interpret it all.

Time enough to have a word with their resident Thunderbird.

"You seem to know quite a significant amount about Primes, Grimwing. And the strange powers Infernus possesses."

Grimwing bowed his helm in confirmation.

"Predacons have always held Primes in high esteem, healer. Onyx Prime in particular we venerate, for he was the First Beast. Few seem to remember that if not for him, if not for his sacrifice to the Old One, neither of our races would exist."

"I'm well aware of the old stories, Grimwing. My curiosity is how you seem to know them. The Hall of Records in Iacon was destroyed near the end of the War, and Decepticons are not exactly as faithful as you or others. Your terminology is also puzzling – the Old One. Do you mean Primus? You said that was how he was able to perform those strange connections with the remains, hacking their memory somehow."

The Thunderbird seemed to gather his thoughts. Then he spoke slowly, with consideration:

"It is...difficult to explain, healer. To a non-beast I mean. Our culture is different than yours in many ways, as are our views. We do not view the Old One as a single entity as you do. We view him as a collection of those who came before us. A consensus. I do not mean to sound arrogant when I say this, but Predacons such as myself were the first race, based on the mold of the First Beast. It is because of this relation to Onyx Prime that we hold greater spiritual attunement; we can connect with one another and our creator with less effort."

"Yes, yes. But how do you know this?" Ratchet pressed.

Grimwing blinked. He admitted he did not know, but he also admitted that quite frequently when he was in stasis between the powerful mountain storms he would have strange dreams he could not consciously recall afterwards. What he had seen and heard and smelled he could never consciously retain, but it lingered in the back of his mind.

"Like instinct."

"No." Grimwing said, dumbfounding the old medic utterly and entirely. "Not instinct. Like actual memories. Because somehow, these things I experience in my dreams – I remember them. They are familiar in a way instinct is not. Instinct is vague and ghost-like, so deeply encoded one cannot readily identify it. Instinct is a doctor striking a knee joint and the joint responding without the person telling it to. Memories, however, are different."

Ratchet admitted for one of the rare times in his life that he found himself speechless and baffled in unison. He remembered a curious fact that Wheeljack and Bulkhead together had relayed after their Mesoamerican outing: Razorplume, too, had been able to recall old memories, one he should logically not have at all. Another interesting fact that no one seemed to have noticed was Infernus's very first vision of the bronze dragon in the ice. That beast was still alive, and yet he'd been able to invade its mind through a dead beast's skull. That instance did not fit the pattern of the other remains, so perhaps that had been a fluke. More importantly, it was a well-established belief that "cycling" sparks were wiped of previous memories before they were released from the Well to start life anew, most likely to prevent overload or cognitive dissonance. There were a few old stories of 'bots somehow retaining memories of a former life, as well as some who went mad because of conflicting memories, but those were stories – there was nothing to truly corroborate them.

But did that presumed wipe occur with clones? Judging by these two reports it seemed not.

A hypothesis began to slither into his mind, but he wanted more evidence of this phenomenon before he furthered it. But he was fairly certain he was right in his assumption.

"When you were circling Infernus, you seemed to be trying to remember something, or else what happened to him triggered a memory. What was it?"

The Thunderbird seemed a little uncomfortable about the question.

"I-I...I do not know what it was. But...it was familiar in the same way as those memory-dreams. I...I would like to remember it in all honesty, but I cannot seem to. What little I remember was pleasant until that great wail of sorrow and agony, though I cannot recall who issued that cry."

Ratchet proceeded with his penultimate question:

"Grimwing, would you be willing to let Infernus perform that link on you? I would like to test a theory of mine."

He watched the avian's yellow optics widen in shock.

"Healer, I am not one to question one wiser than I but...that could be terribly dangerous. Linking with one who is long dead is not the same as linking with one who yet lives. I cannot in due conscience ask a Prime to risk his spark as part of an experiment. I owe him my honor and my life."

"Given the chance, I'd have him perform this on the bronze Draconian seeing as he has previously managed to invade its mind as well, though the manner was different than in other instances; that is why I am interested." Ratchet argued. "But capturing that beast would be far more dangerous than simply having him link to your mind. Here at least he would be safe from outside harm and have a medic available should events turn sour."

But the Thunderbird refused to budge. Shaking his helm, he politely refused to cooperate.

Ratchet found that he could not blame him.

He looked over at Infernus, ever hovering near his unconscious younger brother. His helm was down and his optics shuttered. The vivacious youth looked the part of a morose and tired statue eternally standing guard. He wondered what he was thinking.


Water. Water as far as the eye could see. Calm and smooth and a deep, shimmering blue. Sunlight twinkled above while darkness yawned below. It was not the shining energy seas of home but it felt like home.

He felt strong in the water. His form cut through it like a hot knife through butter, propelled by a great finned tail and clawed limbs with webbing between the individual toes. He could feel a pair of smooth horns extend from his helm, extending back. He almost didn't notice them they created so little drag. He looked back and saw his great form a mottled grey and green body that was bigger than anything he'd seen. How in the world this creature managed to remain hidden was beyond him. Or perhaps it hadn't hidden at all.

A shadow fell from above, blocking some of the sunlight.

The creature looked up. It recognized the form of a boat, but it was not the strange hollow wooden things the natives used. Advanced. And it could smell the sweetness of Energon wafting from it. It was not large but it would suffice. A deep rumble issued from its throat and it pulled up. Jaws lined with rows and rows of razor fangs gaped wide.

A cry. An uneven struggle. Then he saw the creature dive back beneath the water. Tendrils of Energon floated in the water like the ghostly limbs of a jellyfish.

The scene faded and shifted.

The creature ran over the open, dry land in an ungainly manner. Angry shouts in a language it did not recognize echoed from behind. Its mesh stung constantly from gunfire. Ahead, a great ravine loomed as if the planet had developed a set of jaws of its own. It tried to turn to avoid it and a strange little device hit the ground where it wanted to go, exploding outward and kicking up a storm of dust and blue fire. Roaring, it turned in the other direction. Again an explosive was thrown. It turned to face it's attackers...

Whiteness crackled in his vision.


His optics opened again.

Smokescreen sorely wished Grimwing hadn't interrupted that particular vision. He'd gained precious little from it other than the fact the whatever-it-was hunted Cybertronians to sustain itself and that it looked like some kind of sea monster. It bore traits of a serpent, a whale, and a dragon. It was big. But he hadn't figured out what had been chasing it. He hadn't recognized the language, but he was no linguist. Could've been anything from Polyhexian to Kalian. The only languages he was fluent in were Iaconian and a dash of Kaonian. But it was interesting the pursuers had sounded enraged. Could that rage have been because of the consumed mini-bot boat-former?

'Perhaps.' Optimus conceded. 'We do know through the fate of Divebomb and the statements of Razorplume that Predacons did hunt our kind, both in the distant past and in more modern times. Unlike in Mesoamerica there seemingly was nothing to keep this creature in line; from what little we know it appears it had the region to itself. The ones pursuing it in your vision might be the cause of its demise. One way to confirm that would be to find out precisely where the jaw was discovered. If in the ravine then it would stand to reason those pursuing it in the vision were the ones to defeat it through use of that feature. If elsewhere it might indicate that another group or individual accomplished the kill at a later date.'

Alright, then. He'd get Fowler or Ratchet to look into that; Raf had enough hacking to do on his hands. Or he could do it himself. Not like he had much else to do.

"Hey, Ratchet?" he asked.

The medic turned his focus onto him. "Yes?"

"Where was the jaw found exactly? Is there a way to find out?"

"Is there a reason you want to know this?"

"Just...call it a hunch?"

Ratchet looked like he wanted to ask something but for some reason kept quiet. He opened up the report the workers had written up and began to read through it. Infernus wirelessly connected to the console and read along himself...and his hunch proved right: the skull had been found down in the ravine by some workers who had gone to reinforce the bridge. That seemed to confirm those unknown individuals chasing the beast had killed it, but that gave him no clues as to who those 'bots had been. Had they been Autobots? Had they been 'Cons or even Neutrals? He didn't know.

He shifted a little closer to the medical berth, unwilling to leave Bluestreak's side completely. He needed him. It was his fault he'd gotten hurt at all. He frowned as he read onward. Slag that hunting coding. It was more trouble than it was worth. There had to be a way to control it, harness it. He'd gotten lucky at the fields. If that happened again when Megatron or the Gwyllgi or the bronze dragon was around...

'I could assist you in that endeavor, yzoelu fi. Even your ally Grimwing could.' said Onyx. 'That is, if you are willing to learn.'

He accepted. Any help regarding that stupid hunting coding he was happy to take. He heard the beast Prime snort almost in amusement.

'Before we begin you must alter that opinion of yours. It is not stupid, nor it is intended as a hindrance. It is a survival mechanism. Your trouble with it stems from the fact you were not forged with it; it was given to you after the fact. Thus, it is foreign. You do not understand how to use it to your advantage and you let it consume you. Beasts like Grimwing and Razorplume do know how. Grasping it is not the same as mastering it.'

'Okay. So what the heck is supposed to do?' Infernus wondered.


Ramhorn had to grudgingly admit the lass's Autobot ally was at the least civil to him. That he had so readily let Catscratch and Tag-Along go to check on an old pack mate earned him a stripe in his book. It revealed he was not biased to be wary or violent towards them. Curious it itself, but not entirely unappreciated. Perhaps that spoke of previous interactions? Either way, it was a welcome change from having to run from vehicle-formers or else fight them to survive. The girl herself, apparently his charge, he liked. She had spirit and determination, and she let nothing truly scare her – good, respectable qualities.

"Who's this Moonhowler guy anyway? Friend of yours?"

"Aye. Old friend." Ramhorn affirmed. "But 'e didn't quite fit in. Did nae approve of our antics, and 'e approved less of the violence. Tag-Along warped 'im te the Shetlands many, many moons ago. We check on 'im every now an' then, make sure 'e's alright an' 'asn't 'it any trouble. Unlike 'ere, the locals support the mech; love 'im even. Some even call 'im the 'Reluctant Werewolf' according te 'scratch."

The lass's jaw dropped.

"No way. He's a werewolf?!" she shrieked. "Cool!"

The Ramian managed a nearly genuine smile.

"Nay, nae a real werewolf. A Canipid, like Tag-Along. Gentle spark, more'n a mite shy. 'e and Stand-Alone were great friends; 'is death 'it 'im hard. Became more aloof after that. Normally 'e shows for meet ups. But this time 'e did nae do so. 'Scratch is rightly –"

He cut off. Over the mighty thrum of the ship's engines he thought he heard something, something that made his metal hide prickle in nasty remembrance. But it was so faint it was difficult to tell whether or not his imagination was running wild or if he had actually, truly heard it. He frowned and jumped onto the passenger's seat. The ship's scanning equipment wasn't picking up anything in a twenty klick radius around it, but Ramhorn trusted his senses more than any modern technology. They might have company tailing them – unwanted company.

"Something wrong?" the hefty pilot wondered on noticing his scrutiny of the scanner.

"...I think we're bein' followed. Can ye pick up the pace any? Pr'haps we can lose 'em."

Bulkhead looked at him oddly but nodded and did so. The ship surged forward at a greater pace. The sound faded.

But Ramhorn was uneasy now. Some nagging feeling of danger haunted him, one he hadn't felt since Scorchmark's and Sizzleslash's reign of terror.

Because that roar?

It had been a Draconian's.


The ship hit ground with a faint thud. The hatch hissed open. Ahead and all around of them lay the rolling hills of Hebrides, below them the mine. He'd thought it best to keep up above to keep any fleeing 'Cons from hijacking it.

Bulkhead didn't even have to shepherd Miko and Ramhorn out – they went out themselves. But he noticed Ramhorn made sure to keep Miko behind him at all times. Guy was on edge. Why? Nothing had shown up on scanners, and a look at the sky showed nothing headed their way. Maybe the guy was just being cautious. He and his pals had been trained to hide from danger for many years. Paranoia.

"Come on, Bulk! We gotta get down there!"

Without even the slightest hint of hesitation the girl raced to the cliff's edge and began to try to scale down the cliff-side. He rushed to stop her but Ramhorn beat him to it. That act convinced him these little guys weren't like other 'Cons. The goat-former reached down like lighting and grabbed her, pulling her back up. He looked less than thrilled at her attempt but he seemed almost to respect her for that dumb courage she displayed.

"How 'bout you let us do the rock climbing, huh?" suggested the Wrecker. "Come on; I'll give ya a lift."

Once Miko was safely situated, the two mechs began to scale down the cliff-side as slowly and carefully as each could. Judging from the bodies beneath them it looked like Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack had made it inside alright, but the Commander's call for help meant this brawl hadn't gone down as smoothly as he'd hoped; a "mishap" had taken place. Hopefully there was only a sprinkling of miners and guards within.

Miko was released once they reached ground level. Grinning, she jogged inside. Bulkhead followed her in, one hand morphing into a mace and the other into a gun. He had no idea what to expect inside. But on noticing their little horned friend not following, the Wrecker looked back, curious. He saw Ramhorn standing just beyond the threshold of the mine, helm tilted skyward. One audial swiveled a few degrees to the side. He stood like that for almost a full three minutes as if he were suddenly rooted to the spot. An odd noise Bulkhead couldn't describe escaped his vocalizer and he ducked inside, transforming. His uneasiness was easier to read now.

"We need te 'urry." His voice was tense.

Transforming, he gestured for Miko to hop on. Grinning and eager, the girl happily climbed aboard. He almost didn't wait for Miko to find grips for her limbs before he bounded off into the darkness, forcing the Wrecker to run after him.

Then, almost in unison, the mechs picked up the sound of blaster fire. As the Ramian headed ever deeper, Miko soon heard the same thing.

"Go, Ramhorn! GO!" she shouted.

Ramhorn obliged.


A miner was shot in the visor. As it stumbled forward, Magnus grabbed it and flung it at the nearest wall. But there were still a half dozen of the armed miners in the main chamber, and two Insecticons had been 'bridged in as back-up. Just as he'd thought, the guard's distress call had been heard. He supposed they were lucky only two of the gurgling abominations had been sent in.

"This is why I constantly ask myself how the Wreckers managed to survive with you as their commander!" Magnus snapped. "You completely ignore caution!"

Wheeljack grunted and hacked the arms off another miner. He retorted:

"And you're so cautious you refuse to take even tiny risks! No risk, no reward! Ever hear that one?"

Before he could snap back, one of the Insecticons rushed him and barreled into him, knocking him back. He blocked a swipe at the cost of the creature's claws shattering his blade. Undaunted, he raised the stump of the weapon to strike back. A blast to its faceplates disoriented it, and he took quick advantage to slice off one of its mandibles. Angered, the brute struck him soundly on the helm. His vision fritzed as he fell.

Then a voice: "PAWS OFF, UGLY!"

Something bronze, copper, and pewter colored promptly cannoned itself into the Insecticon's chassis hard enough for it to crack like an eggshell and knock it back as if struck by a battering ram. He honestly thought his processor was damaged when he saw the culprit: a strange creature with heavy, curling horns on its helm, snorting and dragging a hoof against the stone and dirt. Most astonishing of all – Bulkhead's young charge sat on its back. It was...was this real? It seemed too strange. His processor must've taken some brunt damage...

Bulkhead coming in behind the metal goat convinced him that, yes, there was a high probability this was real. His logical thought began to function again. Simple reasoning dictated this was one of the Cù Sìth's allies. He would know for sure once he had a voice print.

"Don't make me do what I did to Hardshell!" she warned. "I got a goat and a bunch of Wreckers and I'm not afraid to use 'em!"

"Miko...?" murmured Magnus in shock.

The goat snorted violently, once more dragging a front hoof across the floor. To Magnus that translated to, yes, it was indeed an ally. A goat though? Really? Was there a goat in Celtic folklore? He didn't recall one...and was that a Decepticon badge on its shoulder...? He had the feeling that might be because of his addled processor and fritzing sight. No Decepticon would freely aid an Autobot or a human. History said otherwise. He remained on his knee pikes, watching. Something about this didn't ring quite right, yet he was seeing it.

Enemy blasters were lifted up and aimed. A noise was emitted by the goat, and in an astrosecond it transformed into a rabid battering ram. Incredible seeing as it was not much larger than the horse that had attacked on their arrival, but then a lot of incredible things were happening on this solar cycle.

Before the miner under the goat's gaze could lift its weapon it was head-butted violently enough for it to hit the nearest wall and crumple, a massive dent in its chassis. Another miner opened fire and shot almost blindly in an effort to hit it as it zigzagged wildly; it's gun barrel was quickly separated from the rest of its arm by a whirling katana. Another blade impaled into its helm and it was flung to the ground. Magnus forced himself to his pedes and fired a strong blast at the Insecticon, slamming another miner with his elbow and kicking a third back. He brought out his yet-undamaged second blade and jabbed it into the spark chamber of the Insecticon, shoving it away. As it stumbled and readied to fall, the goat jumped up and rammed its horns into the final miner's knee pike, shattering the joint mechanisms within. Staggering, it fell – and was crushed when the Insecticon followed suit.

"Whoo!" Miko hooted. "And that's how you take out the trash!"

The goat gave a little buck and lay down to let the girl off its back. It then turned to him and nodded. He subjected the little beast to a skeptical, piercing look. It did indeed bear a Decepticon insignia. His ion cannon was aimed. This "assistance" it had given could be double-sided.

"No! Wait!" Miko exclaimed. "Uh, Ramhorn, Ultra Magnus. Ultra Magnus, Ramhorn. Don't worry. He's a 'Con but he's not a psycho. He's got some friends like him too: Catscratch and Tag-Along. They're just checking on a pal of theirs on some other island. Ramy's the one who told you where Scorchmark was buried. He's cool."

Twin brow ridges rose but the gun was not lowered. "Hmm. Forgive me for being skeptical, but Decepticons openly aiding Autobots is unheard of here. You must have a motive for this uncharacteristic cooperation."

"Seriously?" Miko deadpanned. "He gave you intel that could get him killed and you don't trust him? He's risking his neck doing this! You thanked him earlier!"

*Ye 'ave every reason nae te trust me, Autobot.* said the goat over short-band. *But my motives are nae ulterior. We suffered greatly under Scorchmark an' Sizzleslash's reign an' 'ave no desire te be under 'is command again. This arrangement benefits us both. I can safely betray a cause that was twisted from its original form long ago. Blind slaughter of the enemy is nae a social revolution. It's just slaughter.*

The gun was lowered but not deactivated. The mech recognized the voice print as the one who had provided the data about the true nature of Knocknarea. But admittedly he was still wary. According to the Prime's team, the last time a Decepticon had pretended to be an ally to them Omega One had nearly been compromised. However, most Decepticons didn't second guess their mission or lose spark in it, and fewer still knew the cause had started as just that – a social revolution.

A 'Con having doubts...perhaps this wasn't the trap he thought it was.

"Your data is accurate? No falsehoods?"

The ram looked insulted.

*Why would I lie te ye? I 'aven't been in cahoots with the Grey King's forces fer centuries, an' they 'aven't contacted me. We an' my pack were 'unted by the still-loyal because we would nae follow orders and 'unted by yer kind because we we're 'Cons and beasts. I knew nothing of their plans until the lass told me. We've lived in fear fer most of our lives, Autobot. We 'ave less reason te trust ye than ye 'ave te trust us.*

The gun was reverted back to a harmless limb. This was not a true, blindly loyal Decepticon. This was someone questioning the real mission of the Decepticon cause. A Decepticon who lived in fear of Decepticons.

"Very well." said Magnus stiffly. "Though my thanks earlier was blind, as I was unaware of your allegiance, my thanks now is more sincere. Your help is appreciated in combating this threat we face. But trust is not earned in the span of a few conversations. I require more proof."

"Seriously?" Miko deadpanned again. "What is your problem?! He just saved your life!"

Magnus whirled on her, towering above her and scowling.

"My 'problem' as you term it is soldiers being duped into trusting Decepticon agents slipped into our ranks and then being led into traps and slaughtered in droves or else captured, tortured, and experimented on. I have very little reason to put my faith in a Decepticon, no matter if he no longer believes in the cause. For all I know, all of this is nothing but a pretense to earn our sympathy and trust."

Taken aback, Miko blinked. She glanced sideways to find Ramhorn's head bowed.

"Well, I believe him, sir." Bulkhead stated simply. "He had every chance to kill Miko, kill me, or take us both prisoner, sabotage your ship, and fly off to the warship – and he didn't. None of them did."

"Neither did Makeshift. He did not reveal himself until it was almost too late."

The arguing mechs started when the goat let out a sound and leapt in front of Miko defensively. Moments later came the sound of pedefalls and a low screeching growl that each of them was all too familiar with. They turned to to the sole tunnel that led out of the chamber they were in, weapons activating instinctively. Miko jerked back at what stood there blocking the exit.

"The Predacon." Ultra Magnus said.

As if taking offense, the bronze dragon's maw gaped open and it issued a screaming roar that forced Bulkhead's charge to cover her ears.

"Hold your ground!" cried the taller mech.

"Ready for round two, beastie?" taunted Wheeljack as he drew his blades.

*Wait.* the goat warned over short-band. *I don't think he came OOF!*

Something unseen contacted Ramhorn and he was sent tumbling towards the opposite end of the chamber, Miko shrieking and shielding her head. Unseen claws raked along his bronze and copper armor with savage speed and fervor. Somehow the goat-former managed to transform to reveal a mech that looked almost like a Greek satyr. Grunting, his cloven pedes kicked at his invisible assailant hard enough to earn a canine-like yip of pain as it was forced off and when it hit the ground a good ten feet away. A black form the size of a bear flickered as it glitching into existence. Ramhorn forced himself to his pedes, a hand covering the rends on his chassis.

"The Gwyllgi!" Bulkhead exclaimed.

"Now do you believe me that he's not a bad guy?!" Miko demanded, hand still over her head.

The bronze dragon charged at Wheeljack then, screaming and in a blind berserker rage. Wheeljack met it midway and swiped both blades at its snout. A claw was swiped in return, and its mandible-d maw snapped at the white Wrecker.

"'Jackie! Hold it off!" Bulkhead shouted. He then focused on Ultra Magnus: "Sir, I know you may not like this, but I'm calling in Ramhorn's friends! I gave 'em my comm. frequency! Tag-Along can teleport! He can get here faster!"

"Do it!" Magnus thundered. He fired off round after round at the bronze dragon to try to draw its attention.

And so Bulkhead lifted a hand to his helm and opened up the line to the foreign comm. links many, many klicks away.

"Catscratch! Tag! If you're hearing me, we need your help!"

The Gwyllgi pounced at him, clawing at his helm and striking one audial. There was a frizzle of sparks and pops as the comm. link and part of his audial receptor was shredded to ribbons. The black hound fell and kicked its hind paws into his chest. The beast growled and readied to pounce again –

CHANG! A stone struck the Gwyllgi in the side. Horrified, Bulkhead's gaze snapped over to where Miko stood.

"Get away from my friend, mutt!" she challenged.

Quickly she scooped up another stone from the floor and, aiming it, threw it at the black hound. But this time the beast caught it in its jaws and it was crushed like a particularly hard jaw-breaker candy. Its shattered remains rained onto the ground.

"Uh..." Miko gulped. "N-Nice doggie...?"

Emitting a hissing growl, the Gwyllgi forewent Bulkhead in favor of her and stalked over. She backed away as it came nearer and nearer until she felt herself hit the wall.

"MIKO!" Wheeljack hollered. "RUN!"

The bronze dragon took the opening that warning gave it and slammed its tail into the white Wrecker hard enough to send him flying. He hit the back wall with a grunt and fell, but he pushed himself up in moments. The dragon slunk over, fire bubbling in its chassis and rising up its neck as it reared up on its hind legs. A hand hovered over the grande on his hip. If he timed and aimed this just right...all those volatile chemicals and gasses churning inside it would make one heck of an explosion when the grenade went off.

"Wheeljack!" she cried. Her cry was stifled when the Gwyllgi drew a step nearer.

A flash of green engulfed the chamber like a firework going off.

MAIO-EEYOW!

A black form emerged from the flash with a feline yowl and landed atop the bronze dragon's snout. Claws came out, striking bolts of black rending the dragon's yellow optics apart. In moments, strange silvery-blue fluid began to seep out of the cracks the cat's claws made. Surprised and in obvious pain, the dragon roared and reeled back and violently shook its head to dislodge its attacker. But the feline gamely hung on like a bull rider in a rodeo tournament, yowling and managing to get yet more damage in.

"Catscratch!" Miko hooted.

The dragon roared and reared again, grasping at its snout and backing up. Still the black feline refused to let go.

Two more forms, a large mottled green dog and a grey, silver, and pale lavender dog dropped down onto the floor. Both snarled, fangs bared, at the black form of the Gwyllgi across from them. Optics narrowed to slits, the Gwyllgi turned away from her and growled back.


"Tag-Along."

"Ravage." growled Tag-Along.

Ravage's gaze transferred to the other Canipid who looked much the worse for wear.

"I'm surprised you're still online, Moony. Weaklings like you tend to become easy prey."

"Funny. I was about te say the same thing about ye." Moonhowler retorted calmly. "Te ambush the prey rather than fight claw-te-claw is a coward's tactic if I ever saw one."

Ravage growled: "And only a coward betrays their alpha!"

The three Canipids squared off like gun-slingers priming to quick draw their guns. They circled, almost unheeding of the fight taking place between the dragon, the Wreckers, and the cat. On an invisible signal the three hounds rushed each other and their forms were soon entangled in a savage free-for-all, barking and biting and clawing at one another.


Within less than a minute, Moonhowler was ejected from the fray and staggered away, panting. It had been many stellar cycles since last he'd battled, and it showed painfully. Frankly, the most strenuous things he'd done was run from the locals and fish from his favorite spot. His helm jerked to the side on hearing the light pitter-pat of human feet in time to see the young girl dart towards him to avoid the Draconian's savage dance with Catscratch and the vehicle-formers. With a grunt of mingled effort and pain he dropped his beast form to speak with her.

"Stay back, lass." he warned in a soft growl, holding a hand out to block her path. "This be nae fight fer ye. Find cover."

"Check the mirror, Fido." she retorted with a snort. "You didn't even last thirty seconds."

There was a great scream and a thud when the dragon finally managed to dislodge the black cat from its snout. The tussling Canipids were for a moment distracted. Tag-Along took his chance and warped over to the cat before his black combatant could pin him. His prey now out of easy reach, Ravage focused on Moonhowler. Though not a warrior by nature or nurture, the peaceful wulver took up a defensive stance in front of the lass.

Ravage pounced. Midair, Bulkhead's mace struck the hound with the force of a freight train, sending the black beast careening across the chamber to slam into the bronze Draconian.

"Pick on somebody your own size!" snapped the green Wrecker.

He intended the taunt for the hound, but the dragon was the one who responded. Screaming, it unleashed a torrent of fire in his direction. Instinctively, Moonhowler grabbed the lass, curled around her, and hunkered down just as the river of scalding heat washed over them. He heard the Autobot grunt as the fire struck him, but he remained upright. But that didn't last – the dragon rushed over with terrifying speed and slammed into the mech, claws leaving nasty, leaking scratches on his metal hide.

"Cover yer ears, lass." Moonhowler warned softly.

His pack mates shut off their audials, and Miko covered her ears. But he was unable to get the message to the Autobots over the dragon's roaring din; shouting would alert the others.

Moonhowler transformed. He took a step back, flung his helm high – and howled.

The Autobots gave cries of pain and clamped hands over their audials at the deafening noise that came from the Canipid's mouth. The opposing beasts were no different, staggering and wailing in agony. Taking the chance, Tag-Along warped over to Ravage, clamped his jaws into his neck, and warped him away. A second passed, then two, and his fellow beast returned. The howl thus ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Now that just left the dragon.


Through the ache in his processor, Wheeljack detached the grenade from his hip. The beastie was disoriented and in pain from that howl-thing the wolf dog had done, screaming and shaking its helm around as it blindly careened left and right. He wouldn't get a better chance than this.

"Hey, petrol-breath!" he taunted.

The dragon whirled on him and rushed, maw open as it screamed on. Transforming, Wheeljack led it out of the chamber. On hearing a yowl he noticed the black cat's energy signal tailing him – with a human bio-signature superimposed over it. It outpaced the dragon easily and leapt onto his canopy.

"Mind if we join the party, Wheeljack?" Miko wondered over the rush of the wind and the roar of his engine.

Heh. Crazy kid. He honked approval and sped onward. An intersection approached.

"Hang on!"

The cat dug its claws in and crouched as he hit his brakes and swerved down another tunnel. The dragon careened into the walls but continued the chase, its hide barely even dinged. A stream of fire was shot. He spun his wheel hard to one side and avoided it.

*'Jackie! The scrap's the big idea?!* Bulkhead demanded over private comm's.

*Two words, Bulk: snack time.*

The tunnel grew smaller and narrower. Knowing what he knew about mines that meant another chamber was coming up, and he sped into it. The place wasn't as large as the one he'd been in; he and the cat could maneuver in the space just fine, but the dragon would have a heck of a time with its larger size. The cat seemed to follow his line of thought and hopped off to let him transform and ready the explosive. He didn't even need to tell the cat to take cover with Miko – it did so by itself, running towards some stalagmites and heavy stones and hunkering down behind them. Two glowing optics peeped out.

And right on cue, the dragon charged in. It opened its maw and screamed.

If a cave in couldn't stop this thing...maybe a live grenade down its gullet could.

"Snack time, beastie!"

He flipped the pin and flung the grenade dead center at the beast's gaping jaws.

And the clever plan he'd patched together fell apart a mere foot from the target.

The dragon's tail whipped up and around and smacked the explosive away. Wheeljack's optics went round in shock. It bounced off one wall, hit a boulder, hit another boulder, hit a second wall – and then rolled to a stop dangerously close to where Miko and the cat were hiding.

"Son of a –" he couldn't get the whole phrase out when:

KA-BANG!

The chamber shook as blue flame erupted outwards. The ceiling rumbled and began to collapse. Wheeljack tried to run for the exit but the dragon's tail struck him and sent him flying to one side. Through his fritzing vision he saw the beast run helter skelter trying to avoid the avalanche of stone. A large chunk of the ceiling fell and struck it on the helm, and the beast fell. Stone quickly buried it.

A trio of stones struck him. The world spun. His vision blacked out.