Fire of Youth

Chapter 45

*So this chapter is gonna be me addressing a...shall we "problem" that the writers of Prime pretty much brushed under the rug, or didn't realize was a major problem. Which was shocking considering that it took a one-shot by Foxbear for me to realize it myself. That awkward moment when a fan writer understands an ethical problem more than the show writers did...Uh, whoops? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
*Also, apologies for the delay on this and the AA chapter up next. I'm on kind of an organizational spree in my digital notebook. It's looking much tidier now but I've got a ways to go still. ^-^'

"Play the video again, Soundwave."

The faceless mech played the security footage again. The giant communications disk atop the Nemesis was fine for one moment, and then a little figure, wolfish and lean, bit down on some exposed cables and pulled. Megatron knew that wolfish form, as it was currently standing on the bridge with him alongside his little companions: Catscratch, Tag-Along, and Ramhorn. Predaking stood behind them, watchful. Knockout and Starscream stood on the bridge too, hot and annoyed.

"Explain yourself, Moonhowler," he demanded.

"The damage was easy to mend..." whined the wolf mech.

"Motive, Predacon. No excuses."

"Yeesh, can't any of you take a good joke?" huffed Catscratch. "That's all this was. Honestly, it's like you all have sticks up your a–"

Megatron snarled at her. "Joke or not, you jeopardized a mission. Intentionally. Soldiers died because of it, soldiers that cannot afford to be wasted."

The black femme shrugged. "Peh. You still got one of the fossils. Just how many beasts d'ya think you really need to take out, what, ten 'bots? Maybe crack open a bloody dictionary sometime and look up the word 'overkill' for me. You'd be learning a new word and doing us all a ruddy favor. You'd lose less troops that way...just saying."

Ramhorn stifled a chuckle. A glare from Megatron cut the noise short.

"Apparently you need to look up a definition yourself, Catscratch," the great grey warlord warned. "Is the word 'treason' familiar to you?"

Catscratch was unmoved. Her pugnacious little chin remained high as she impassively yet boldly stared down the grey giant before her.

Predaking rather admired her in that moment. For such a tiny femme, nothing and no one ever seemed to scare her. He would be rather sad, frankly, if she were to die for her strong, fiery attitude. Even if she rarely listened to his actual orders, perhaps by standing up for her, some respect (and her audials) might be earned, and would make her a little more open to listening to him. That was how Killzone had earned his respect, after all.

"Lord Megatron," he interjected, "correct me if I err, but treason requires malicious intent, does it not? From what I understand, practical jokes typically have no such ill will ingrained in them."

The stare-down between Catscratch and Megatron continued for a worryingly long few seconds – Catscratch passively huffy, Megatron ornery and peeved.

"There was no willful intent to harm," Ramhorn added, agreeing. "Annoy, maybe, sure, but not harm. Any harm inflicted was incidental. Had Moony known Knockout was going to get into actual trouble on the ground, he wouldn't have done it. Right, Moony?"

Moonhowler nodded, whining.

Megatron's glower intensified. Catscratch's expression remained unchanged.

"Predaking, take them back to the aerie. Keep an eye on them," he eventually ordered. "I'll not have any more mischief aboard this ship."

"Yes, my lord."

Predaking gestured the little ones out. Catscratch transformed and made to bolt into the vents but he snatched her in his hands.

"Oi!" she hissed. "Let go o' me!"

"Hush," he snipped. "I'll deal with you when we get to the aerie, she-devil."

Catscratch twisted around in his grasp and hissed loudly. He hissed back. Catscratch, stunned, went quiet.

Megatron stared at the shut bridge doors for a while in eerie silence. Knockout couldn't tell what exactly was on his mind.

"You know," the red medic drawled, "as much as I dislike the prank, I do have to admire Moonhowler for doing it. That's bearings I didn't think he'd ever have outside of an actual emergency. Most of the time he's curled up in the corner acting like he's sick."

"He wasn't bitten, was he?" Starscream demanded anxiously.

"No," Knockout told him dismissively. "He's been doing that since the day he got here."

Megatron said nothing. He had further video evidence from Soundwave that Moonhowler had not acted in isolation. Soundwave had spotted Moonhowler, Catscratch, and Tag-Along huddled in the aerie and speaking in their primal tongue. One or both of them had put him up to that little prank with the communications array. The only question was why. Pranks did not happen in a vacuum, he knew that from his experiences with the obnoxious, teleporting Seeker Skywarp. Had it been simple impulsive pettiness that had provoked this particular prank or something more nefarious? And Moonhowler himself was another variable. His behavior, according to Knockout, was of one disinterest, a noticeable lack of investment in whatever he did for them. In his experience, soldiers like that were the most prone to betrayal, perhaps more so than possible active dissidents like Catscratch. All they needed at that point was an appropriate nudge.

He approached the display before him and contacted Shockwave: "Shockwave, what is the development status of the clones?"

"I would estimate another week or so for proper development for the most recently added specimens, Lord Megatron. I could try to accelerate the process, if you request it, but past attempts to do so have resulted in various deformities. See the file for FS-3, code-named Sun King, for reference."

"Terminate them," he hissed.

"...Excuse me?" The normally monotone scientist could not hide the tiniest sliver of surprise in his voice.

"Predaking, Sizzleslash, and Killzone combined can barely control those we have. Adding dozens more to his ranks could result in chaos, and swelled ranks would only provoke Catscratch's behavior further. That could evolve into open rebellion if enough of them fall under her sway."

"...I would argue the waste of resources and troops highly illogical, but I concur with your reasoning. Resources would be wasted regardless should the beasts stage a revolt and abandon our cause."

"You could just kill the feline," scoffed Starscream. "I'll gladly do it for you. She's a menace. Just last week she trapped me in snare that hung me from the corridors!"

Knockout coughed back a snicker in remembrance. When he'd heard him loudly protesting near the med bay, he had not expected to see the grey Seeker dangling by his heelstrut from the corridor ceiling. Starscream had spent the rest of the day huffy after Sizzleslash and Screech had cut him down. Rather conveniently, Catscratch had disappeared for the day, only peeping out of hiding again the following day. One smug look at Starscream as she'd passed him by had clarified her involvement.

Oh, Catscratch was most definitely a menace, but Knockout had to confess she was a vastly amusing menace. Just so long as he wasn't her target, of course.

But Shockwave warned Starscream that killing her would be a poor – and reckless – decision. Predaking held no affection for the feline, but he would be utterly furious if Starscream killed her owing to their less-than-amicable relations. Predaking had grown rather protective of the little beasts, despite their behavior, so Killzone attested in his progress reports. His former studies on behavior said this was not unusual for beast kind. They formed tight bonds, and breaking those bonds tended to have unpleasant consequences for whoever had broken them.

"We need not be involved," growled Megatron. "The Autobots have as much, if not more, to gain from the project's termination."

"A logical strategy."

"How do you plan to lure them in?" Starscream asked him skeptically.

"...Leave that to me."

Shockwave ended the call at that.

Infernus was sad to see Brawn and Sami leave again. But he had his own charges to look after, he reminded himself, and he trusted Brawn to take good care of Sami while her arm healed. In a weird way, Brawn kind of reminded him of June. She was a nice lady, very caring, when she wasn't after you for whatever reason. Ratchet and Fowler always seemed a little happier with her around, too. And as much as Jack occasionally got flustered with her, there was still affection between her and her son. Little acts of kindness between the two were always a welcome sight. Even Fowler had gotten involved, bringing the nurse her favorite kind of candy the other day.

He knew enough about humans to know what was going with that.

He just wished Miko and Raf could so easily keep in contact with their families without blowing cover. It was really starting to take a toll on poor Raf, not being able to keep in routine contact with his family. It obviously was no comfort at all to him that they had wisely moved out of Jasper long before Megatron's attack on the town. He wanted to be with them, but right now that was just too risky. Infernus was glad 'Bee was there to play big brother to his tiny human charge, and Bluestreak was definitely turning into the hyperactive, cheerful middle brother to balance the trio out.

"Go Raf! Go!" cheered Bluestreak.

Infernus turned to look what the cheering was about. Mark had kindly provided the kids a PlayStation inside the hangar and the log-in credentials to his account, complete with quite the collection of multiplayer games to entertain them. Some technical wizardry from Raf had resulted in Jack using Raf's laptop as one playable monitor and the TV as a second. At the moment, the trio were engaged in a round of Rocket League.

The other players on screen, at least so far as he knew, were some of Mark's fellow mechanics who had all agreed to have a game day with the kids.

"Holy scrap, the runt's creaming you!" cried Miko.

Raf laughed.

"Jack, left! Left, left, left!" urged Arcee.

"I got it, I got it, I – scrap, no I don't!" swore Jack.

Raf's sombrero-wearing car shot across the screen. Auto-Girl27, a bright pink car with a frilly bow, and BigDaddyArgh, a black car sporting a cowboy hat, went after him. If he had to guess, those were Kaitlyn Gonzales and Mr. Rowland. They managed to intercept before Raf could score a goal.

"Y'know, the fact Rowland is pretty much carrying Jack's team this round is kinda hilarious," trilled Bumblebee. "Who knew the old chief mechanic was an expert Rocket League goalie?"

"Right?" laughed Rafael. "He's really good!"

"And I am impressed at a mere child besting his so-called 'elders' in this e-sport," chortled Ratchet. "A horrible dent to one's pride, that."

"Yeah, tell me about it," muttered Jack.

Raf was once again intercepted by BigDaddyArgh.

"Argh! Rowland!" shouted Raf laughingly. "Knock it off!"

"That username is feeling really appropriate," chuckled Bulkhead. "Starting to think he's aware of how other players feel about him. Ha!"

"You realize the reason Rowland is besting you is because he is exploiting the game's physics engine," Ultra Magnus noted flatly from nearby. "He is calculating his movements and correctly interpreting Rafael's strategy."

"You, shush!" snipped Miko. "No backseat gaming!"

When Magnus scowled and rolled his optics, the Prime coughed back a chuckle. Ultra Magnus still had some mild issues with Miko's attitude, but ever since the Japan mission he seemed to have permanently warmed up to her. As much as he tried to play the stiff rule-abider, Magnus did have a spark in him.

June sat close by Infernus, relaxing and reading, while Ribbondance coached Grimwing in his exercises outside. It was the first time in a while he'd actually seen the woman almost completely relaxed: no tense muscles, no elevated heart-rate, no stress chemicals. When June caught him looking at her, she raised her eyes up from the book and arched an eyebrow. He answered by offering a friendly smile and letting her go back to her reading.

Only one person was seemingly disinterested in the game: Prowl. He went over to him where he lurked near the threshold.

"You okay?"

Prowl eyed the game sideways. "This is highly informal. We should be planning, not idling around."

"This is planning," he smiled.

"...How?"

"You of all people should understand that letting the troops kick back every now and again is a benefit. A little off day to have some fun isn't gonna hurt anyone. It'll help burn off some of the stress."

He couldn't tell if Prowl's perpetually flat face softened or not, but he did eventually nod. "True."

"Maybe that battle computer of yours can help Jack get a last minute comeback?"

Prowl's flat frown deepened by half a degree. "Miko would term that 'backseat gaming' I believe."

"Eeeh, I think she might let it slide," he smiled, "just this once."

"Actually, Prime, I need to borrow Prowl for a bit," said Fowler, emerging from his office. "There's some issue a few states over with what sounds like a compromised big rig trailer. Would you mind helping me get it here for safe-keeping, Prowl?"

Prowl turned to the man, curious. "Compromised? In what way?"

According to Fowler, some guy had tried to open his big rig trailer for a cargo check at a truck stop, only to call 911 about "freaky noises" coming from the container. The caller had wisely decided not to poke around for the source, whatever it was, because in his words it had "sounded angry" at his attempt to do so – lots of chittering, hissing, and growling. He hadn't gotten a good look, but it sounded like whatever it was was tucked in the very back of the container. The government had intercepted the call because of all this information, and the container in question was waiting at a designated location at the Kansas/Colorado border.

"I take it you singled me out owing to my disguise?"

"If unmarked vehicles show up at the site, people not affiliated with us could get suspicious. The caller called the cops, so he'll be expecting cops. Further, he's not willing to let us take his truck, only the container. We've got an undercover driver who'll be doing the heavy lifting. You'll just be helping escort."

Prowl nodded, "I will assist you, then."

Fowler gave a single nod to show thanks. "Doc, if I provide some coordinates for you, can you spin up a 'bridge for us?"

"I can," confirmed the old medic.

In less than a minute, the two were gone.

But, oddly, Ratchet remained at his console. Something looked like it had caught his attention. Curious, Infernus went over to look for himself. In one window was a report of some kind, and in another was a map of Mongolia, where a fairly small Energon mine was sitting.

"What?" he eventually asked him.

"Read that report," Ratchet told him in an unusual tone of voice.

The report itself wasn't that weird. It was just a report about the mine being found, and additional notes about some activity around it. Nothing weird, mainly soldiers coming and going with what the report thought must be supply crates. That wasn't too weird. They had to keep the miners supplied with tools and fuel. Megatron was a jerk, but he wasn't that much of a jerk, he supposed.

"I'm not following," he admitted. "What's wrong?"

Ratchet tilted his head to him. "I'm assuming you are aware of how enemy locations are found and confirmed."

"A combination of satellite reading and recon by human allies," he recalled.

"Precisely."

He eyed the reading again. "Okay, and?"

Ratchet stared him down and said slowly, "Infernus, that mine didn't exist two months ago. No reconnaissance reports. Only satellite readings, and those readings do not match the activity levels observed on the ground. The supplies going in don't match the expected limited personnel inside, either."

He understood why Ratchet was bothered by the readings. Contradictory reports aside, even a small mine like that would take a lot longer than two months to set up – or, more accurately, set up in a way that wouldn't cause a devastating collapse that killed all of Megatron's mining staff. But if he had somehow set it up that fast, he had to know how. Megatron had been a miner prior to his rise, not an engineer. He knew how to staff and operate a mine, not necessarily how to make one.

'D'ye think ol' one-eye had a hand in it?' mused Alchemist.

'If he was, why? Why would he have Shockwave involved in mine construction? And why this mine in particular?' retorted Alpha Trion.

He let the other Primes delve into a round table discussion. It was oddly comforting to know they could be just as clueless as he could be sometimes.

"I remember reading a past report where you guys found the warship because its electromagnetic shielding was damaged. Do you think something like that happened here?" hazarded Infernus.

"Mines don't employ that type of shielding," argued Ratchet, "they never have. It's much too resource intensive to hide something that large. The bigger the object, the harder it is to convincingly hide, and the more energy it takes to do so. The warship can do so because of its smaller size, and because it is near constantly on the move. If they are cloaking the mine, and that is why it wasn't found sooner, then that is highly unusual."

"So..." he glanced sideways at Ratchet, "what do you think is going on?"

Ratchet confessed he wasn't sure. He wanted to look into it, mostly to satisfy his own curiosity.

"That's not too big...but the activity reports make it sound like there's more people in there than it looks..." muttered Infernus. He then turned about. "Hey, Magnus? How would you feel about taking the Wreckers to Mongolia?"

The Commander was on board with the field mission. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were, too. Ribbondance tried to offer herself, but Ultra Magnus insisted she stay to continue helping Grimwing. She cordially accepted his order on the condition that if they needed her help to summon her immediately. Ultra Magnus politely accepted her little caveat. He also added one of his own: he wanted to contact Brawn to see if they might lend them a covert arrival, and possibly additional weapons. The report was suspicious enough that he was suspicious; he did not trust what they might find inside.

Brawn was called up. Unfortunately, he was busy tracking down a buffalo-looking beast in northeastern China. However, he'd have Sami briefly drop his ship off at the base and they could take what weapons they needed. They were welcome to anything on board, up to and including his beast-hunting equipment. They'd more than earned that right after the help they'd given him.

When the ship arrived, Sami at the controls, Bulkhead was very quick to take the rocket hammer that Brawn was so fond of. Wheeljack took some extra grenades. Ultra Magnus took a heavy shield.

"Stay safe, you guys!" Sami entreated as the Bulldog lifted back up. "And take good care of Rocky, Bulkhead!"

"Will do!" the green Wrecker cheerfully promised.

Infernus chuckled. Rocky? He'd named his hammer Rocky? That was adorable.

Now equipped for the worst scenario, the Wreckers prepped to leave. Ratchet would drop them off a ways away so as not to tip off the Decepticons that they knew about the mine. Hopefully, in doing so, they might find additional clues about the location.

"Watch out for the feral camels," June warned casually.

"Camels?" repeated Ultra Magnus, puzzled at the word.

"Wild mammals that live in the region," she translated without looking up from her book. "They spit when upset."

Ultra Magnus promised that neither he nor his Wreckers would antagonize the local fauna. Wheeljack looked a little disappointed by the promise.

"No poking the camels, Wheeljack," Infernus reiterated playfully. "No poking, no prodding, no honking at them, just leave them alone. Okay?"

Wheeljack made a face but bowed to his orders. He then privately told him he'd been planning to see if he could get one to spit on Ultra Magnus.

The Prime frowned, "Yeah. Now, see, that's exactly why I don't want you messing with them."

Ultra Magnus, unaware of the private message, looked between the two of them for an answer, then wondered "Dare I ask?"

"He was planning to prank you."

"Hey!" barked the white Wrecker. "Snitch!"

"Freakin' snitch, ruining my fun," Wheeljack muttered to himself as he drove.

At his side, Bulkhead chuckled. He was honestly impressed at Smokescreen's transformation. He hadn't really struck him as the "leader" type at any point but the kid was making leaps and bounds. He could lead in his own unique way. Sometimes he'd let humor come in to play to do it, and sometimes, like today, he preferred to play it safe and sensible. He'd come a long ways from the cheerfully impulsive, big dreaming, accidentally rude rookie desperately trying to prove himself.

"I assume since it's a mine we're gonna try and take it, right?" Wheeljack asked.

"Ratchet wishes us to investigate first, so that is what we will do. A raid can commence after that is concluded."

"How much resistance are we expecting, sir?" wondered Bulkhead.

The report Ratchet had read indicated a fair number of miners being supplied, Ultra Magnus said, though exact numbers were indeterminate. They should be prepared for moderate resistance at the very minimum.

"Fun," Wheeljack stated cheerfully.

"No. Reckless. Behavior," Magnus growled tersely at him. "We can investigate nothing if you bring the mine down on top of us."

Wheeljack groaned. "...You're not gonna let that one go, are you?"

"No."

Wheeljack huffed at him. After that little adventure with Ribbondance he'd thought Magnus had warmed up a little. Apparently any warming he showed to him was the temporary kind that quickly snuffed in favor of holding petty grudges. It made him yearn for having Optimus around again. That guy had had a lot more chill. He hadn't held his little Insecticon hunt against him for more than maybe a day.

"Ahead. Slow."

They slowed to a stop and transformed. The mine itself was built into the top of a mountainous steppe where, far below, grasslands rolled and stretched as far as the eye could see. It wasn't the usual sort of place to find a Decepticon mine, in Wheeljack's experience, but they hadn't really seen much in the way of people on the way there, so he could understand the decision. Fewer eyes was as good a way as hiding something as sticking it somewhere hard to see. Granted, the handful of mining carts waiting just at the threshold were pretty inconspicuous even on a good day.

"Doesn't look fishy to me," admitted Bulkhead. "But...where are the guards?"

Ultra Magnus frowned. In a place this open, any guards were no doubt stationed inside to avoid tipping off local eyewitnesses. They would need to be doubly careful then. One wrong, stray shot in a place so confined could send the mine up in flames – and them with it.

The Commander took the lead up to the entrance. Once there, Bulkhead moved the carts aside for later before they all three ducked inside.

"I don't hear any mining going on," Wheeljack whispered.

"Maybe we caught them on break?" Bulkhead hazarded in foregone hope.

ZING! A blaster shot barely missed his head.

"Nope!"

"Way to go jinxing us, Bulk!" Wheeljack teased.

Five Vehicon troops ran to block their progress.

"Take them out quickly!" barked Ultra Magnus. "We can't risk a fire fight in such close quarters!"

Wheeljack ducked low and charged headlong at the soldiers. His blade slashed an arm off one, and impaled another through the visor. Bulkhead charged through the blaster fire of the remaining three. One was crushed against the wall, the other floored by a bash of Brawn's hammer to the head. A single, well-aimed and high powered round from Ultra Magnus burnt a whole through the chest of the last one. Two more soldiers then ran in and were bashed by the bigger mech's heavy shield.

"Is that all of them?" Wheeljack asked.

"...I think I hear more further in but I don't think they know we're here yet," Bulkhead told him.

Ultra Magnus nodded them both forward. He couldn't hear anyone coming either. It looked to be clear. For now.

On entering the main chamber, they did indeed find a very small, mostly stripped mine. But, curiously, though there were some carts filled with glowing blue crystal chunks, and some mining equipment lying about, there was no sign of the miners themselves. Ultra Magnus, visibly suspicious, stalked up to one of the carts to put it under intense scrutiny. He checked the base of it, the wheels, and dug around in the crystal shards a little. Finding nothing only made his suspicion mount. Wheeljack understood the old mech well enough to understand his actions.

"You think the carts are rigged?" Wheeljack asked him.

"It is not standard practice for miners to leave their gains in the open," the bigger blue mech answered.

"Yeah, 'cause if they do we'll grab 'em. Y'know. Like we're doin' right now," he smirked.

"It almost looks like they bailed all of a sudden, before we got here," noticed Bulkhead. "This drill's still warm. I know the Wrecker's have got a reputation, but enough to empty this place out?"

"This is a small mine with very few personnel," Ultra Magnus reminded him. "Perhaps they erred on the side of caution."

"Maybe..."

Ultra Magnus was still deeply suspicious. A small mine, minimal personnel. So then what explained the massive amounts of supplies going in?

"Well, it's free fuel sittin' around either way. Might as well grab it and take it back," suggested Wheeljack, grabbing a cart for himself.

"Bulkhead and I will see to that. You scout ahead, Wheeljack. See if you can find anything of note."

"What, you're trusting me to wander off on my own?" he wondered, half-teasing and half-shocked.

Ultra Magnus cast him a flat look. "...Don't make me regret it."

The white Wrecker was secretly thankful the Commander was more focused on the task at hand now – too focused to maintain his little grudge. So while they brought the free fuel back to base, he took off down one of the corridors on the hunt for more information...and maybe some more 'Cons to explode. He could hear low murmurs from the end of the passageway, but no sounds of mining. He assumed that they had to be more guards.

Wheeljack reached the end of the corridor, pressed his backstrut against the wall, and peered in. He was right about the guards, but as to what they were guarding?

His jaw dropped.

Contained in giant bubbling tanks full of weird yellow fluid were Predacons. Dozens of them. Some were so wacky looking he honestly sure what he was looking at. One had deer antlers, a dragon's head, a horse's body, bird feet on the front and deer feet on the back, and a tail tipped by a plume. Another looked like some kind of vicious weasel from hell whose front paws were just massive curved claws. Yet another was a large feline covered in lizard-y scales whose legs were like a cross between a bear and an iguana, a tail like an eel, and a giant horn poking up from the top of its snout. Such a bizarre menagerie made the Kyoto Guardians look downright normal.

He quickly backed off and pinged Ultra Magnus. "Chief? Get your fender in here. You're not gonna believe what we just found. It's Shockwave's –"

"Intruder!" one of the guards shouted. "Get him!"

"Protect the clones!" another hollered.

"Aw, scrap!"

He drew his twin katanas and reflected the flurry of blaster shots that came his way. Most reflected back at the guards who had fired them, but one ricocheted and hit a piece of machinery, which erupted in roaring sparks and promptly exploded. The guards quickly backed off but kept firing. Wheeljack decided to make the best of the situation by intentionally ricocheting shots into machinery. The more stuff broken, the better had always been his personal policy when it came to Decepticon stuff.

"Wheeljack!" shouted Ultra Magnus.

"Oh, good! You came to join the party!" he snarked.

"I thought I told you to –!"

Any harsh reprimand that was about to emerge didn't when Ultra Magnus saw what was in the room. Bulkhead was similarly slack-jawed.

"You're Commander for the Wreckers, aren't you?" demanded Wheeljack. "Then get wreckin' already, chief!"

"We need ordinance for this operation!" barked the Commander. "Mere blaster fire won't do enough!"

"You mean you're letting me explode this place?!" he almost gasped.

"Wheeljack!" he barked again after having already charged into the fight.

"Right! Just making sure we're on the same page is all!"

Ultra Magnus proceeded to face off against the remaining guards. An uppercut staggered one who was then flung at their partner. When another tried to lunge at him for a point-blank shot, Bulkhead swung his mace into the back of their head. Their attempted lunge thus merely saw them harmlessly careen into the Commander's shield before slumping down to the floor.

"Unless you wanna get blown to kingdom come, too, I'd pull back!" advised Wheeljack.

"Controlled explosion, Wheeljack," Ultra Magnus urged tersely, eyeing the five grenades in his hands. "We want to destroy the lab, not the entire cavern system. That is, unless you have a preference for live burials."

"Ugh. See, this is why I don't like you," he grumbled. "You're always sucking the fun out of it."

He handed three of the five grenades to Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus. Two would be enough for a controlled explosion, he judged.

He took aim near one row of growth vats and flung one grenade. He flung the other at the other row of vats on the opposite side of the wall.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted.

They ducked out of the entrance and the Commander ducked in front of them both, shield up. After a few soft beeps, explosions wracked the cavern: the first two were the grenades, but the rest was like a chain reaction of similarly powerful explosions. Glass shattered, yellow liquid escaped and splashed, and...animalistic shrieks, keens, and screams split through the roar of fire and combusting equipment.

Ultra Magnus's previously annoyed expression changed to one of horror.

Ahead of them, a groundbridge opened, from which a tall, stately mech colored bronze emerged. When he saw the flames through the entryway, and then saw them, his worried expression became one of such bloodcurdling hate that it almost made the brazen Wheeljack turn and flee. He had seen that look only one time in his life, when Rotorstorm's brother Twintwist had been killed during a botched mission sanctioned by Optimus. It had taken the combined might of Seaspray, Bulkhead, and Ironhide to keep him from literally clawing the old Prime's eyes out. Somehow, the newcomer's look was even more intense than Rotorstorm's look had been.

"You!" the mech roared. "What did you? What have you done to my kin?!"

Kin?

"Uh oh..." Bulkhead realized. "Sir, that's –!"

"Predaking. Scrap!" Wheeljack finished for him, and drew his blades. "So, um, he couldn't do that last time we met him, right...?"

"No clue, but I don't think it matters!"

Roaring, the bronze mech charged at them faster than should have been possible. Ultra Magnus wasn't fast enough to dodge the flurry of strikes from Predaking, who finished the attack by grabbing his head and throwing him against the wall. Bulkhead threw the two grenades Wheeljack had given him and then charged, both maces at ready. He clobbered the beast mech relentlessly enough for Wheeljack to start attacking him, unopposed, from behind. Ultra Magnus recovered in moments and joined in their tag-team attack with his shield, turning a two-way game of enemy whack-a-mole into a three-way match. Predaking wasn't able to recover from one hit before another would stagger him again. That was, until he staggered out of their triangle thanks to a slightly too nasty hit from Bulkhead's borrowed hammer.

Ultra Magnus tried to make sure he couldn't recover. He threw the one grenade he had. Predaking swatted it away. Ultra Magnus then ran and swung his fist at him in a practiced spinning backfist. His aim was to hit him first, then strike him harder still with the shield in a followup.

Predaking grabbed the incoming hand in his own fist and used his other hand to land a devastating direct blow to the Commander's mid-section. He then twisted his arm out of its joint and slammed his head into his face. Ultra Magnus stumbled back and fell. He lost his grip on the shield.

Bulkhead leapt to his defense. He managed to block Predaking's strike and land a solid blow to his jaw before he too was floored.

Wheeljack did the only sensible thing: he opened a channel back to base and shouted into it: "Prime! We need an assist! NOW!"

He dodged a kick from the beast and managed to nick his face with his blades. When he swung again, Predaking's clawed hands sliced through one blade, shredding it and leaving it a stump. Wheeljack made the best of it by shoving the now shorter sword into a chink in his arm plating. Predaking backed off, snarling and trying to rip the blade out. He might have managed too if Bulkhead hadn't hammered the sword in further. Though his snarling only got angrier in tone, Wheeljack could tell by his more guarded body language he was in a significant amount of pain from the embedded blade.

Predaking tried to transform, but failed. The blade was preventing the seamless shifting of plates and parts.

He angrily lashed out at him and Bulkhead. The two wisely backed off, which gave the bronze mech another chance to rip the embedded weapon free.

Ultra Magnus tried to rise through the daze and disorientation. On spying his shield lying close by, he made to grab it. Predaking noticed. He spun on the Commander and slammed a foot down on his hand. But Predaking didn't stop there. He ground his foot into the floor, and into the other mech's hand, creating a sickening crunching noise as the limb was pulverized.

The normally stoic 'bot very nearly howled from the pain. His attacker then used his other foot to brutally curb stomp stop him. Somehow, Ultra Magnus remained conscious. Barely.

"You slaughtered my kin, Autobot," snarled Predaking. "You die today, as well!"

Predaking's hand changed to a blaster which was aimed at Ultra Magnus's head.

"I did that, not him!" Wheeljack protested. "If you're gonna beat someone to a pulp at least beat up the right person!"

The great bronze mech was temporarily thrown. "What?"

WHAM!

Infernus, in beast form, crashed into Predaking and the two went tumbling down the smoking passage. Bulkhead was amazed for the briefest second: if he thought the kid had been brutal to Predaking the last time they'd fought, he was being downright savage now. He nearly tore Predaking's wing right off his back three seconds into the fight, and his talons ripped and tore at any chink in his armor. His jaws brutally snapped down on his gun hand.

"Argh! Get off!" thundered Predaking.

Infernus fell from his back and spun. His transformed, yanked the hammer out of Bulkhead's hand, and struck Predaking sideways. The mech careened into the wall.

"Come on, come on!" a newly arrived Bluestreak urged as he helped Bulkhead to his feet. "He's stun locked! We gotta move!"

*I've got you, Jackie. Smoke, get Magnus!* Bumblebee twittered.

In the way that traders of old slung large bushels of goods onto the backs of mules, Bumblebee slung Ultra Magnus onto Infernus's back. The moment he was secure enough the Prime took off at breakneck pace, and not a moment too soon. Another form came out of the portal, one even less familiar: a strange serpentine dragon whose head more resembled a venomous viper with horns than a true dragon. Even its chase was like that a serpent, rapidly undulating side to side on its shorter, sleeker limbs. And it was wicked fast, much faster than Predaking giving chase on foot behind it.

"Oh peachy! His Highness called in help!" Bulkhead complained.

"Burn them, Sizzleslash!" Predaking roared. "Avenge them!"

The new dragon opened its maw and spewed a stream of green-tinted orange fire at them that smelled toxic. Wheeljack and Bulkhead veered out of the way when the dragon lunged forward through the flame, hissing and snapping at them both. Wheeljack didn't want to see what a bite from its serpent-y fangs would do to a 'bot if the fire the serpent dragon spewed was poisonous itself.

"Ratchet! Get us outta here!" demanded Bluestreak.

Sizzleslash nearly bit down on his fender.

"Like right now!"

A groundbridge opened ahead of them. Sizzleslash missed chasing them in by a fraction of a second. They therefore never heard her wailing scream, full of hate and despair, nor Predaking's similarly outraged and broken.

Ultra Magnus came to fully at last, grimacing from pain and his vision still swimming. A warm hand gently laid on his shoulder.

"Easy," urged the old medic. "Try not to move."

He obeyed. He instead moved only his head and optics. Wheeljack and Bulkhead were standing off to the side, worse for wear but very much alive. Bumblebee and Bluestreak were present, as well as Arcee. Grimwing and Ribbondance both had sympathetic looks on their respective faces: one accomplished through the full range of facial features, the other through a strange not-quite smile. The three children were up on the catwalk platform looking down, at some point having abandoned their game. Miraculously, Brawn was present, too, with Sameera sitting on his shoulder. When had they arrived? How long had he been unconscious?

"Got word from the doc you guys might need some extra oomph for a little while," the burly mercenary smiled. "Hope you don't mind a lowly merc fillin' in for ya for a couple days. In fighter capacity, not guy-in-charge capacity."

He nodded silently. His focus shifted to Wheeljack.

"Why did you say it was your doing?" he asked the white Wrecker. "Why defend me? I thought you disliked me."

Wheeljack nonchalantly shrugged. "Hey, you're not my favorite 'bot ever, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna let a beast wail away on you. That's not the Autobot way."

That...was not the answer he had been anticipating from him. He had assumed it had been a strategic diversion to distract Predaking for Infernus's ambush strike. He was frankly shocked to know Wheeljack cared just enough to defend him despite their checkered history. Perhaps being around Infernus had softened the black ops soldier in the same way it had softened him.

"...Thank you."

"Sure," nodded Wheeljack.

But, he then made the mistake of looking down where the pain was worst. His hand was gone. In its place was a strange three-pronged claw.

"It...was the best I could manage with the supplies we have," Ratchet told him, shame-faced.

"At least it isn't your primary hand," squeaked Bluestreak, awkwardly trying to find a silver-lining. "And, um, it looks kinda cool. Like a pirate hook!"

*Blue, not now..." Bumblebee trilled quietly.

At least he still had a hand in some capacity, he mused privately. That they had enough supplies for Ratchet to create a replacement at all was fortunate. He did not feel as if he deserved it though, not after hearing those agonized shrieks and keens amidst the explosions. He was indeed notorious among Autobot forces for his pragmatism during the War on Cybertron, but there was a reason Optimus had placed him as his right hand: his spark. There were deeds not even a shrewdly practical Autobot like himself would ever do even in the midst of a desperate war...and he had done one such dreadful deed today.

"...Where is Infernus?" he asked quietly.

Ratchet jerked his head to the back of the hangar, the look on his face worried and ashen. Ultra Magnus pushed himself off the slab (to the protestations of Ratchet and June) and limped towards the hangar's opposite end. There, tucked in a corner with his legs up against his chest, the Prime sat silently wearing a haunted look. When he spotted him approach, he rose and tried to coax him back to the medical slab.

"You need to recover. Come on."

"No," he told him. "I need to speak to you. Privately."

Infernus led him out of the hangar into the one where his ship was stored. The young Prime stared him down, silently asking him to clarify.

"I committed a terrible misdeed today, Prime," he muttered.

"...You blew up Shockwave's lab. I know. Bulkhead told me."

"Did he tell you the clones were already online when we did so?" He could not meet his gaze as he asked that.

The haunted look came back into his blue optics tenfold. "Magnus..."

"You felt it, didn't you? When it happened?"

Infernus admitted quietly that he had. That was why his arrival had been delayed. A terrible pain had ripped through the Matrix like a tangible scream, so intense it had floored him almost instantly. That was because it had been screams. Well over two dozen voices had all cried out at the same time in fear, confusion, and agony: What was happening? Why was everything burning? Burning! Fire! Pain! Make it stop! The experience had been horrible until it had abruptly stopped. Stopped, he had understood, because they had died.

"There are rules Autobots follow during warfare, Prime," Ultra Magnus told him slowly. "One such rule is to never attack or kill children. To attack or kill the young is an atrocity only the lowest of Decepticons would perform. And yet I, an Autobot, committed such an atrocity today. Had I known the sparkling Predacons were developed enough to be self-aware, I would never have..."

Ultra Magnus looked away, sick to his spark. He stayed quiet for a time. Infernus stayed quiet himself, the young Prime lingering close by like a faint flame.

"Ordinary, I might ask for forgiveness for such a sin. I will not, not for this," he said at last. "Instead, I will request one thing from you."

"What?"

Ultra Magnus finally managed to look Infernus in the eye, through a look of near desperate earnestness.

"The moment this War is over, place me on trial for war crimes," he requested firmly. "As of today, and as stated under Autobot law, I am a war criminal."

Infernus's horrified expression morphed into one of shocked sympathy. "Magnus, come on. You don't –"

"Yes. I do. It is your responsibility as High Commander of all Autobot forces, and as Prime, to uphold those laws."

"You committed it in ignorance. I'm willing to let that go."

"Ignorance or not, the fact of the matter remains. Innocent sparklings are dead today because of my orders."

"So you gave the order, you didn't do it yourself."

He knew where young Infernus was going with that line of reasoning. Ever the hopeful one, he was trying to find a loophole of logic to soothe his aching spark. After all, if he hadn't directly committed the deed, was he really responsible for it?

"Prime...don't. I gave the order to Wheeljack to destroy the lab and the clones. I am responsible for this atrocity."

Infernus fell silent again for some time. Eventually, he sighed.

"Alright. Fine. I'll do as you ask."

"Good."

The young Prime would have urged the Commander back to the hangar. He didn't. The two merely stood in the hangar together, quietly sharing their pain and grief.

So. Um. Yeah. O-o The writers for Prime kinda brushed over the fact the team committed a literal war crime when they killed the developing Predacons. They were self-aware enough in those tanks to respond to the explosions, which to me was a good sign of full sapience. Which means the "good guy Autobots" killed a bunch of kids. I'm sorry, how do you gloss over something like that?! WTF?!