Fire of Youth

Chapter 46

*A slightly more humorous chapter to wash away the ouch of last chapter.
*Note: After playing Hades for 70+ hours now, I have come to the conclusion that Killzone's voice sounds like Zagreus's voice in the game. XD

Killzone had seen many a Decepticon lose their cool. He was guilty of it himself at points. Megatron himself was famous for his wild temper, which had killed or maimed many over the centuries, and Starscream was equally prone to fits of rage and violence if things didn't go his way. The two were more alike that way than they cared to admit. But if he'd thought those two were the most extreme cases of wild tempers he'd ever witnessed, Predaking and Sizzleslash made those two look docile. In fact, their tempers were so out of control that the little beasts had completely vacated the aerie for safer venues. Only he and Ravage dared to stay inside with them in their anguished turmoil.

Killzone himself practically had to put the aerie on lockdown. To call Predaking and Sizzleslash "unstable" was an understatement. An erupting volcano was more stable.

Predaking continued to stomp about in the aerie, shrieking and screaming in his primal language. Sizzleslash was raging in her own way, spewing flame at random as if to force her anger out into the world as literally as possible. Predaking was half-tempted to follow her example; it wasn't like there were too many living targets in the room to accidentally scorch.

"Predaking, Predaking, calm down!" the soldier urged as he followed him around. "Starscream's gonna come in here if you keep this up, and I'd really prefer he didn't!"

Predaking screamed at the name. Killzone took the chance to jump forward and clamp his hands over his mouth, silencing him.

"Just. Breathe. Okay? Megatron's investigating the lab with Shockwave to see if anything's salvageable. If nothing is, then you can throw a tantrum. Alright?"

A low growl escaped the bronze dragon. When Killzone removed his hands from his maw, no new screams emerged. But his yellow eyes still burned brightly.

"Good dragon," the soldier said gruffly.

Sizzleslash had thankfully stopped her fire-spewing but was still stampeding around the aerie shrieking and hissing. Killzone decided to try the same tactic on her. However, the she-dragon was trickier to grab hold of because of sleeker form and quicker pace, and because it seemed to him she didn't want to calm down. He feared she was one of those types who, once they were riled up, kept going until someone splashed water on them. He was pretty sure he didn't have a bucket of water big enough for an entire Predacon though.

"What is all this racket in here?!" Starscream shrieked from beyond the doors. "How am I supposed to listen to an important debriefing when..."

Killzone jolted. "Oh no. No. No, no, no, no, no! Starscream! Don't come in here! Not advised! Abort! Abort!"

The doors hissed open and Starscream stalked in, wings down and an irritated scowl marring his face. He found Killzone frantically chasing Sizzleslash around the room while the serpentine dragon loudly declared her fury. Predaking stood in the middle of the room, a room which now bore a fresh coat of black soot on most of its walls and on the ceiling, too. Starscream took a brief moment to be baffled at the barely controlled chaos of it all before sputtering indignantly.

"Sergent! Get control of that Predacon immediately!" he ordered.

Sizzleslash took offense at his tone. She whirled on him, reared up, and spewed a column of toxic flame at his head. Starscream yelped and ran, but not before his wingtips were scorched black. The grey Seeker continued to yelp as he ran down the hall, no doubt to find Knockout for treatment and to whinge at him like he always did when something went wrong.

Killzone could have irately shouted at her for attacking a superior officer, like he was supposed to. Instead, he eyed the door before quietly asking her: "Better?"

Sizzleslash gave a soft screech. He didn't need to understand her primal language to understand her answer. She padded off to curl up in one of the launch bays. In a somberly adorable display, Predaking curled up with her.

The doors hissed open a few minutes later. Megatron himself stood in the doorway. Something about his calm countenance made Killzone suspicious. He had poured so much time and effort into Project: Predacon, surely he would be irate about possibly losing it all in one fell swoop? Those Predacons were supposed to be the solution to their drastically reduced ranks. But he decided to err on the side of caution. Maybe his calm was because some of it had been salvageable. He thus played the part of the loyal, calm soldier, mostly for Predaking's sake. He didn't want to risk another outburst, not with him present. So long as he stayed cool, maybe Predaking and Sizzleslash would follow his lead.

"Lord Megatron," he saluted. "What of the lab? Could anything be salvaged?"

"Unfortunately not," the warlord answered slowly, eyeing the two dragons beyond the threshold. "The Autobots were quite thorough."

Killzone flinched. "..."Oh."

Sizzleslash and Predaking hissed, a noise that threatened to turn into a full-fledged, audial-melting screech. Killzone spun and patted the air in the universal "keep it down" gesture, and both beasts quieted again. But the fury in their optics burned all the brighter at the news.

"Fortunately, Shockwave has other avenues to gain us an advantage in this fight. A new project is already underway. All unused resources from Project: Predacon are being diverted."

"New project, my lord?" he wondered, genuinely curious.

"Project: Phoenix."

Megatron took a moment to look more closely at the scene in the aerie. Killzone briefly panicked, knowing he could see plain as day the soot and burn marks scattered all over, and that wouldn't look good on him. To his infinite surprise, the grey warlord didn't berate him. He instead offered a thinly veiled compliment admiring his ability to placate a rampaging beast; apparently the only one among his ranks who could claim such a feat. The Predacons would no doubt be feeling upset for a time, so he hoped that he could keep their tempers well in check. With no new beasts joining them, he would need to prevent any reckless behavior, lest they lose more.

Killzone bowed. "Yes, Lord Megatron. Of course. Can I, erm, humbly request you give them a day or so off? To process all this...? They, um, they didn't take the report about the initial attack very well..."

"Their skills will be needed soon enough. Do not be surprised if I cut their emotional recuperation short. Time is of the essence for Project: Phoenix."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Keep your wits about you, Sergent. I don't need a talented beast handler like yourself killed."

Megatron turned and left. Killzone, had he the expressive face to show it, would have stared after him through narrow optics.

"...You don't give emotional leave to 'Cons..." he muttered. "What're you playing at...?"

Over against the far wall, Ravage shared his sentiment through a low growl. Killzone was not wrong; Megatron was not known for showing empathy.

Killzone made a mental note to hire Catscratch to do some snooping for him later. Why was Megatron so calm about losing Project: Predacon? And what was Project: Phoenix?

Fowler, after having driven a good ten hours with only Prowl and Captain Jeong as company, finally sat back in his seat and stretched. Area 51's barbed fence lay ahead, so Prowl took over the driving. He knew the man had to be tired. Humans were odd that way; they could become exhausted merely from sitting in a seat and driving for long stretches, though why was a complete mystery to him. Prowl was only thankful they had encountered no real trouble on the drive back. No 'Cons had tried to stop them, and whatever was in the trailer had not burst out looking for a fight.

"Jeong, get that trailer to Hangar K," he requested. "We'll pop it open once we make sure whatever's in it can't get out and run amok."

"Copy that, Agent Fowler," answered the thirty-year-old South Korean man at the wheel of the semi. "Do you want me to station some guards?"

"That shouldn't be needed. Whatever's in there had every chance to bust out. It hasn't. I don't think it's interested in leaving."

"I'll lock up the hangar anyway. We don't want to take chances with whatever is inside."

"A wise policy, Captain Jeong," Prowl told him.

Once they were through the gate, Jeong pulled off to deliver while Fowler and Prowl made for Hangar E. He found new carts of Energon lying to one side, and the cobalt Ultra Magnus was lingering nearby them, his expression troubled. He noticed one of his hands looked wonky but before he could get a good enough look the big 'bot quickly hid the limb behind his back.

"Agent Fowler, I take it your particular mission went smoothly?" wondered Ultra Magnus.

"Smooth enough. The trailer's being dropped at Hangar K if any of you care to join us in cracking that overgrown Kinder surprise egg open."

"You mean you never checked it?" asked Miko.

"Er, well, I tried," Fowler confessed slowly, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. "Whatever it is didn't take too kindly to that. Lots of angry chittering noises. I...played it safe and backed off."

"Probably smart," agreed June.

"'Bots don't make those sorts of noises. You don't think...?" Arcee wondered.

"Prowl thinks it could be a Predacon in there," agreed Fowler, "though how in Abe Lincoln's hat it got stuck in a semi-truck trailer we don't know."

"Can't be a big one if it can fit in a trailer," hemmed Brawn, "but I'll come with you just to make sure it doesn't try anything. The little ones can be just as dangerous, in my experience."

"Brawn? When did you get back?" wondered Fowler.

Brawn cast an awkward look at Ultra Magnus. "Er, request from the doc. Since the lab's gone I don't really have a reason to keep beast hunting, so he asked if I'd be willing to help you guys out with the 'Cons. I figured why not. I do owe the 'Cons back for kidnapping my girl Sami, and hittin' 'em directly is as good a means as any, right? Besides, I've got a bunch of toys to share with ya'll that could still be put to good use. Sami always tells me sharing is caring," he grinned.

"It wouldn't be helpful to have them sitting in the Bulldog gathering dust," grinned Sami from her perch on Brawn's shoulder. "And my field journals are yours as well, if you care to take a look."

"Appreciated, you two," the man smiled. Then he shook his head. "Wait, lab? You mean Shockwave's lab? It's destroyed?!"

"Yes," Ultra Magnus answered stiffly. "Project: Predacon has been shut down. Permanently."

Finally, some truly good news, Fowler thought. That was a load off his and General Bryce's shoulders. Maybe things would start going back to the simpler, pre-beast-hunt times, where they just had to worry about what crazy plan of attack the 'Cons were going to pull next. He hoped the semi-truck trailer wasn't one of their more harebrained schemes. He wouldn't put it past Starscream to stick something dangerous in the trailer and use their own curiosity against them. The 'Cons did have all those mini-beasts from the British Isles, like Tag-Along, according to Miko.

"C'mon. Let's go check out that trailer," suggested Bulkhead.

"Oh, oh, oh! I wanna open it!" chirped Bluestreak, eagerly bouncing on his trods.

The younger gunner transformed and squealed out of the hangar.

"No, no, no Blue!" cried the Prime. "Come ba-aand he's gone."

Indeed, Bluestreak was already halfway across the tarmac.

Infernus pinched his nasal bridge and sighed. "Prowl, can you make sure he doesn't open it before there's a good guard circle around it?"

The briefest, tiniest of smiles danced across the otherwise impasse Autobot's face. He promised to prevent any impulsive trailer opening before driving off after him. Bulkhead and Brawn quickly followed suit, the latter leaving his human partner behind with their resident humans. Infernus ordered Arcee to join them as well, and he would too. He would keep the remaining Autobot forces stationed in Hangar E under Ultra Magnus's command as a backup unit (and to protect the humans) in case something went really south. The other Thirteen, and Ultra Magnus himself, concurred.

On reaching the hangar, he was somewhat surprised and confused. The trailer itself wasn't suspicious looking. It looked like any other trailer Infernus had seen attached to a big rig rolling along the highway. But Infernus could hear something moving around inside it. It didn't sound like any native Earth creature he knew though. He didn't claim to be an expert on the long-haul trucking industry, but he was pretty sure living creatures weren't the usual cargo of a closed off container, and definitely not the usual cargo for a company that transported electronics (going by the company logo painted on the trailer's side). Fowler and Prowl had been right to bring the trailer here. It wasn't sketchy per say, but it was odd.

"Kid? There's a spark signal in there," Bulkhead informed him warily.

"I'm seeing it too," Arcee reported. "Prime? Orders?"

Infernus himself could sense the life energy inside pulsing wildly. Whatever was in the trailer was nervous.

"Open it," he said, "carefully."

Prowl approached the container and unlatched it. He then knelt and tried to get a look inside. He managed to spot two glowing orbs in the shadows that quickly disappeared behind a crate of equipment. Prowl thus maneuvered his hand in. Whatever it was wasn't that big, so he didn't think it would be capable of issuing severe damage. But since it wasn't too keen on coming out of its own volition he was left with no other option.

"AH!" he exclaimed, and yanked his hand back out.

"Prowl?!" Arcee cried.

She spotted the source of his pain: two puncture wounds leaked blue, puncture wounds made by tiny fangs.

A flurry of angry chitters came from the trailer. Prowl stared.

"...You bit me..." Prowl stated, shocked.

A squeaking growl answered him. Infernus nearly snickered at the beast's words: "Yeah, and I'll do it again! Feck off, glunterpeck! No manhandling!"

"Careful, everyone, they're Irish and they've got a temper," smirked Infernus.

"You were too rough. Let me try," offered Bluestreak.

Bluestreak knelt in front of the container, amiably introduced himself by name and as a friend, then tried to reach in and coax the occupant out. Unfortunately, despite his gentler, slower approach, the young gunner was met with the same results as Prowl. He yelped and withdrew his hand, which now sported the same puncture wounds. Where Prowl had been shocked at the retaliatory bite, Bluestreak was almost offended by it. He turned a hurt, betrayed expression on the trailer.

"Let a pro handle this, ya'll," grunted Brawn.

The merc thus shoved his hand in. After some rummaging, he finally pulled out a very peculiar looking little beast. They resembled a dragon in their reptilian body plan, but they had iridescent blue-green scale plates, six legs all tipped by claws, transparent wings like a dragonfly, and long, flexible, feathery antennae like a moth's that swooped up from their head.

Brawn lifted one thick brow ridge up in surprise at the sight. "Huh. I don't recognize you, little fella. That's a first."

"...That's not one of Megatron's..." Bulkhead declared, stumped. "Who the heck're you?"

The little half-dragon, half-insect creature angrily squirmed and protested in Brawn's grip, but Brawn was unmoved at their attempts to bite. His thick armor plate prevented the creature's fangs from making any more than superficial wounds too shallow to bleed. Arcee was pleasantly surprised, personally. She was so accustomed to Predacons being titanic and nightmarish looking that this little one, thanks to their delicate features and diminutive size, was almost cute. Even the angry noises they were making were kind of cute; not grunts, roars, or deep-throated growls that felt like sub-woofers. This little creature's noises were instead an odd hodgepodge of aggressive squeaks, chirps, chitters, and high-pitched gurgles that sounded like they were meant to be terrifying growls but the noise was at the wrong pitch to be taken seriously.

The little creature angrily squirmed and hissed. Soon, a whine escaped.

"Brawn, you're holding her too tight. Loosen up a bit," Bluestreak begged.

The tiny dragon quickly snarled: "Why does everyone I meet think I'm a femme? I'm a mech! Same as you!"

"Wrong pronoun, Blue," Infernus translated.

"Oh! Oh, gosh! Sorry!"

Brawn did as told. The creature made quick use of the opening and wriggled in his grasp enough so that his delicate wings were free. Brawn expected another biting frenzy, or a lash of his bladed tail, or even a stream of fire from his mouth. What he got instead, at point blank range no less, was a bright, searing snap of yellow-ish white light like a lightning flash.

"Agh! Frack!" he cried, vainly using his free hand to shield his burning, blinded optics.

His grip slackened enough that the tiny beast could force his digits apart and escape. Wings buzzed and little legs skittered on the cement floor.

"Get him!" Prowl barked. "Don't let him escape into the compound!"

Arcee and Bluestreak bolted after the little dragon. Arcee lunged and managed to grab hold of the creature's tail while Bluestreak and Bulkhead ran for the hangar door to shut it. Their timing was impeccable: both mechs managed to close the huge doors just as Arcee was forced to let go due to a bite from the tiny dragon. She swore and stuck her bleeding index digit in her mouth to staunch the flow.

"You weren't wrong about the tiny ones being a handful, Brawn!" she said.

"I swear this one's worse than the teleportin' dog!" Brawn heartily agreed.

"Hey, be nice to Tag-Along," snipped Bulkhead. "He's kind of on our side."

Brawn cast him a skeptical glance. "You can't be 'kind of' on one side, Bulk. You're either on one side or the other. No halfsies. Wildstab almost learned that the hard way."

The tiny dragon hissed and flared his wings. Another bright snap of light sent them all reeling. A weird echo-y banging noise like rain pattering on a metal roof warned them that the little beast was trying to escape. Bluestreak's optics recovered first, in time to see the tiny dragon was somehow clinging to the hangar door like a weird gecko and using his front set of limbs to try to jiggle the lock-bar loose. He fired a wide warning shot to interrupt him. The dragon jumped and darted vertically up onto the hangar ceiling.

"Woah! How are you doing that?!" gawked Bluestreak in childish amazement. "You're walking on the ceiling! And you're not magnetized to it! That's so cool!"

"Bluestreak, focus!" Prowl ordered.

"I am focusing!"

Their tiny attacker emitted another gurgling growl. Bulkhead noticed an odd shift in his body language: now that he was high above, the aggressive glint in his optics had dimmed to a wary smolder. The tiny dragon wasn't aggressive out of anger, he realized: he was terrified. He wanted to be high and out of reach to avoid them, not because he wanted a clean shot at them or something. Tag-Along had acted the same way, he recalled.

"Get down here ya little demon!" snapped Brawn.

The big merc quickly fired off a shot at them from his heavy rifle that struck one of the little dragon's six legs. His grip on the ceiling slackened and he fell to the floor in a loud rattle of plating. Brawn lunged to grab him but the beast skittered away towards the back of the hangar. He tried to find a hiding spot to wedge himself into, but seeing no such choices, and with Brawn and Infernus closing in, he backed up on his hind legs against the hangar wall, tiny chest-plates heaving.

Prowl read the body language correctly. Panic. Genuine.

"...Stand down," Prowl ordered.

"What?" Arcee wondered.

"I said stand down. Everyone. Leave the hangar."

"You want us to leave this thing in here alone?" Brawn demanded, amazed.

"Not alone. Bulkhead, stay here and guard the door."

"Did that flash fry your circuits, Prowl?"

"Listen to him," Arcee argued. "Prowl's smart. He knows what he's doing."

Brawn stowed his heavy sword on his back and backed down as ordered, none too pleased about it. Infernus, Prowl, Arcee, and Bluestreak followed suit. Only Bulkhead remained, and they shut the door behind him. Thus, only Bulkhead saw the little beast visibly calm, but he did have the sense to report the shift to Prowl and Infernus. Having just one 'bot in the room who was keeping his distance, the little guy was a lot less aggressive. Prowl's analysis, as always, was precise. Their "offense" was in reality a defense. Small Earth animals acted similarly when confronted by large predators.

"That Predacon is afraid of us," Prowl clarified.

"He thinks we're all Dragon Hunters," gasped Infernus.

"One of us is, Prime," Arcee wryly stated, pointing at Brawn. "That's probably why."

"I'm gonna guess he's not gonna be too interested in us asking questions, then," Bluestreak astutely guessed.

"Not us. We're too large," Prowl agreed. "We intimidate him. We need someone smaller to approach him."

"I could," the blue femme offered.

"No, you're still too large, Arcee. We need someone much closer to his size."

"It's not like we've got any mini-cons," harrumphed Brawn.

"No...but we have humans," Prowl stated with a clever gleam in his normally stoic optics.

"Prowl, is that safe?" Infernus wondered skeptically. "You saw how that guy reacted to us. A bite to us is an amputated limb for a human."

Prowl turned to him respectfully and argued that he was not worried. Size was the variable triggering the aggressiveness; if they removed that variable, then the beast in the hangar would have no need to behave aggressively. Bulkhead had already proved that. Yes, there was still a large "predator" in the room with the little beast, but just the one, and he was not attacking any longer – an encouraging sign. Placing someone closer to the little dragon's size would serve to dispel the size difference completely, he judged. However, he was not familiar enough with their resident human allies to know who might be the better choice in terms of temperament.

Bulkhead, casually eavesdropping on their conversation from beyond the door, declared Jack to be the best option. He had a proven track record for being cool as a cucumber in a lot of scary situations.

"I'm sorry, who's your partner again?" Arcee questioned in a somewhat prickly manner. "You only get to offer your own partner, Bulk, not someone else's."

"I mean, he's not wrong though..." Bluestreak countered meekly. "Jack is really calm a lot of the time. Kinda jealous, actually. I wonder how he does it?"

Infernus still offered the white and black mech a hesitant look. "I'm trusting you on this, Prowl. But I hope you realize that if Jack gets hurt, Arcee's gonna take both our heads off and parade them around as a warning."

"Jackson's risk of injury is negligible in my calculations."

"Yeah, and historically how accurate are those calculations o' yours, buddy?" grumbled Brawn, somehow sounding even more distrusting than Arcee looked.

Infernus called the base and requested Bumblebee to bring Jack to Hangar K, and to bring a few small Energon crystal shards with him. Maybe if they offered the little guy something to eat he'd be less eager to chomp down on a human limb. And maybe, Primus willing, he'd take the food as a peace offering.

When the scout arrived, Infernus was surprised that his passenger wasn't alone. Raf, Miko, and June exited with him. Jack and Miko each had a pair of work gloves on and were carrying a large (at least to them) blue crystal. Infernus was surprised that June didn't look upset at him for possibly putting her son into a dangerous situation; she appeared too busy listening to someone over Bluetooth.

"Uh, Miko, are you sure...?" he started hesitantly.

"Bulk told me you said this guy was Irish, yeah? Maybe he's friends with one of the good guys I met over there. I mean, if he's not trying to maim you guys he's obviously not pals with Floodshed."

He yielded the point to her. There was a slim chance this tiny Predacon was an ally of Catscratch and Tag-Along.

"Just be careful," he urged. "He's...kinda bite-y right now."

Jack nodded and after tapping on the hangar door, Bulkhead pulled it open just enough for the four humans to slip inside. Bulkhead shut the door but remained at his post to guard it. The big green mech silently pointed to a corner of the hangar behind some dusty equipment where, peeping out from behind it, a reptilian snout and two optics could be seen. When the tiny dragon spotted them, his feathery antennae swooped up and flickered like a deep sea jellyfish.

"Woah. That's cool," Raf breathed.

"Hey there," Jack greeted gently. "Sorry about them scaring you. And trapping you in here. They just don't want you running around maybe breaking stuff."

A little gurgling trill was his answer. The tiny creature was eyeing the crystal in his hand intensely.

"Here, you want this? It's for you. You must be hungry after being in that trailer."

Jack approached and held his hand forward. His pulse spiked when the tiny beast (who was still at least double his size) reared up and craned his long, slender neck toward the crystal. Then, he felt his hand yank. The next thing he knew the tiny beast was eagerly chowing down on the crystal, more like a chipmunk snacking on an acorn than a dragon breaking a hard crystal in his jaws. Once done with the crystal, he craned forward towards Miko. Miko offered hers, and the dragon snatched it, too. That one disappeared even quicker.

Bulkhead almost chuckled when the dragon began checking out Raf, probably assuming he was hiding a crystal of his own somewhere. He tried to stick his muzzle into the boy's khaki pockets but couldn't.

"Aw, he's not so bad," Raf giggled.

"He's kinda cute," Miko agreed through a grin.

The dragon pinned his long antennae back like ears. His look came off as offended.

"Cute in a fierce way," the girl corrected.

The dragon's antennae perked back up. He then went over to June, understanding that Raf had no snacks for him. June took advantage of it to give him a look-over for any injuries. As far as she could tell, the little mini-beast was unharmed, though judging by his insistence on checking for more crystals, he was very hungry. That wasn't too surprising. Bigger 'bots could go for longer without having to refuel. If the rules of metabolism were similar for Cybertronians as they were for Earth creatures, smaller 'bots had quicker metabolisms and needed to refuel more often. How long exactly she didn't know, but he had to have been stuck in the trailer for some time to be desperate enough to snatch the crystals right out of Jack and Miko's hands.

"He looks fine, Ratchet," June reported into her Bluetooth. "Energy-starved, that's all...No, I don't see any sign of a tracker chip."

The dragon gave up trying to find crystals on her person.

"So...who are you?" Raf asked him.

In a flourish the little insect-dragon hybrid transformed into a small, almost elven mech with golden faceplates that were marred by a small nick below his right optic. A set of what looked like aviator's goggles sat on his forehead that were in reality the protective lenses of his dragon mode's eyes. His body was covered in shimmering blue and green armor, and his dragonfly wings extended from his back like a Victorian fairy's. He was beautiful, really, magical and otherworldly.

"Spritelight," the newcomer stated in a charming hybrid of Irish and Scottish accents. "Um...am I in the right place? I saw you all had Autobot marks but –"

"You were looking for us?" June asked.

Spritelight waved his arms in a crisscross motion. "N-Not to give you away or nothing, I swear! I-I'm not with the 'Cons. Not anymore. I, er, I was kinda hoping you lot might...let me room here for a bit?"

"Lay off on the biting, tiny, and we'll see what Prime thinks about letting you hang out here," Bulkhead smirked.

"Lay off on the manhandling, big-head, and I'll see about fixing my behavior," huffed Spritelight, arms crossed defiantly.

"Who're you calling a big-head, elf boy?"

Behind the door, they all heard Infernus and Bluestreak crack up.

"I like him already," declared Miko through a devilish smirk.

Jack cuffed her arm. The girl's smirk only broadened.

Infernus was frankly glad that Ultra Magnus, Brawn, and Fowler were fairly calm about Spritelight's appearance on site. And in fairness, he was forthcoming about how and why he was there. Apparently the little beast had hitched a ride across the Atlantic in a cargo container on a ship from Ireland. He'd had no other choice. The 'Cons had locked down all the mines he usually stole Energon from, and even on a good day his routine heists needed some inside help. And unfortunately that help had been snatched up by the 'Cons as far as he knew. So he had been left with two choices: stay on the Isles and slowly starve, or hitchhike to find a more stable fuel supply.

"Couldn't you join the 'Cons for the Energon?" Arcee wondered. "They control the mines on this planet."

Spritelight thinly smiled. "Eheh. Let's just say I kinda shot myself in the foot in that regard. Ruined my chances."

"You attacked them?" Fowler astutely guessed.

He looked down and shuffled a foot on the floor. "...Yeah...Look I was hungry, okay? Don't judge."

"Bravo," grinned Sami.

"So, is it alright if I shack up here?"

"I don't see the harm," smiled Infernus. "So long as you're alright helping out around here as payment."

"I'm not gonna sit 'ere and mooch off your supplies. Cat would get bloody mad at me if I did that."

"Cat?" gasped Miko. "You know Cat?"

"You know Cat?" Spritelight gasped in turn. "How is she? Is she alive?!"

"Alive and yowling," confirmed Miko.

"So she's keeping her head down. Good. Good. I'd hate to see her shot dead. She's..." he smiled meekly, "a really good friend of mine."

June couldn't help but notice the warmer inflection in his voice. She'd heard that warmth before, and knew it herself: affection. He liked Catscratch the way Jack liked Sierra, or how Bill liked her. How sweet that romance could still exist in a war, and survive it. How close were the two, really, she wondered? Was it even deeper than it appeared, or more akin to a childhood sweetheart?

"Oi, chief," Spritelight prompted. "Is your hand alright?"

Ultra Magnus had his good hand draped over the three-pronged claw on his other hand. His face bore a faint grimace. June knew that look too: the look of someone in pain and trying to mask it. She expected he would be in pain for a while, as any surgery patient would be.

"The pain will pass," he protested stiffly. "I have experienced worse."

"Lemme try something."

Spritelight transformed and buzzed over to him. To everyone's shock, Spritelight opened his maw and ejected some sort of bizarre clawed proboscis that punctured his bad hand. Ultra Magnus's grimace became a startled cringe.

"Hey!" barked Arcee.

"No, wait!" Ultra Magnus insisted.

Arcee paused mid-swing.

"...The pain is lessening," the cobalt mech clarified in mild shock. "What...?"

Spritelight gave an amiable chirp and buzzed back to his spot. Ratchet approached Ultra Magnus with a welder for the wound and scooped a small droplet off his wrist near the puncture wound. After a quick analysis of the substance, surprise swept across his face and a brow ridge rose up.

"Anesthetic," he explained, and then turned to Spritelight. "You can inject anesthetic when you bite. That is...an interesting adaptation."

"So he has what is functionally a Novocaine needle built into his mouth," mused a bewildered Sami. "That has to be one of the stranger traits I've documented."

"Handy though," Bulkhead grunted cheerfully, then regretted his words. "Uh...sorry. That came out wrong."

Miko snickered.

"Usually it just stops prey from wiggling too much and making a mess, but it's got other uses," grinned Spritelight. "If it starts hurting again, chief, just hit me up and I'll give you another nip."

"Your kindness is appreciated, Spritelight," smiled Ultra Magnus. "Though, in future, try not to put so much force into the injection."

Spritelight sheepishly apologized.

Killzone, waiting at a corridor intersection, was beginning to worry Catscratch had been caught and shot dead when a mewl came from one of the upper wall air vents. Two piercing green optics peered out through the grate before the ebony feline herself unbolted the grate and jumped out. Reading a cat's facial expression was even trickier than reading Predaking's, but there was a gleam in her optics that said "trouble" to him.

"What'd you find?" he whispered.

Catscratch transformed. "Nothing about your first set of inquiries, but I did find out something regarding your second set. They haven't abandoned the lab site like Megatron said they have. They've got miners collecting some weird stuff from the explosion site. Shockwave's filling whole cabinets with it in his lab here on the ship. Ol' Cyclops is also messing with some weird liquid gunk, too. He keeps tossing it though."

"What is it? Do you know?"

The feline femme shrugged. "Not a clue on either count, Sarge. Want me steal some for you?"

"No, don't. That's enough. Thanks, Cat."

He tossed her a small crystal as payment. Catscratch transformed, caught it in her jaws, and slunk into the floor vents to enjoy it.

"Thank her for what, Sergent?" a suspicious, raspy voice wondered.

Starscream stepped out from hiding behind a corner. Killzone nearly jolted but kept his body language impassive.

"Cat's been helping out with a few minor tasks around the ship, Commander," he lied casually. "We're low on workers to maintain the ship, as you know, and she's somewhat bored without any field missions to go on. She's just lending a paw, is all. I'll see if I can convince Vigordrainer or Screech to help her out. I'd ask Floodshed to help, too, but it's probably best to keep him out of any delicate areas, all things considered."

"Indeed. It's a small miracle he can stem the acid flow at will, according to your report. We probably wouldn't have floors if he couldn't," Starscream conceded sourly. "But keep an eye on the feline. I know her sense of humor can be quite opportunistic."

Killzone stifled a snicker. "Yes, sir."

Starscream turned to leave. Unknown to him, Catscratch followed him via the vents, and when he ventured a step too near, her paw darted out to swat at his heel. The grey Seeker squawked and jumped, saw her, and then frowned. Huffing, he went on his way, while Catscratch's green optics watched him. Only once he was well out of hearing range did Killzone breathe a sigh of relief.

That had been too close. He supposed he was a better liar than he thought. Though why wouldn't he be when surrounded by so many other liars?

It is now my headcanon that Spritelight sounds like a Terrible Terror from HTTYD. XD