Author's Note - We're getting close to the end now! I just want to say that out of all the Maximals originally onboard the Axalon, Tigatron oddly enough seems to be the one with the most military training. Despite not remembering Cybertron or really being involved with the other Maximals, he does treat Optimus the way a commanding officer should be treated and even goes so far as to salute him at least once (something that I don't recall any of the other Maximals doing). This leads me to believe that his life prior to "waking up" on Earth involved the military, which I always thought was interesting considering his pacifistic nature. Hopefully, this will help explain some of the Predacon flier's "observations" in this chapter.

Night of the Hunter

Chapter 5

Tigatron was pushed to his knees before the smirking Predacon flier, the last in the small line of Maximal survivors. His entire platoon had been slaughtered down almost to the very last mech. The Preds had shown no mercy, killing every Maximal save for three. What they intended to do with their captives, Tigatron hadn't a clue. He knew they wouldn't initiate an exchange of prisoners- the Predacons were often shockingly cavalier about the lives of their own comrades. If they wanted information - codes, troop movement, base intel - then they had chosen poorly. Tigatron held a high enough rank to be privy to such information, but the other two were young and from their terrified expressions it was obvious that they had not been in the army for long.

The flier walked up and down the line, grinning all the while, though his optics never left Tigatron's face. "I would just like to say: welcome to the Predacons!" He clasped his servos against his knees and bent down to look them in the optic. "Your stay will be... generally unpleasant." His voice sounded apologetic, but that unwavering smile told Tigatron that the Pred was looking forward to it. "My name is... Well, my designation is not important. You are to address me as Commander at all times. Now, if you're good little Maximals who do as you are told then you might find that it's not so bad here. You'll have all the energon you could want, no one will harm you, on that you have my word. But if you're naughty then things will go very, very badly for you. These fine soldiers here will escort you to your cells. Let's not make a fuss, now, we wouldn't want you to get hurt... yet, anyway. Oh, leave that one," the Commander practically purred as a pair of gruff Preds reached down to pull him up by the arms. "I'd like some time alone with my new friend, Killer."

The Preds shrugged their shoulders and dropped him, moving away to drag the other two Maximals out of the makeshift barrack. Tigatron was alone with the other mech. "You could at least get my name right," he bit out.

The flier smiled and shook his head. "No, I like it. It suits you."

"I'm no killer."

That made the Pred laugh. "No? What are you doing in the middle of a war, then?"

"That's different. You and your people leave us no choice. What we do, we do it in the defense of others."

"Now, see, I don't think that's completely true. I've seen you fight, the way you move, the way you hunt. You didn't get to be that good by sitting on your servos. You've killed. You may not like to think of it as such; you'll say that it was war, that it was him or you, that he was the enemy, but you know the truth. After all, they're dead, but you're still here, isn't that right?"

Tigatron felt a low boil of anger rising in the pit of his tank at that and, if he was honest, guilt. "You forced our hand. This rebellion of yours puts everyone in danger. If you want the killing to stop then put an end to this madness."

"Madness?" He looked almost surprised at the word, but he shot Tigatron a lazy grin anyway. "I wouldn't call it madness. But that's another debate entirely. Besides, who said I wanted the killing to stop?" He shrugged at Tigatron's horrified expression. "No, this is when bots like me shine. And bots like you."

"I am nothing like you," Tigatron spat out.

"Everyone is like me," he clarified. "Deep down inside, like some sort of wild, organic creature. We just have to find it."

"If that is what you think of people then I feel sorry for you."

Again, he laughed. "No, you don't. You don't feel sorry for me at all. But that's okay, because a Predacon should never feel sorry for someone else and I think, in time, you would make an excellent Predacon."

Tigatron felt his head reel from the blow. Almost immediately the Commander's servos were on his face, steadying him. He hated the way those same servos soothed the pain away after striking him and he hated the way it made him feel. Grateful. Relieved. He knew that it was an instinctual reaction, that not even he was above being "conditioned." He was trained for this sort of torture, he could overcome it, but in the dark recesses of his processor he wondered just how much he could endure.

"Hey, you're doing so well," the Commander praised, patting him on top of the helm like a sparkling. "We don't have to do this, you know. This can end at any time, but it all depends on you."

"I won't tell you anything."

The Predacon laughed at that. "You can keep your secrets. I don't want them."

Tigatron felt a rush of anger flood through him. Why in the Pit was this insane Pred putting him through this if not to get information on the Maximals? "What exactly do you want then?" He hissed.

The Commander cupped his chin so he could look him in the optics. "I want you to join us. I see the potential in you. You would be the fiercest Predacon ever known. These Maximals are holding you back."

The very thought of becoming a Predacon sent a wave of revulsion through him. There were no words, nothing that he could say that would adequately express the feelings of disgust coursing through him. So, he sucked in the fluid that was leaking out of the corner of his mouth and spat in the Predacon's face.

The Commander didn't seem to perturbed by this. He gave Tigatron a wry smile and calmly wiped the fluid off his optic. "I figured your response would be something to that effect," he mused. "Despite all your potential, you still think like a Maximal. You have to be taught to think like a Predacon. We have to desensitize you to the suffering of others, to place your needs and wants first, to use violence to achieve your goals. I will begin by offering you a choice: I will stop torturing you, but only if you allow someone else to take your place. It's up to you. You have to agree."

"Nothing you could do to me would ever make me agree to that," Tigatron stated, his hatred for the Predacon growing with every second. "Those bots are under my command and so long as I live I will do everything to protect them."

"You thought I was talking about the other Maximal prisoners?" The Commander asked, his voice dripping with false surprise. "No, no, no. Baby steps, Killer, baby steps. I told them I wouldn't hurt them and I'll keep that promise. No, the bot that I had in mind to replace you was one of my own Predacons." The Commander must have read the confusion in his face and grinned. "That's right. I stop torturing you, and there will be one less Predacon for you to worry about. Now that's an entirely different proposal, isn't it?"

It really was. He still wouldn't allow any bot - Maximal or Predacon - be harmed because of him, but the idea of a Predacon being tortured in his stead didn't fill him with the same knee-jerk revulsion the way that one of his own Maximals did. He shouldn't value one life over the other, but to him they were the enemy. What did it matter if a Predacon died by the hand of his own commanding officer or from a Maximal bullet on the battlefield? Was there any difference? Did doing one make him more guilty than doing the other? It was a harsh feeling when he realized that he couldn't bring himself to care as much about the hapless Predacon the Commander had chosen as his own Maximals.

He wouldn't allow it though, if for nothing else than to spite the Commander.

"I thought you were here to torture me," Tigatron mocked. "Not talk me to death."

The Predacon flier sighed and shook his head ruefully. "Okay, then, Killer, if that's how you want it. But trust me, it's going to get a lot worse here on out."

Red lights blinked in front of his vision as strings of warnings ran through his processor. He tried to listen to what his onboard computer was saying, but he found it difficult to concentrate. He was propped up against a wall, somewhere; he could feel the rust scrapping the paint off his back. Where was he? What had happened to his chains?

"You're looking a little worse for the wear, Killer."

Tigatron focused his optics on the Commander. He hadn't even known he'd entered the room. There was a time when no bot could have sneaked up Tigatron. His commanding officers had all proclaimed that he had the sixth sense of an organic predator. Now it took every ounce of energy to keep from slipping into stasis lock.

The Commander knelt beside him and patted his cheek. "It's going to be okay. I've prepped a CR tank for you. I'll take you to it, but first there's something you need to do. Come on, get up." He grabbed Tigatron by the arm and hauled him to his pedes. The Maximal grunted in pain, but managed to stay upright when the Commander let go. The Predacon flier began to lead Tigatron out of the makeshift barrack and out into the bright sunlight of wild Corsicon.

There were two bots bound and kneeling side-by-side in a circle of Predacon soldiers. Tigatron could tell at once that one of them was a Maximal, one of his own soldiers. The other was a Predacon. The Maximal was looking down at the ground, fear and anger warring against each other on his features. The Predacon was begging, crying out to any comrade who would listen to him. "It was a mistake! You know that I would never desert- I'm as loyal as anyone here! Please, please, I'm sorry, I won't try to run away again, I swear."

The Commander clapped his back as they came to a stop in front of the pair. "You're the most hardheaded Maximal I've ever met. Most mechs would have broken their programming by now. Luckily, I've got one more trick in my bag." He gestured to the two figures kneeling in front of them. "One of these two has to die and you're the lucky bot who gets to decide which."

"You said you wouldn't hurt them," Tigatron growled.

The Commander held up a digit. "Ah, ah, I said I wouldn't hurt them if they didn't cause any trouble. You're little friends were caught trying to escape last night. And the Predacon- well, I suppose you're not interested in his crimes, are you?"

"I won't do it."

"Sorry, that option is not available. You either choose right here and now, or I'll kill the Maximal and then bring out the other. If you refuse again... Well, I'm not really sure what I'll do since I'll be out of Maximals." He laughed. "But I don't think it'll come to that, do you?"

"No," he answered quietly.

"Didn't think so. So, which will it be?"

The Predacon had stopped begging. He obviously expected no mercy from a Maximal. After all, why would a Maximal choose a Predacon over his own kind? Tigatron looked at him and wondered why he had tried to desert the army. Was it simple fear, or did he actually morally object to the rebellion?

It would be so easy to choose him.

"The Predacon," Tigatron stated. The poor bot let out a harsh sob, but Tigatron didn't look at him. He kept his optics trained on his Maximal comrade, silently willing him to comprehend what Tigatron was trying to tell him through looks and gestures. It was a relief when he saw the light appear behind the young mech's optics. An understanding passed between the two of them and he saw the Maximal tense in preparation.

"Good boy," the Commander praised and withdrew his blaster.

Tigatron was on him in a second, forcing the smaller bot's arms up and sending the shot wild. Simultaneously, the young Maximal prisoner threw himself to the side, knocking into the Predacon soldiers and sending them sprawling, the Predacon deserter doing the same only a click later when he realized what was happening.

Tigatron wrenched the blaster away and grabbed hold of the Maximal as the Predacon deserter took off, seizing his chance. Tigatron fired off a few shots, sending the Predacons running for cover as they prepped their own weapons. The two ran into the jungle, ducking into the foliage. "What about-" The young mech started to protest before Tigatron slapped a servo over his mouth.

"We'll come back for him," he whispered. "The Commander knows that he's his only bargaining chip; he won't harm him. We can't get to him now. Go east. The ground is hard, they won't be able to follow your tracks. Try not to break any foliage; do nothing that will lead them to you. When night falls, double back and head north. There's a Maximal base in that direction and you should be able to reach them on your link."

"What about you?" The bot demanded as soon as Tigatron had removed his servo.

"I'll lead them away from your position."

"You can barely stand!"

"You have your orders," Tigatron snapped. He doubted he would get out of this alive, but he knew that the young Maximal in front of him would be no match against the Predacon platoon. They had already wiped out better soldiers than this bot. If he died giving this young sparkling a chance, then so be it.

The young Maximal gave him one last searching glance before taking off. Tigatron watched him go before hobbling off in the opposite direction. He knew the soft paws of his beast mode would leave no tracks, that he could disappear into the jungle in the way that only a creature native to the planet could. But that would defeat his purpose. He wanted to lead the Preds right to him.

It was barely more than a couple of cycles when he heard the Commander call out, his voice echoing through the jungle. "Killer...! Time to come out! Ollie ollie oxen free!"

Tigatron took off running then, prepping his blaster as he went. He could hear the thundering of pedes beating against the ground, crushing the greenery as the Predacons chased him. Tigatron looked behind his shoulder, lifting the blaster to fire a shot. Before he could squeeze the trigger he felt a searing pain hit him in his side. He collapsed against the dirt floor. He blearily looked up at those strangely familiar alien trees. "That's not what happened," he murmured. "I escaped."

Airazor's face suddenly filled his vision. "I had to," she said apologetically. "You thought I was a Predacon. You were about to shoot me."

"So you shot me first?"

"Pretty much."

"At least I think I'm back to my senses for now," Tigatron mused.

"I'd rather not have to shoot you every time you have flashback. You're too cute to damage." She helped him sit up. "Do you remember what happened?"

"A little," he sighed, rubbing his aching side. "Did I really wander blindly onto a battlefield?"

Airazor chuckled a little. "I'm afraid so. Last I heard, Dinobot was still throwing a tantrum. Nobody gothurt though. Do you want to tell me what you saw?"

"No," he answered quickly and honestly. "I really don't."

She gave him an understanding smile. "Okay."

He pulled himself onto his pedes and together they slowly made their way back to the base.