Silverbolt doesn't usually indulge in the base pleasures of losing himself to his beast mode's instincts.
Both the creatures that got mixed up to make him what he is are hunters, meaning that the few times he does listen to those impulses he ends up dirty.
Mud and dust are common, as is water, both of the clear and of the swampy variant, but so is blood.
None of the other Maximals have ever told him not to hunt or expressed any kind of revulsion, and, after the first time he accidentally let his instincts get the better of him—note to self, sitting down to watch the wildlife with a low energy gauge and deciding to take a nap are not good ideas—Cheetor took pity of him—actually, he laughed his armor off and, between loud guffaws at his mortified expression and panicky response, managed to tell him that both the Cheetah and Dinobot used to go hunting from time to time, not to talk about how Airrazor and Tigatron lived off of organics.
Regardless of the fact none of his companions will berate him for it, especially after the story of how Dinobot managed to get himself a skin identical to his beast mode's own, and anecdotes of the rat hunting contest between the two resident carnivores and Optimus' human-based traps the time a group of rodents managed to make a nest deep in the Axalon, Silverbolt still refuses to actively go out hunting.
On the one servo, it's because it's a denigrating activity that lowers the most chivalrous of mechs to a mindless beast and always ends with him having to scrub dirt off himself along the odd twig or pebble.
On the other, because his beast mode is simply not built for it.
Oh, he can do aerial hunting just fine, mostly because his odd-shaped shadow doesn't register as a predator, but for that same reason, it's too easy.
Ground hunting, however, is too hard. His body and back legs can handle it just fine, but his front ones aren't made for running, which means he usually ends with his tail dangling over his muzzle after tripping over his own two clawed feet.
Far more humiliating than walking back to base with a branch hanging from his neck fur that makes it look as if he had antlers.
So, no, Silverbolt doesn't actively try to hunt.
Today, however, he's pissed enough to be standing still amidst tall dry grass, stalking the antelopes that are mindlessly grazing in the plains, having taken a page from Cheetor's book of hunting like a feline.
It has the added bonus that he needs to concentrate to keep himself moving slowly and silently, crawling close enough to his chosen prey that a quick burst of speed is enough to end the chase, something that his front legs are able of dealing with.
Blackarachnia attacked them again.
She refused to leave the Predacons again.
And Silverbolt ended up having his tail handed back to him again, though not by Blackarachnia.
By Waspinator.
How the noisy bug managed to get behind him to shoot his wings into shreds, he'll never know.
… Actually, it may have been because he was too busy oogling—ergh, admiring Blackarachnia's fluid movements and impressive flexibility as she slapped Cheetor silly.
Which means Silverbolt is pissed at himself for not managing to convince Blackarachnia, pissed at the Predacons for stealing her even before she left her pod, pissed at Waspinator for shooting him and—
And that's pretty much it, truth be told.
So, the conclusion is that he needs to calm down, meaning he needs to think about something else and blow some steam.
Hunting manages both at once.
Ergo, Silverbolt is hunting.
And quite effectively, at that.
Low as he is to the ground, the antelopes can't see him, and he's made sure to position himself so that the wind doesn't give him away.
And he's being so stealthy that none of his dinner's friends has even thought they could be watched that very moment.
Not that he's planning on eating the beast… maybe… He'd think about that once he's caught it.
Taking another step closer, he tenses, judging the distance between him and the antelope now sniffing some kind of twisted thorny bush, far enough from the rest of the group that he needs not worry about being trampled by panicked beasts—
The antelope bleats loudly as it jumps away from the bush, tripping over its own hooves before managing to get enough traction to practically fly away after its retreating companions, while Silverbolt gets up from his crouch, utterly confused.
He made sure he wasn't seen, heard or smelt, so why—
Angry growling makes all his fur stand on edge.
It's not a sound his beast mode's instincts recognize, but the mech in him knows it all too well.
Especially when a reptilian hiss follows it.
Knowing there's only one creature able to make such noises, the Fuzor whirls around, ready to contact the rest of Maximals to tell them about the ambush—
And freezes in place.
It's not Megatron.
The brown-stripped saurian stares annoyingly at where the antelopes vanished, teeth bared before it clicks its tongue in a too familiar gesture.
And then, with a look of contempt, it turns to stare him down.
Silverbolt lowers himself, eyes wide open in disbelief.
The raptor isn't especially big, but the reason he's cowering is its simple presence, not its size.
With a curious look, it turns its head to look at its back, nothing but more grass and the scrawny bush in sight.
Confused it looks back at Silverbolt before it eyes widen slightly.
Slowly, it tilts its head to the side, and the Fuzor's gaze never leaves it, even when it takes a step to the side—
A soft breeze blows, and strands of dry grass flicker through one of its arms.
"Dinobot?" The Maximals gawks, his back legs unable to handle his body weight anymore and letting his posterior fall to the ground, tail-feathers trapped under his hindquarters with a tug of pain.
Not a dream, though it may yet be a hallucination.
He's sure the CR chamber pretty much fixed him, but maybe there was some sort of slip and he's still dealing with processor damage.
Slaggit.
Siverbolt jumps at the voice, more like static carried by the breeze than a real voice, but the raptor's lips have moved as if pronouncing it.
Ionic storm.
It hisses as the raptor takes a step back.
As soon as the tail slips over the bush, it vanishes like mist.
Dumbstruck, Silverbolt can only stare as the raptor keeps moving backwards, more and more of its body dissolving into thin air as it crosses the invisible boundary marked by the bush.
When just its head and neck remain, suspended on nothing, it stops moving, head tilting to look at something at its back, almost as if… as if it was listening.
Slit pupils focus once more on the Fuzor, and the Maximal freezes.
For a moment, nothing happens.
And then, a thin trail of smoke starts to rise from the gnarled bush.
Silverbolt's eyes widen, horrified, as the raptor's maw opens as if to speak—
The bush bursts into flame, the disembodied head becoming ablaze with a soundless high-pitched screech that makes the Maximal's whole body stiffen painfully, skin peeling away to reveal blackening muscle, lower jaw breaking apart from the rest of the skull as only bones remain, before those too turn to nothing.
All in barely a second.
Silverbolt runs away faster than he ever knew was possible.
When Rattrap and Cheetor finally manage to convince him to show them the flaming bush—the spy can't keep a straight face while saying that, bursting into laughter at its mere mention—almost a whole day has gone by.
Only a blackened circle of scorched earth remains.
Unbeknownst to them, though, two invisible frames observe their dumbfounded expressions and listen to their crazy theories from their spot over their helms, sitting on thin air as one would a luxurious sofa.
"Why did the thing combust again?"
"Because, in order to make it feel more realistic for you to hunt, I had to supercharge your spark. Standing still over that dried out scrawny thing only managed to transfer the energy to it, and since it couldn't contain it, the energy consumed the bush."
"By setting it on fire."
"That's what happens when lightning strikes a tree."
"… Silverbolt could see me."
"Lucky him."
"Could you make it happen again?"
"Do you seriously want them to know you're around?"
"… No."
"Thought so."
"No need to be so smug, Old Relic."
"I have the right to be as smug as I wish to, Sparkblade."
"Would you stop calling me that?!"
"And what should I call you instead?"
"I have a designation, you know."
"No, you have a nickname. And I'm not calling you after an Autobot Division."
"I thought we agreed they deserved some respect?"
"I'm still not calling you that."
"Still sore they kicked your tailpipe, Flying Fossil?"
"I swear, one more dinosaur pun… and we'll have words, Care Bear."
"… Sore loser."
"Predabot."
"I hate you."
"Get in line."
"I have first row seats."
"And I'm the ringmaster, so deal with it."
"Isn't the ringmaster the boss of a circus?"
"Well, I have a beast for the spectacle, a freak and a transforming and vanishing trick. I think it fits."
"Asshole."
"We really need to work on your insults."
"You want to teach me how to insult you?"
"No, but if I have to be insulted, I'd like to be insulted right."
"… You're right, you do have a freak."
"Real funny, Z'verei mole-rat."
"What?"
"… This is going to take a while…"
Around the patch of scorched dirt, Rattrap taps the side of his helm with an annoyed expression on his faceplate.
"Are any of your audials ringing?"
AN: Alright, quite a bit of references in this one. The first is that 'rat hunting competition', which is from Thing With No Talent's Never Did Run Smooth (A Dinotrap fic that could be easily canon due to the great characterization).
The line '[hunting]'s a denigrating activity that lowers the most chivalrous of mechs to a mindless beast' is a nod to Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, said by Elisabeth Swan in regards to rum.
The next is obviously the burning bush, from the Bible. I swear I didn't do it on purpose, I just realized what I'd done when I wrote the part of Rattrap bursting up laughing every time he heard about it, which was when it slammed into me that Rattrap laughed precisely because he thought about 'that book humans wrote about how their species came to exist'.
Last but not least, the Z'verei mole-rat is Rattrap's alt mode in IDW's Robots in Disguise and onwards, which is the reason Rattrap's 'ears' are ringing (from the idiom/joke of someone's ears ringing when they're being badmouthed or just talked about when they can't hear).
Care Bears are property of whoever they are property of, and were chosen as 'insult' because of their cuddly and loving nature. And, as a matter of fact, Cheetor's voice actor, Ian James Corlett, voiced Funshine Bear, while Scott McNeil, who voiced Dinobot, Rattrap, Silverbolt and Waspinator, voiced Grumpy Bear in the Care Bears cartoon. Thanks, SilverRogue, for the facts!