Fire of Youth

Chapter 2


For a few tense moments, the towering forms of the Thirteen peered down at him like a court about to pronounce sentence. Only the presence of Amalgamous and Optimus behind him kept Smokescreen from shrieking and bolting in a blind panic. He felt the way an ant did when confronted with a human – small, weak. If they decided to harm him he was pretty sure they could.

One of the Thirteen, a bestial bronze and black mech with a distinctive reptilian appearance, folded down into the form of a great dragon and slunk forwards. He craned his long neck out, sniffing at Smokescreen whilst circling him like a large armored jungle cat. Smokescreen tried to stay perfectly still, but when the fanged maw of the beast Prime got a little too close for comfort he instinctively flinched. Those fangs looked capable of shredding titanium like paper, and his vicious claws resembled jagged rapiers. He did not want to see those used on another mech, especially not him.

Somehow, through some means, he knew this was Onyx Prime, the first Predacon. Amalgamous hadn't been joking when he'd described him as intimidating. This guy made armored fantasy dragons look puny and frail in comparison.

"Hmm." Onyx growled, slinking around him in circles, a forked silver glossa flicking out from his maw occasionally in the same manner of a serpent. "Yes. He has the fire inside him, but it is weak – it must be stoked. The dark one and his clone will extinguish him if not."

Smokescreen balked, unconscionably not liking where this was going. What was Onyx talking about? And more importantly – as least to him – what was he intending to do about this "weak fire" of his? What did he mean by "stoke"?

"Onyx, while some physical reformatting is natural, what you are proposing is utterly absurd. It could very well kill him." Alpha Trion argued with some unexpected heat.

Onyx lifted his helm to stare evenly at the older looking mech. A flash of defiance, of rebellious assurance, passed over the Predacon's facial features. Then he opened his fanged maw once more to speak:

"He is strong. He will survive the process. And you know he will, scribe."

The solitary femme of the group – Solus Prime – rose to Onyx's defense. "To be fair, Alpha Trion, we have no other option left open. Onyx is simply being practical. If we leave him the way he is then he will be killed. He won't stand a chance against Megatron, much less the newest acquisitions to his ranks, even with our collective wisdom and experience. Not even the Phase Shifter would protect him indefinitely."

All the while Smokescreen tried to understand what the ancient beings were debating doing to him, his helm jerking slightly in different directions as he followed the flow of words. It sounded like they were debating his reformatting, and the process and extent by which he would be altered. It seemed the method that Onyx Prime was suggesting was not being looked upon in the highest of favor. Obviously this was going to be a case of majority rule.

"All in favor?" A silver and white mech – Prima – inquired. He glanced around at his siblings.

Six out of the Thirteen held their hands up.

"All opposed?"

Out of the remaining seven, only six raised their hands. Optimus abstained from voting. He felt his opinion would be too heavily biased. He was against this extensive reformatting plan due to how ludicrously painful it would be for Smokescreen. He wasn't just going to be altered in a relatively minor sense as he himself had been all those centuries ago. His entire frame was going to be changed and transformed into something else entirely. And to do that, he would need to be altered here. To change the body, one must first change the spirit.

Onyx turned to face the younger mech, curiosity in his white optics. "What does the boy say, hmm?"

Smokescreen started slightly, pointing to himself. "Wait, I have a say in this?"

"Well, it is your frame being reformatted. It is only right you should have a say in this decision." Vector confirmed, casting a glance over at both Optimus and Amalgamous as though pleading the other two Primes not to hurt him.

He had very hesitatingly voted in favor of the alteration process, but already the Time Guardian was having second thoughts on Onyx's plan to totally reformat the boy into something entirely different. Slight reformatting to make him a bit stronger and more durable – that was perfectly fine – but full reformatting? That would be incredibly painful for the youngling to go through, especially through Onyx's rather...unique means.

Because when it came to the Predacon Prime's plan, it would be a rebirth by fire – literally.

Smokescreen went deathly silent for a few minutes, helm cast downward and his blue optics alight with fear and anxiety. Then his helm snapped back up to reveal a new-found courage burning in their crystal blue depths. Only those observing saw the flickering blue flame within them. Only they saw it flare and grow brighter when he replied with just two decisive words:

"Do it."

Amalgamous grinned, playfully elbowing the red and blue at his side. "Eh, eh? I like this kid! He's got spunk!"

Onyx bowed his head in acceptance of the deal. He took a few paces back and reared up on his hind legs, massive silvery wings flaring out and catching the light of the cosmic phenomena above. In that moment he was not intimidating beyond reason but completely awe-inspiring. Smokescreen couldn't help but let his jaw drop in sheer, undisguised wonder. He looked incredible – regal as a king yet terrifying like all dragons were. He could practically feel the savage, bestial strength this massive, draconian mech possessed. It burned around him like a fiery aura.

"Prepare yourself." Solus warned. "Onyx will not be holding back."

"Please don't die, kid." Amalgamous pleaded jokingly, stepping back to avoid the coming inferno. He was confident the kid would survive this – for Optimus's sake if no one else's. The youngling wasn't about to disappoint his idol, not here, not now – slag, not ever. The kid wanted to impress him so badly but...no one would hold it against him if he started screaming. One of them might have to hold Optimus back though if he did start howling.

Then the great dragon opened its gaping maw. An orange fire began to build behind its lower abdominal chestplates, roiling and rising upwards through the beast's neck and growing brighter and brighter with every passing moment. When the fire reached its throat the great dragon unleashed a thundering roar that shook the Matrix itself and spewed a wave of blinding, scalding fire at the young mech before him.

The moment the fire touched the young mech's frame he forcibly bit back a scream of pain. This wasn't like the burning sensation he'd experienced earlier. That had been dull and easily bearable in comparison to this. This burning – it was utterly agonizing. It seemed to eat away at his plating like a starved carnivore would tear away at a carcass, and slag did it hurt like the Pit.

In mere seconds his entire body was engulfed in a whirling inferno of writhing, scalding flames. It wound around him like a mass of serpents, blocking his vision, and there was a loud, crackling roar in his audials that made it seem as if the entire universe was suddenly ablaze. Still he refused to scream his agony aloud. He was stronger than that, and he wouldn't show weakness in front of these ancient, powerful beings. He was surprised when he heard the collective voices of of the Thirteen echoing in his mind, their voices clear and ringing:

'Fire burns. Fire destroys. It cleanses the taint of darkness through its destruction. Fire consumes all, leaving naught but ash and bones and the dead in its wake.'

The burning was unbearable now. Unable to hold in his agony, he screamed his pain aloud as he felt his body forcibly altered by the flames. He could feel the fire consuming him, reaching inside him and into his very spark. He could feel the fire pulling out the natural darkness within him, that darkness which led to lying and corruption and everything that followed such a turning. He felt that darkness pulled out and vaporized. Now he felt as though a giant hole was left – a giant, empty hole waiting to be filled.

'Fire inspires. It inspires acts of selflessness and bravery. It ignites the courage in the souls of all heroes.'

He felt the empty hole in his spark begin to fill just then. Courage flooded his awareness, followed by determination. He suddenly felt like he could take on the universe singlehandedly. Nothing would stop him from re-lighting Cybertron and making it safe again. Nothing would stop him from ending Megatron's reign of terror. But still the young mech screamed at the tortuous pain he was being forced to endure for the sake of Cybertron itself.

'Fire reminds. It reminds the weak, the helpless, and the abandoned that there will always be a light to guide them home.'

Images of battered, broken bodies lying in the smoldering rubble of a once great city flashed across his mind. Many were near death, plainly wondering where their guiding light was. More still were already offline, their faintly visible sparks hovering uncertainly above their lifeless shells, silently crying out to their life-giver. They were demanding why he had not stopped this senseless violence. They were demanding why no one came for them. Was there no Light? Were they doomed to wander among the wreckage of their home for eternity?

Smokescreen knew it was just a conjured vision meant to show the War through the optics of the innocent and the fallen, but he still felt his spark ache in due turn for their plight. So many had died because of this conflict, and many more would die if this War wasn't brought to an end.

And then the vision changed. Appearing above the ruined city was a great white sphere of starfire. It sang out to the dying and the dead as it reached out with hundreds of tendrils of white energy, collecting their life forces as gingerly as a child would. Then, with one last ringing note the starfire sphere vanished with its charges. His vision whited out instantly afterwards, and the agonizing pain of his reformatting returned, but his vocalizer appeared to have glitched during the course of the vision. No sound came out of it.

'But fire heals as well as harms. It brings light and warmth to the dark places, it brings hope to those who have lost it, rekindling the pale and dying fire contained within them. It incites passion and valor and the blazing courage of heroism. It rallies the forlorn like the mightiest of war cries.'

He felt the hole fill even further. He felt hope surge into him - hope for the future, hope for Team Prime, and hope for both Earth and Cybertron. One day this War would be but a distant memory, looked back on as if it were nothing more than a bad dream. Strength flooded his newly reforming systems and frame.

'Fire's healing does not come without a price. In order for fire to heal, it must burn away the old life, so that out of the ashes of destruction new life can emerge. Fire cannot heal until it has destroyed. And so out of the ashes of your old form, you will be remade.'

Then, just like that, the fire surrounding him dissipated and the agonizing burning died away. He hadn't realized his optics were shut, but when he reopened them he saw through the blurriness that he was on his knees, gasping through the fading pain. His whole body trembled as his sensory net recovered. His vision blacked out randomly through the pain. But now, unlike before, he felt a powerful, raging inferno blazing within his spark.

'You will be the fire that burns back the shadows. You will be the fire that cleanses the darkness. You will be fire that guides those who have been lost. You will be the fire that destroys and the fire that then heals.'

As one, the Thirteen thundered in his mind and aloud, proclaiming:

'RISE, INFERNUS PRIME!'

With a shaky, ragged intake of air the young mech struggled to his pedes. Only Amalgamous laying a steadying hand on his shoulder kept him from collapsing to the floor. It gave him the emotional strength to stay upright.

"Knew you could do it. Didn't I say he could do it?" Amalgamous said, still grinning broadly. However, he forestalled the great desire to clap the youth the on the back in congratulation. He knew must still be incredibly sore, and he didn't want to set off his over-receptive sensory net. It would take a little while for those hyperactive neurodes to calm down back to their normal settings, but young 'Bots tended to recover faster than older ones. He'd be fine.

"I-Is is over?" he demanded shakily, looking a little uncertain and glancing around. His optics were frizting, showing they were still recovering. Right now, he was effectively blind, relying on his audials to determine what was going on around him. As such, he couldn't see what he now looked like. That could happen when he was sent back. Hopefully he wouldn't freak out too badly.

"You're fine, kid." the Shifter reassured. "But you can't stay here indefinitely. Much as we like ya, we gotta kick ya out now."

"Even though I would much rather you let him stay a moment so he can recover to some degree..." Optimus argued in a low, almost disapproving rumble. Sending someone out into a full-scale battle while they were still recovering physically was pure folly to him. Fortunately he could now assist him in such a fight by proving strategic insight and suggestions.

"We gotta send you on back now."

"Now, now. Do not get ahead of yourself, Shifter. He's still missing something." a new voice broke in suddenly.

It was a great, thundering voice full of power, but also at same time as gentle as a summer breeze. There was even an obvious undercurrent of amusement in it. While not able to detect the faint light coming from the source of the voice, he was able to feel it. It was just as blazing as the fire that had nearly consumed him, but unlike that fire, this one was purely healing in nature. Some of the youth's more prominent aches simply melted away.

Infernus's still frizting blue optics went wide. His whole body went stiffer than a post. His voice came out as a very un-courageous sounding whimper: "Please tell me that's not who I think it is standing right behind me..."

He heard Amalgamous break out laughing: "Oh, calm down, would you? He's not gonna bite. Just turn around."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. 'Turn around!' he says. 'It'll be fine!' he says...Psh. Yeah, if I don't get vaporized..."

The voice sounded rather insulted when it replied back to him: "Why would you think I do something like to you? I do not attack without provocation, boy, and you have done nothing to provoke me. I am merely here to give you something."

Still unable to see (and frankly feeling fortunate that he couldn't see to begin with), Infernus turned around towards the sound of the voice. He heard the sound of ancient metal creaking and groaning as the shining white titan knelt down. He flinched when he felt a blazing digit approach his chestplates, fearing what might happen. He was seriously debating running at this point.

"Hold still. I mean you no harm." it murmured. The voice was suddenly enriched with a deep, bell-like soothing chord.

Despite every coded instinct screaming at him to turn tail and bolt, the fledgling Prime obeyed and stopped trying to flinch away. He felt the blazing digit contact his chestplates, and felt his spark respond to it. He felt it grow brighter, stronger. He felt a soothing, compassionate warmth spread out of it and into his aching body. He blinked in surprise. This hadn't been what he'd been expecting. He'd been expecting more pain. Not...not this.

"Go now, little ember, with my blessing."

Around him, he felt the familiar and friendly presences of Optimus and Amalgamous fade away. Just before they fully faded, his optics recovered, and he saw the two Primes smiling at him encouragingly, Amalgamous giving him a rather cheeky thumbs-up.


His optics opened slowly, reluctantly, and revealed the grievously familiar interior of the hidden underground cavern. His whole body felt like it had been pounded by an angry Combiner – it ached horribly. But he also paradoxically felt stronger than before - a lot stronger. Despite feeling battered and weakened from the excruciatingly painful reformatting process, he now felt new-found, almost bestial strength surging through every circuit and wire in his body.

With a faint groan of protest he began to push himself off the stony ground, in the process seeing his hands. Like lightning the fledgling Prime reacted, gasping and reeling back in shock. He brought them up close to his optics get a better look.

His hands. His hands looked like claws now. Not the claws belonging to a Decepticon, but the claws belonging to a beast. They looked like Onyx's hands, just a bit more on the slender side than his had been thanks to his smaller size. Idly he wiggled the blade-like digits around, noting their surprisingly dexterous nature. A cursory glance at the rest of his frame revealed his more animalistic appearance. What had once been smooth or rounded was now jagged and angular. What had once been vehicular in appearance was now more bestial.

He was about to say "Sweet!" when he took notice of the still, lifeless body mere feet away from his own, stopping him from saying anything. It was grey now instead of its previously vibrant red and blue. His spark twinged in grief. It felt wrong to leave his body here, but he would come back for it later, and his team would ensure the great mech got a proper burial. Because he didn't just need one – he slagging deserved one. This mech had willingly sacrificed himself to ensure that his team – his hand-picked team – made it safely away, and he'd mere hours earlier helped save an entire planet. Those were the actions of an honest to Primus hero. Would he ever have that kind of selfless courage? He had no idea, but he wouldn't let Megatron hurt anyone else.

The Matrix sent out a pulse of appreciation quickly followed by urgency, and he instinctively knew who it had come from. Optimus was wordlessly telling him to get a move on, but was also telling him he appreciated the concern and respect for him, even though he was no longer physically there – thanks to Megatron. In a sick twist of fate, that sick monster had finally managed to kill his rival.

He was surprised to hear himself growl, and it wasn't like his old voice. Well, it was because he still sounded like himself, but it sounded a lot more, well, growly. There was a low, almost grinding noise in the very back of his vocalizer reminiscent of Onyx's own growling voice. It made him sound a bit older.

He got back to his pedes once more and activated the Phase Shifter, the wrist-mounted device shining a ghostly turquoise in response. Just before he phased out of the cavern, he turned back to the gunmetal grey shell lying within. His bubbling anger died away, only to come flaring back with a vengeance. Liquid fire burned through every circuit and fuel line in his body. He didn't see his own optics ignite with blue fire of their own.

"I'll come back for you. Promise." he vowed.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving only dust, stone, and the dead behind.


It felt strange to be back out under the sun's rays after being underground, and it felt like only minutes ago he'd been sneaking around out here and around the dark halls of Megatron's super fortress. Hot afternoon sunlight streamed down onto the desert sand, heat rising up and forming shimmering mirages. Well, if anything this expanded space would give him some room to test out his new alt. mode. Judging by his animalistic appearance, it probably wasn't a vehicle anymore.

"Here goes nothing..."

He concentrated and activated the new T-Cog inside him, feeling it respond and send out the transformation code sequence. Instantly his body began to fold over on itself, morphing and changing. A long, whip-like tail tipped with a retracted in tandem with a long neck topped with a helm that was very reptilian in appearance, the maw full of wickedly sharp fangs. Paws replaced his hands and pedes, each digit tipped with razor sharp talons resembling serrated daggers. Finally, a pair of leathery wings unfolded from his sides, their mesh membrane bright blue in color.

'No way! I'M A DRAGON!' Infernus thought ecstatically. Okay, technically he was a Predacon, but hey – he looked like a dragon, so he was a dragon. Actually, he'd read a few data pads on Predacons published by researchers. Hadn't they had a designation for this type? A Draconian? Yeah that sounded about right to him.

He bounded forward in an attempt to run only to stumble almost right away. 'Okay, not used to running around on all fours...'

Then he spread his wings out to get a better look at them. They were huge, their span longer than his whole body length. They were translucent too, kind of like a bat's were. What made him most happy was their color – Autobot blue, just like his optics. If he hoped to fight Megatron in the air – and he most likely would have to – he would have to learn to use them, and fast. He didn't have weeks or days or even hours to learn. No, if he wanted to survive the fight with Megatron, he would have to learn to use them this very instant. He didn't have time on his side.

Readying, he took off running across the hot desert sand, claws digging into the grainy sediment and propelling him forward. He pumped his wings and was ecstatic to see himself life off the ground and glide clumsily for a few dozen paces, but he wasn't able to actually get in the air. Frustration began to bubble inside him. Was flying really so hard? He'd seen hawks soar around the base a few times. It looked so easy!

He let out a little mental yelp when his body lurched around of its own accord, breaking into a smooth sprint. When he tried to move his legs he found they didn't respond to him. He seemed to have lost control of his own body. What the scrap was going on?! Had the Matrix possessed him or something?!

'Do not struggle, boy. Do not fight me. Learn.' Onyx's deep, growling voice spoke into his mind.

His pace continued to increase the more he ran forward. After gaining enough speed and momentum, his wings snapped out to their full width and pumped down hard against the air rushing beneath them, making the sand eddy and swirl into tiny dust devils. Just like that, he was airborne. Looming in the distance was the great dark form of Darkmount, the fortress's black metal a stark contrast to the reddish-golden sand on which it sat.

And Onyx was heading him straight for it. It looked like he would be learning on the fly.

'Can I pretty please have control of my body back?' Infernus demanded, growing anxious. 'You're kinda freakin' me out here.'

'Not until these motions have been stored in your memory banks.' Onyx hissed back in a strangely kind-yet-autocratic tone. 'Per request, I will not send you into battle without at least some preparation.'

Infernus relaxed a little on hearing that. It seemed like Optimus had finally gotten his way with the others, had at last convinced them to help him adjust to his new form. He paid close attention to every movement of his wings and body, storing them away in his long-term memory. He had to admit to himself that Onyx was a slagged good flier. Every one of his movements was fluid, graceful, almost dance-like.

Apparently satisfied after a few minutes, Onyx's control over him receded, leaving him flying hundreds of feet above the ground, but he wasn't afraid. Slag, he'd jumped off the Nemesis once before without wings, so he wasn't exactly afraid of heights. But he was afraid for his friends, and that lent speed and strength to his wings, and stoked the fire of revenge that was beginning to flare inside him.

Megatron had taken away his idol. He had taken away his mentor, forcing him to take up his ancient mantle before he had really been ready. He had taken Optimus away before he had seen the end of this War, had taken him away from his unit – his family.

And he was going to pay for that. Pay in full. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day soon he would know Death.

With a screaming roar, Infernus raced towards the fortress that was growing ever closer.


Author's Note: Uh oh. He's pissed. Run, Megatron! RUN!

Edit: Someone pointed out that Onyx sounded a bit funny, so I went back through and edited his dialogue. Need I point out, Kaleia, that I don't own the Covenant of Primus myself, and that this is a "What If" story, so again - I'm allowed a teensy bit of leeway. But I altered it just to make you happy. :P