Fire of Youth

Chapter 16

Note to Kaleia: Yeah, as I'll explain later, Grimwing did not intend to kill them. Controlling lightning is far easier in theory than in practice, and it's not really his fault that humans are so very fragile and sensitive. He will be meeting Neal later on in this chapter. As for Skyrender...that'll be revealed later on. ;)

Also, I'm having way too much fun with Navajo words this chapter. xD Neal said it couldn't speak to them, but that was only to start with. It had to learn the language first, and that took a bit since not many people came to visit. My head-canon also declares that Predacon translation programs for foreign languages (i.e. "languages not from Cybertron") aren't as good as those of a modern Cybertronian. It takes a while for the language to identify. So since the Navajo helped him and he helped them in return, it was only sensible to speak their tongue in order to better communicate. Thus, Grimwing is fluent in Navajo.


"Haash yinilyé? Shí éí libá bit'a'í yinishyé."

The Thunderbird's voice was surprisingly refined and gentlemanly in its enunciation, possessing a sort of sing-song lilt. Its voice was not as deep as they had expected, and it did not sound very old either. If any of them had to take a guess, the Thunderbird sounded like a forty year old human male. But with it speaking in a language none of the Autobots had in their databases, they had no idea what it was asking.

"Haash yinilyé?" repeated the Thunderbird inquisitively, helm tilting to one side.

Infernus recognized the unusual words as sounding much like Neal's strange greeting to him. The pronunciations were almost exactly alike if Neal's Southern drawl were removed. It hit him then: they were Navajo. This Predacon was fluent in freaking Navajo of all things. He honestly should've expected that, but that was actually pretty surprising. Not many non-Navajo knew it, and it wasn't exactly as common as Spanish, English, or any of the other more known terrestrial languages in the Americas. Familiar as it sounded though, he was as clueless as his friends. Should he have Mark call Neal in to act as a translator? The mechanic was the only man he knew off hand that understood the language.

"Um. We don't know Navajo, pal." he managed to get out. "I know it's a your-house-your-rules deal here, but we don't have Navajo in our translation programs. Kind of ironic considering I know a guy who can speak it."

He was stunned to hear a voice at his pedes say slowly:

"Diné bizaad doo shił bééhózin da." Mark managed to get out. His accent wasn't very good, but he knew he'd said the words correctly.

The Thunderbird looked down at the human sharply, yellow optics wide. It surprised everyone yet again when it cracked a wry, amused smile and replied back in plain, pigeon English:

"Ah! My apologies. It has been many, many moons since I have conversed with an English speaker in this form. My last real conversation in the language was with a geologist, and that was over fifty stellar cycles ago. Such a harsh, unpoetic language in my opinion. I speak the language of my adoptive clan habitually. and I admit it takes some time for my translation programs and vocalizer to re-calibrate. Thus, I will speak to you in a language you do know."

The Autobots exchanged glances. Thank Primus for Mark. A Caucasian man had bothered to pick up a bit of the Navajo tongue. Mark for one would never in his whole life had he thought he would be using it to communicate to an alien that they didn't speak the language. He'd just picked some phrases up to impress the girls on site.

"Allow me to introduce myself in English. I am Grimwing. And you are?"


Infernus's wariness abated now that he had a name to work with. This Grimwing seemed like a pretty decent guy now that his original offense had worn off. Frankly he could forgive him for getting ticked at that. Anyone could be forgiven for getting a little mad if they were shot in the face by a energy shotgun. He would probably have reacted in a similar way.

He followed the Predacon's polite example: "I'm Infernus." He put a hand on his chestplates. Then he gestured to the others. "This is Ultra Magnus, Mark, Arcee, and –"

"I'm so, so, so sorry for shooting you! I didn't mean it, honest! You – I – I was just scared. I've never seen a Predacon before! Well, I mean, I have since Infernus is one, and there's another dragon one that tried to kill us a while back, but never one I didn't know! And you were coming at us and making noises! I thought you were going to hurt us! Please, please don't be mad at me!"

"Bluestreak." Infernus finished. The Primeling glanced at him curiously. "Wait, you were the one to fire on him, Blue?"

"I'm sorry..." Bluestreak squeaked back.

Grimwing looked at the small mech for a moment or two in silence. This Infernus character was one of only two Predacons these three had ever encountered during their stay here? Shockwave had sent hundreds of his kind to this world. What about them? Was Infernus one of the stationed, and had he allied with these Autobots?

He left his questions for later. Grimwing nodded to the skittish youngling, reassuring him there was no harm done. He had detected fear chemicals near the entrance, so he was well aware one of the trespassers was incredibly nervous. He should consider himself fortunate that Predacons were built sturdy and that he had shot him and not one of his brethren. They were not nearly as forgiving as he, and his friend was rather convincing he added with a nod to the white Draconian. Infernus nodded back.

Bluestreak appeared about ready to collapse from relief on hearing Grimwing say that. In the end, he managed a small, child-like smile of thanks. He apologized once more for good measure:

"I really didn't meant it, I swear! Me and my friends just don't have the best of experiences with Predacons as a rule. Either they're good like Infernus or bad ones like that big bronze dragon that wants to kill us. A fifty-fifty toss up isn't usually something to go staking diplomatic relations on, and your approach and noises just...I reacted instinctively. That skeleton you left near the entrance nearly gave me a spark attack! I thought that was a sign you were a bad Predacon! Again, I'm so, so sorry!" He clasped his hands together in an adorable beg.

Infernus was pleased to see the Predacon smile again as he assured him a second time there was no harm done. His own eagerness to meet them and curiosity to find out who they were was the true culprit here he said. He really should have been a little more wary considering one of them had been visibly on edge.

"So...no hard feelings?" the young gunner asked.

"No hard feelings, Dootł'izh-sółtįʼ. Ah, sorry. Bluestreak."

He smiled faintly. This guy really was decent, and that he sympathized with Autobots was just icing on the cake. No one this civil of spark could ever have survived as a Decepticon. Megatron would've ordered him terminated for treason. Actually. Hang on. That was a good question to ask.

"Grimwing?" he prompted.

The Predacon turned to him inquisitively: "Yes, Infernus?"

"Why did you switch sides? I thought all Predacons were under the Decepticon badge and they were pretty slagged loyal to them. They were made by Shockwave."

Grimwing loosed a growl from deep in his vocalizer. His clawed hands clenched into fits. An expression of murderous wrath contorted his expression temporarily. Arcee flicked her optics over to one wall briefly, Infernus following the motion. There on the wall was an image of Shockwave, slashed through with red and a "Death" glyph written on top of that. He understood then. This Predacon bore a deep grudge, and only Shockwave's demise would satisfy him.

"Do not speak that name to me, brother. He is the reason I am stranded here, flightless and scrounging for energy like some scraplet in the Acid Wastes. And that is because I sympathize with your cause – and your impeccable nobility. I read a battle report while still on Cybertron and...the death count for your side was nightmarish in that case. You would never resort to such barbarity. A massacre is not the same as warfare. I told the Builder that outright. I would not be involved in such nefarious acts. So Shockwave attempted to have me killed. And now, here I am – my wing useless, torn asunder by one of my own kin. I barely survive as is, forced into stasis lock after I absorb what I can from the electrical storms."

"Oh." was all Infernus could say in return. No wonder this guy held a grudge.

The Primeling for one had a feeling he knew which battle report he had read. There was one city Megatron bore a grudge against, even more so than Kaon, thanks to their being the producers of some of the most ruthless Senate Enforcers of the time: Praxus. It was one of the earliest Decepticon attacks on record. He frowned in remembrance. He'd read that report in the Hall. That hadn't even been a battle. It had been a massacre. Only a handful had survived, scarred for life.

Grimwing shook himself, his former light, polite mood returning. "But enough of that. What is it you are here for?"

In turns, the Autobots and their young Prime explained the reason for their search. He listened to them in silence, occasionally glancing down at the young human at Infernus's pedes. He appeared just as interested in the re-telling of events and information. Outside, the storm could be faintly heard through the mountain.

"I see. Shockwave has managed to recently clone another Predacon, and Infernus discovered the skull of a deceased one in a mountain mine where it was being hunted for by those – ech! – Insecticons. You and your allies thus put those pieces of information together and assumed he was going to try and clone more Predacons to eradicate the small Autobot resistance force – yours – stationed on this planet. And you were hoping I might join this force as an ally?"

"I know it sounds a bit pushy, but maybe if you did Ratchet could fix that wing of yours." Infernus suggested. "He's the best medic ever. He can fix anything. Or even if he can't, I bet Neal could. He speaks Navajo. Good with machines. You'll like him. He's actually the one who helped lead us to you."

Grimwing appeared to consider the offer for a while. After a minute or two had gone by, he looked Ultra Magnus square in the optics.

"I would need to take this up with your Prime. Optimus, I believe his name is. I saw his name in the report as a priority target. That is standard protocol. Alliances should always be arranged with the alpha of the clan. A Prime is the alpha of your faction. I must speak with him."

He saw all the Autobots flinch and look down. Infernus's flinch was the most noticeable, and he went so far as to glance away. This was unusual to him. He caught movement near the floor and saw the human named Mark making odd motions with his hand – waggling it rapidly under his chin with wide eyes and a taught expression. He had not seen that gesture before and so merely looked at him in a puzzled manner before looking back up at the Autobots.

"What? Is something wrong?" he asked. "Is he still on Cybertron? Can I not speak to him?"

Mark promptly smacked a hand to his face. His sharp audials heard him murmur exasperatedly, though it was more like a soft hiss: "Way to open up the fresh wound there, pal..."

"Grimwing..." Arcee began slowly, her voice hitching. "Optimus...he's not on Cybertron, and he's not here on Earth either. He was here for a while, but he's...he's dead. H-He died recently in a large-scale Decepticon attack in Nevada. Went down with our old base. If not for him, we'd all be dead."

Infernus shifted uncomfortably as he continued in a soft mumble:

"Y'see, Grimwing...I'm the new Prime."


Grimwing stared at the white Draconian in shock for he knew not how long. A Predacon Prime? There hadn't been one since Onyx Prime himself! He felt rather daft for not realizing before now. He had sensed the power in his roar and seen the contradictory age in his optics – youthful frame, but aged in spirit. He had even sensed a strange energy from him, but had chosen to take no heed of it. The name itself should have been a dead give away. Always, always a Prime was given a new name to reflect their status and title. Infernus was a Name of Power relating to fire, fitting with the shape of a dragon he possessed.

Shame burned in his spark as the shock began to die down by a fraction. He could slapped himself for his imbecility. He had actually screamed – screamed at a Prime! Instinctively, he bowed deeply, crossing a hand over his chestplates. He could not address the Prime properly until he apologized. What an idiot he was, yelling at an avatar of Primus!

"Forgive my harsh words from earlier, Prime. I meant no disrespect. My home is yours. And my sincerest condolences for your loss. From what little I heard of him through exchanges between Megatron and Shockwave, I understood he was a fine Prime. Hózhǫ́ náhásdlį́į́."

"Um, thank you. Apology accepted. Now could you stop with the bowing, mech? It's really awkward, okay?" the Prime asked.

He corrected his posture at once. This Prime didn't seem to be very big on formality. An interesting twist, but it made sense when his youth was taken into account.

"So I suppose that means I will be coordinating my alliance through you?"

"Yeah. And really you've already done kinda that. There isn't really anything to go signing, so..."

Hesitantly he extended a hand. Grimwing looked at it curiously before accepting it. He knew what a simple handshake was. The two beasts shook hands once before disconnecting. A friendly smile bloomed on Infernus's lip-plates.

"Welcome to the Autobots, Grimwing. Now let's head back to our home and have the doc look at that wing."


Location: Area Fifty-One

Exact Geographic Coordinates: Unavailable

General Location: Twenty-seven miles outside Rachel, Nevada

Time: 1400 hours

Fowler strolled back from the command building at a brisk pace. June and the three teens followed at his side and behind him. It had taken a bit of work on his part, but their families were going to be given temporary housing on site (not the barracks though) until more permanent places of residence could be arranged. While on site housing was no luxury hotel or condominium suite, it was no worse than Jack and June's old home and had all necessary accommodations – even wi-fi so that Raf could assist the 'bots from home if needed.

They passed very near another hangar where a trio fighter jets were being painted and maintained. Jack caught glimpse of a man inside the hangar when he gave him a wave from atop the nose of one of the jets. The man abandoned his post and jogged over to them, wiping his hands clean on a rag hanging from his hip, grinning. When he reached them Jack noted the wrinkles in his skin and the streaks of grey in his hair. He looked pretty good for an older man, and his arms were muscular from work.

"Um, hello. Who're you?" June asked.

"What? You mean the kid never mentioned me? Even after I helped find him a Thunderbird?" the man wondered, sounding somehow amused and insulted at once.

"Oh! You must be Mr. Rowland!" Rafael realized. "Infernus told us that you'd told him a story and pointed him to Mount Taylor where a Thunderbird supposedly lived."

"We were all heading over to check on them. Y'know, see if they actually found it. Or if Bulkhead and Wheeljack managed to find Arion or the Nemean Lion's remains. Thanks to Raf here we have reason to believe that all those mythological monsters from around the world might really be human sightings of Predacons. Care to join us, Mr. Rowland?" Fowler offered.

The mechanic grinned and said it would be his pleasure. He'd always wanted to see the inside of what the kids at the auto-shop had taken to calling "Hangar E.T." One of the little devils had said he was going to prank the poor aliens and do just that to their hangar – grab a stencil and spray paint in an extra "T" for a giggle. This earned a laugh from Miko and a request to help with the prank.

They came around to the hangar's entrance from the side. Miko snickered inexplicably, prompting the others to turn to her in confusion.

"Looks like the prank's been pulled already." she hinted impishly. "Look."

Everyone looked up to where she was pointing. Indeed, at some point recently the prankster auto-shop worker had somehow gotten up to the roof of Hangar E. Now, next to that big, bold E was a big, bold T. Not even the federal agent could suppress a smirk. Ratchet would not be happy if he ever saw that and he definitely wouldn't be happy with the culprit when he found them. It wasn't meant in a mean way he knew (the pranker was just having some fun with puns and paint) but the doc was unfortunately a tightly-wound spring of a mech.

They reached the lip of the hangar's entrance. Then they stopped dead in their tracks at what they saw within.

It was a mech about the same height as Infernus, colored the deep grey-ish blue of a storm cloud. A bird's head formed a strange helmet over his helm, framing a narrow, hawk-like face with bright yellow optics. A clawed hand shaded those optics from the bright artificial lights that hung above them. What was more, this stranger mech was sitting at an exam berth having a limp, shredded wing that hung behind its back looked at by the resident crotchety medic. Infernus stood to the side, an anxious, expecting expression on his faceplates. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were watching from farther back, each having returned safely from their respective missions.

"Sweet Mother of Mercy...It can't be..." Neal breathed. The bird motif so obvious in its design, the limp, torn wing, the color scheme that so eerily resembled a brewing thundercloud...

"Who in blue blazes is that, Prime?!" Fowler demanded. "What's he doin' on site without express permission? Bryce'll have my head on a charger when he finds out!"

The stranger's helm snapped up from his staring contest with the floor, attempting to rise with a faint snarl. The wings on the mech's back flickered twice with a sharp red light. Without hesitation, Ratchet konked him over the helm with a nearby tool and snapped at him to sit still – he wasn't done with him yet. The stranger mech gave in with a bad grace, a deep frown on his lip-plates. While the humans couldn't hear the low-frequency noise it was making, they felt the hairs on their necks stand upright. It was almost like he was warning the agent to watch his tongue and tone.

Infernus's own helm jerked over to look at the federal agent.

"Uh...Fowler, say hello to Grimwing. Grimwing, this is Special Agent Fowler." Infernus said slowly. "He acts as our liaison with the U.S government. Pretty please don't kill him. He talks like that to everyone. And we kinda need him alive for him to do his job."

Miko cracked a grin and sprinted for the beast mech with a shout of "Awesome!" The Primeling couldn't help snickering at Grimwing's slightly puzzled, alarmed look as the girl bounced around his pedes spewing out questions one after the other with next to no pause in between. He seemed to be trying to answer but could barely keep up with the torrent, and obviously was far too courteous to interrupt her. One clawed pede was lifted and moved away as if he was scared the girl might try to bounce up and climb his leg.

"Heh. It's cool, Grim. That's just Miko. She's totally harmless. Er, most of the time..."

"One of your charges?" Grimwing managed to ask.

Infernus jerked his helm to the green Wrecker off to one side. "Eh, technically she's Bulkhead's, but yeah. Mine's actually Mark." He turned to the green Wrecker. "Bulk, could you call your pet spazz off before she legit scares the new guy? He hasn't exactly been around a lot of people lately, and she...might be a bit much for him to handle right off the bat. Y'know, just a tad."

Bulkhead grinned and came over, scooping the girl up in one hand while Miko whined her protests: "Aw, come on, Bulk! I wasn't done interrogating him! Lemme down!"

"Let Ratchet finish with the poor guy first, okay? And maybe let him adjust a bit? He just got here, y'know, and he is hurt."

The spunky Asian crossed her arms and harrumphed but offered no further protests as the Wrecker put her up on the catwalks.

Almost in a reverential daze, Neal stepped towards the beast mech. Grimwing caught the movement and watched him curiously, the Predacon's sharp yellow optics analyzing him in an almost computeristic fashion. What he was looking for was not obvious to anyone right away, but it became obvious he knew of Neal's heritage when he spoke once more his strange greeting from the cavern:

"Shí éí libá bit'a'í yinishyé."

Neal stared in stunned silence for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter and replying:

"Shí éí Niyol yinishyé."

Grimwing smiled and bowed his helm. This must be the "Neal" Infernus had mentioned, his traditional name anglicized. The Prime was right. He was a good person, and that he was a descendant of the very tribe who had saved his life all those stellar cycles ago was incredible. After all, no other tribe knew about him. How else would he have known where to lead the Prime to? He would never have found him if not for this man. He would never have even known of these Autobots and their young Predacon Prime if not for him.

"A pleasure to meet you, Niyol."

"Ha! You speak my language!" the head mechanic exclaimed in English. "Well, I inferred ya did, but I don't believe it! You're the Thunderbird of Tsoodzil! You're still alive after all this time, and the kid managed to find ya and get you on our side! I'll be damned!"

"What...happened to your wing?" Rafael asked hesitantly. He'd noticed it hanging limp, torn from what looked like giant talons. That had to have hurt when it had been inflicted.

The Predacon's smile flipped to form a frown. "To make a long story short, Shockwave deemed me a traitor and had one of his other clones attempt to kill me. He left me for dead here and fled back to Cybertron per Shockwave's orders. I...do not know whether or not he still functions. I have not seen him since. Perhaps he was reassigned here at a later date or perhaps he is dead. Perhaps he still yet guards one of the Builder's hidden labs on Cybertron. I do not know."

"Heh!" Miko smirked. "Guy sounds about as dumb as that dragon Ratchet 'bridged into the Arctic. He didn't even check to see if you really were dead!"

Ratchet spoke without even looking up from his exam, his voice curter and darker in tone than what the others were used to:

"With his injury Miko, assuming Grimwing was offline was actually a fair assumption to make. Honestly, I'm amazed the wing is still attached. This other Predacon tore through his primary wing hinges and severely damaged some of the pivot joints as well. He even damaged some of the nerve bundles, which is why he can't move it – the wing is not receiving commands from his processor. From the looks of things he also managed to tear open the main lines that feed Energon into the wing. If not for a surprisingly powerful and healthy nanite repair system he would most likely would've bled to death over the course of just a few hours. He was incredibly lucky his nanites were in such good condition and were able to slow the loss of Energon. Even still, he was probably in great pain until he managed to heal."

For once Miko winced on hearing the medic speak. Jack winced as well. That actually sounded like some pretty nasty damage to them. Shockwave had really wanted this guy dead. Grimwing had pretty much hit the jackpot in terms of luck, but it had come with a cost.

"So...c-can you fix his wing, Ratchet?" the tween asked.

The medic didn't reply right away. When he did, it was with a derisive sounding snort.

"Rafael, I've tended to fliers before, but those have all been Seekers. I've never treated a Predacon before. Do I look like a veterinarian to you? Seeker wings are nothing like a bird's. I could try to, but I'm worried I might only make the damage worse. I know next to nothing about their anatomy. I never even thought I would be treating one!"

Grimwing raised a hand to bring the argument to a halt. He appreciated the medic's desire to get his wing functioning again he said, but he would never ask a miracle from him. During warfare there was always a lack of resources, and obviously he was more used to treating Seekers. That was only expected – Autobots had never had Predacon allies. If he could not repair it then that was that. He had survived this long without it. Reminder though it was, he could fight without it. He could survive a little longer.

"I know it may be a dead end, but maybe me or Neal could have a look?" Mark offered. "Not right now, but later. We're good with machines, and we've been around birds for longer than you."

With a sigh of "Might as well..." the medic concluded his exam and allowed the Predacon to rise to his pedes, retreating to his console to create a medical file for their newest member. The humans on ground level almost instantly surrounded him and started off where Miko's interrogation had ended. Questions like How old was he? Who was the Predacon who had attacked him? What exactly had led to him turning traitor to the 'Cons? were answered in turn by the Predacon. Grimwing didn't appear nearly as off-put about the questioning now, and he answered each as they came.

Infernus did not watch them however. His gaze was fixated on Ratchet. He looked haggard, world-weary, and dissatisfied. He had a feeling he knew why. Ratchet always hated not being able to solve a problem one hundred percent. But...there was a way to repair the wing if everything else failed.

'You cannot be serious, Infernus. You risk everything if you do.' Solus argued. 'When I said "Use it well" I meant don't waste that last charge.'

'Is it a waste if it means returning a very powerful Avioid to his full strength? Things always do come with a price, Solus. Nothing is free. One may lose something but gain something else in return.' Optimus argued. 'But I unfortunately have to side with her, Smokescreen. Returning flight to one mech and thus losing any chance to revive Cybertron seems like an uneven exchange.'

'...Is sacrificing yourself to ensure the survival of your team and then putting a rookie in charge of them an even exchange?' the Primeling shot back with more heat than he intended.

Optimus said nothing.

'...Sorry. That was uncalled for.'

Still the former Prime said nothing. But after a moment he felt a pulse of apology. He was forgiven. He understood this would remain a sore subject.

'There is one thing you have yet to do. You have not yet gotten the reports from Bulkhead or Wheeljack about their missions.' Vector suggested.

He'd been meaning to do that, actually. But being pre-occupied with Grimwing and Ratchet and Fowler and one thing and another he just hadn't gotten around to it. With their newest member now kept busy for the moment by the humans and remaining 'Bots, now was as good a time as any to get the two Wreckers' field reports.


"Hey, Bulkhead? Wheeljack? You guys find your Preds or what's left of 'em?"

Wheeljack turned on hearing the Primeling's voice, forestalling his question for Grimwing. He shook his helm, saying he'd come up with zilch on Arion. The myth detailing the horse hadn't really given him a definite area to search, the only city connected to him in any way being the ancient city of Argos. And to make things even more complicated that place was still occupied and pretty tightly packed, so searching the city had been hard. There had been an archaeological museum, but a hack of their network showed nothing that was unidentified or unusual.

"So in short I got nada." he said. "Either the guy's dead and the body's rusted into the dirt or he flew the coop. Or the 'Cons found the body before me."

"And Bulkhead? What about you? You get anything?" Infernus asked.

The green Wrecker also turned to face him from where he was keeping an optic on Miko. Infernus was obviously pleased to see him grin and hold up a single rusted fang almost a foot in length and a claw nearly twice that.

"Found these at a warehouse used by one of the dig crews. I think its connected to one of the universities or museums. Anyway, one of the workers had apparently dug it up a long time ago and had no idea what it was. Managed to snitch it from them while the place was empty – don't worry, checked for security cam's. The doc's gonna study them a bit first before meltin' 'em down."

"Nothing else at the site? Just the fang and claw?"

"S'far as I found, yeah. That was all that was in the warehouse. Kinda weird. You think they would've found the rest of the body."

"Not really." Infernus argued. "The myth of the Nemean Lion says that Hercules strangled it to death and skinned it for its hide so he could use it as armor. You know how tough Cybertronian armor plating is, Bulk – you've got some of the toughest around. Since we know it was a Predacon now I think we can guess that the Hercules guy either removed some of its outer plating and re-purposed it into armor, or he dragged the thing to a forge and had them melt it down and forge some armor out of it. Either way, that might explain why you only found the fang and claw – they weren't really necessary."

Surprisingly, Grimwing offered some insight: "Hm. Short-sighted of him. Predacon talons and claws can shred almost any material. He could have easily re-purposed one of the claws or fangs into a sturdy weapon."

"Well, all the stories about Hercules said he didn't much like fighting with weapons, Grimwing." said June. "The legends say he preferred to fight with his bare hands. Of course, sometimes he couldn't, but you get my point. He just didn't see much need for them I guess."

"Nice job anyway, Bulk. That's one less Pred we have to worry about being cloned and sic'ed on us. Now if it's all the same to you guys, I'm gonna go find a corner and let my voice recover from that shouting match. And possibly take a cat nap to keep the doc from nagging me about 'over-exertion' or something." announced the Primeling in a light-sparked, jabbing fashion. He massaged his throat tenderly. "Seriously, I'm not even kidding – it feels like I almost broke it. Now I know what you humans feel like when you get strep throat. That scrap freaking hurts."

"Screaming at the top of your voice tends to do that." Arcee observed in dry humor. "But at least the shouting match turned out alright. Lucky for us you're a persuasive shouter."

Infernus smiled faintly, letting out a short, soft laugh: "Yeah. I guess so, huh?"

He let his gaze wander over to where Grimwing sat with his back up against the hangar wall, legs crossed Indian style. Miko and Jack sat on one leg while Rafael sat on the other. June watched from nearby alongside Fowler – who kept stealing glances at him like he wanted to discuss something with him. He knew what he wanted to talk about. He'd deal with all the protocol scrap after a while. Bryce could wait until Grimwing was acclimated to being around his team and the humans.

Unconsciously he grinned broadly at the sight. Megatron had one Predacon on his side. Well, they had two.

'Take that, you sucker.' he thought.


Author's Note: So here are the translations in order:

1.) "Haash yinilyé? Shí éí libá bit'a'í yinishyé." Here, Grimwing is simply asking "Who are you?" and introducing himself as "dark wing" or "black wing" which could also be interpreted as "Grimwing."

2.)"Diné bizaad doo shił bééhózin da." Mark is simply saying here that "I do not speak Navajo."

3.) Dootł'izh-sółtįʼ the first word means "blue" and the second one means "imperative" or "swift." You could interpret that broadly as "blue swift" or, in the sense Grimwing means, "Bluestreak."

4.) Hózhǫ́ náhásdlį́į́ this roughly translates to "balance has been restored." The phrase "rest in peace" is anglo-christian in origin and so the Navajo have no words for it. The phrase here is as close as you can get to it.