Fire of Youth
Chapter 19
*Note to Kaleia: O-O Now that you bring that one up I wanna involve it. It could very well be a kind of Chimeran or Fuzor – a beast-former that incorporates traits from multiple different animals, and it might be a "danger" creature since it has attacked native life forms. Also, curiously enough, there's a group called the "Devil Hunters" that dedicate themselves to finding it. Might be interesting to involve them somehow, eh?...;)
*Glimpse into the Decepticon side of things here...
Prowl did not give the Gwyllgi a chance to draw near. He had not intention of letting it harm his brother and Prime.
Flipping over onto his chestplates and hefting himself to his knees with a grunt of pain, one hand on his bleeding chest, he converted the other hand into a sniper rifle and fired at it, point blank. The shot struck the creature with such force that it sent it tumbling back with a startled, pained yelping sound. There was now a smoking burn on its pro-sternum region. But it did not penetrate its durable black mesh he noted. He should've assumed that. Ratchet's analysis of Infernus showed that Predacon mesh was ten times more durable than even the heftiest Autobot bruiser. They were built to take a beating.
He watched Infernus draw up beside him, snarling. Mark had his assault rifle trained on the presently stunned Predacon across from them. Even now it was stirring, getting back to its fuel-soaked paws. Once the Primeling was sure he could turn his gaze away, he did so. Anger turned to worry in his optics. He let out a strange noise like a whining hiss.
*Prowl! Are you okay?! Oh gosh...! You're leaking!*
"I'm fine, Prime." he reassured him through a grimace. "It's not life-threatening. I'll live."
*No, you're hurt. Stay down. I can –*
Infernus was cut off when a low rumble of thunder boomed across the hills like a portent. Prowl turned when his sensors picked up a distinct charge in the air further back down the road. Lightning split the sky then like a sword slash slicing open a wound, arcing down to a grounding point just beyond the hill. Seconds later came the ear-splitting scream of a bird of prey – a warning and a challenge to the attacker and a cry of hope to the two Autobots. Mark did not turn his gaze but his skin tingled from the sudden charge of energy in the air.
From over the hill came Grimwing, no longer bird but mech, his expression one of virtuous wrath. Prowl and Infernus watched him skid to a halt at the top, watched as he converted his right hand into a vicious crossbow-like weapon with a string of blue-grey energy. The two watched as he pulled the string back, setting it. Electricity danced along his frame until it coalesced into what for all intents and purposes was a lightning bolt nocked like an crossbow bolt. He aimed the weapon. The Gwyllgi, now on its paws, snarled at the newcomer.
"Stand down, brother! You know not what affronts you commit by attacking one of the Prime's clan!" Grimwing bellowed.
The Gwyllgi's snarl only increased in volume. Its four red optics narrowed. A harsh male voice hissed in the native tongue of the Predacons:
"So the traitor yet lives. And here Shockwave placed such faith in Skyrender's abilities."
"I am not a traitor as I am not a sparkless killer! Mass slaughter is not warfare, brother! Killing the innocent is a black deed! There is no honor in it!"
"Maybe not. Sure is satisfying though. You don't know that because you're too weak to kill. Too soft. You'd have been better off staying in the Allspark with those other weak-minded fools. The Builder brought you back to the living, and this is how you repay him? By turning your back on him and joining the enemy? What, are you too scared to kill and offend the Old One?"
"Make no mistake! I am not afraid to kill if it means I defend the lives of my clan and the innocent! If you make one more move against my clan-mates I will fire! And my aim has yet to fail me over four thousand years!"
Mark permitted himself to turn now that Grimwing's gaze was thoroughly locked on the Gwyllgi. His words alone were powerful, and the sight that met him when he turned was awe-inspiring. Piss this guy off and he became the terrifying amalgam of Hawkeye Gough from Dark Souls and the Norse thunder god Thor. The Gwyllgi was an absolute idiot for challenging him like this, wounded and in the open. Whatever the thing's real name was, it was begging to get riddled with lightning bolts (no pun intended) and shot again with guns. Ratchet had been right about the electricity bullets in any case – they did seem to have glitched its invisibility talent. He could only imagine the damage a full-on electrocution from Grim's bolts would do. If he wasn't careful he might end up outright killing it in one go.
"Let's test that, shall we?"
Around the Gwyllgi, the air shimmered. It emitted a low, dangerous growl. Then, like a mirage over desert sands, it vanished. Infernus hissed and coiled himself around Prowl as best he could. The tactician heard air being rapidly drawn into his olfactory sensors as he analyzed. He did not try so; in comparison to a Predacon he might as well have been scent blind. Grimwing's yellow optics narrowed as he too tracked the unseen assailant. It was harder than usual due to the rain washing the smell out of the air; it'd be easier if he had an Energon sample to track from.
The private could do little but use his eyes. With no steam or sparks or anything to use as a guide the creature truly was invisible. Then Infernus reared back. A heat began building that Mark felt.
"Infernus, no! No fire! Bad idea! You wanna set the whole place on fire?!" he said.
The alien youth understood and fell back onto all fours. They heard a scream and Infernus whipped around in time to see the Gwyllgi knock Grimwing to the ground in the same manner as Prowl, the Predacon remaining unseen as it clawed savagely at his chest. Rends like Prowl's quickly formed on his chest but they were not quite so deep. With a growl more befitting of a wolf he shoved the Gwyllgi off. His crossbow collapsed on itself as he transformed. Soon the Thunderbird was battling with what might as well have been a ghost, swiping, slashing, and snapping at thin air erratically.
*Grim! Hang on!*
Infernus bounded over after leaving Mark with Prowl. Engaging this thing hand to hand (or would that be claw to claw?) with Mark on his back was a bad idea. If it leapt it could hurt Mark. And he wasn't about to leave Prowl alone in his current state.
He didn't see anything, but he was getting a very faint whiff from the Gwyllgi. Its scent rounded behind him – and then he felt a weight on his back, felt claws sink into his armor. He roared in pain and aggravation. He did his utmost to shake his passenger. In response the claws merely sunk further in. He roared again when they pierced his mesh like serrated needles. He tried rolling but the Gwyllgi gamely hung on, its claws giving it lethal grip. It bit down savagely, jaws piercing his mesh easily. What happened next was a bit of a blur to him. There was a loud crackle and flash of white light, the smell of burning and ozone suddenly overpowering. He heard a howl of agony. The weight was thus removed – knocked off. When the world came back into focus he saw the Gwyllgi lying prone on the hillside, smoke rising from its burned body. Its four red optics were shuttered. If it had been any color other than ink black the scorch marks would have stood out like ugly scars. As it was they were only barely visible.
He transformed and went over to it. Very carefully he checked for a sparkpulse – and found one. Thing wasn't dead. Good. Maybe they could get some answers from it. At the very least maybe they could get name and mission parameters. Asking him to switch sides and help might be too optimistic considering his attitude about killing. He was still plainly loyal to Shockwave and Megatron going by his respect for them and his disdain at Grimwing.
Then he went over to Grimwing, helping the Avioid up. At some point during the white flash he had transformed, and his one hand was back to the form of a crossbow. He quickly glanced over his frame in search of serious injury.
"I am fine, Prime. Go see to your clan-mates. I will secure the hound." He dismissed the crossbow.
Grimwing watched him go. He then went over to the Gwyllgi and hefted the unconscious beast over his shoulder. Its whole body reeked of ozone and cinder. The glare from his bow had rendered whatever had happened to the hound afterwards a mere white haze in his optics. He remembered firing his bow and that was about it. Perhaps Mark and Prowl had seen what had happened. He went over to them.
"Do you require assistance, Prowl? My tribe taught me basic medicine."
Prowl accepted the white dragon's neck as a support, pushing himself to his trods. "I'm fine. The wounds are not as severe as they seem. Mesh wounds are rarely worse than they look."
"Uh, no. You are not fine." Mark argued. "You are bleeding. You need to get those welded up. Like now. We got the Gwyllgi, we can ask it questions now. Maybe it can disclose info on other Preds for us."
Infernus snorted in agreement. His expression was eerily similar to one of Ratchet's own. If he said he was fine one more time, a half-truth in it of itself, he might just get hit.
Prowl sighed. He did not argue. The human made a valid argument. Two people, one a Prime no less, telling him to get some immediate medical attention combined with alerts rapid-firing in his processor forestalled any protestations. He knew better than to argue in a case of majority rule. And he knew better than to protest against the wishes of his Prime and his brother. He was reckless in some of his decisions but he knew in the end what was best.
They jumped when Grimwing let out a cry of pain. The Gwyllgi was back online and it had dug its claws into Grimwing as it struggled against his hold. Grimwing's cry had stemmed not only from that but from its sinking its fangs deep into his shoulder, its surprisingly powerful jaws piercing the metal and even semi-warping it. The Avioid, reacting instinctively to the attack, grabbed the black hound and flung it to the ground. It got back to its paws quickly.
"I'd die before revealing anything to you or your allies, traitor. Or the native meatbag. Unlike you, I understand loyalty."
Mark shot at it with more electrically-charged bullets. It yelped at the sting, backing away. Its audials pinned back against its helm. The Gwyllgi finally seemed to realize that it was outnumbered and outgunned. It was angry and obviously wanted to continue with the fight, but the only sensible thing for it to do was to run. A tactical retreat. But still it did not turn tail.
"Shockwave cares nothing for you, brother." Grimwing said. "You are nothing more than a tool in his optics. You are not valuable to him, nor to Megatron. You delude yourself by thinking so. Did either ask you to fight on the front lines with the other Decepticons? Did either ask that of any of us beasts? No. He delegated you, all of us, to be lowly guards for their off-world stores. The Prime treats me as a person, not a dumb watchdog. He trusts me with his life. You can be treated the same if you simply turn your back on a false cause."
"Puh. Your mind's been warped by them already. What makes you think they're any different?"
"Because unlike the Decepticons, Autobots take no pleasure in ending lives." Grimwing answered. "We take no pleasure in killing, in harming."
*Then you're all weaklings. War is not war without loss of life or injury.* Its claws retracted further as another snarl bubbled.
"And war is not war if one mass murders an entire city." Prowl shot back in an icy tone.
"You're all fools. And you'll die that way. When you fall, tell the Old One he cannot stop the Age of the Beast from rising again. Or the Age of the Decepticon!"
It lunged once more. But instead of attacking, it avoided the gathering and disappeared into the heavier rain. Infernus tasted the air for some hint of its heading. But he found nothing. The rain was washing away its scent too greatly for decent tracking. Not even the more experienced Avioid at his side who was used to tracking in wet weather could find something to provide clues.
"Well damn." said Mark. "Kinda hoped he'd be as reasonable as you, Grim. Guess you're unique among Predacons. We didn't even get the little asshole's name."
Prowl opened up a comm. link back to the hangar, one hand still over his leaking chestplates while he leaned against Infernus for support. Giving chase to the beast would be a waste of energy and time, and no one was in any physical state to be doing so in any case aside from Mark. Asking one human to hunt down a dangerous Predacon hunter was stupid. He had a limited amount of bullets on him and no armor. No amount of military training would save him either – the Gwyllgi was stronger, faster, bigger, and had a cloaking ability.
"Ratchet? We need transport back to base."
Fowler gawked at the sight that walked back through the groundbridge. If this didn't spell out "mission failure" he didn't know what else did:
All three metal titans bore wounds at various points on their bodies. Grimwing and Prowl had some pretty nasty looking scratches on their chests that looked all too suspiciously like claw marks, and both beasts also had bite marks on them to boot. Infernus had one on his back and Grimwing had one on his shoulder. Prowl definitely had it the worst off in terms of injuries though, and he was leaning against Grimwing for support. Poor mech looked like a lunatic with two dozen knives had tried to gut him. Mark, thank God, looked completely untouched. He could only imagine the wrath and guilt Infernus would've been suffering if he'd so much as been scratched.
He was also secretly glad Mr. Rowland wasn't here to see this. He'd throw a fit and then maybe have a heart attack. Seeing his personal legend and the young Prime hurt might be too much for him. And Prowl? Yeah, no. Better he wasn't here.
"Prowl!" Raf cried. He forgot his laptop entirely and rushed to the catwalk railings. Jack, Miko, and June joined them.
"Oh my..." June breathed.
The tactician glanced at them coldly. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Ratchet snapped. "Grimwing, get him over here. Carry him if you have to. Only way that idiot would willfully come to me is if he were missing an arm or bleeding his life out. Blasted battle-computer of his only lets him see red level injuries as dangerous. And you two are next. Don't think I'm letting you go." he added tersely.
Grimwing did not in fact carry Prowl, and that was mainly due to the freezing death glare he gave him. He simply guided him over to the medical berth and waited nearby with Infernus.
"Agent Fowler, there is something I need to discuss with you."
"You. Zip it. Now." Ratchet snapped again.
Prowl grudgingly fell silent. The longer he waited to inform Fowler of the MI6 ruse the more likely it was the native law enforcement might get suspicious.
"I know basic first-aid, Ratchet." Grimwing said. "Could I be of assistance to you in some way?"
In reply Ratchet left Prowl for a few moments, grabbed two items, and handed them to him. It was a container of cleaning solution and a large clean piece of cloth.
"Get that bite on his back cleaned up, along with those puncture marks. I'll do your shoulder and chest once I'm done with Prowl. You're not as bad off. Your armor protected you to a greater extent."
The Avioid nodded and set to work. As carefully as he could he doused the wounds on his back, not encouraged when he heard the white dragon hiss at the sensation of the solution seeping into them. What little he knew of medicine came from the Navajo of old, and a hiss like that might well signal infection. He had to hope it was just the colder fluid agitating his warmer sub-mesh sensory array, which was now upset from the wounds and exposed to the air. He was encouraged though when the Prime's hiss died down after a moment or two, leading him to believe it was in fact just that and not anything deserving of worry. Some Predacons did have a toxic or highly acidic bite he knew. Luckily the Gwyllgi was not one of them. It was a cloaked hunter, nothing more.
*This is embarrassing...And wrong.* Infernus's voice came over short-band.
He looked at him quizzically. What was embarrassing and wrong about having an ally tend to your wounds? Not everyone was able to walk away from a Predacon assault. They were all of them very lucky.
*No, I get that. It's that you're hurt and tending to me instead of yourself. I know I'm supposed to be kept alive and well at all costs otherwise we're all screwed, but I'd prefer if it weren't at the cost of somebody else. You're hurt, too. You've gotta be in pain. That thing nearly shredded you open.*
"True. I am. But I'm not as badly hurt as you are. It is a matter of priority, Prime. Your armor is lighter than mine. You are not accustomed to the form you wear now; it is strange to you still in many ways. I suffered far worse damage when Skyrender nearly tore my wing off. I was on death's door then. The pain I feel now is nothing more than a nuisance compared to that. Once you've suffered that level of agony anything less becomes...mostly insignificant."
Infernus had revealed to him over the course of his recovery that he was not a natural Predacon. Confused and misinterpreting his words, Grimwing had said he was not natural either but a mere copy of his former self. So were all the beasts that had been here. Infernus had thus explained that he hadn't even been a Predacon to start out with – he'd been a vehicle-former like the rest of his team. When he'd taken the Matrix, the entities inside it, the Thirteen, had reformatted him so he could stand more of a chance. And he'd overheard Ratchet discussing with Ultra Magnus that the alteration wasn't just mesh-deep. It went deeper: his core coding had been changed as well. He was more aggressive than he had been.
The Prime looked at him, then looked away. *Still. You're my friend, maybe my body guard if needed...but you're sure as hell not my nurse-maid.*
Grimwing smiled faintly at him. This youth in his own way was as stubborn as Prowl was. He only truly accepted help if there was no price tag. He felt bad if someone was treated less or differently because of him. Special treatment was something he didn't like about his new-found status as an avatar of Primus. Rank could go to the Pit and rust there under this one's command. Everyone was equal to him – friends, not soldiers.
"I swore to you and your predecessor I would safeguard you. That does include seeing to injuries you may acquire when your official medic is otherwise occupied."
"Speaking of which." Ratchet hinted. "Grimwing. Get over here. You're next, Prime. Don't even think about trying to sneak away."
DECEPTICON WARSHIP NEMESIS
LOCATION: SKIES ABOVE THE UNITED KINGDOM
LOCAL TIME: 6:00 P.M
"Lord Megatron, I am not one to doubt Soundwave's or Shockwave's abilities nor their reasoning...but can we trust a human as a source? They're not exactly the most trustworthy beings. Or reliable for that matter..."
Starscream was always one to question what did not seem to be good ideas to him. He was still of the opinion that the Dark Energon his master used had impaired his mental faculties to a degree. He took more risks than what he found wholly sensible, did things no one sane or right of mine would do. Desecrating the tomb of a Prime on Cybertron was one such act, but there were others before that: his undead legion, his pact with the Chaos Bringer that he had then spurned, his alliance with the odd human Cylas, and most recently his angering of the new Prime. Those were merely the ones he knew of. Others might have occurred during his sojourn in space.
Now, earlier this very evening, Soundwave had procured a report that spoke of one of the natives being attacked by a so-called "hell hound." He'd listened to it, having Soundwave pilot the ship to some region known as Wales.
"Shockwave is not one to place recognition lightly. The micro-chip in the beast in question is inactive for reasons unknown but he is certain this creature is one of his. Cloaking is not a common talent even among modern-day Cybertronians, and his memory of his projects never fails. If he says the beast is ours, it is."
"But the artist's rendition –"
"Is not metallic in appearance for the simple reason of their minds having never observed something of its nature before. The human thus depicted it in a way that could be comprehended. Its black sheen was thought to be due to moonlight and its supposedly spectral nature." Megatron replied.
The grey Seeker fell silent. He did not voice his uncertainty aloud this time: a beast of this kind was not one that should be welcomed with open arms, especially one this brutal. The crew might be put in danger with that thing wandering around. Predacons as a rule were temperamental beasts. If they did something that offended it, crew might start winding up in the infirmary – or worse, dead. At the very least the Draconian currently under Shockwave's control was semi-tame and listened to orders given by Megatron and Shockwave. It still refused to take orders from him. Here, the beast was unknown. And violent. Though if they could get it on their side once more, train it to take orders like the Draconian...then suddenly they would have a very powerful, very useful asset in their ranks, one that might very well be capable of slaughtering the new Prime and his ragtag little rebels alongside its fellow beast.
But soon, when Shockwave had enough fossils, their ranks would swell further with beasts. He'd already gathered powerful ones like the Greek Hydra, the Boar, the Bull, and a few others, and he'd also recently acquired the fossilized feather of the so called Roc from Arabia, an Avioid of considerable strength.
Oh yes. These Autobots were as good as dead once Project: Predacon was complete. No one would stop them from re-taking Cybertron then.
Megatron recieved a silent ping from Soundwave saying they had arrived at the location. Dismissing Starscream, he made his way to the warship's landing and launch runway atop it. There, Shockwave waited for him with his pet beast.
"You are certain?" he asked.
"My calculations have shown it to be impossible for this beast to be of ownership to the Autobots. Though the micro-chip is inactive I can calculate many possible theories as to why, only two of which include Autobot inference. Predacons are loyal, Lord Megatron. They are not so capricious in their loyalty as our kind can be. They obey the strongest. The Autobots are not the strongest. If they were, my Predacon would have turned already."
The warlord nodded.
"There is one curious thing I would like to say to you before Soundwave groundbridges us to the location." Shockwave added after a silence.
Megatron looked at him sharply. It was unlike Shockwave to keep information from him. He was to report anything and everything relating to Project: Predacon directly to him. The same condition went to Starscream. He could not afford secrecy among the ranks, and he certainly couldn't afford it among his higher ups. He had learned that such secrecy allowed for underhanded plotting.
"I recieved a rather odd communication from a human computer before leaving my lab. There was no digital signature other than the machine's own, but the contents were...interesting, possibly troubling. A written message of three words, nothing more."
"And they were?"
"The traitor lives."
Megatron arched an imperious, skeptical brow ridge at the scientist. Beside them, the Predacon softly screeched and hissed. It lifted its snout and sniffed at the evening air. The beast was anxious to hunt it seemed.
"That does not clarify things to me, Shockwave. There have been many traitors in the Decepticon ranks over the centuries. Usually they are slain before they have time to turn to the enemy. This message might be from one of the those selfsame survivors. This could be the Autobot's attempting to create a clever trap. One of their human allies is an expert with Earth computer technology."
"Possible, but unlikely." admitted Shockwave. "Their medic is clever, and the two-wheeler is an expert at ambushes, but their new Prime is still young, inexperienced in such tactics. And Prowl is unlikely to be involved despite his own intellect. He knows I would see through such a ruse, as it was used many times during the War on Cybertron to coax individuals or enemy units into traps and ambushes. There are few versions of the tactic that are unknown to me."
"You think this might be from the Predacon we are retrieving?"
"I make no theories until I have enough proof. There is no proof in records nor in my own research that indicates Predacons are intelligent enough to hack computers and send anonymous messages. They are hunters, my lord, and they take orders relatively well. But they are not saboteurs or scientists. I have no reason to suspect this came from a beast. More likely it may have come from the femme, Airachnid. I know she has an...issue with you and Starscream. But there is only one means of discovering for certain who sent the message. This might be coincidence or a trap...or it might not be. If Airachnid, my Predacon can dispatch of her easily."
"Soundwave."
A groundbridge opened before them. The two Decepticons and their cloned beast went through.
It had never been in a region such as this before. The ground beneath its claws was damp, soggy, smooth and slick. An annoying, cold liquid was falling from the skies in a fine mist, dripping into its open optics and seeping into the cracks in its armor. It hissed and screeched its annoyance and confusion. Smells, many and unfamiliar, bombarded its olfactory sensors in a wave.
Shockwave noted it was behaving oddly, ever shifting and circling like it was agitated by something. His Builder knew the sensory systems of a beast were unmatched in comparison to those of modern day Cybertronians. With its powerful olfactory sensors, chemical analyzers, sharp sight, brute strength, instinctive homing senses, and scalding fire it was the ultimate hunter. It was still young though, still learning. The Builder had told it many things, but some things it still did not know.
"Shockwave?" Megatron pressed the Builder. It could read in the Grey One's red optics the suspicion, the mistrust. If the beast could not be kept under control...then what? Surely the Grey One would not go so far as to disown or kill? It had done well in its tasks thus far. The Autobot trick it had not expected. It had merely been following orders then. How was it to know of the ruse?
"It is merely agitated by something it can sense, Lord Megatron. For it to be this way the cause must either be recent, present...or both."
The Predacon screamed and leapt in front of the two, amber wings flared in an obvious threat display. It screamed again. Fire began to build in its neck, rising, ready to be spewed forth in a wave of burning pain. Neither Decepticon had heard the low frequency growl come from nearby, but the Predacon had. There was something out there, watching from the evening shadows.
"Hold." Shockwave ordered firmly. One hand went up, clenched.
The flame subsided. But the wings remained flared out. Something ahead of them flickered in the mist – a flash of black and red, like an angry spirit escaped from the Pit. The Predacon growled a warning to the entity, warning it to stay back or risk its wrath. It was startled but encouraged when a replying growl came back, the speaker saying empty threats were not necessary. Then the apparition made itself known, becoming visible at the pedes of the Grey One and the Builder. It was some strange hound-like creature with four red optics, and it bore not the crest of the Predacon but of a Decepticon. Strange. Why was its crest different?
"Designation?" asked the Builder.
Designation? The other beast had a name? Why did the Predacon not have one of its own? Had it not earned one? Was it not worthy of a name yet? Surely it deserved one by now. But it could not ask for one. It knew not how to communicate in the strange language of its Builder. It had not been taught. It had tried to speak to the Devious Flier but it had not worked. No matter how hard it tried to communicate it could not. Would it not be taught? Was it only useful for hunting, for killing? No, no. Surely it would be Named soon.
A voice spoke over the common frequency used amongst the Decepticon ranks:
*You named me, Builder. Many thousands of years ago, before you sent me here to guard your resources, which I have done so dutifully. I am the black scourge of the battlefield. I am the phantom who rends apart those who oppose the Decepticons on this world or threaten our cause.*
*I am Ravage.*
Author's Note: Uh-oh...Say hello to Ravage everyone! Classic G1 character re-imagined as a true beast instead of a mini-con/cassetticon.
Slightly shorter chapter than my usual fare. But look – the Predacon's slowly getting smarter, starting to question things...;)
Also, I totally think Grim would've picked up a few useful skills from the Navajo. And yet another reason not to go f***ing with this bad-ass: he's got a lightning crossbow and scary good aim with it. I'll explain why he has it and he hasn't used it before now next chapter. ;3
Note to Ast: Ah, ah you kinda got lore mixed up here. Jack did not get the Matrix in the show. He got the Key, which is more like a back-up drive/access card to Vector Sigma. He did not get the Matrix itself. He was merely given a means of downloading the information stored on it and bringing it back. Not the same as actually getting it. "Honorary Prime" in Miko's own words is NOT the same as being an actual Prime.
