Fire of Youth

Chapter 21

*Note to Kaleia: I've done my homework here. Oh BOY have I done my homework. :D If you go do the same, you might catch a hint about the loyalties of each. And find that there aren't just two of them...because what other major civilization in Mesoamerica have I not mentioned? ;) I'm not spoiling it in this note, but if you know your ancient civilizations you'll know which one I'm talking about and you'll know which serpents are "good" and which are "bad." Hint: the culture was most well-known for sun worship. ;3

Note for Julien: Nah. Y'see, I'm making this quite different from Season 3. And the funny thing with Cybertronians is that, while they live a long time, they aren't immortal. They do age, just very slowly. And as for what he said to him...the good ol' glow stick often speaks in riddles that lack immediate clarity and have double meanings. Won't say any more than that. ;) The finale will be quite different in the end. I'm trying to keep this original. Which is why I keep some things but alter them significantly or simply change things altogether.

Oh and on a personal note: my summer math class got canceled out from under me due to lack of students, and they refuse to fully refund me. So...I guess I'm free for the rest of the summer? Maybe? Also, not cool jerks. Not cool. I'm forced to drop a class I expect ALL my money back. *growls* Worse? My new laptop charger doesn't work, but Dell is sending a techie to see if they can fix the issue. If not, I gotta ship it and the machine in a box I paid for, pay for shipping, and leave it at the Dell depot for almost 2 weeks.


"Uh, 'Jackie? What exactly do we do if we do find one of these snake guys in here?"

A shallow stream of water sloshed beneath them as the two walked single-file down its length. The ceiling occasionally dripped with condensation. The walls were cavern-like in spots but altered by man in others, feathered serpents observing them like sentinels with their stony eyes. Their only illumination came from their bright headlights. All else was darkness.

Wheeljack looked back at the carvings closely, looking for any sign the beast might be friendly to some degree. Some showed it as devouring men. That didn't quite ring true to him. Cybertronians survived solely on Energon. They didn't go eating organic life forms. Others showed it hovering above ancient humans, priests probably, mouth open. One solitary images showed it coiled about a pyramid, maw open in a silent scream. Mayan hieroglyphs flowed alongside the images but he had no idea what was being said. Were they stories of Kukulan? Maybe. Sure seemed that way for some of them at least. But others looked like they might be warnings to get the Pit out of there while they still the chance. This snake was not to be toyed with.

He had to wonder though: who had carved these images? If the antechamber they'd come from was a sacrificial pit then one would assume it was built to ensure no survivors. Those skulls sure confirmed that. Had the serpent...let them carve these images at some point? Because he kind of doubted that Kukulcan had done these images itself. Grim was an artist by hobby but that didn't mean every Pred was. Grim was a unique case in literally every way. This might connect with Jack's idea that the serpent was protective of those who showed it respect and quite simply violently territorial. There was a slim chance they could talk their way out of this – slim, but still a chance. A one percent chance was better than no chance.

"Don't tick it off?" he hazarded, glancing back.

Bulkhead gave him a deadpanning look. "...No, really. What do we do?"

"Bulk, we both know Preds are touchy. We both know that we're not the world's best negotiators. We're black ops, not diplomats. That's not a winning combo. So we better hope and pray this thing's dead. Or as nice as Grim. Which, considering our luck, is probably putting our hopes too high." he answered wryly.

The green Wrecker behind him didn't seem entirely satisfied but an answer was still an answer to him either way.

Both lapsed into silence as they went onward. From what the scanner was showing they were headed towards the other structure they'd found below ground. But still the scanner was having trouble identifying the structure itself and the energy signal discovered with it. The only thing showing for certain was the chip signal. With everything looking natural or human-made so far Wheeljack found himself asking what was causing the signal warping. It wasn't a signal jammer. In-built scrambling devices maybe to keep snoopy natives or Autobots away? Grim had built his own hologram projector to hide his lair. Had Kukulcan made them or had Shockwave supplied them?

The path declined a few degrees as they neared the second, larger structure. The water beneath them rushed a little faster. They came to a big stone double door far too big to be made for humans, a feathered serpent icon clambering up the door's seam with its four metal-coated wings folded to act like latches. Hung around its neck was the same Decepticon pendant they'd seen topside. Unlike the doorway they'd use to get here, there didn't seem to be a lever to open them, at least not one easily seen. It looked to have been sealed for some time.

Bulkhead frowned. "Look around. There's gotta be a way in or some kind of drainage system, otherwise the water'll have built up already."

Wheeljack nodded and set about examining the walls. Bulkhead went for the door. Those wings looked a lot like latches to him, and a closer look revealed that they were. In fact, the wings looked to have been added after the main carving. There were stone carved wings beneath them, but these were intended to act as real seals. How the locking mechanism was undone they'd have to find out if they wanted that chip and whatever else was in there with it. Examining the door, he got the sense of a locked vault – the kind of vault used to store things like nukes or magical artifacts in fantasy movies.

But was it locked to keep people like him and 'Jackie out?

Or to keep something else in?

Eyeing the carvings on the wall, the green Wrecker shivered a bit despite the humidity. He kind of didn't want to know the answer. He had half a mind to simply turn around and leave this place locked up. He felt they were messing with something they shouldn't be.


Decepticon Warship: Nemesis

Present Location: [REDACTED]

Local Time: 11:00 P.M

It did not understand the newcomer very well. It had not had time nor opportunity to interact with the pitch black canine stranger now roaming the halls of the ship it called home. With the Grey Flier constantly trying to train it with that blasted rod of his he rarely had the chance, and it could not ask any of the ship's crew. None could understand what it said. It knew only the other beast's name: "Ravage". That was what the midnight hound with the four red optics was called. It had heard the Builder discussing its presence and abilities with the Builder after it had been brought aboard and given to the Red Racer to be examined. Beyond that it knew very little. But it yearned to know more. Ravage had been on this strange world for far longer than it. Perhaps Ravage could offer advice. It would be happy to simply have another beast to converse with, one that understand what it was trying to say.

Holding a genuine conversation with someone was something it was also yearning for. The Decepticons acted so superior when around it but could not even understand one of their tribe mates. Hmph. So much for superiority. If they bothered to learn its language they would find its training much simpler. But they acted as if it couldn't speak at all.

It shifted its body in the launch bay used as its den, attempting to slip into power down. The Grey Flier had finished with it for the time being, so it was alone. Now its hide stung with electricity and pain. Anger bubbled in its spark, a spark it did not know was real or artificial, or if the spark was even its own at all. The anger was its though. It knew that. It did not want to fight back, as that would only cause trouble, but if the Flier refused to be gentler it would lash out to get the message across. All it had done so far was growl and breath fire.

As it tried to slip under, its attention wandered to the night sky. It was not often it could glimpse it, but the Grey Flier had left the bay door open as he had fled in fright. Alien stars twinkled in a velvety dark indigo-violet sky, their electromagnetic songs mostly unrecognized though somehow still soothing. Wispy clouds streamed by as the warship grumbled on, each turned to shimmering silver from the light of a full alien moon that hung in the skies.

'Why am I treated less? Why do they not understand I am speaking to them? Why...?'

This questioning was rather redundant as it had asked them before. But with another Predacon sharing airspace with it the need to have answers for these questions was growing.

The sound of a door hissing open followed by pedefalls entering the launch bays made its helm jerk up. It did not see another. There was a smell now though, one that it did not recognize as belonging to one of the crew. It let out an inquisitive screeching sound, tilting its helm around to try and absorb as much sound data as possible.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"Huh. Overheard chatter that there was another Pred aboard. Didn't believe 'em."

Its optics narrowed and it hissed dangerously. It rose, amber wings flaring in a threat. That was the same voice it had heard during its rare sojourn off the ship into that strange place of wet and green and grey and many, many scents recently. The air shimmered to reveal Ravage's inky black form, red optics glaring in the dark.

"Cool it, newbie. I'm not here to kill you. We're on the same side. Just stopped by to see if the chatter was true. Nice to meet another Pred. Haven't seen one for a long time. I thought all the Draconians on this planet had been killed off. Shockwave make you recently? Or did you manage to survive the Dragon Hunts?"

It hissed and said nothing. It wanted to speak but it was too tired and too sore to truly care about that right now.

"Silent type, huh? So, Builder give you a name yet?"

"No."

Ravage's audials pinned back. Onyx, and here he'd thought Shockwave was reticent. This guy made him look positively chatty. A whiff of ozone caught his attention before he could give an annoyed growl. He drew a few paces closer to get a better look at the Draconian. He was a touch surprised to see minor dents and dings and a few electrical burns on its body. No wonder the guy wouldn't talk to him. He was hurt.

"Scuffle with the 'Bots?"

"No."

The Draconian coiled its tail in front of its snout in obvious dismissal. Ravage got the message and turned tail towards the door, vanishing from sight. Guy would probably be a lot more talkative once he was recovered. Draconians were always tetchier when healing. He'd try tomorrow. If they were going to be on the same team he'd best get to know him, and that'd be easier if he wasn't determined to use monosyllables.

It watched the doors hissed open, shut. Shutting its yellow optics it once more set about trying to power down, regretting it had been a bit brusque. The ache just made conversation more painful. It could speak better once it felt better. It just had to hope Ravage would return to speak with it. It looked forward to speaking with the hound, learning from it. Surely Ravage had many experiences he could share with it. And what was this about the "Dragon Hunts?" It wanted to know more about that. The Builder had not mentioned anything of the sort to it. Was it...dangerous for a Predacon like it to be on this world, Autobots aside? Was there something else out there it needed to be wary of? If there was, why had the Builder not informed it?

Up in the corner of the main bay, a camera looked down into its bay. It did not see a red light on the device blink once. Then it went dark again.


"Running up against a wall" would be the perfect phrase to describe the situation the two Wreckers found themselves in.

They'd spent nearly twenty minutes searching for a means past the door. They'd even tried to yank the wing locks open. But no matter how much strength they used, no matter how much effort they poured into it, the door remained shut. It hadn't even budged by a micro-meter. Whoever had set up this door either really didn't want anyone getting in or had built it in such a way that brute force wasn't going to get them in. Regardless, Bulkhead gave one final yank on the bottom right wing as Wheeljack stood back. The feathered metal limb groaned but it remained in its place.

"It's no use, Bulk. Slagging thing won't budge. There's gotta be another way to open it."

Reluctantly the green Wrecker drew back, annoyed and stumped. "Any bright suggestions, then?"

Wheeljack stepped back up to the door to get a second look. He'd seen something like this before once, and he'd seen something like this in that Indiana Jones movie Miko had shown him. He knew they weren't solving this by being impatient or flaunting their strength. This was...some kind of a puzzle door. Question then became: were there any hints around them that might help them figure out how to get it open? Something to do with the writing and the images on the walls maybe? Or something they'd seen before, outside?

"Might be a security measure to keep brainless looters out. Also, since we're dealing with a beast labeled as a god it might also be to keep the unworthy out. This is a test, I think. I think we have to show we're smart, not just strong."

Bulkhead got the feeling his pal was going somewhere with this. "And...?" he prompted.

A light went off in the white Wrecker's processor as he looked at the snitched scanner in his hand. He began toying with it as he spoke, scanning its hard drive for anything that might relate to this particular beast, its location, and the sealed door. As he searched the device he managed to find a translator. Bulkhead watched his friend scan the Mayan writing on the walls and the door itself, the broad violet beam sweeping over the ancient hieroglyphs. He tapped the scanner a few times as if to incite it to translate faster, a grin forming on his lip-plates. He knew better than to interrupt him now. He was in full-on investigator mode – and very, very pleased with himself.

"Ha. Knew it. Shockwave had a cheat sheet. Check it out."

He held up the scanner, pointed the beam onto the door, and displayed the translated hieroglyphs:

Serpents three watched the lands

Kukulcan the warrior, bringer-of-death, turned against his own

Here he was sealed with his demon-horned brand

Never again to seat his throne

"Hah! Nice one 'Jackie!" cried Bulkhead. "But, uh...w-what's it mean?"

"Workin' on it."

He knew the words were a kind of sealing writ and warning all rolled into one. What the writ implied was even more interesting to him: Kukulcan wasn't the only feathered serpent out there – he was one of three. Could he be one of a Trine of serpents, Quetzalcoatl as the second and another, unnamed one as the third? Kukulcan was also viewed as a traitor for "turning on his own." That was less clear. Did that mean he turned on the Maya or on his beast Trine? Both? Either could warrant his being sealed away, but that also meant Shockwave hadn't been the one to build this bunker or tomb or whatever this was supposed to be. Someone else had. And he refused to believe the Maya had done it on their own. There was no way they could've built something this complicated without outside help. There was also no way Kukulcan could've been defeated and put here by the Maya either. Capturing and sealing away a beast that size who was that powerful would be impossible for even a whole army of armed Maya. Even if they'd called on help from other cultures it still would've been next to impossible.

So did that mean help had come from one of the other two serpents? Or from some other party? Could this place have been built before this – had it really acted as a place to live for Kukulcan – and simply refurbished as a prison for the snake?

"...Sealed with his demon-horned brand..." he muttered. That sounded very familiar.

Wheeljack's optics focused on the carved necklace the door-bound serpent wore around its neck. It looked a lot like the one they'd seen topside in the other ruined structure that had opened the hidden passage. So maybe the same idea...?

He drew up to the door, braced himself, and pressed down on the carved pendant. He drew back quickly as it sank into an indentation behind it. Moments later came a low, bone-jarring grinding sound that made the earth around them tremble. The carved serpent's wings began to unfurl, revealing the rest of its serpentine body clambering up the door seam. When they were fully unfurled the doors began to grumble apart. Fine debris rained from above as ancient mechanisms long dormant activated once more. A wash of colder air swept over them, damp and long stale.

The white Wrecker drew his katanas once more. "Come on. But take it slow. We don't wanna tick this thing off if it's still online. I'm not sure if the kid can manage against a beast like this. Pit, I'm not sure the whole team combined could deal with this thing."

"Right behind ya." Out came the spiked maces.

They stalked into the gloom. Each tried to be as quiet as possible, but not really holding out hope they wouldn't be heard. Thanks to the kid, Grim, and Prowl's report after the encounter with the Gwyllgi they knew Preds had spectacular hearing compared to them. If the beast in here was still alive it probably already knew they were there. They were really hoping the beast was no longer alive. If it was still kicking...they were probably screwed. Could the doc even get a 'bridge down here with the place warping signals like there was no mañana? At least they wouldn't go down without a fight...

Through the dark, they could see the chamber itself was massive in scale but rather worn from age. Their headlights couldn't even reach the far side. They shut them off to keep cover, relying on infrared vision – even then it was hard to see. Still, the place was in surprisingly good condition from what they could see. Bulkhead had to admit he was impressed – and more than a little suspicious. Buildings wore down if not kept in good shape. This place looked more or less the same as it had back when the Maya had still been around. That wasn't a good sign to him. Somebody was keeping the chamber from crumbling. He turned to see the other side of the door and he was even less encouraged when he saw what looked like...oh boy...that wasn't a good sign...

"Uh...'Jackie?" he prompted.

Wheeljack was on the east side of the chamber. He glanced over at him: "Yeah?"

He merely pointed at the wall he was looking at. Two glowing blue orbs widened.

"Whoa...Are those...?"

Marring the south wall and what little showed of the open stone doors were hundreds of slashed indentations. Wheeljack judged them as coming from either thick, serrated claws like Grim's or Infernus's or some kind of sharp, heavy-handed weapon like an ax or maybe a spear head. This beast had tried repeatedly to get out...but it'd never managed. That meant it was still in here. So where...? The white Wrecker checked the scanner once more. Bulkhead wandered around the chamber as he did so. Signal warping was pretty bad in here but the signal was there. The blip was still there and it wasn't moving. It was right over...

"Bulk. Don't. Move." Wheeljack cautioned. "Look behind you. Carefully."

The green Wrecker turned slowly. Lying there, still as the grave and rusted almost beyond recognition, was a massive mech easily the size of a combiner, very tall and a bit on the skinny side of lanky. Metallic feathers, mostly rusted off, adorned his arms and legs, an elaborate helm crest resembling a headdress giving him a primal, savage, yet somehow regal appearance. On his chest, up closer towards his neck, was an easily recognizable horned crest: Decepticon. Beside him lay a gigantic spear, the tip practically rusted off, the head worn down from constant use. His mouth was formed into a snarl of pain, perhaps anger as well. But the rust was all the evidence Bulkhead needed.

"He's dead, 'Jackie." he said.

Wheeljack drew closer to examine the body with him. His colors were long since faded, but their now re-activated headlights revealed splotches of a once vibrant green and red color scheme with flecks of gold as accents. Not exactly colors associated with a villain or traitor. Then again, he hadn't turned right away. But...why had the serpent turned against his own?

"What killed him?" Bulkhead wondered. "I don't see any wounds on him."

"Got a guess. Not pretty."

Bulkhead remained silent, waiting for his friend to answer.

"He was sealed in here, Bulk. Probably with only a minimal supply of Energon. For a mech this size that's pretty much a death sentence. When that supply ran out he tried escaping, burning up the Energon he had left in his systems –"

"And he never got out." Bulkhead finished. Realization dawned on him then. "He starved to death. Aw, man. That's a bad way to go."

They knelt there in silence for a while. It was much better to die at the tip of a sword or from a blaster round. That way it was over with quickly. Death by energy starvation was one of the worst ways to die. It was slow, it was painful. You'd get weaker and weaker until you couldn't even stand, couldn't even move your body, with still enough left to keep vital systems going. And eventually, that'd get burned up, too. Not even stasis stopped it, just slowed it. That was a death not even hardened black ops soldiers like them would wish on anyone. That was torture, pure and simple.

"What about the signal you're getting?" Bulkhead asked after a moment more of silence. "What is it? Where's it coming from?"

Wheeljack rose, headed for the titan's helm, and held the scanner to the body. He walked down the body's length, coming to a stop near the chest. He tossed the scanner to his friend and clambered up. He knew where the signal was coming from – the crest. Or more accurately, beneath it. Obvious place to hide it. Hey, guy was dead. Not like he'd mind getting opened up at any rate. It was for a good cause. So he drove one of his katanas into the rusted chassis, carving around the crest. The rust made it easier, having left the armor brittle. Soon a small gap was made in the Predacon's armor. Inside was a little flat hexagonal piece of metal with wires weaving on it. A tiny violet light shone dimly on the small device. He reached in and retrieved it.

"Got it. Looks like some kinda micro chip."

He jumped down, stowing the katana. He turned to the doors.

"Let's get this back to the doc and –"

But he stopped cold at what he saw in the doorway. Bulkhead saw it, too.

A mech stood there, a titan who resembled the body in the chamber. But the colors where different as were aspects of his design. He was somewhat heftier in build than Kukulcan, more resembling a powerful warrior king. His colors were brighter, consisting of bronzes, eggshell whites, and reds. Shimmering coppery-red optics bored through the darkness at them. The stranger bore the same metal feathered headdress as the body. In one hand was held a great ax. A pair of massive wings were folded behind it.

"¿Cómo se atreve a ingresar en terrenos ajenos aquí?" hissed the newcomer in a powerful voice that bubbled with venom. The hand gripping the ax tightened. A growling hiss escaped his vocalizer.

They took a step back. Wheeljack instinctively drew his katanas, anticipating a fight. Bulkhead was slightly less trigger happy with his own maces. This was not someone they wanted to tangle with. He could tell that just by looking at him. That ax would make ribbons of them both as it crushed them. If their fight with the bronze dragon was any hint they'd probably do even worse against this guy. Not only was he bigger, he also seemed smarter. But that intelligence might be their saving light. If they could reason with the mech...

'Oh, sure. That'll happen when Optimus comes back to life.' a part of him deadpanned.

Because like it or not, Wheeljack was right – they were Wreckers, black ops soldiers. They were not diplomats. They were trained to get in, eliminate or secure the targets, cripple the enemy in the process if they could, then get the hell back to base. Under those terms this could only end in tears. They didn't stand a chance against a beast this size. It'd be smarter to just abandon ship...but the beast mech was blocking their only way out. If they tried to flee they'd probably get killed. Staying here with their weapons drawn probably wasn't doing much to get him chummy with them either. They could try to call in for an assist but the Pred would no doubt catch on and get mad at them. But it was worth a shot. Better shot than the door anyway. Infernus had managed with Grim, so they had to hope Infernus could manage with this beast, too.

The white Wrecker raised a hand to his right audial to open a comm. channel back to base. He spoke as calmly and quietly as he could manage. "We could use some help here, kid...We got company. And he ain't lookin' pleased with us."

It was not a good sign when the growling hiss increased in volume, the ax rising with it. Beast spoke Spanish but he seemed to understand English, too. Or maybe he recognized the set of motions made by a 'bot when they radioed for outside help to come. Which could mean they were both about to die very painful deaths. Now he and Bulk had to hope the signal warping didn't mess with outside comms. But before they could receive an answer, the towering Predacon approached them, ax in hand. A low frequency growl made the stale air around them vibrate.


Razorplume was unlike his brother youngest brother who lay dead in the chamber. He did not rush into a situation in a blind, berserker frenzy as his brother had been so apt to do. As the second oldest of the Serpent Trine he understood the value of analyzing a situation twice or three times over to prevent miscommunication. He still listened to the sage advice of his oldest brother Sunwarden, whom the ancient native Inca had dubbed Viracocha, who still lived deep beneath the mountains of Peru.

But it was hard to be lenient when this was the sight that met him: two Autobots in the tomb of his dead brother, his body tampered with, and their weapons drawn. The faction meant little to him. He had cut ties with his Decepticon masters after centuries of no communication with them. He could care less about factions at this point in his life, disconnected as he was from them. But no matter the politics, he still cared about his dead brother despite what he had become. Desecration was a crime punishable by death in his culture. To disturb the dead was an affront on par with murder.

Still, the ancient Predacon codes of honor demanded he at least hear them out. They were here for a reason, not because they were criminals or looters, though it certainly seemed that way. And they spoke the English tongue.

"What are you doing here, Autobots? What brought you to trespass in this place of pain and death?"

He saw both of the Autobots exchange nervous glances, but there was some relief in them as well.

"Ah...before we answer that, could we get a name first? Just to make this easier on us both?" asked the green Autobot. He could smell the fear on him and his ally.

He stifled a growl, feeling they were avoiding the question. But it only made sense to exchange designations. He lowered the ax. At the least they were being civil with him. That was more than he could say of others.

"I am known by the natives as Quetzalcoatl, but my spark-name is Razorplume. Now tell me – what brought you here and what do you think you are doing desecrating my brother's tomb and body?" he growled. "If you fail to convince me this will become your tomb as well. I do not tolerate such foul behavior or deeds. Speak!"


Author's Note: Slightly shorter than my usual fare here but I've not had as much time to write since I'm reduced to using the family desktop. I: Meaning in short I can't write nonstop for hours on end.

Update: Laptop is fixed and good as new! Better even! Also, little note: Technically the name Razorplume is Foxbear's, so yeah. Name belongs to her. Credit goes to her. Just using it for the story. Couldn't find a cannon name to fit this guy. Airrazor was an option for him, but eh. Just didn't sound good enough.