Fire of Youth

Chapter 22


The Serpent's warning echoed around the chamber like a war horn's call, a threatening yet valorous sound. He remained in the doorway like a great guard dog, ax at his side and copper-red optics watching them. This really was someone to fear – yet he was also someone to respect. That he hadn't attacked them so far was a good sign. The beast wanted an explanation for their presence, and dead mechs offered no answers. Still, that glare in his copper-red optics warned them of the lethal consequences if they failed to explain convincingly why they were both there and desecrating the corpse of one of his Trine mates.

"I am waiting." Razorplume prompted in a growl. "My patience has its limits, Autobots. Speak, before it grows too thin."

Both Autobots a bit shakily introduced themselves. The green one was known as Bulkhead and the white one was Wheeljack. They were Wreckers. At that a growl escaped the titan in the doorway. He knew of these Wreckers. Shockwave had uploaded basic information about them to his creations should they ever encounter them. They were a specialized black ops team who worked outside the typical chain of command. If Shockwave's reports were true, honor was something quite foreign to them. Yet...these two did not act ruthless, Bulkhead in particular. Aside from their Wrecker affiliation they seemed...rather decent, circumstances aside.

Razorplume frowned slightly. Introductions now out of the way, it was time to begin with the real questions: "Why are you here? What is it you were after? You will not find Energon nor weapons here. All you will find in this place is death."

Wheeljack and Bulkhead shared glances. The white Wrecker then produced an odd little device small enough to fit in his open palm. In the darkness the little violet light on it blinked on and off a bit unsteadily. The Serpent's large optics focused on it curiously, one brow ridge rising. He did not recognize it. The blinking light though reminded him a little too much of a bomb timer ticking down. But he could detect no chemicals inside it that might indicate an explosive double nature. Were the chemicals simply undetectable? Or was this something entirely different? It was emitting some sort of signal.

"Don't take our word for this 'cause we're not sure, but we got reason to believe this is some sorta tracker chip. Thinkin' you might have one, too. Think that's how he's findin' beasts so easy. Shockwave's goin' around collecting dead beasts so he can clone them. And then he'll use them to wipe out us and help Megatron take over the planet. I think this is kind of a given, but we're not about to let that happen. So we're trying to beat him at his own game."

The Serpent's optics widened. The Builder was reviving the dead, just as he had in the past? He was bringing them all back? Then that meant...He looked over at the rusted corpse in the chamber, pain twinging in his spark. It would be wonderful to have his youngest brother back but...Razorplume sighed in mild agony. The risk was too great. Divebomb was too volatile, too powerful for either side to control. Reviving him would only spell disaster for both parties. This world had changed him into something despicable and dangerous. He had lost his sense of honor, transforming into a violent, dark mirror of his former self. He sighed again softly, shaking his helm, then returned his focus to the Wreckers. The pain was still fresh even after almost four centuries, the emptiness in his spark still present.

That was why he was so affronted that these two strangers had the gall to come in and desecrate his brother's corpse. Cruel as Divebomb had become, he did not deserve to be torn open to further a war effort he had long lost interest in.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead kept up with their explanations. The reason they thought it a tracker chip was because of a group of Vehicon troopers topside at a ruin that connected to this place. Bulkhead had overheard the words "chip signal" when eavesdropping.

"You may have one, too. If you don't want Shockwave buggin' ya, get rid of it if you haven't already."

Razorplume offered a wry smile and told them that there had only been one signal found by the troops, yes? That was because he and Sunwarden had never been outfitted with one that he remembered. That was why he didn't recognize the device. So long as Shockwave knew where one brother was, he could manipulate that one to find the location of the others. That, and to begin with they never strayed far from each other. The Builder had no doubt not anticipated them being hundreds, even thousands of klicks apart. But he preferred it that way; less of a chance of the Builder finding them again.

The two mechs blinked at that. He didn't want to work for the 'Cons? He'd switched sides?

"No. I obey no side now. I merely wish to protect this place, this region, and my only living brother from harm. We are warriors, Wrecker, but we no longer wish to wage war. I defend and teach. My brother teaches only. He is old now, no longer in his prime. He slumbers to this day beneath the area known now as Peru. We simply want to be left in peace, but we will defend our respective territories should anyone trespass. I will not let the Builder revive Divebomb. You can be certain of that."

Wheeljack winced. Well, that wasn't exactly shaking hands. That probably applied to both factions. If 'Bots came in this area they'd be torn apart. If 'Cons came in they'd be torn apart. Funny though – Bulk had mentioned cartels were a bit of a problem in this part of the world. Did the Serpents only defend against threats against themselves then? Or, and here was a possible kicker – did they not know about them? No one had ever reported seeing a giant flying snake in the area. Had they been in stasis this whole time, and had their trespassing woken the titan in the doorway somehow? That's how some of Shocky's labs on Cybertron had worked. He'd place Insecticon sentinels to act as guards, and if anyone tripped the security measures they would wake up and kill the intruders.

He cleared his vocalizer a bit awkwardly and apologized for messing with the body. He hadn't really realized Predacons held such respect for the dead. He'd tried to keep the damage to a minimum, emphasis of "tried." Hopefully the opening in him wasn't big enough to bother him. He wasn't encouraged when the titan glowered at him and growled, his hand clenching around the handle of his ax. Whoops. Wrong thing to say.

"Uh...W-What's the story with the guy any way?" Bulkhead asked warily. "That carving out there said he went traitor. Who'd he turn on? Why? I thought Preds were all about the whole loyalty gig. Y'know unless they got a really, really good reason to go to the other side."

Razorplume's gaze lifted to once more look at the rusted corpse. The Wreckers were stunned to see any harshness in his countenance melt away, replaced by deep, poignant sadness. He ran the ax head into the stone of the door's threshold, preventing easy egress. He did not want them leaving just yet. He came towards them, the ground trembling under his titanic weight. They wanted answers and so answers they would receive. They had successfully convinced him their purpose here was relatively harmless. They deserved to know at the very least. They could take this sorry tale as a warning lesson when dealing with the less savory individuals of his species. Not all were civil. Many in fact considered Cybertronians like Wheeljack and Bulkhead as hapless bocadillo.

He knelt by the body for a moment, then began to speak:

"I do not hazard to guess what little you know of my race, Autobots. I will tell you now that we are hunters by nature. In the distant past, before the Cataclysm, we hunted others to obtain their Energon when it was not readily available on our homeworld. If the Builder's information is to be believed, we also apparently hunted your infant race, nearly into extinction. While I am nothing more than an echo of who I was then, I admit I...see things in my dreams. Echos. I know somehow it is me, yet not me. Memories that are mine, yet not mine." He shuttered his optics.

Memories flashed before his mind's optic. The rush of wind and the soft rattling of metallic feathers and wings. Beside him flew two other Serpents who did not resemble his own brothers. Hunger glinted in their optics as they scanned the land below for prey. Far beneath them a group of unusual looking mechs and a femme wandered, ones who did not bear resemblance to his kind. Their armor was not as dense and they lacked fangs and claws. An updraft of wind brought the sweet, tempting smell of hot Energon to the giant hunters. They hissed at one another, exchanging greedy glances.

His optics snapped open again. He had seen that echo many times. The aftermath was not something he enjoyed seeing, but for a while some deep part of him had struggled against his natural hunting instinct. He would not become a ravenous savage. Thankfully Sunwarden had helped him fight back against the echoes. He too suffered from them, but it was part of who they were he said. Better to accept the past than fight it needlessly. They were not hunters, not any longer. They were lords, teachers, and noble warriors to the little natives of this planet. Why could they not be so to themselves as well?

But Divebomb had been too much a warrior, his echoes too strong. Thus, he had become a cazador: a Hunter.

"While our echos and instincts quelled in time, Divebomb's – the one you know as Kukulcan – only surged. He became more aggressive, more territorial as time passed. The culture I assisted, the Aztec, soon began to see me in a similar light, but I did my best to oppose their lethal rituals. He never hunted the natives thankfully, as they offered no sustenance, but he did hunt the small numbers of Cybertronians who stayed here sporadically in the past, even hunting fellow beasts in the region small enough for him to consume. A few came after one too many hunts to plead with him to leave them be. They wanted no conflict with him or us – they simply wanted to survive and avoid the atrocity of the Great War. Divebomb made it seem he agreed...and then he hunted each member of the group. My eldest brother and I were left with no other choice but to put him down."

'The picture on the door.' Wheeljack realized. 'He wasn't devouring a human. He was devouring a 'Bot! Primus! It was a warning for us!'

Memories more recent took shape. The three serpents screamed and hissed in the skies over the Temple of Kukulcan, writing and biting at one another with their fangs. Below, three Neutrals watched the battle from the ground with the gathered Maya who watched in dismay and awe-struck terror at the sight above. A few wailed that the end of days had come. Another Predacon of the Mayan region Divebomb had guarded, a lizard-like mech whom the natives had taken to calling Itzamna, stood atop one of the great step pyramids with a glittering bow, an arrow tipped with a powerful nerve poison he could produce naturally. He had once been loyal to Divebomb, even befriending him. But when the fierce guardian had become the ravenous hunter, he had understood the threat. A beast gone feral could not see to his mission, could not effectively tend to his territory.

When a split second window opened above him he drew back the energy string...and fired.

The arrow whisked up into the skies, narrowly avoiding the hides of Sunwarden and Razorplume, and soundly buried itself into Divebomb's mid-section. The youngest of the Serpent Trine let out a rasping scream at the pain the embedded weapon produced. Seizing the opportunity, the two older Serpents bore down on him, ensuring his earth-shaking fall. The ground itself trembled when the titan landed. He thrashed helplessly for a bit, tail destroying a portion of the temple with one swish. Soon he went still.

"We debated simply rehabilitating him, teaching him to control his hunting urges." Razorplume explained softly. "But Sunwarden – known to the Inca as Viracocha – said that it might be too late for that. I trust his judgement far more than my own. He said Divebomb had sunken too far into the past to be pulled out. So...we decided instead to imprison him. It was a cruel lesson my brother learned through him. We gave him enough Energon to survive if he used it wisely, even donating some of our to begin with. But when the reserves began to dwindle around the time the conquistadors arrived we could no longer offer our own, and we needed to help the people of our regions as well as we could without revealing ourselves. We failed on both accounts. Our cultures died away, and when we went to check on Divebomb after they had left the region, which unfortunately took far too long for our liking, we came in and found him clinging to life by a thread."

The two remaining Serpents knelt by the body of their dying Trine mate. The air within the chamber seemed weighted, heavy. Divebomb's air cycles were slow and shallow, his body nearly devoid of the energy it needed to keep functioning. Craving flashed in his optics on scenting the fresh fuel in their bodies. He tried to rise but couldn't. Life-giving energy within arm's reach but he would never have it.

"Proud...now?" he hissed weakly. "Condemning...one of...your own?"

Sunwarden put a hand on him. Pain swam in his pale gold optics. "We never wanted it to come to this, little brother. But you proved yourself unable carry on. A beast gone feral is a danger to all. You gave in to the Past and the Old Hunger."

"Can't we help him?" Razorplume pleaded. Seeing him like this was painful in a way words failed to describe. His spark cried out to the dimming light in his youngest brother's chassis. He recieved only a whimper of what had once been a fiery, powerful soul.

Divebomb's air cycles suddenly came faster as he felt some of his non-vital systems shut down. Panic quite un-befitting of a beast of his status coursed through him. He did not want to die. Death was for the prey, not the Hunter. To have his death be so ignoble and, yes, humiliating was just adding salt into the wound. A Hunter did not deserve to die like this. He deserved to die in a thrill of power and glory. But he felt more systems, vital and non-vital dim to permanent inactivity. His vision blurred.

Sunwarden muttered an old blessing in the Predacon language. It was old Predacon belief that a beast would not go to the Allspark, but to Onyx's personal realm known simply as the Hunting Grounds. There, they could hunt to their spark's content until the very stars in the sky went cold under the eternal watch of the First Beast. For a hunter like Divebomb this would be a paradise. But he personally wished to see the true realm of the dead when his count of days finally ended, the one open to all so long as they were in harmony with the core: the Allspark.

"Slag...you...to the Pit!" Divebomb snarled as he finished, helm rising an inch off the stony ground.

It fell back with a faint thud. His optics dimmed to black, and he did not move again. Razorplume and Sunwarden said their farewells. They then left the chamber and sealed it. The great door shut with a heavy sounding thud, and the metal wing locks folded into place. Every year the middle Serpent would come to the tomb to maintain it and pay his respects.

Razorplume could still hear that great door's sealing echo to this very day. Every time he came to tend to the tomb, every time those great doors opened and closed, it was just a haunting reminder of the fact that he had helped to kill one of his own Trine mates.


There was about a five minute's silence as all the information sank in. The titan remained by the body, helm bowed, optics shuttered. He truly was a noble warrior king. Infernus would've liked this guy.

"Wow. That sucks." Bulkhead summed up lamely.

Wheeljack was a bit curious though. Divebomb had seemed a pretty intelligent type of mech like the his two brothers; he'd just been more impulsive and volatile. So either he was just weak-willed compared to his Trine mates...or something had pushed him to go over the edge, to return to his former state of a savage hunter. Or maybe even someone had done so. He knew as well as the rest of the team the dangerous horror that slumbered miles beneath their pedes. He wouldn't put it past Unicron to toy with a volatile Decepticon in the hopes of adding a kamikaze predator to his arsenal of puppets. Funny though – Razorplume hadn't mentioned Dark Energon or Unicron. Looked like he believed his theory of old instinct overriding any civility. Wheeljack wasn't so sure.

His green friend hesitated, then asked: "So...we can take the chip, right?"

"I want no more part in this war of yours, Autobot. Do what you will with it. But I repeat you will not be adding me or my brother to your ranks. We wish to be left alone. If anyone trespasses here or in my brother's territory, we will be indiscriminate. Faction matters little. All are invaders."

That hammered the final nail into the coffin of possible support from the twin serpents. Another potential ally to fight Megatron's growing Predacon army was lost. Razorplume rose and went over to tug his ax free of the ground, thus opening the way out. Silently he motioned for them to leave. They made their way towards the great stone doors. To their surprise though, the titan followed them out after a moment's pause, sealing the doors behind them.

"You will not be able to leave without my help." he explained. "I will do you that one courtesy."

"Oh. Thanks."

The three walked in silence until they reached the watery antechamber with the altar and the skulls. There they beheld the privileged of seeing the great beast transform. His limbs folded in and vanished, his wings shifting position and unfurling. In moments the antechamber was holding a massive egg-shell white and bronze serpent with vibrant red geometric accents along his body, his lower half coiled in the cool water. His metal feathers and headdress seemed far more fitting in this shape than in his mech form. Really, it was a wonder he fit in the place at all, but somehow he managed. The Serpent then lowered his plumed helm and hissed at them both.

Unable to understand Predacon, both mechs brought out their weapons instinctively. Was this some sort of double cross?

Razorplume eyed them severely and shook his helm, then lifted it up towards the opening, then lowered it back down.

"You...you want us to get on?" Wheeljack hazarded, releasing the grip on his katanas. "You're gonna lift us up or something?"

He recieved a nod in reply before stretching his wings. He was not quite tall enough to do as the white Wrecker suggested, so he instead would ferry them up to the surface. He let them clamber on to positions a few helms down from his neck. Once certain they were hanging on, he spread his wings and spiraled upwards. The late afternoon skies drew nearer and nearer. The trip was short, less than fifteen seconds. He flew out of the opening, arced around, and came to rest on the jungle floor. He let his passengers off.

"Uh...thanks. Y'know. For not maiming us." said Wheeljack.

"We'll do our best not to tick you off again." added Bulkhead.

Razorplume bowed his helm and, unleashing a hissing scream, rocketed upwards into the skies. To their astonishment his massive form shimmered like a mirage to be replaced with that of a fairly regularly sized privately owned plane labeled with the Aeromexico logo. Now that was a trick they hadn't anticipated. Had Shockwave outfitted each snake with a hologram generator, or had they implemented them themselves? If they squinted they could just make out the fluxing holographic field around it, but it was barely noticeable. By the time a minute and a half had ticked by, Razorplume was gone from sight, lost to the distance. Judging by his heading, he was headed southward.

Bulkhead lifted a hand to one of his audials: "Hey, Ratch? We need a 'bridge home." He looked at the still faintly blinking chip in 'Jackie's hand. "We got a present for you."

"And one heck of a story." Wheeljack added.


Infernus bounded in from outside the moment he heard the tell-tale whoosh of the groundbridge. Thanks to some help from Mark, Adrian, Katelyn, and Grimwing, he'd actually more or less forgotten about the Wreckers and his anxiety for a time. Well, okay that was kind of a lie – he'd forgotten about his anxiety, not the Wreckers. But it had been nice for once to not worry himself into blind panic. He'd been sinking into that habit lately. Worry wasn't productive – but fighting it was. He'd left the Thunderbird in their care for the time being. He trusted him to stay out of trouble around them.

He found Bulkhead and Wheeljack still pretty well covered in muck. He couldn't resist grinning a bit. Poor guys needed a hose down. He was even happy to note that none bore injuries. They looked...actually, they looked fine. He was honestly surprised at that. Had there been no living beast to fight? Or had it been polite enough not to maim them? The second one'd just label them as stupidly lucky. Ratchet hadn't gotten any communications from them once they'd started exploring the antechamber...so what had happened?

"Got a present for ya, doc."

Wheeljack smirked, held up a strange little hexagonal, flat device with a faintly blinking violet light, and waggled it in the medic's direction. Ratchet's previously irritated expression at the unwanted nickname was replaced with surprise. Intrigue soon joined it.

Miko pounced on the strange find in an instant. She rushed over to the railings and leaned over excitedly. "Cool! What is it?! Some kinda smart bomb?"

Jack and Raf looked at the device, then exchanged puzzled glances. Something told them it wasn't a weapon but something far more useful.

"Give it here, give it here." Ratchet motioned. "Let's see what it is you found."

Still smirking, Wheeljack approached and flicked the device over to him like a coin. The medic caught it a bit clumsily, tossing him a glare that plain as day told him not to do that again or he'd murder him himself and hide the body where no one would ever find it. This merely earned him a bigger smirk. He glanced around to see Infernus glowering at the white Wrecker with a playful smile, earning a loud chuckle from Bulkhead. That look alone, while friendly, was a warning for him not to push his luck with Ratchet too much.

The medic set about examining the strange little device, holding it up to his optic to get a better look. "Hmm..."

"What? What is it?" Arcee demanded. She, and frankly everyone there, had never seen anything quite like it before.

"I don't know what I was expecting you two to bring back, but I certainly wasn't expecting anything like this." Ratchet looked at the Wreckers quizzically. "You're lucky this hangar has electromagnetic shielding. We'd have Decepticons knocking down our doors in minutes if we didn't."

*It's some kinda tracker chip or something?* whistled the resident scout.

Ratchet nodded, explaining it was, more accurately, a sub-mesh micro-chip. It might explain Shockwave's ease in locating beasts whether they were alive or dead. All he had to do was activate the chip, tap into the signal, and follow it.

He turned back to the Wreckers: "I assume you found this in the antechamber or someplace beyond it? We lost contact with you after a point."

Each Wrecker exchanged glances.

"Eh, n-not exactly..." Bulkhead began.

Together they explained what had occurred once field-to-base communications had gone to the Pit. Ultra Magnus looked stunned to hear of their success in avoiding a fight with such a beast, even if they had walked a thin line to begin with. That further cemented these beasts were intelligent and some were inherently civil. Perhaps they adhered to some variety of social code? He'd never read of them having done so, but he was no archivist. He would ask Grimwing. He might know. He certainly was civil and honorable.

Infernus looked pained but understanding of Razorplume's decision. Being forced to kill a Trine mate because they'd essentially gone rabid was bound to hurt in a lot of ways. The lesson Divebomb had been taught was a harsh one, but he kind of got why they'd chosen to teach it that way. Depriving someone of whatever it was they craved was supposed to help teach control through abstinence. He hadn't actually been cut off completely though; he'd had a supply that, if used in moderation, could last him a long time. Divebomb had not taken the lesson to spark, and it had killed him in the end. It served to remind the young Prime that beasts were very different from them; that, though civil and honorable and intelligent, they were still much more savage, more primal than they were.

"So does that mean he's gonna join the 'Cons?" Jack asked.

Bulkhead looked up at him: "No. Guy made it pretty clear he wouldn't be a gun for either side. Just wants to be left alone. Same goes for his brother, Sunwarden or Viracocha or whatever you wanna call 'im. Anyone, 'Bot, 'Con, goes onto his turf without permission, he'll...I guess do what any territorial beastie would do: kill 'em or chase 'em off. Guy wants nothing to do with the war anymore. Dunno about his bro, but I think he might be the same."

"Aww!" Miko and Bluestreak whined in unison.

"Still..." Ultra Magnus hemmed. "It might be best that beasts of their caliber remain neutral. Neither side can make use of them then. If we stay out of the region and the Decepticons do not, they might indirectly assist us by dealing with the invaders."

"Uh, do you have any idea how many potential Preds are in Central and South America, sir?" Raf chirped up from behind his laptop. He'd been looking in to a lot of the Aztec, Mayan, and Incan deities and the sheer number of them that might be Predacons was dizzying. Some were beasts, some were half-beasts, some had the shape of a man and the shape of an animal. Some even had multiple beast shapes or were a conglomeration of two beasts. It was a menagerie of weird.

"Be that as it may, at least in these two beasts territories we needn't worry about Decepticon interference. They will keep them away from the region for us, even if they are not allied with us."

Raf blinked. "Oh." That made sense.

"Any 'Con activity in El Paso and Scotland since we last checked?" Infernus asked, changing the subject.

Ratchet shook his helm. No. However that didn't mean they weren't already at the Scotland site. They could be beneath the bluffs, thus invisible to the satellite scanners. There was no activity in Texas but that could change in anywhere from minutes to an hour or so depending on how far the warship was from the location and whether or not they would use the groundbridge. Even though they had far more resources they would not use them wantonly, especially now that they were allocating more to another project. In fact, they could have been to any number of underground sites by now, and they would be none the wiser.

Infernus muttered a curse. Frigging fantastic. Of course, a lot of these beasts probably had underground or nicely hidden dens, some of which might even be shielded against radar.

"But..."

All optics and eyed riveted on Ratchet in an instant.

"I might be able to hijack the frequency Shockwave uses to find beasts. Maybe then we'll stand more of a fighting chance. We wouldn't be able to get a head start per say because Shockwave has to activate the micro-chip's signal out of its 'idle' state, as he did here, but at least then we might be on equal footing then."

"Now that we can work with."

"It will take some time however. I have to be sure Shockwave can't trace the hijacked signal, and we all know how thorough he can be. If he can trace it, it could lead the entirety of the Decepticon forces to our front doorstep."

*You just gotta be a killjoy, don't you?* buzzed the scout. *Still, I guess no risk, no reward. Right?*

"Precisely. But I will do what I can to make that risk marginal at best. In the meantime – Bulkhead, Wheeljack. Get cleaned up. I'd rather not have mud and the like getting all over my equipment. I don't think Bryce would be happy with you mucking up the hangar as a whole, either. And put that deep-pulse scanner back where it belongs before you break it. It's too useful to get smashed to pieces by any sort of carelessness or roughhousing that I know you are so apt to do."

Wheeljack blinked, looked more than a tad offended, and appealed to Infernus for an assist: "What? You're not gonna defend me?"

The Primeling looked to consider for a moment. But soon enough a playful smirk formed and he shook his helm. "Nope."

"Oh come on!"

"No. Ratchet's got a point. Also, I could pull rank on you. You want me to do that? Turn a nice little request into an order? Or would you like me to go dragon on you and just drag your butt over to the auto-shop hangar instead? That'd be waaay funnier."

He put the deep-pulse scanner on the ground and drew his katanas.

"Oh, go on, kid. Try. I freakin' dare you. Come on. Come at me."

Bulkhead, Bluestreak, Bumblebee, Jack and Miko all laughed. Wheeljack was playing with fire in the most literal way possible.

Infernus merely smirked, blue optics flashing with a fire all their own. He wanted to do this the hard way? Fine. He'd do it the hard way. Fun and training mixed together anywho. He transformed in a flourish and darted towards the white Wrecker. He feinted leaping, making Wheeljack ready to block him from a high angle. But instead he lunged towards his leg, spun round, and used his tail to trip him up before he could compensate. He fell with a crash and quickly tried to rise. Before he could, Infernus clamped his jaws around his leg and proceeded to drag him by his ankle into the compound.

"Bulk! A little help here?!" he exclaimed, trying his best to get a grip on the asphalt all while still holding his swords. Needless to say that wasn't working very well. In the end he let go of the hilts to try and keep the kid from dragging him any further. But the sad part about asphalt was that it was flat, so it offered no hand grips.

His friend merely laughed that 'Jackie had gotten himself into this. His job to get himself out.

"Traitor!" he shouted.

Bulkhead laughed again and told him to hold on – he was coming.


Author's Note: Tah-dah! Another chapter. And the first ever truly faction-less Predacons to be introduced. Also, there's another Aztec deity that has me very curious: Cipactli. Not because he's a Predacon, but because he behaves eerily like a certain somebody beneath the ground...