Fire of Youth

Chapter 28

*Note to Kaleia: Ramhorn's bipedal form isn't supposed to invoke Satan, silly. xD He's modeled more after the Greek satyr or faun. He's based of the Scottish bauchan, a kind of fairy who, in a certain folktale by John Francis Campbell, could take the form of a goat to disguise itself. They were mischievous and sometimes seen as dangerous, but also could be helpful when the need arose. :) The guy the story centers around had a bauchan haunt him/help him in a funny "frenemy" kind of way.


Ramhorn, Catscratch, and Tag-Along listened without interruption to her. They seemed stunned at the news that the three Wreckers here wouldn't hurt them unless they really did something to miff them off. Right now they were probably just panicking, she assured – but that didn't mean they'd shoot right away. They'd want an explanation for sure. All three of them had had some kind of "encounter" with a Predacon, after all. One had even joined their team. Big bird guy with lightning powers; went by Grimwing. There were some big flying snake guys in Mexico, too, but they hadn't sided with them. Stuck to themselves. Abandoned the 'Cons altogether. One of them had gone feral or something.

"There are others?" Catscratch wondered in half-hidden relief. "Others that survived the Dragon Hunts?"

Miko blinked. "Dragon Hunts?" That sounded equal parts cool and really, really bad. That was something Infernus needed to know about. That sounded super important with an awesome name like that.

Ramhorn explained briefly:

"Fer a time some of our kind co-existed with yer race. Some of us even formed tribal alliances and assisted them in their daily lives, teaching them. But that didn't include every beast, as ye saw with Floodshed on the bluffs. Some, like Scorchmark's gang, which Floodshed's a part of, interpreted their orders more literally. Anyone, anything that weren't Predacon 'ad to be eliminated, no matter if they meant any 'arm. So 'umans like ye started te drop dead, even other Predacons like us." He shook his head with a frown before going on: "Tensions started risin'. Moderns began te trickle in after a time, trying te escape the War. That only made it werse. Some Predacons, like us, did nae see them as threats and left 'em well alone. But others...weren't so liberal. When they started popping off and...disappearing like the 'umans, that tension 'it a boiling point. They and the 'umans went after anything even resembling a beast. Friend or foe, did nae matter. If it were beast, it died."

The girl's eyes widened a little. Something form her American History class bubbled up to the surface.

"A witch hunt." she said quietly. "Oh my God. That's why Tag-Along ran. He wasn't just scared of them because he was tinier. He really thought they'd kill him."

Catscratch nodded: "Aye. Every non-beast we've met 'as tried te stiff us, including ye 'umans. An' all the while we tried to keep ye little buggers safe from the others. So much fer gratitude." She snorted.

Still lying in his spot, Tag-Along whimpered and whined, metals ears laying flat. The fear she'd seen earlier reappeared. Man. These guys must've had it real rough during these Hunts. They were so little, too – they were the smallest 'bots she'd ever seen. Floodshed hadn't been much bigger than a real life workhorse, like the ones she'd seen on those Budweiser commercials, and Catscratch and Tag-Along were actually a teeny bit smaller than him. She had to guess Ramhorn's beast mode was tiny, too. Honestly, he wasn't that much taller than a really tall basketball player. She could pretty well get behind why Tag-Along had run – all someone Bulk's size needed to do was basically step on him.

"I'm from Tokyo, little neko." Miko argued smugly. "You got nothing on me. Used to live in Jasper before King 'Con decided to flatten it."

"Everyone got out alright, aye?" asked Catscratch. "The Grey King's got a bad 'abit of doing that, so I've 'eard. Did a little nosin' into the Builder's files in my younger cycles afore I was deployed 'ere. Never once got caught."

Miko had to hide a cheeky smile. Grimwing might learn a few things about stealth from this cat.

"Yeah. Evacuated. They're all okay. Wish I could say the same for the town. Looks like a place out of a Fallout game now."

"Good te hear. 'Bout the people, I mean. Naet the town."

"Still doesn't make it okay." Miko shot back.

Catscratch put her hands up.

"Nae sayin' it were. Just glad te 'ear nae one in yer little place got 'urt. Praxus an' Iacon weren't so lucky once the Grey King turned 'is sights on 'em. One had its people slaughtered like 'aywire scraplets. The other were leveled by some great machine from the sky with a gaze of starfire. Trypticon so they called it. We called it a lord. Some even worshiped it as such, fergetting their true patron below. I weren't one of those louts."

For once in her life Miko sorely wished for a notebook or tablet. There was so much to jot down, and her brain could only hold so much. This was way more interesting than History or Biology. So long ago in a ruin in Greece she'd wanted to write a paper about Cybertronian interaction and involvement in human history. Well, she had some sources now. And her little idea had been right, it seemed. Cybertronians had been involved in history – in a pretty major way. Those Dragon Hunts might just explain why there weren't a lot of giant metal beasts walking around on the planet anymore, terrorizing the human population: they'd all been killed. Well, most of them anyway. Even some of the ones who had been okay.

She shivered a little. An alien witch hunt...with Predacons as the targets. No wonder some of them were so mistrusting of Autobots. Tag-Along running didn't seem so out of character now. These little guys had had such bad experiences with vehicle 'bots like Bulk that they just assumed any vehicle-former was a killer.

"So what's the deal with the horse?" she pressed. "You said he's part of some guy's gang or pack or whatever? Scorchmark, right?"

A story proceeded. She did her best to mentally jot down notes:

Scorchmark had apparently been sent as a kind of watch dog or overseer to keep the littler beasts in check, and his sister (could 'bots have siblings?) Sizzleslash had been sent with him. The first had been the overseer of the beasts like Floodshed, the loyal ones with the violent streak: three heads, all dragon, and a whole helping of temper. They presided over a massive Energon deposit in the north of Ireland, but not in North Ireland ("make sense?" he asked. Miko told him she'd never been very good at geography...) – not the place Magnus had said the deposit they were here for was located. Sizzleslash on the other hand had been the overseer of Ramhorn and his little pack. She, Ramhorn, Catscratch, Tag-Along, and a half dozen others guarded a large deposit in the Hebrides Bluffs here in Scotland, though technically both were under the guard of both packs. Was that where Magnus had landed the ship? Might be. Sizzleslash, said Ramhorn, hadn't been as bad as her brother but still not a beast you wanted to tick off from the sounds of her. Venomous bite, apparently, along with the standard dragon power of fire-breathing. Ramhorn and his friends had managed to trick her into making them believe they were loyal by abducting humans who drew too near the deposit they guarded, but they never actually killed them. The trick was a neat one, really – after the abduction, Catscratch and Tag-Along would lurk around local funerals to convince Sizzleslash they were the culprits. The humans quickly saw them as "evil spirits" that needed to be warded off or else avoided entirely, thus keeping them from coming to any further harm.

Catscratch issued a laugh then.

"Oh, I miss the Feill Fadalach! So many games te play! People te spook! Pranks te play!"

Tag-Along barked, tail a-way. The fear was gone now. He looked a lot happier. Miko had no idea what the heck Catscratch was even talking about, but if it made the two happy it couldn't be all bad. She'd said there were games involved. Games were fun, and just from her tone it didn't sound the like games were evil. Knockout's tone when talking about games had been a lot darker.

Ramhorn continued with a snort to request silence:

Once Sizzleslash had been convinced they weren't in need of supervision, she'd rejoined her brother to guard the larger hoard in the north of Ireland. The friendly little beasts, who the humans had taken to calling the Seelies, had slowly moved away from the two mainlands and taken up on the other islands. Once the moderns (she assumed this was their term for 'bots) had started to show up on the planet, a few came to the Scottish and Irish isles. Scorchmark and Sizzleslash had reacted violently to this seeming invasion by the enemy, and it was because of that the Dragon Hunts here had been sparked. Together with their pack, the vicious Unseelies, they had ruthlessly attacked anything that was not explicitly part of their little group, and that unfortunately included the Seelies. Some, like Moonhowler and Stand-Alone, had actually showed open kindness towards humans and moderns alike, earning the ire of the Unseelies. Miko noticed a change in Ramhorn's tone there; it became darker.

"That kindness made them targets. War sparked between the two packs, the 'umans caught in the middle and the moderns forced te either flee or fight." His tone had grown even darker.

"What happened to them?" she asked quietly, some part of her not wanting to know.

"Some made it away." Catscratch admitted. "Others...we never saw them again. We know fer sure that Stand-Alone didn't make it. We found 'is body near Scorchmark's cave, battered and burnt te a crisp, acid 'aving eaten away at 'is frame. That was 'round the time Scorchmark 'imself was offed by a group of moderns, one of whom had been melted to slag by Scorchmark and 'is sister. Took it and 'id it afore the Unseelies could grab it fer storage. Gentle spark. Timid. Wasn't un'eard of 'im te find a lone kiddie out in the wilderness and bring 'em 'ome safely te their mum and da. Made friends with 'em, played with 'em. Even guided a modern or two to a small deposit we guarded 'neath one of the lochs. We shared with 'em. Poor louts hadn't brought much with 'em. Just needed enough to fuel their ship so they could search fer more. Do nae know where they went."

Miko took note of that. Weird how they still identified with the 'Cons yet seemed so nice. But when you were a 'Con, niceness usually got you a one-way trip to the scrapheap. If they could trick Sizzleslash, they might've played the same act with other 'Cons.

"...How many died?"

Ramhorn said simply: "Too many. We two packs – we're all that's left of the Predacons stationed 'ere. Some were killed by the moderns. Some were killed by fellow Predacons, like Stand-Alone."

She asked the major question of the day: "Where's Scorchmark buried?"

Ramhorn noticeably bristled at her question, but she glared right back. Catscratch had hinted to start with that Scorchmark was not a Predacon Shockwave should be getting his hands on again, and hearing that he'd burned half of Ireland before he'd been killed was a good enough reason for him to stay dead. That sort of reaction kind of reminded her of Bulk's story about Divebomb – except for the scary fact that Scorchmark had just been pissed as all get out, not feral. Talk about a temper.

"Hey, we're not gonna do anything with the body other than melt it down to keep it away from Shockwave." she defended. "You guys are as scared of him as we'd be if we had to fight him. We already got one dragon to deal with, and probably a freaky shadow dog thing."

Still the goat-mech bristled. He did give an answer though: "Scorchmark's body is buried at Knocknarea in Ireland. Disturb it at yer own risk. The 'umans there know well enough nae te scan or excavate the mound, even if they nae longer remember why."

"Can't blame 'em. Guy sounded like a total jerk."

The cat femme's face contorted into a disgusted frown. "Aye, that 'e were. Far as we know, Sizzleslash still functions, but she –"

Her sentence came to an abrupt stop when Tag-Along let out a panicked sounding yip and jerked his head towards the mound's entrance. His metal ears were pricked straight up, Miko noticed. Ramhorn, motioning for Catscratch to stay back, transformed – revealing his beast form was that of a large ram (duh) – and cautiously clopped towards the entrance. Catscratch herself swapped modes and her ears copied what Tag-Along's were doing, only hers were actually rotating around a little, like a real cat's. Miko noticed Ramhorn's gaze was focused on the sky, not the ground. Uh-oh. That couldn't mean anything good.

"What? What is it?" she demanded.

Tag-Along growled softly as Catscratch and Ramhorn cast her withering looks that very plainly said "Zip it!"

"Right. You guys can't talk in animal mode." she realized.

The looks became more withering but also more urgent. "Quiet!" they seemed to say. She shut her mouth. Dead silence came over the mound.

Huffing (and not willing to stay put) she jogged forward and ducked under Ramhorn's legs and belly to peep out into the open air. She didn't see or hear anything right away, so she had to assume they had really good hearing by default. But after a moment she picked up a sound incoming fast from...ugh. Figuring out which way was north hadn't been something she'd bothered to learn. Maybe she should start carrying a compass with her just in case; Mark could probably lend her one. But the sound, faint at first, was getting louder every second – and it was a sound she recognized. She'd heard it first during the dragon attack in the mountains and valleys of the southwestern U.S, and more recently during her little stowaway trick.

"Magnus's ship!" she exclaimed happily. "They found me!"

As if in answer, out of the clouds roared the Iron Will.

She darted out into the open air. "GUYS! DOWN HERE! I'M RIGHT HERE!" She jumped and waved her arms frantically.

Her hollering turned into a startled, annoyed yelp when Ramhorn plucked her up by the scruff of her shirt and ducked back inside the mound. She saw the ship lower down on the hills beyond, hatch-ramp thingy facing towards them. Down it came the hefty green form of Bulkhead – but no one else. She didn't care. A friendly face was what she wanted. She watched as he sped over to the mound, faster than she'd ever seen him drive. He screeched to a stop, blocking the entrance, and transformed to tower over it.

Help was finally here.


"You have five seconds to hand her over, Fido! I know you're in there! I got movement on my scanners and spark signals to boot! And don't even think about running!"

There was a tense silence followed by a strange ripping sound. His tight spark un-tightened when Miko darted out of the dark mound and rushed up to her protector's giant metal feet. Her arms flung around them. He knelt down and put one giant finger on her. She looked okay, and a brief scan didn't show any kind of bodily damage. Her shirt was torn though, and that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her.

"Miko! Are you okay?" he demanded. "Your shirt's torn in back."

"I'm fine." she mumbled. She looked up at him and said: "But promise me you won't hurt them. They're not the bad guys, Bulk! It's that horse and his pals who are the real jerks here!"

Bulkhead looked up from Miko and into the dark recesses of the mound. Through the gloom he could see three glowing pairs of small optics, wide and watchful. He watched as two of the pairs retreated further back, while the third remained where it was and didn't look quite so terrified. He tensed. One hand morphed into a mace. That kind of gaze usually signaled a fight was about to break out. Its owner shifted just enough for light to scintillate off two giant pairs of...whoa. Were those goat horns?

Miko reacted like lightning. "No! They're not dangerous! They've been helping people for a long time! They're 'Cons but that doesn't make them evil! Tag-Along was just trying to keep me safe from Floodshed!"

He looked back down at her, puzzled. "Who?"

Miko let go of him and jogged back towards the mound.

"Come on, guys. You can come out." she murmured in a voice quieter than he'd heard her use. "He won't hurt you. He was just worried about me."

Slowly, hesitantly, the owner of the great curling horns stepped out, revealed as a burly male ram colored rich tawny, dark bronze, and pewter. Behind him followed a pitch black cat with bright green eyes and the mottled green dog who had kidnapped Miko to start with. He noticed the dog was limping heavily. Two sets of metal ears, one black and one green, folded back warily. He took in the sight in astonishment. All of them were easily smaller than the Gwyllgi, the green dog not much bigger than a young calf and the cat smaller than it. The ram, muscular as it was, wasn't much bigger than the dog.

"...Mini-cons...?" he breathed in wonder. "You're mini-cons! All of you! I-I thought I was just seeing things, but –"

"Don't hurt them." Miko repeated. "They can help us."

"How?"

Miko quickly glanced back at the ram for what seemed like permission and, when it nodded grimly at her, told him that they'd revealed the location of a dangerous Predacon on Ireland named Scorchmark, along with mentioning that it and a group of the little beasts had guarded an Energon stash there. She didn't know exactly where it was or if it had already been taken by the 'Cons or what, but the beasts that guarded it were not friendly. They killed people for fun. Like Floodshed.

"You mean the horse?" he guessed. "How many of you little guys are there?"

The black cat transformed, showing itself to be a slender, cute little femme with a bright white splotch just beneath the head of her cat mode on her upper chest.

"With us? That'd be me, Taggy, Ramhorn, and Moon'owler. Far as we know the other group counts Sizzleslash, Floodshed, Vigordrainer, and Screech. Used to be more, but...well. Let's just say your kind 'ad a 'and in cutting our numbers in the past. Nae idea where they're all at right now, but Taggy dropped that blighter Floodshed inte one of the lochs te get 'im away from your little friend. Trust me when I say 'e'll be back. Blighter loves a good spat."

Bulkhead blinked. The accent wasn't what he was used to and a little difficult to understand, but to hear there were only a handful of the little beasts left in the general area who were currently online was strange to hear, and to hear they'd split from each other and seemed to be waging a war of their own was even stranger. Predacons were supposed to be loyal if they still counted themselves as 'Cons.

"They're not the bad guys, Bulk." Miko said, motioning to the three little beasts. "They helped me. And they can help us get a point up on the board against the 'Cons. If they know where one Pred is buried, I'm betting they can point out more if we ask 'em nicely."

"Alright."

He put the mace away and approached the mini-cons. The dog gave a weak growl while the ram snorted aggressively and dragged a front hoof through the turf. The message was clear: stay back. They didn't trust him. He knelt to make himself less intimidating – something he'd seen Optimus do a lot. Didn't seem to help much.

"Can you little guys lend us a hand? We're not going to hurt anyone. We're trying to help the humans."

The three tiny beasts shared glances. The cat shrugged, reminding the ram they owed the girl a favor, and so owed her ally a favor. The ram didn't seem very happy about the arrangement, but he didn't snort or oppose it in any way. He just tossed him a look that said he'd be watching for any funny business. Bulkhead nodded back. So that was how they'd play this, then. He rose.

"Come on into the ship. There's a holo-map in there we can use, and I can contact Magnus. I need to get Miko her phone back anyway."

Still noticeably wary, the beasts slunk after him.


Beyond the waters of Lough Derg in Ireland, an camouflaged equine raced over the grass and rocks towards a cave he hadn't visited in over three decades. With their reserve running dangerously low after the Hunts, their current alpha could not afford to play an active role in their little war they had going on – especially not after she'd been wounded by one of those Pit-slagged moderns. "Fin MacCoul" the humans had dubbed him, history and re-telling having warped him into a human form and their silly religion playing a role later on. He had led the Hunts in Ireland, and by the time he and his little band had finished there were only a handful of beasts left, forced into hiding like scraplets in the Wastes.

Snorting, he stopped by the cave entrance. No humans dared come here ever since any trespassers had been burned to ash by what resided deep within. None had lived to tell, and luckily the Irish had been a superstitious lot to begin with. Get a story started and it would eventually twist into a legend. "Fire-Spitter's Well" it was called. Oh, if only they knew...

Floodshed headed inside, shaking off the sense of being watched he always had when going underground. He knew well enough what it was but didn't care. Deeper he trotted, metal hooves echoing against the stone. Eventually he came to a deep crevice that dropped down into the dark, where a faint red glow only visible in microwave wavelengths was visible.

"Mm."

He turned sharply. Standing behind him with her back to the wall was a lean, ragged looking dirty grey and sickly green femme with two tiny, curling horns. Her posture itself was suggestive. On her chest was an elongated animal head, and a thin tail dropped to the ground behind her, the tip curling partways into a whirl on the ground. Two sickly yellow optics appraised him hungrily. One slender digit tapped against her chin. She smiled knowingly.

"Wonder what brings you here, Floodshed?" she questioned aloud. "Did Tag-Along hurt your feelings again?"

The equine snorted violently and went on his way. Vigordrainer had to be desperate if she was eyeing him up. If only they could get their hands on that deposit in the Hebrides...maybe she wouldn't need to subside on her fellow Predacons or hunt around for Seelies to drain.

The rat femme pouted saucily: "Aw. Don't feel like talking to little old me?"

He heard her start after him.

"Anything I can do to help turn that frown upside down?"

It was all he could do to ignore her tone. It didn't help when a digit ghosted along his back, but unlike Tag-Along's the digit merely simmered – it did not corrode. This wasn't the first time she'd accosted him like this, and these encounters always ended the same way. But he had a problem he needed to report. No time for pleasant distractions, much as he wouldn't mind a while alone with her. Other mechs couldn't claim to walk away alive from her lair. Only one had managed to walk away: Ramhorn. Others...she'd made quick work of them.

"Later." he said. "We have a problem. Autobots. Three of them. Arrived not even two hours ago."

Vigordrainer's optics opened a tad wider, her smile growing darker and hungry. To her that just meant there was more fresh Energon walking around on the island for her to grab.

"Drain them if you must. But we need to find out why're here, and I need to report their presence. These...they didn't look like the Autobots we're used to. These were battle-hardened. Big. Strong. Their ship was well armed. We'll need Sizzleslash's firepower."

"Not necessarily..." said the horned rat.

She held up her arm. Blinking steadily just beneath her mesh was a violet light. Floodshed drew nearer to examine it. He'd seen this at the very start of their mission here on many of his allies, including himself. To see it again...it could only mean one thing. This could not have happened at a more opportune time. Even as he thought that, a similar light ignited in his upper shoulder

"The Builder?"

"The Builder." she confirmed.

Together they peered down into the depths where their alpha slumbered. Floodshed shared a glance with the horned rat at his side, and she returned a single raised brow ridge. Sizzleslash wasn't in the best shape to fight, and woe be to the fool who angered her. Besides, if they lost her then power would be more evenly distributed among the Unseelies and the Seelies – and that would never do. The side who won was the side with the greatest strength. Right now, the power tables were tipped in their favor so long as Sizzleslash remained online. At any rate, if the Builder was here he would be able to repair her. Then those blasted Seelies would all die.

[Vigordrainer, report.] droned a voice in her mind.

[Floodshed, report.] droned a voice in his mind.

Sharing another glance, Vigordrainer transformed into her horned rat form and chased after Floodshed. That light would lead them straight to the Builder.

Once they were in the open they cast their gazes upwards on hearing a sound unlike any they had heard – a deep, chugging, mechanical wubba-wubba far above them and far to the east, though from the sounds of it not drawing any nearer.


Ultra Magnus did his best to ignore Wheeljack for the duration of the drive to the location in the Hebrides Bluffs. That mech had always tried to undermine him and cause trouble, but this was taking it too far. Assisting in a ship-jacking by playing along? If he had the authority, he'd arrest him right now. He'd discuss this behavior with the Prime when he returned. Behavior like this was not to be tolerated, and that went for both of them.

At his side, Wheeljack rolled along practically beaming with smugness. The semi's field tingled, seconds away from erupting outwards.

"Is it impossible for you to take anything seriously?" he snarled.

Wheeljack snorted: "Uh, with you as the boss? Yep."

'He's incapable of realizing he may have jeopardized this entire mission.' he realized sourly. 'Wonderful. I am working with a delinquent...again.'

Growling, he drove ahead of him. They were nearing the deposit now, and judging by the landscape ahead there was a likely a drop off. A cliff was usually the best place to drill into the planet for a mine. No vertical digging was necessary at the start, saving the drillers a significant amount of trouble. Coincidentally that meant they had a height advantage and could take any miners or guards by surprise. Curiously enough, the scans his ship had taken had revealed that the Energon deposit here was of only moderate size. But Megatron would not be taking any chances, not with Shockwave needing more resources to clone beasts. Every captured mine was a valuable asset.

Transforming, he stalked forward with his blasters drawn, careful not to get too near the edge. Wheeljack stepped up to join him, but a glower and a motion of the hand made him move to the side and keep back. Good. At least he understood to be careful at this moment. He peered over the near vertical cliff edge. A dozen Vehicon and Eradicon troops stood watch. He glanced over at the white Wrecker, pointing down and silently asking "Twelve?" That was a surprising amount of guards to station outside of a moderate mine like this one. Was there something else in there even more valuable? An artifact? A fossil perhaps?

Wheeljack nodded, smirking. He counted the same. Quietly he drew his katanas and got closer to the edge. Ultra Magnus cast him a warning glare – which Wheeljack happily ignored. To his horror (and before he could stop him) he began to scale down the cliff-side, but he was being surprisingly careful about his limb placement. Luckily for him the cliff was made of a sturdy stone that didn't crumble easily. Now if he would just keep up with that...

Krrrk.

Ultra Magnus frowned. So much for optimism – and the ambush.

His hand hit a weaker handhold and partially gave out under him. A series of pebbles and earth tumbled down. His optics quickly flicked up to meet Ultra Magnus, who now bore a murderous frown on his faceplates. His optics were somehow blank and angry at the same time. He needed to figure out how he did that.

"You're dead to me." that look seemed to say.

All of that happened in the time it took the dust and pebbles to fall. One stone struck an Eradicon in the center of his helm.

By the time the guard look up to find the cause, Wheeljack was already on top of him. One swing of katana and the Eradicon collapsed, helm-less. The remaining eleven troopers wheeled on him in like a hive of hornets. Blaster fire lit up the air with streaks of red plasma. Katanas flashed in the dim, clouded sunlight. The plasma was harmlessly deflected with flowing, seamless swipes and motions of the bladed weapons, some striking the ones who had fired them. He rushed forward, hacking another in half and impaling another when it came too near. Psh. And Magnus had wanted to be cautious. Decepticon troopers were complete jokes when compared to their higher officers. Idiots could barely shoot straight.

The white Wrecker glanced up briefly on hearing a distinct crumbling from above. Three of the troops nearest the cliff face jerked their heads up to see Magnus scaling down the cliff face, hands and pedes slowing his descent by only a fraction. About two thirds of the way down he leapt off and, hands morphing into gun barrels, rained down blaster fire onto the enemy below. Three more troops fell thanks to his deadly aim. A fourth he floored by using it as a landing pad; it was quickly blasted in the chassis and went still.

A Vehicon panicked. "Lord Megatron! Commander Star –"

Magnus whirled. The Vehicon couldn't finish his cry for help. A blade was driven straight through it's helm. It stayed there for a moment before being wrenched out violently. The trooper fell. Wheeljack stood behind it. The final two made an attempt to flee. They didn't make it very far, Magnus's lethal aim once more rearing its head as each was nailed in the back of the helm.

"You worry too much." Wheeljack teased. One katana was sheathed.

His rebuttal was swift:

"That distress call could have been detected, rendering it a distinct possibility that reinforcements will arrive to investigate – including Predacons." he snapped. "If you had waited for my orders we would not –"

[Commander Magnus?]

He cut off his tirade long enough to answer: "Bulkhead? You had best be prepared to answer for what you did..."

[I know, I know. But sir...I-I found Miko. She's alright.]

A weight he hadn't registered lifted from his spark. He supposed that was one positive outcome, and it proved his assumption to be accurate: just because the humans assumed they were dangerous didn't necessarily mean they were.

"And the Cù Sith? What of it? Did it flee?"

[He was there, along with two buddies of his. They say they're still loyal to the 'Cons but they're willing to help us out – as a way to pay back for the abduction so they're saying. Funny thing is...I think we can actually trust 'em. Miko had a little talk with them and it sounds like they're not big fans of Shockwave, but they're still loyal because they feel they own him for bringing them online.]

[Yeah!] That was the female native's voice. [Apparently there's this big, scary, three-headed dragon guy buried at, uh...] Her voice grew fainter as she turned to ask: [How do you say it and where was it again?]

[Knocknarea, Ireland.] came a gruff male voice that his voice recognition programs could not identify. [It's the burial place of Scorchmark. If you truly wish te protect this planet then daennot let the Builder obtain 'is body. If ye thought yer dragon now was a 'assle...]

Magnus took the intrusion with stride. Logically the new voice had to belong to the one of the Cù Sith's allies. He had to wonder which creature it was.

"Thank you for divulging this information to us." he said politely. "At present we are occupied elsewhere, but when Bulkhead rendezvous with us we will investigate the location. Due to a...mishap I expect Decepticon forces will converge on us first and foremost. I am transmitting coordinates, soldiers. I expect all of you here shortly. Am I clear?"

[Yes, sir.] answered Bulkhead.

"Good."

He cut the line. Hopefully nothing would intercept them on the way here.

The taller mech bristled when Wheeljack drove past him into the mine entrance. He strode ahead of him and blocked him, planting a pede on his hood to keep him in place.

"No engine noise. If there are troops stationed within they will hear us. It was through your clumsiness the guards were alerted."

Wheeljack actually listened to him for once and switched forms.

"Sourpuss." he said teasingly.

Ultra Magnus bristled further. Did this delinquent have some sort of compulsion to kick a scraplet nest? It was a wonder Wreckers had managed to walk away from missions in one piece with him in charge, no matter how well trained they were.

Spinning away from him, he stalked inside – ensuring this time that Wheeljack remained close behind him. One mishap was enough, and one that cost them precious time was one too many in his opinion.


"Onyx. What crawled up his tailpipe and died?" Catscratch huffed. "He sounds like Ramhorn when he doesn't get to cause some minor trouble te some of the farmers every lunar cycle."

Ramhorn snorted. He and Tag-Along stiffened when the ship shuddered and lifted up.

"You get used to it after a while." Bulkhead admitted. "He's...a by-the-book mech. Following the rules is real important to him."

Catscratch's face alone made Miko laugh. That look just screamed she was going to try and irritate or prank him the instant she got the chance. If she hadn't liked the cat before, she loved her now. She hoped the cat would decide to be an ally and stick around with the 'Bots. Infernus and Blue would love her as well; Ratchet would so blow a gasket after just a few minutes of being around her. Oh, the prank possibilities were endless! And that wasn't even to mention she was just small enough (and big enough) for her to ride like a pony.

Tag-Along emitted a curious whine, earning attention from everyone else in the ship. Catscratch came up to him. She asked what was up. Tag-Along gave a series of barks, growls, whines, yips and, weirdly enough, clicks. Miko thought he sounded really worried. Her confusion cleared.

"Ah. Aye, I get ye."

"What?" Miko wondered. "What'd he say?"

"Taggy's worried about Mooney. 'e did nae show even though Ramhorn called 'im. Cannae help but wonder why. 'e usually comes."

She bounded to the front of the ship and leapt up onto the dashboard to address the bulky green pilot. Bulkhead glanced at her.

"Think we could make a quick pit stop in the Shetlands? It's nae far."

"But...Magnus told us to –"

"Nae meaning ye." Catscratch corrected. "We're 'Cons, aye? 'Bots do nae trust 'Cons. I'm askin' permission fer me and Taggy te warp te the island and find 'im; make sure 'e's un'armed. We'll come right back, ye 'ave my word."

Bulkhead considered. "Well..."

Miko almost fell to the floor laughing at the pitiful big-eyed kitten look Catscratch gave him. It worked like magic. Bulkhead gave in.

"Alright. Just be quick. Magnus is gonna want a word with you three. Just for safety I'll give you my comm. link, but not the ship's. You hit any trouble, call me. Alright? I might be able to call in some help for you."

"Thank ye uncoly."

Catscratch leapt down from the dashboard, and bounded over to Tag-Along who rose to his paws. There was a bright green flash in the ship. When it faded after a split second the two tiny beasts were quite simply gone, vanished into thin air.


Many hundreds of klicks behind the Iron Will, a squadron of like colored grey and red Eradicons screamed through the clouded skies like wailing bullets. In front of their V-shape, a great bronze dragon with amber wings flew. On detecting a familiar scent it let out a thundering screech and surged forward. On its back, its invisible passenger dug his claws in for better grip.

The flying machine. Yes, it knew that smell almost as well as that of the white mech who had dropped a cave on top of it. He had been part of the group who had led it into the strange, roaring portal that had forced it into the cold northern wastes of this unusually colorful (and wet) planet. But this time it had a hunting party to work with, and a loyal ally at its side.

"Onyx scald you!" it shrieked, its roaring scream splitting the sky.

Oh, it would enjoy immeasurably tearing that mech's throat wide open. It would savor ripping its weak, conniving spark out. Only cowards resorted to tricks like that.

"Easy there, kid." Ravage warned. "Don't want to alert the prey. Moderns might not have the same level of hearing as we do, but that doesn't mean they're deaf."

"Keep that racket down!" squawked the Grey Flier. "You'll give me a processor ache!"

It growled angrily. Fire bubbled in its belly and rose up its neck. Ravage put a paw on his neck. The fire subsided.

"Save your fire for the fight, kid. You'll get to tell him off eventually. The essence of a good hunter is patience. Don't waste your energy if the prey can just waltz into your paws."

It did not agree. But it sounded like sage advice. Like...like something it should already know. But that could not be. The Builder had not taught it how to hunt. It had simply been given mission parameters. It simply knew some things through...instinct. Was that the correct term? Odd. It did not feel like it was. Something was tugging at the very back of its mind...

Amber wings pumped against the wind. Engines shrieked beside it as their owners attempted to keep pace.

The scent of the great flying machine grew stronger.

"Divert flight path! The mine in the Hebrides has been attacked!" Starscream barked.

The Grey Flier flew ahead of it and raced into a cloud bank. Snorting, it flew after him. It was supposed to be on point, not him! Why break formation when all he had to do was tell it where this mine was, or transmit the data? Ravage said these moderns did so frequently to save time. Then it remembered that they hadn't the faintest idea that it could do so itself – they were only aware that Ravage could speak via short-band. Why else would they train it in combat techniques, many of which it already knew?

The day it learned to speak would be a momentous one indeed. It could not wait to tell the Grey Flier exactly what it thought of him.


Author's Note: I'll admit right now that Vigordrainer's beast mode is somewhat modified from its original goat form, but her bipedal mode does pay homage to it. The Glaistig might as well be a Scottish succubus or vampire. But goats aren't known for draining life from targets. Rats, on the other hand, are known for doing that often through disease. Of course, Vigordrainer's a lot more dangerous that that. Thus, meet the "horned rat."

*I'll let you puzzle over what Moonhowler is supposed to be...;)