Fire of Youth
Chapter 43
Brawn didn't stay at the controls for long. His partner, Sami, eventually gave a little verbal nudge to indicate her sketch was done. Brawn thus set the ship to autopilot, unhooked the Howler, and stashed it in a corner near the hatch ramp before returning to his seat. Bulkhead looked much less unnerved now that it was (mostly) out of plain sight. That didn't mean it wasn't still unsettling, having a dead body dumped inside the ship as if it were no more than a mere crate of supplies. Brawn's casual indifference about that struck a nerve in Arcee. Beast or not, enemy or not, showing a little respect for the dead was expected of a 'bot.
"So," Arcee prompted slowly.
The mech tilted his head backwards towards her. "So...what?" he wondered.
"Would you mind explaining what it is you're doing?"
"I thought I already explained that bit." Brawn paused and then blinked. "Oh! You mean the whole thing, not just what I'm doing right now."
"I'm not trusting you until I have some straightforward answers," she warned him dryly.
Brawn shrugged, "Eh, that's fair, I guess."
Another tap of a digit set the ship to autopilot again, after which he abandoned his seat to join them.
"Like I already said, m'name's Brawn. I know all about the War you've got going because I've been intermittently involved with it. I'm not an Autobot officially, but I'm also not a 'Con. That's a consequence of my job. I'm a merc, y'see."
Arcee's optics narrowed. That explained how well armed he was. However, his admission also left a sour taste in her mouth. Mercenaries during the War weren't unheard of, and in fact, some had been notorious for playing both sides. Those 'bots hadn't been bothered by finer things like ideological commitment or ethics; they were in it to get a paycheck or an upgrade through the work.
"Ah, ah!" tutted Brawn. "I know what you're thinking. Before you get all up in my tail pipe about that, I want you to know: I wasn't working both sides, not in the way you might think. I wasn't a hired gun. I was a merc because I worked to get people who didn't want nothing to do with the War off the planet. It didn't matter whose side you'd aligned with, or if you'd picked a side at all. If you wanted out, I got you out, plain and simple. I was a glorified emergency taxi service, not a paid hit-man. No double dealings or overcharging or anything, either. That's not my style. I may be a merc, but I've still got a shred of integrity left in me. The same can't be said for other mercs – as you clearly know."
A mercenary with some honor, she thought. What a delightful surprise.
"What are you doing here taking out Predacons, then? That's a pretty big career flip," noted Bulkhead.
Brawn frowned. "Not really. In fact, it ties into my former work."
She knew that frown. She'd worn it one too many times.
"Something happened," Arcee guessed grimly.
The once jovial mercenary's expression soured further. "Something did happen. And it was the direct fault of the Decepticons. I just didn't know it at the time."
The planet he had selected was organic, small and out of the way, not likely to be of an interest to either faction. Intel, and his own optics, had seemed to confirm that. Lots of water, lots of varied terrain, and not an Autobot or Decepticon in sight. As a bonus, the locals had been alright with their presence once they had made clear they weren't there to cause harm. Some had been content to carry on as usual and ignore them. Others had been fascinated by their strange giant visitors; one group of locals on his third run had even taken in the quartet of refugees as their own. To make sure that stay didn't see them starve, Energon had been brought with the refugees for crystal seeding. Though lean times had laid ahead until the crystals were large enough for harvest, Brawn had been sure they would make it.
Everything had indicated the planet would be a safe haven.
But his next visit, bringing another evacuee (a deserter named Wildstab) and some more crystal seeds, had proven otherwise.
Upon flying his ship near where the last group had been set up Brawn had been met with a frightening sight. The locals' village had been burnt to the ground, their fields set ablaze.
He had thought at first that perhaps another local group had attacked the one below him. On checking up on a different group a while back, he'd heard that wasn't uncommon. That suspicion had been brushed aside once he had spotted the footprints in the dirt: they were big. Big and clawed and certainly couldn't have been made by the local lifeforms, or other 'bots for that matter.
"Holy..." his passenger muttered.
"What the...?" breathed Brawn.
Brawn lowered the Bulldog down. He was shocked to see some surviving locals rush out to meet them. What he could gather from their panicked, frightened chatter was that something had rampaged through their village. Whatever it was had been big, mean, armor-plated like his kind were, and could spew flame from its mouth. "Dragon" they called it, but the word didn't ring any bells to him. His language had no equivalent for the word.
"Which way did it go?"
They said it had headed for the coast, in pursuit of two refugees who had been living nearby. They had tried to buy them time by firing their weapons at it, but their arrows, spears, and javelins had broken against its plated hide. Despite not being injured, the monster had retaliated anyway, raining red fire down on their homes. Ten had died from sustained burns. One had burned alive in his own bed.
"Why was it chasing these two 'bots?" his companion wondered.
The group shifted anxiously. They feared it was due to the refugees finding a cache of blue crystals in the nearby mountains. Not the seed-bed they had planted nearby, they quickly clarified – a different one, a bigger one. One of them had found it by accident; not seeing any danger at the time, they had started sneaking some of the crystals out at night. Last night had seen the dragon come roaring down in pursuit. They had assumed, then, that the cache belonged to the dragon, and it had wanted retribution for theft.
"Stay here," he urged them. "I'll find this dragon."
"I'll stay here and help these guys out," offered Wildstab.
"Thanks," he nodded.
Upon guiding the Bulldog to the coast, he was met with an even more disturbing sight: hunks of warped metal that looked melted, chewed, and corroded. Their color betrayed the truth: the hunks were all that was left of the people he had brought.
He buried the remains with a heavy spark. That heaviness quickly became bitter anger.
In a fury, he armed himself and took off towards the dragon's mountain lair. There, he found the beast slumbering in a cavern filled with still-growing Energon crystals. The locals called it "Dragon". Brawn knew the real name: Predacon. Such beast-formers had been the wild, cannibalistic hunters that had existed before the Cataclysm. He recalled seeing some of their remains on display before the War. As varied as their frame models had been, they had all been designed with one thing in mind: killing. Unfortunately for the beast, he himself had been trained in the art of war, and had a lot more options than just teeth and talons.
Brawn snuck up, readied his heavy war hammer, and swung, flattening the front of its snout to prevent fire from escaping. Before the beast was even fully awake, he took his sword and drove it into its neck.
He had failed to protect two of the people he had promised to protect. All he could offer those two now was vengeance.
"I figured that if one bad-tempered beast was on the planet, there had to be more. So I went around checking on the refugees I'd brought. Almost none of them were alive to meet me. The one or two who survived had fled, and I never found them again. As it turned out, Wildstab had overheard something about Predacons during his time with the Decepticons. Only rumors, mind you – nothing solid," grumbled Brawn. "But he knew just enough about 'Con tactics to help me locate other caches, and other Predacons."
Bulkhead couldn't ignore the pained look on his face or on Arcee's.
"Where is Wildstab?" she asked quietly.
"Dead," Brawn said. "I trusted him to take out a hybrid cat-headed serpent beast in the Alps while I was out in Greece dealing with a big ol' lion monster. When I went back to check on him, I found him dead beside the beast he'd killed. An ugly wound on his arm indicated he'd been bitten, and I knew from the locals that the creature had a toxic bite that could corrode like acid. He'd managed to kill it before the thing's toxins did him in."
"The Tatzelworm," recalled Sami as she held up a sketch of the beast, "said to be so poisonous that it's breath could kill."
"I'm sorry," Arcee murmured. "I know what it's like to lose a partner. I've lost two because of this War."
"Hm. Sorry to hear that," grunted the former merc sympathetically. "I trust those answers are straightforward enough for ya?"
Arcee mutely nodded.
"I thought I got them all, too," continued Brawn, "which is why I put myself in stasis here. If more ever came, I'd be there to take 'em down. I won't let what happened the first time happen again. No more dead innocents, 'bot or human."
"You're taking out Predacons to keep the planet safe," concluded Bulkhead.
"Yup. Safe for the humans, and safe for any refugees who might happen to stumble out this way. 'Course, with the 'Cons full-on active here, I may need to find a way to put up a warning sign or something, honestly. If it's not safe you bunch, it's not safe for civvies."
There was a brief pause as Arcee and Bulkhead let that declaration sink in. Then, Bulkhead jolted.
"Wait. Wait, wait. Lion monster – Greece. You don't mean the Nemean Lion that –"
"That the mighty 'Heracles' slew with his bare hands," grinned Brawn. "Yup. That was me. But the humans gave me a lotta names for my efforts. Heracles. Cú Chulainn, Susano-o no Mikoto. Balarama. Beowulf. Wildstab had a couple names too. Fionn mac Cumhaill. St. George. Perseus. Krishna. We were busy 'bots back then! Now I'm busy again because apparently the 'Cons can't let dead monsters stay dead."
"Can you not call them monsters?" demanded Arcee testily.
"Sorry, Predacons," corrected Brawn. "Like I said, I'm melting them down so the 'Cons can't revive them again. I did note some of the remains were missing though, like the Hydra, and a sea dragon out in Texas."
"Oh! That was us," Bulkhead explained. "The kid found a skull in a mine, and that's when we started looking for more. The Hydra was actually the second one we found. We never did find out what the skull he found was, though. Some kind of dragon, I think..."
"You melted them down?"
"Yup."
Brawn nodded. "Good."
The landscape below them eventually changed. The forested, misty hills of the Ozarks were replaced the tall mountains, wide valleys, and colorful geothermal springs of Yellowstone National Park. For a brief time, Arcee let herself be captivated by the scenery. If only they weren't on a mission, and if the 'Cons were gone, she would have loved to have a little vacation in the area with Jack and his mother. Maybe once this was all over, they could do that.
Brawn headed for a valley's rim and set the ship down in it, right next to the north rim. The dead Ozark Howler was slung around the big merc's shoulders once again. Arcee was about to ask where exactly he planned to melt it down when Brawn literally disappeared into the hillside. Apparently Brawn was taking a page out of Grimwing's book, hiding a secret entrance through use of a holographic field. Following him through that field revealed where he'd gone: a large chamber about as big as Omega One's command center. A huge smelting pit was the room's centerpiece. And it was into that broiling centerpiece the Howler's corpse was slung.
"Wanna help me unload the others?" he asked them.
"Sure."
Bulkhead and Brawn left. Arcee decided to stay behind. Some objects in the room had caught her attention: they looked like racks of blacksmith's tools – tongs, vices, hammers, welders, and an anvil near them.
"Wait a minute..." she muttered. "The Nemean Lion myth said that Heracles skinned the beast and wore the hide for protection..."
It all came together in a thunderclap in her head. Brawn's unusual appearance, his remarkable durability, and the items in the room. The merc wasn't only melting the beasts down, she realized, he was then forging their armor into new armor for himself. She didn't know whether to be disturbed or amazed. His was certainly a winning strategy though, she would give him that. Even if the CNA in his armor was still usable, getting it would involve capturing or killing Brawn – and if he could take down Predacons with such devastating efficiency, a Decepticon attack squadron would be child's play for him.
Brawn himself returned in time, with Bulkhead in tow, both carrying crates full of scavenged remains – and, thanks to Sami, all neatly labeled. Those crates were thus tucked in a corner, no doubt for later smelting.
"Wrecker, huh?" grinned the merc. "Honestly, I thought about joinin' up with those guys."
"Be lucky you didn't. Me and 'Jackie are some of the few who are stilling kicking thanks to Dreadwing."
Suddenly, the merc's expression shifted. "Say again, Sami?" he wondered into his comm. link. "What do you mean there's a signal in the air?"
Bulkhead's air cycling hitched. "Uh oh..."
"Arcee," came Fowler's tight voice, "I think we have company. The big, bronze, and scaly kind."
"Scrap! The 'Cons pet dragon is here!"
"Another beastie to put down, eh? Fine!"
Bulkhead grabbed Brawn before he could storm out. "No. Don't. Stay here."
"Bronze-y the murder dragon is there?" demanded Infernus. "Has he spotted you?"
"He can see me for sure," attested Fowler. "Pretty sure he can see Brawn's ship down there too. But I don't think he knows where they are. Not yet."
"Good," snarled the Prime, "because that jerk is mine!"
He whirled away from the console, snatched the Forge from where it rested, and then snatched the Phase Shifter. Ratchet told him to stop, reminded him they needed the Forge, but Infernus argued back the item he was repairing was tiny; there would be charge left over for sure. Ratchet, despite his worry, was forced to bend when he saw the burn in the Prime's optics. This went beyond mere attack; this was personal.
When he eventually re-emerged, Phase Shifter ready, Magnus was waiting.
"I trust you have a feasible plan?"
Infernus smirked. "He took me by surprise last time. Now it's my turn to return the favor."
He gave Ratchet a simple order: he was not to 'bridge him at the enemy, but above. He could use Arcee, Bulkhead and Brawn's current coordinates and simply increase the y-axis coordinate. To Fowler, he gave a different order: leave as inconspicuously as he could. If he was keeping in the same area they were, he was jeopardizing their location.
"Roger that, Prime. I'll make myself scarce."
"Nice and easy. Don't make it look like you're retreating."
After a tense few minutes, Fowler reported the bronze beast was not giving chase. Fowler further clarified there was an Army base close by he would wait for transport at.
"Ratchet."
Using a helpful live data transfer from Sami (for specifics) the old medic opened up a groundbridge for him well above the enemy. When Infernus ran through it, he found himself in a cloud bank. He briefly let himself be impressed – this Sami lady knew what she was doing. There was no way putting him in a cloud bank had been a happy accident, not when the dragon's spark signal was practically right below him and conveniently downwind.
Time for some sweet, sweet payback.
Silent, he dove out of the cloud bank and locked onto his target below. Only one second before impact did he bother to scream his anger – too late for his enemy to avoid him. He struck with an ear-ringing clang of metal. As they tumbled downward, his jaws immediately went for his opponent's neck, whereupon he clamped down as hard and as mean as he could until he felt flamer fuel and Energon begin to seep out. When his foe tried to breathe flame at him, he instead screamed as both fluids ignited and semi-exploded through the open wounds. Infernus forced them both into a dizzying spin that, once he was topside, turned into a vicious kick-off and tail slam spin that sent the bronze dragon crashing to the ground. By the time he'd recovered enough to stand, Infernus was already on top of him, pinning him to the ground while his jaws once more bit into his neck. To further ensure no easy escape, he stabbed his tail-tip into one of the amber wings.
"How's that feel, huh?! Not so great when you're on the receiving end, is it?!" screamed the Prime.
The bronze dragon screamed and whipped his tail into his side. It was only a few seconds pause, but it was enough for a flinch and a momentary slackening of Infernus's jaws. The beast took the chance, wrenched his neck around, and snapped at him. Infernus thus bit down on his snout and shook. One particular yank saw the other beast's left mandible snapped well off its hinge to dangle uselessly. A paw then crashed into the bronze dragon's head, and Infernus viciously pushed it into the dirt.
"Had enough?!"
To his surprise, the bronze dragon stopped struggling. "Finish it, then."
The fury inside him ebbed. He released his grip on his neck and removed his tail-tip from his wing.
"No."
"Coward," hissed his foe.
"Only a coward kicks someone when they're already down!" he snapped back. "Now get lost!"
He started to walk away. Out of nowhere, a groundbridge opened – only, nobody came out of it. At least, so it seemed. Looking closer, he saw paw prints form out of nowhere in the dirt. Dog-like ones, headed for the nearby valley wall.
Infernus snarled.
Cloaker.
He lunged. The next thing he knew, something jumped onto his back and sank its teeth deep into the base of his neck. He did the only thing he could think of to get the attacker off: he tucked forward and rolled, and heard a whine as the cloaker beast was crushed. Its invisibility flickered to reveal Ravage, all four red optics burning and his fangs stained blue. He tried to bail, but Infernus pinned him and clamped down on his short, stocky neck.
"Don't make me call Miko in, Fido," he warned. "She can do a lot worse than this..."
Ravage snarled. "A Draconian relying on a human to fight for him. Pitiful."
Infernus laughed a cynical mental laugh. "I didn't need her help to beat up your friend over there, did I?"
[Prime!] came Bulkhead's voice.
He briefly turned his attention from Ravage to see the bronze dragon headed for the same valley wall. He slammed Ravage's head into the dirt and ran for him, leaping and snapping on his neck. Ravage proceeded to so the same to him. But he wasn't in a position to roll. Instead, he activated the Phase Shifter and the hound fell through him, though it also made him lose his grip on the bronze dragon. Luckily, the dragon was so stunned from having him phase through him he seemed to freeze in place for a split second.
From there, Infernus ran through the valley wall to find himself not in a mountain, but in a large chamber. Arcee, Bulkhead, and the new guy Brawn were all there. Brawn appeared freaked out in an aggressive way.
"Back off, beastie!" he growled.
"Brawn, easy," urged Bulkhead. "That's –"
Infernus promptly transformed. "And I thought Wheeljack had bad manners."
Brawn's jaw dropped. "You got a beast workin' for you?!"
"Actually, a couple," smirked Infernus. "Don't worry. We only bite bad guys. But if you keep calling me 'beast' or 'beastie' I might reconsider," he warned playfully.
"Look, we'll explain later," Arcee urged. "Brawn, you need to get those bits melted down, fast. Bulkhead and I will hold these two off with Infernus."
"But I'm the best equipped –" Brawn tried to argue.
"These are two you haven't fought before. We have. Let us handle this."
"Fine. But you'll need better weapons. If you can get to my ship, Sami will get you better equipped. I'll tell Sami what we're up against."
"On it!"
Infernus, still intangible, transformed and raced back out. He didn't bother using the hatch ramp; he merely flew up and dropped through the ship's canopy. The woman inside shrieked at his sudden appearance. But once he assured he was a friend of Arcee and Bulkhead, and upon relaying Brawn's request for better weapons, she calmed down into a briskly professional demeanor.
"Dragon – you'll need his war-hammer to crack its armor. The head is specially designed."
Indeed it was. Instead of a regular big, square, flat head, it looked more like a work hammer but with a twist: it's otherwise flat head had a bunch of sharp points on it, like a meat tenderizer mallet on steroids, and the back end of the hammer had a rocket booster of all things attached for some extra nasty concussive force.
"I'll get that to Bulk."
"You'll need a marker gun to counteract the dog's cloak," continued Sami. "Brawn designed the "paint" it uses to magnetize to the target, so it can't come off so easy."
Clever, he thought. Brawn really had been at this for a while.
The ship shook as the bronze dragon leapt onto it and screamed at them through the front window.
"Get me up on the controls, quick!" ordered Sami.
Infernus scooped her up and placed her. Sami's hands immediately went for the gun controls. Seconds later, machine gun fire pelted the dragon. It didn't seem to hurt him that much but it was consistent enough for him to bail – and then come around from the back and instantly start trying to bite the guns off their ports.
"Hey! Paws off!" barked Sami.
"I got him!"
Infernus phased out of the ship, reactivated the Phase Shifter, and body slammed the other Draconian off the Bulldog. He then phased back in, grabbed the two items, phased back out, and phased back into the hidden chamber. Brawn was already hard at work at the smelter.
"Special delivery!" he declared.
Bulkhead hefted the hammer. Arcee readied the magnetic paint gun. Together they rushed out to face Ravage and the bronze Draconian. Only problem was, Ravage was missing. Infernus looked around, but saw no new paw prints appeared in the dirt.
"Scrap! Where'd he go?!" demanded Arcee.
A startled, pained yipe met them just before Ravage came hurtling out of the hidden cavern.
"Slaggit, ya'll! Keep your eyes on the stupid mutt!" bellowed Brawn.
Arcee quickly tagged Ravage with the paint gun. Upon trying to disappear again, they could still see a brilliant red splatter charging around. Arcee decided to be clever by pretending she couldn't see him, so when he stalked around to the side for an ambush leap, Arcee whirled on him and struck him with her arm blades. She promptly spattered the black hound with another round of bright red magnetic paint right in his ugly face. Some wound up in his optics, and from the way he was desperately pawing at them and shaking his head, it was clear he couldn't see.
Seeing that Arcee could handle Ravage, Infernus charged at the bronze dragon, who was currently engaged in a brutal fight with Bulkhead. Even wounded, the beast putting up a vicious fight, but Bulkhead was holding his own anyway. Though the dragon turned to meet the Prime's charge, Infernus phased through him, whereupon he spun around, un-phased, and smashed his tail tip into his head. Bulkhead crashed the rocket hammer into his side so hard that some of the plating warped and cracked. When the beast tried to spin for a retaliatory strike, Bulkhead swung the hammer upward at his lower jaw, partially dislocating it and sending him reeling.
"Woah, mama!" exclaimed Bulkhead. "Hey, you think he'll let me keep this?"
[Maybe if you ask nicely!] he chirped.
The dragon lunged at him. Infernus calmly let him phase through him before turning to face him. Fire streamed into his face, and in the hot luminous fog, Bulkhead struck again at his side to fracture the joint on one of his wings.
Unable to spew flame from a distance, unable to fly, and unwilling to get close to the hammer, the bronze dragon screamed at them both and backed off. Infernus transformed to match Bulkhead's ensuing barrage of blaster fire, which forced their foe even further back.
"Ravage! We cannot win this!"
"Your name is Predaking, is it not?! What sort of Predaking runs from a kingsbrawl?!"
"The sort who wants to live!"
Ravage snarled from atop a downed Arcee before he, too, backed off and away. A groundbridge swirled open near him. Both beasts ran into it. Arcee tried to slip in before it closed, but wasn't quite fast enough.
Infernus stared at the spot where the portal had vanished.
Predaking. Although Bronze-y the Murder Dragon was more fun to say, at least he had a name for him now, albeit one a bit too grandiose for his tastes.
"What sort of king runs from a kingsbrawl...?" he muttered.
"A wise one," concluded Arcee simply.
Infernus frowned. Maybe, he thought, just maybe Predaking had learned something today. But he doubted he would stay away. If he wanted the title, he'd keep trying to have at him. Predaking was persistent in a way that, if not for all the wild aggression and nearly being beaten to death by him, he could almost admire.
But, since he'd won the fight, he wondered privately, did that make him Predaking? Could a Prime also be a Predaking?
In his head, Onyx harrumphed in deep contempt. This had been no kingsbrawl, he insisted, not when outside help had been involved. A true brawl was between two presumptive kings, not two teams. Such a set up broke the rules of the brawl, thereby rendering any results illegitimate. Their battle had merely been a spat between enemies – nothing "kingly" about it.
Infernus nearly chuckled aloud. He guessed that was fair.
"Come on. Let's check on Brawn," gestured Infernus. "I hope Ravage didn't swipe anything while he was in there."
"You sure you don't wanna join us?"
Brawn lugged the last of the beast bits into the smelter. He didn't answer right away. His mind was still reeling over the fact a beast was a Prime – except, he hadn't been a beast prior, apparently, merely changed into one to better combat the other dragon and his kind. Infernus Prime certainly didn't act beastly; he rather liked him really. Polite, inviting, but playful and casual like a kid. That there were other true Predacons working with him and his team was remarkable. Did that mean not all Predacons were savage Decepticon stooges?
"You sound like a good bunch, but I prefer to work on my own," he amiably admitted. "If ya ever need a hand though, don't hesitate to give me a holler."
"If we do that, do we have to pay you?" the Prime questioned playfully. "'Cause, ah, we're kinda broke...?"
Brawn let out a hearty laugh, "Aw, nah! Not at all! After you helped me out, any hires are on the house!"
"We'll keep beast-hunting," clarified Sami. "I suspect not all remains are in the field if you found a bit of the Nemean Lion already dug up."
"Yeah, and some bits that got left don't have chips anymore, since Wildstab got 'em on the first go around, but I remember where they are," agreed Brawn. "He kept real good notes, just like Sami."
He put a single digit forward to let her high-five the tip.
"We'll leave you to it, then," smiled Infernus. "Glad to have met you, Brawn. You too, Sami."
The big merc shook hands with him. "Likewise, kid. Stay safe out there."
On command, a groundbridge opened to transport them back to the hangar.
Bulkhead paused right before entering. "Hey, mind if I keep the hammer?" he asked, eyeing where it hung on the nearby wall.
Brawn smirked. He agreed to let him borrow it, but only if he needed it to clobber a beastie. Or Megatron. He wasn't permanently trusting his baby with him, no matter how nice he was or how good he was with it.
Bulkhead accepted the terms in good grace and disappeared into the portal.
Predaking kept mostly quiet as Knockout tended to the damaged he'd sustained, grateful the red medic wasn't scolding him. He felt quite embarrassed over the fight. Shockwave had explicitly told him not to fight, but an ambush not unlike the one he had deployed on the white Draconian had forced him to. And what a fight. His foe had used many of the same tactics he had used against him the first time. He felt he should have expected that, in retrospect. But that ghostly intangibility! How was he to have anticipated that?
*Doctor? Is there a way to counter intangibility?*
"You mean the Phase Shifter? Not really. Be thankful the punk didn't stick you in a wall," grumbled Knockout. "I'll get you back, you little phase-shifting gremlin, just you wait..."
He looked at him, startled. He did not know whether to be sympathetic to his former plight or laugh at the absurdity of the image it conjured. In the end, he yelped when Knockout forcefully realigned his jaw. He had him open and close his maw a few times to be sure. His broken mandible also snapped open and closed normally.
"I think that's the last of it," Knockout declared. "Head back to the aerie. I'll let Lord Megatron know you're on medical leave for the next few days."
Predaking transformed. "Will he be unhappy over that?"
Knockout shrugged, "He may yell at me for the wait, but there's nothing I can do about that. Oh, he may recover faster from injuries due to Dark Energon, but not all of us have a supernatural healing factor."
He nodded, thanked him for the medical care, and left.
Killzone was waiting for him back in the aerie. Predaking could not see the concern on his blank faceplates, but he could feel it. Strangely, he sensed that not all of the soldier's concern was directly aimed at him. There was a twinge of anxiety in the air that was strictly his.
"Killzone?" he inquired. "Is something wrong?"
"Hm? What? No, no. I'm alright," he said abstractedly. "Are you? Heard you took a beating."
He assured him he was. But he did not like being lied to, he warned.
The aerie doors opened to reveal Shockwave. "Sergeant Killzone. Lord Megatron wants a word with you."
Killzone's anxiety spiked, except his body language remained as impassive as ever. He whispered he would be right back, and left the aerie with Shockwave. Upon return, Killzone's anxiety wasn't quite so bad but was still notably detectable. Killzone informed him quickly that there was a hierarchy among their ranks, and back-talking a commanding officer like Lord Megatron or Starscream – no matter if it was done in good faith – was a punishable offense. He'd managed to talk them out of a punishment by promising he'd remind him of that.
"I was over-zealous, I admit," confessed Predaking. "I did not mean to cause offense."
"That's what I told them. Just...be careful in future, okay?"
He nodded, transformed, and curled up in one of the launch bays to think. About what he and Ravage had discovered. About the battle – especially about the battle.
*Killzone?* he wondered at last. *May I ask you a question?*
"Yeah?"
*Is it necessary to kill a foe to win a battle?*
Killzone leaned against the wall and hemmed.
"In my experience? No."
He perked up at that. *Why?*
"This is about the whole kingsbrawl thing, isn't it?" he sagely guessed. "Because if you kill someone, Predaking, they never get a chance to learn what they did wrong."
*But...isn't that detrimental in the long-term? Why would you want an enemy to learn? They might use what they learned to kill you.*
"And I get that. That's the brutally practical way to view that. But stop for a klik and think of the long-term practicality of that approach: if you kill everyone to get to the top dog position, or kill everyone who challenges you...in the end, who would be left over for you to rule?"
Predaking merely stared in silence at the soldier.
Just to clarify since someone already asked this: No, I am not killing Killzone.
