Silverstreak found that what Red Alert had said about chaos was true. There was absolutely no structure to the younglings' lives. They lived in such filth and squalor that it made Silverstreak's previously uncleaned room seem sparkling. There was no desire amongst the younglings to clean anything up. They couldn't even shower because the pipes were so deteriorated that they were full of holes and leaked terribly. Instead of collecting solvent and bathing with a rag, the younglings were content to just live in their filth. It disgusted Silverstreak, who had lived for so long amongst the mechs on Earth, who cared deeply for appearance.

That wasn't to say that the younglings weren't interesting. Besides Mirage, there were eight others. There was the oldest youngling, Red Alert, who was a stickler for rules and was ready to attack anybody and everybody who disobeyed anything to the smallest degree. He seemed fastidious, even though he was just as dirty as everybody else. There was also a pair of twins, the yellow youngling Sunstreaker and a red one called Sideswipe. Sunstreaker was aggressive with a sharp glossa, while Sideswipe was calm and had a fantastic sense of humor.

Beachcomber, a smooth purple and blue youngling, was even more laid back, so much so that he seemed to be horizontal. He had an easygoing nature, and he accepted everybody as they were. There was also a novice medic called Pipes. His armor, through the grime, was a dark blue, and he was rather quiet and nervous about everything, and his shyness was worse than even First Aid's had been. Another mech, with pale blue-green armor, was Blurr. His name was apt, as he couldn't slow down. There was no way for him to. He had the Cybertronian equivalent of ADHD, and he moved fast, talked fast, and thought fast, which meant that he had the tendency to act rashly.

Then there was Seaspray, who was surprisingly bubbly and optimistic. He tried his best to keep everybody's spirits up, and he had orange and white armor with a tinge of blue on his hands. His attitude was a contrast to the terrible state of the younglings and the environment around them. Hound was a rough and tumble mech who didn't mind being dirty and down to the ground. He was very knowledgeable about pretty much everything to do with Cybertron and its creatures. Mirage was Hound's best friend, and he was hesitant and retiring, but there was a deep sense of wrongness that overcame Mirage when he looked around. He knew that they weren't living their best lives, and it tore him apart because there didn't seem to be an answer.

It made Silverstreak angry that they were content with so little. So one day soon after arriving, while the younglings were recharging peacefully, Silverstreak got up and went to check out the shower situation. They were all crowded in one large house that Mirage said used to belong to a rich noblemech that he had been acquainted with. It contained several showers, and Silverstreak was determined to completely repair at least one of them. He found a shower room and looked around in dismay at the mess before him.

The pipes were half exposed and rusted to the point where they were basically useless. Silverstreak scanned the room, sighed, then reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a ponytail holder made of metal, something he'd made when his hair got in his face too often. He put up his hair, removed his cape, and set to work. With a tremendous amount of effort, he peeled all of the metal off of the wall to assess the issues. After studying it for a while, he realized that he would have to replace everything. It was going to take a long time.

So he began the daunting project, taking apart the entire structure. He measured the pipes, wrote down the dimensions and how they were to fit together on a datapad, then he went outside and began to gather scrap metal. He worked for three long, grueling hours, piling up the metal behind the house where the younglings were staying. He was in the middle of melting the metal into a pile of molten metal when Red Alert came out. He looked surprised.

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

Silverstreak heaved hard on a stubborn piece of metal and pressed his hands against it, creating an electrical burst so hot that it superheated the metal, and it began to melt.

"Superheating metal," he said absently.

"For what?"

"To make new pipes for the washroom."

"What for?" Red Alert asked.

"So you can all clean up. You're all absolutely filthy," Silverstreak said.

Red Alert's optics turned pink and glanced down at himself. "Yeah…"

He stared for a moment then walked back inside. Silverstreak continued to work for another fifteen minutes, sucking in great gasps of air when he was overheated by the rippling heat of the cooling metal sheets. He didn't need to breathe for oxygen, but he did need to keep cool. To his great surprise, Red Alert came out with the others, who stood staring silently at him. It was Seaspray that approached first.

"Red Alert says you're creating pipes."

"Yep," Silverstreak said. He stepped back and scanned the sheets of metal. "Going to repair the showers."

Seaspray leaned forward. "Can we help?"

"If you want," Silverstreak said, but his spark leaped with joy. He was getting them out of their stupor!

"What do we need to do?"

With great pleasure, he began to instruct them in the art of making pipes, something he'd taken an interest in back on Earth when he was bored one week. While they cut and stretched the metal into the proper dimensions, Silverstreak used his electrical abilities to weld the pipes together. When that was done, he had them carry them inside. Red Alert began to reassemble the pipes. Silverstreak noted that Red Alert seemed to be in his element with hands-on work. He didn't even need Silverstreak's instructions to get them connected correctly. When they were all in place, he stood back.

"Turn it on," Silverstreak instructed. "Let's see if it works."

Mirage reached over and pressed the switch. To the amazement of all of the younglings, all five showerheads sprayed clear, cool solvent. A cheer of delight rose from all of them. Silverstreak was exhausted from his efforts, but he was pleased.

"Now you can shower!" he said. "Get to it. You'll feel so much better when you're clean."

An hour later, Silverstreak saw the true colors of each of the younglings. They were bright and clean, and they were all so happy. They beamed around, complimenting each other on their cleanliness and making jokes. Silverstreak rinsed off when they were done, and he headed for a berth to sleep. Mirage followed him, his golden optics shining with pleasure.

"Thank you, Silverstreak," he said. "That was very thoughtful. I wasn't sure you could do it, but you did. Making new pipes, I never would have thought of it!"

Silverstreak smiled as he unbound his hair and covered himself with his cloak. "I'm glad to see you so clean. You look really good. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to recharge."

"Of course," Mirage said quickly. "Have a good cycle."

He left Silverstreak alone, and the silver youngling fell asleep. He dreamed again, but this time it was of the temple. He saw the large door opening for him, and he was ushered forward into the inner rooms, passing door after door, which all remained closed. He saw a door decorated in beautiful silver and gold designs, and this one did open for him. Then he walked in and saw something so bright, so beautiful that he needed more of it. And he woke with an ache in his spark to see Mirage standing there, staring at him.

"What is it?" he asked groggily.

"Well… we don't know," Mirage said. Silverstreak waited. He shifted. "We were just cleaning up a little, you know because we're clean now and everything else isn't. And there was this light from…"

"The temple," Silverstreak said quietly. "Go on."

Mirage hesitated. "It had your name written in the sky, and it said to 'Come now, all of you.'"

Silverstreak stood and threw on his cloak. "Let's go then."

He jumped down and headed out, his feet guiding him automatically toward the temple. He saw the words in the sky, looking as if they were carved out of light. Red Alert and the others stared at the words with white optics. When Silverstreak passed them, they silently followed. They got to the barrier, and Silverstreak touched the sensor and let the sparks dance on his fingertips. At once, the barrier flickered, and Mirage passed through it. The others hesitated, but one more look at the sky convinced them to follow, even Red Alert. Silverstreak leaped through the barrier last of all and took off at a run toward the temple.

He stopped in front of the door, waiting for the younglings. When they were assembled, Silverstreak hesitated then reached out to touch the door. It slid open without a sound, and firelight glimmered on the walls as some kind of metallic torches lit, leading into the darkness of the temple. Silverstreak glanced back, then they all walked in, looking around. Mirage buzzed nervously and whispered to Hound.

"It's never opened for me before."

The sound echoed, bouncing off the purposefully acoustically perfect tunnel, and they all heard it. Mirage's optics turned pink as everybody besides Silverstreak looked at him curiously. Silverstreak continued to push forward, past the many closed doors, following the torchlight to the door embossed with silver and gold. He stopped before it, recalling the beauty that had hit him in the dream, though he couldn't remember anything specific.

"Well?" Sunstreaker asked impatiently.

Silverstreak reached out and brushed the door with his fingers. It opened to reveal a pulsing spark, full of every color imaginable. They all walked in, gaping at the spark. Silverstreak felt compelled to walk closer, and he did so, his eyes taken in by the beauty and peace that radiated from the spark's very core. When he was directly beneath it, he looked back to see the younglings huddled by the now-closed door that led out. They watched him mutely, terror and fascination in their faces.

Silverstreak looked up and cleared his throat. "Um, I'm here. You called?"

The spark flashed then tendrils of light spiraled down and gently wrapped around his body. He found himself being lifted into that beautiful, prismatic light, and then he was in the center. A tingling sensation overwhelmed him, and he suddenly could no longer feel his body. A scream threatened to break out, but he had no voice in this endless light. He was scared of the lack of feeling and soothed by the bright light as it wound around him, through him. Without knowing how he knew it, he knew for a fact that something amazing was happening, something rare and powerful, and he simply waited as the light continued to pulse around him.

Then sensation flooded his body again, and he was bewildered by everything that swamped him. He was lowered from the light, and he found himself kneeling before the light. He shuttered his optics in surprise, and he heard a soft click. His vents were stuttering for air, and he trembled from head to foot. He looked down at himself and couldn't believe what he saw.

He was no longer shaped like a human. His body had taken on a Cybertronian form, thin like a youngling, yet full of hidden strength. He heard a gasp behind him, and he turned to see the younglings gaping at him. No. Not him. Something in front of him. He turned to see a handsome mech, his body made of the purest silver and gold, with words of ancient curled around his armor, defining him and announcing his attributes. The mech looked down at him, a gentle smile on his face. He held out his hand and spoke words that made the entire room silent.

"Arise, Silverstorm Prime."