Silverstorm watched as Mirage walked down the line of targets he'd set up, nailing an arrow into the center with every shot. He had been right about Mirage's sight being an asset with a bow and arrows. Red Alert had worked for two weeks to help him craft exquisite bows and sleek arrows, and he stood proudly watching as they were tried by his friends. He was still experimenting with specialty arrows, but the regular arrows were perfection as far as Silverstorm was concerned. When he had hit all the targets, Mirage stopped at the end and turned to see if his Prime approved, and Silverstorm nodded, his optics bright with glee.

"Excellent, Raj!" he exclaimed. "I knew you'd be fit for a long-ranged weapon. Do you like it?"

Mirage puffed up. "Yes, Prime. I love it. And you said there's be different arrow types?"

Red Alert answered. "Maybe in a few weeks. I'm still working on them. But yes. There should be quite a few types. And I'm developing a holster for them. I'll have Pipes program some signals into your systems so you can ping which arrow you want to come out."

"Sounds perfect. I'll let you and Pipes work on that."

There was a call, and Silverbolt landed with his fliers. They had been out, and Silverbolt looked uneasy.

"Something wrong?" Silverstorm asked.

"There's a mech headed this way."

Silverstorm hesitated. "What's he look like?"

"Tall, broad, red, blue, and white armor, optical lenses, datapad, looks grim and wary," Skydive said at once.

"Magnus," Sunstreaker groaned.

As of on cue, the barrier fritzed, and Silverbolt stiffened. "That sounds bad."

"He's supposed to be checking on the younglings," Silverstorm said. "But he's a little overwhelming."

There was a shout from the barrier area, and Silverstorm gestured for the fliers to get behind him. "He's not going to like that more younglings are here."

Silverbolt tugged Fireflight forward, and they all huddled behind the Prime. The other younglings made faces, but they didn't move to cower. Even Mirage strode over and stood beside Silverstorm, his optics flashing.

Ultra Magnus approached, looking irritable. He stopped when his optics fell on the fliers then he turned to narrow them at Silverstorm.

"So you're still here?" he asked. "And you've brought more younglings in?"

Silverstorm took a deep intake and nodded. "Yes. I'm not going to leave."

"Unlike you," Sunstreaker grumbled.

Ultra Magnus looked angry, and when he spoke, his voice was tight. "I have to protect more younglings than just you, Sunstreaker."

"If you're doing the same to them as you do to us, they must be in shambles," Sunstreaker replied blandly.

"Sunny," Silverstorm cautioned.

"What? I'm not scared of him."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't deserve your respect."

Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics. "Really? You want them to respect me? You've usurped my authority, and they're still supposed to respect me?"

"He's a Prime," Mirage retorted. "He got his authority from Primus. Where did you get yours?"

"Optimus Prime," Ultra Magnus replied sourly. "So drop the attitude."

Silverstorm was curious. "Optimus appointed you?"

"Yes," Ultra Magnus said. "But I'm sure that doesn't matter to you."

Silverstorm frowned. "I wouldn't say that. Optimus never does anything without a reason."

That made Ultra Magnus even angrier. "Oh, now you know Optimus?" he demanded.

"Known him for a while, actually," Silverstorm said. "He's on my home planet with a couple teams of mechs. Primus brought me here but left them there. He says they'll come home soon, though."

Ultra Magnus removed his lenses and narrowed his optics. "And he knows you're a Prime?"

Silverstorm grimaced and shifted uneasily. "Not exactly. I was appointed after I left."

The mech's gaze was penetrating as he stared at Silverstorm. Sunstreaker stepped forward, his entire body prepared to spring. He knew that look, and it was often followed by a statement that stung.

"And do you think he'd approve of you becoming a Prime?" Ultra Magnus asked.

That cut Silverstorm, and he flinched, his arms coming up to embrace his own thin frame. His answer was obvious, and the mech nodded.

"Magnus, don't," Sunstreaker hissed. But the mech didn't listen.

"Even he thinks you're a loser, doesn't he?"

Silverstorm's face crumpled, and Sunstreaker let out a roar. In that moment, he despised Ultra Magnus for making his Prime feel lower than dust. He had always had a short fuse with the mech. Ultra Magnus had tried to curb his temper when he was younger, but he had only succeeded in placing a burning ember of perpetual anger toward the mech. And with that look of pain on his beloved Prime's face, the ember was once again fanned into a raging inferno. Sunstreaker lunged at Ultra Magnus, his hand moving toward his knife.

Before he could tug it from its sheath, Silverstorm caught his arms and jerked them behind his back.

"No, Sunny!" he gasped.

"He hurt you!" Sunstreaker snarled. He writhed in his Prime's grip, but Silverstorm didn't let go.

"That does not mean you react like this," Silverstorm grunted. "You use your knife on Cons, not Autobots. Take a breath."

Sunstreaker continued to struggle, and Ultra Magnus looked bewildered and afraid as he stared with white optics at the angry youngling. Silverstorm crooned and clicked low in his throat, encouraging the yellow youngling to calm down. But his optics were staring right at Ultra Magnus, and they were bright with rage. Ultra Magnus took a step back then looked away.

"I'm going to go check the computer status," he muttered then turned and hurried away. He threw a concerned glance back at the group of younglings. Sunstreaker seemed to be relaxing in Silverstorm's arms.

"Easy, Sunny," Silverstorm sighed, releasing his arms. "Do you need to cool off?"

Sunstreaker didn't want to cool off. He wanted to punch that glitchhead in the face. But Silverstorm wouldn't like that, so he nodded, holding himself stiffly.

He turned and stalked toward the barrier. It took only a tap to fritz the shield and he was out and wandering in the devastated world. He walked toward the mines and the surrounding battlefields. He walked to clear his head, to try and breathe through his rage. He was beginning to calm down when a frantic beeping at his audial startled him. He tapped his receptor.

"Yeah?"

Ultra Magnus's voice came through. "Come back to the shield!"

"Shut your fragging mouth, Magnus," Sunstreaker spat. "I'm not listening to you anymore."

"But there's some—"

"Shut up, glitch!"

He disconnected and blocked the signal. Now he was riled again. He smiled to himself and continued to walk. He hated that mech. Why did he have to come and pretend to have any authority over them? During his last visit, Silverstorm had proved that he had no power over them. He wasn't worth listening to.

"Well, well, well," a soft, dangerous voice purred from in front of him. "What do we have here?"

Sunstreaker stopped and looked up to see three mechs staring at him with great interest. One was a flier while the other two were clearly ground units. But what captured Sunstreaker's attention was the purple insignias that marked them. He had just run into a pack of Decepticons. He froze, his sparkpulse skyrocketing as he gazed in terror at three mechs that were bigger and stronger than him. The two ground units transformed their arms into guns and the flier grinned at him.

"No insignia," he said. "And so very young."

"Where are you staying, youngling?" the taller of the two ground mechs asked.

Sunstreaker shook his head, unable to speak. He needed to fight, needed to think, but he was paralyzed. Silverstorm had never mentioned this part of being in a fight.

There was the sound of shifting metal, and the flier's wrist armor transformed into a knife. He stepped closer and pressed it directly onto Sunstreaker's neck.

"Tell us and we might spare you,"

Before Sunstreaker could reply, or even think of a reply, there was the shrieking of metal on metal, and a vehicle barreled directly at the Decepticons. They scattered in surprise, and the vehicle skidded to a stop in front of Sunstreaker. In a flash of parts and moving metal, Ultra Magnus stood there, his optics white. He jerked his arm and it changed into a cannon then he stood right in front of Sunstreaker.

"Don't you touch him!" he barked, shifting his feet and looking at each Decepticon in turn.

The flier's red optics flashed with anger, then he grinned. "If it isn't the great Ultra Magnus. Still stuck taking care of sparklings?" There was a gruff laugh from the other two. "Oh how the mighty have fallen," he hissed.

Ultra Magnus pressed his hand back at Sunstreaker as he backed up, and Sunstreaker obeyed. He had never seen such a determined look on the mech's face before. The Decepticons continued to sneer at them, apparently awaiting an answer.

"Leave," Ultra Magnus said.

"I don't think so. I know the position you're in, Magnus. You have nobody to back you up. That means it's three against two. And one of you is a youngling." The flier laughed. "I like those odds."

Before Sunstreaker could blink, the two ground mechs lunged for Ultra Magnus. Gunfire boomed through the still air, and Sunstreaker yelled, recalling days of perpetual bombardment, listening to mechs screaming and dying. He froze in panic as memories threatened to engulf him. Ultra Magnus blasted the first mech in the chest. He tumbled back and didn't move. The second Decepticon began to wrestle with his Autobot foe, and they struggled as the flier swaggered over to the youngling. He tutted softly.

"Such a waste in one so young."

There was a guttural cry, and the second Decepticon went down. The flier jerked around and lifted his hands to catch Ultra Magnus, who ran into him full speed. A strangled moan came from him as his optics flashed white. Sunstreaker saw bright blue energon leaking onto the ground. It was spark energy. Magnus had been hit near his spark. He was going to die.

Fury helped Sunstreaker to wrest his feet from the ground, and he pulled out his sword hilt, extending the thin, perfect blade as he screamed with rage. The flier turned, shock in his face as he was attacked with an unfamiliar weapon. He dodged several strikes, stumbling back from the force of Sunstreaker's fierce swings. The Decepticon plunged his own wrist blade into Sunstreaker's side, but the youngling barely noticed, so engulfed with rage.

Sunstreaker beat him back, his spark pulsing wildly as he fought. All he wanted was to make the Decepticon suffer. But the flier was getting angry, and he flung Sunstreaker back. His arm transformed into a thin gun, and he aimed it. Sunstreaker glared at him, unafraid. The weapon fired, but the bullet never reached its target. A powerful, sparking energy shield slammed down in front of the youngling, and the bullet exploded from the electricity.

The flier turned and fear flashed across his face as Silverstorm came charging in, his sword flashing. The other younglings watched with white optics as their Prime moved quickly, slicing into the flier's armor. With one swipe, the flier went down to his knees. He tried to strike with his knife, but Silverstorm severed it from his wrist then swung his blade into the energon line at the Decepticon's neck. He gurgled, gasped, then fell back, blood gushing out of his wound. Within a minute, he stilled, and Silverstorm glared.

"Fragging Cons," he grumbled.

Then he turned to appraise the scene. Sunstreaker was bleeding badly from a gash in his side, but he was conscious and gazing with fear at the body that lay a short way away. It was Ultra Magnus, and he was bleeding spark energy. That wasn't good.

"Pipes!" Silverstorm shouted, hurrying forward.

Ultra Magnus heard the noise, but it was distorted. The sound of his weakening sparkpulse sounded in his audios, and pain was his only reality. Each pulse of his spark sent a wave of agony through his body. All he wanted was relief. He was going to die, he thought hazily. Or did he? His thoughts were disjointed and fading in and out. As if from a long way away, he felt something warm grasp his hand, and that strange youngling, the one who claimed to be a Prime, leaned over him, looking concerned.

"Don't you worry, Magnus," the youngling said, his voice steady.

"Y-younglings," Magnus croaked, managing to take out his precious datapad. His clumsy fingers pushed the computer into Silverstorm's chest. "T-take care…"

"I will. Until you're better, I'll help them," he said.

With his mission successfully passed on, Ultra Magnus's vision faded in and out as he accepted that he was going to die. He saw flashes of things. Sunstreaker's friends. A ceiling. Pipes leaning down with concerned, frightened optics. A silver face surrounded by gold, shining optics appraising him. This vision lasted longer than the others, and a silver hand reached down to his chest. The pain receded, and he gasped, reaching up to grasp the hand, grateful. He wanted to ask if this was the well of Allsparks, but his voice didn't want to cooperate.

"You're not there yet, Ultra Magnus," the silver face said, his golden optics shining with amusement. "Rest. I'll talk to you when you wake."

And blessed darkness surrounded him.