((Note, this is my first Transformers fan fiction story, criticism is welcome. This story is set in G1, before the original animated movie and is not necessarily consistant with G1 storylines.)) From a distance, the cave looked like a large black spot in the side of the mountain. Few people ever travelled into these mountains, they remained secluded from climbers and air travel alike. Mountains like the Andes were so vast that, that no climber could likely climb every peek in their lifetime. The cave's overhang was frozen over with thick icecycles and snow that seemed ready to slide from the slope above at any moment. A wispy, dry snow caressed across the small plateau just outside the cave, if for no good reason than to show the world how cold and windy such a place could be. The cave was cold as well. It's inhabitant, however, was not. In this cave sat a cold rage. For any human being to understand this kind of anger, they would have to feel the weight of a king. The weight of being a warrior without a war. They would have to be recklessly angry, but feel cold and collected, able to analyse and focus that rage in a very destructive way. No one can do this. Certainly not in the way that this warrior can, that this...king, can. He sits in this cave, on a throne of stone. His presence here is voluntary. When others have become desperate enough in times of great woe, they call upon him. The king. He gives his aide when he feels it should be given. His allegiance is his own and he follows only his own commands. Other do not order him to fight, others plead for him to fight. Others think him aloof and simple. But to him, it is the most basic instincts of right and wrong, strength and weakness which matter. He has not time for politics or deception. He has the unique ability to see things for what they are, no more, no less. A whistling sound is heard outside the cave. The noise of engines echo into the cave. The sound rolls through the cave like the winds from outside, the dry whispy snow helps carry the sound of something in flight. Then the sound of it ceases and for a moment, there is silence again. Silence is what angers him. Only the sounds of war can bring him peace and delight. Footfalls. The snow makes a rubbery sound as it is compacted under each footstep of the trespasser. The trespasser enters a great cavern shaped like a hall. A look of surprise on his face shows he has been here before. The simplicity of this place astonishes him, especially because of the nature of his race. The trespasser sees a dark figure sitting on a throne of stone before him. The figure is massive, menacing and calm. The trespasser speaks. "I have been sent to find you. We need your help. Our old enemies have attacked us with a renewed vigor and we're having trouble protecting ourselves. Will you help us?" The trespasser was an Autobot. His yellow body gleamed in the little light that shone through the openning of the cave. "Optimus said we shouldn't waste the time coming to find you. But, the decepticons have captured a few of us as prisoners. One of them is my brother, Sideswipe. I can't sit around and do nothing. Will you help me?" The dark figure waited silently and then spoke. "Your defiance is brave. I will help you." The figure stood and Sunstreaker saw how truly massive the figure was. Sunstreaker stepped backward and moved to the side of the cave to the figure pass. Sunstreaker raised a passively halting hand, "But, do you think we'll need more help?" "No." The figure said. "But, even youre just one warrior!" Sunstreaker insisted. The figure stopped and faced Sunstreaker, "No, me Grimlock King."