“ShockWave!” Megatron’s voice boomed as he stormed into the lab, the silver of his metal plating glinting in what little light was in the dimly lit enclosed space. The mech with a single red optic stood in the center,turning his attention to his lord attentively. He was nothing if not endlessly loyal. That was why he’d worked so tirelessly on this project for the former gladiator. Why he sometimes deprived himself of a well-deserved recharge to make further strides in this.

    Project Eclipse.

    Rows of large cylinders lined the room, all glowing with an ethereal light, energon suspending the bodies inside midair. The Cybertronian bodies. None were fully developed yet. Their formation was slightly accelerated due to ShockWave’s interference, but it still took time for them to a stage where they were fit for battle.

    Or reproduction.

    But the Decepticon warlord was willing to wait for them to be properly made before he was capable of using them the way he wished. He always kept an eye on them, their still forms inside the protective casings. They looked so peaceful. Had he not known better, known that they were to be used for the annihilation of the Autobots, he would have thought them to be any other young Cybertronians. But no.

    No, they were special. Unfortunately, they were also unstable, and Megatron knew this. He knew how horribly difficult it was to keep them alive and sturdy. Not just their created forms, which had been a time-consuming effort to get them shaped, but their created sparks.

    Megatron’s optics flicked around the energon-filled tubes again, able to spy the soft amber glow that resounded from each one’s spark chamber, which was, for the most part, unprotected. They didn’t have armor and needed none in their metal and clear casings. Especially when those sparks were such an issue for the development itself.

    If they weren’t careful, those sparks would cause the developing Cybertronians within to become less of Decepticon weapons, assassins, even, if it came to that point, and more of animalistic beings fueled only by their own desire for rage and lust for energon. That was the problem with created, catalytic, sparks. While it was incredibly convenient while creating a Cybertronian in the midst of war, it was difficult, if not nearly impossible to create one that wouldn’t go haywire. Currently, the tubes were full. They would see how long it would last once they began releasing and testing the young Cybertronian mechs and femmes.

    “Have you been inserting the proper CNA into them?” Megatron asked, seeming significantly calmer now that he was actually here, surrounded by the creations, any one of which would be his potential mate or greatest weapon.

    “Only five so far, My Lord,” ShockWave replied. Five. Five out of dozens of warriors. Of weapons that, if they passed the tests, would be irreplaceable. “I would have progressed but their bodies have been reacting adversely so I have paused in the CNA process for now.”

    The CNA they were inserting was to edit what little, choppy CNA already existed. This would edit their entirety, even their sparks. They’d used as little coding as they could before to get the catalytic Cybertronians’ sparks online. They were adding in pieces as necessary, a self-deactivating CNA holding the existing chunks together. As new CNA was added, it would disintegrate the temporary parts and take it’s place. So far, it had been unsuccessful. The ones ShockWave had experimented it on had gone feral, clawed at the tube they were trapped in, and offlined after about thirty seconds.

    The sparks were too unstable to accept new information. He’d hoped it had been a freak occurrence, but five sparklings in a row couldn’t be coincidence, so he’d paused in his work, hoping that allowing them to develop further would stabilize their sparks, even slightly. He needed them to. If they all ended this way, every klik of research, every iota of data would be absolutely worthless. Worse than worthless. Because it would be wasted time on something that wound up being good for absolutely nothing. At the same time, he only had so much time before the fragile CNA that was temporarily holding them together would lose it’s binding properties and fall apart. And then they would perish.

    It was a dangerous game they were playing, but one they were willing to risk.

    Megatron glanced around the room, noticing the five empty and drained containers towards the back of the room. He immediately knew what the fate had been of those five ShockWave had experimented on with the sturdier CNA. The fragments that would have permanent.

    The warlord vented heavily. They couldn’t afford losses so early on. It was guaranteed that many of them, if not all of them, would wind up too unstable to be used as he desired. If they were found to be that way, they would be offlined manually. He wasn’t going to take chances with his warriors. “How much longer until you attempt the CNA again?” Megatron questioned, pacing through the rows of energon-filled casings, examining each of the catalytic sparklings. Mechs outnumbered femmes, as was expected.

    Femmes only existed when their personalities dictated a physical change in their forms. Mechs were the basic sex for Cybertronians, unlike the humans they would encounter down the road. There was nearly a 2:1 mech:femme ratio. Warriors and mates. It didn’t matter which became which. Mechs and femmes both had their advantages when it came to war, whether it be the brute strength of a mech, or the feline-like stealth of a femme.

    Both were equally capable of being a carrier, as both had the necessary chambers and equipment. But that was one of the reasons they would be exceptionally careful with these young beings. Only the finest could possibly be considered for carrying. Only the most stable. And once a sparkling was conceived, the carrier would be under close watch.

    Megatron would almost consider carrying the sparkling, sparklings, himself, but he was to be on the front lines. He most certainly wouldn’t make himself vulnerable in that way. If all went well, the Autobots wouldn’t even know of the existence of the weaponized Cybertronians they were developing until it was far too late for them to do a thing about it.

    “It will be some time, My Lord. I wish to take it step by step and not lose any more than necessary. With what little resources remain, I intend to create another. I can piece together and create another form and spark. It will take quite a bit longer to animate this one, but I plan to bypass the manual addition of the desired CNA later by adding it immediately and allowing it to incubate in that state.” He paused, letting his lord consider what he was saying before ShockWave spoke again. “It will either develop as stable as possible for a catalytic Cybertronian or be even more so. Or it will perish before it has a true chance to start.”

    Megatron examined the scientist, and finding no hint of deception, not that he expected to find any, huffed. “Try it anyway,” he commanded and turned his attention back to the bodies suspended without gravity. He slid a large metal digit over the clear barrier that kept one of them from him. This one was a mech. It was incredibly still, calm. “When are they expected to gain consciousness, ShockWave?”

    The bulky, quiet mech turned back to his master, having already become immersed in some more data plots and information. He contemplated it for a moment before responding, “A few weeks before they’re fully functional. They may appear well-developed at the moment, but their insides are still halfway. Which is why the replacement CNA was rejected.”

    Megatron vented slowly, pacing around again, leaving the mech behind, examining each of the mechs and femmes carefully. They’d lost five, and would gain but one. “Make it count, ShockWave. We can’t have the Autobots making a scrap heap of this. Too much time and effort have gone into this. The longer it takes, the longer you’re stuck in this lab. The longer they’re stuck stationary. That means the Autobots have a greater chance of discovering their existence. We can’t have this go to waste, ShockWave! If this takes a turn for the worst, I promise there will be a punishment.”

    With that, the hulking, silver mech stored from the room, and ShockWave turned back to his work, shuffling through data files. It was a seemingly endless task, but one he enjoyed doing. The thought of his creations someday exterminating the Autobots . . . It made him smug to know that something he made with his own servos would cause the Autobots so much grief and discontent. He would create their greatest nightmare come to life.

    A femme. A femme would be quite ideal. A shadowy thing that would be able to dispatch ‘Bot after ‘Bot with ease through the darkness. He would add to the CNA concoction to make her, her spark, capable of more things, better things. He would make her the perfect warrior. The perfect weapon of mass destruction. And she would be so small that the Autobots would never see her coming until it was too late.

    He would hardwire her to relish every second of pain she caused the Autobots. Yes. A femme would serve him well. A mistress to rule beside his master. One with the instinct to continue carrying her sparkling with ease until they could safely be given to someone else to raise so she could back to dispatching those who got in the way of the Decepticons.

    A femme . . . A weaponized femme with the capabilities of only the finest weaponry. Better, even. No other weapon would walk, breathe, think and live as she would. She would be marvelous. ShockWave chuckled. He would set to work immediately. Lord Megatron would pleasantly surprised when he saw ShockWave’s ultimate creation. It had taken all the others, a clustering of mechs and femmes, vast amounts of experimentation, for him to pinpoint the best things he’d added here and there.

    He would make something with endless potential with what he had left from all those forms resting in their protective cases.

    He would make something that would leave death littered in her wake. An unstoppable femme. An unstoppable weapon to be used for war.

    The Autobots wouldn’t know what hit them until their throats were slit and their energon poured onto the ground, a small sliver of it dripping from her blade. And then she would vanish back into the night, like she hadn’t been there at all.

    ~~~

    Fay sighed, sitting in the cafeteria, drumming her fingers against the table where she sat. Others sat near her, but not with her. They never did. With a huff, she looked at her watch. Visiting hours were almost over. How typical. Her clothes were plain today, some of the ones the institution provided. She was so sick of this place. Sick of these people and their rules. Their sanctions. Their urging her to participate in ‘approved activities’ like she were some brainless drone. Their urgency for her to take her medicine.

    She’d relented to that much. She took her pills every day without issue. And yet the nurses always insisted, the counselors and trainers always double and triple-checked, and she always rolled her eyes at them, believing them to be a bunch of ignorant fools. She wanted to strike them sometimes, but if she did that, she’d be sent somewhere worse. With more security and less freedom.

    With a huff, she propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. She continued to tap her fingers of her other hand against the surface beneath her. She didn’t know why she’d expected today to be any different. She’d been here for five days and not once had anyone come to visit her. But she wanted to be here on the off chance that maybe someone would have the damn guts to show themselves. They didn’t, of course. Fay sighed, checking her watch again.

    It had only been two minutes. She was terribly bored sitting here. Just waiting, waiting, waiting. Like she hadn’t done this for the past three days. Someone had to come see her eventually, right?

    But then again, knowing that someone had found her and taken her to the hospital where she’d been while she was unconscious, had a quick trial evaluation of her mental and physical health and then sent here . . . Well, whoever had found her had probably told everyone she knew. Was it possible they just couldn’t stand looking at her anymore? That they were ashamed of what she’d done?

    She huffed, almost glad Optimus hadn’t shown up, nor Charlie or her own mother. Well, Optimus and her mother. Charlie didn’t know anything about her otherworldly heritage. Did she? She hoped not. It seemed Charlie was the only one who was just as much in the dark about this as Fay was. She wanted it to stay that way. She was confused enough without adding that in there. She needed to not be alone in her confusion.

    Fay bit her lip. All these years, her mother had known. Had her father known as well? Certainly he had. Maybe that was his fascination with the cosmos. He knew more than he’d ever told her. Everything was shifting beneath her feet and she couldn’t keep up with it. She was frustrated and hated all of it.

    FarLust. She’d been dubbed FarLust by some creatures she didn’t know or much care for. But she couldn’t deny the dreams she’d been having since that night. And how it took plenty of calm and reasoning to keep her wits about her.

    ‘Just one day at a time.’ She’d told herself that day after day. It took a lot of convincing to actually believe it. Fay huffed, shaking her head without actually thinking about why. She hated this place. Hated it’s walls and innards, all of which were designed to be ‘soothing’ in some way, shape or form.

    Soothing and supposedly to help those with addictions. Fay rolled her eyes at the contradiction. Everyone here who was being treated, which wasn’t very many people, really, were a combination of mental illness and substance abuse. So they were giving pills to people with addiction problems. To keep them from developing issues with the medication, they were kept on the lowest possible dosage, and used different meds every day of the week, so their bodies wouldn’t rely too heavily on any one.

    At least, that was the logic they’d given behind it. Fay wasn’t really sure she believed them. Why should she? All the pills looked the same depending on what they were used for. They were color, size and shape coded.

    Fay was still deep in thought when she heard her name called from behind her, near the doorway. She immediately turned and saw someone she’d been missing.

    “Charlie,” she breathed, almost in awe, like she were seeing a ghost. Then her eyes drifted to Charlie’s side and Fay’s expression soured a little. “Optimus . . .” She murmured, turning back away, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

    He had some nerve . . .