Fay groaned, turning over in her bed as the late morning sun began streaking through the window. She hated this. All of it. She wanted to go home. She wished that night had never happened. She wished she’d never been created. Surely just not existing would be better than this.

        ~~~

        ShockWave, after a few more nights of endless work and patching, had the basic structure made up for the newest, and last, of his weapons. He’d run out of resources to keep going on this path. But if all went well, he wouldn’t need any more. The ones he had would become a dangerous, unstoppable force on their own.

    Led by their young mistress, whose spark had yet to surge with life. It would take careful planning, timing to get the scientifically perfectly compatible mate to Megatron to online without circumstances taking a turn for the worse. ShockWave vented, looking the plain, indistinguishable form over. He was hoping for a femme at this point. It would work better for their plans to have the stealth a femme would provide them. The perfect image she would create with Lord Megatron, the perfect balance: the sheer power and strength, the bulky power of the silver mech with the lean, almost dainty, yet still deadly stealth of the smaller femme.

    A deadly equality; and that matching would require extra work on ShockWave’s part. This creation had to be best of them all. This creation had to be flawless in it’s abilities, and more importantly, it’s obedience and loyalty. It could not stray from it’s path, or turn from his Lord’s leadership traits. So he wrote a new file to be programmed into this one’s hard drive so heavily that it would activate whenever necessary, even if she didn’t want it to.

    She would know her place. It would know it’s place. ShockWave kept working tirelessly, editing this and that for micro-cycles onto micro-cycles, hours upon hours, perfecting the CNA. Perfecting the anomalies of her hard drive and processor, of her form. He knew all the changes would bring her abilities he wouldn’t be able to anticipate, but others he already knew, and they made him smirk at the thought of Autobots writhing at her peds, pleading for mercy she wouldn’t give. Because it simply wasn’t in her programming to know how to pity, how to give mercy to beings such as the Autobots. Only for the Decepticons, and that was an emergency programming in case anything adverse happened.

    Within a full cycle, he’d perfected his creation. His grandest achievement that would turn the war so far in their favor any Autobots that survived this onslaught would certainly bow down to his lord and master, praying to Primus himself that Megatron would accept their allegiance gracefully, without further energon splattering. ShockWave chuckled, but it was short-lived. It was now that ShockWave had to put his creation to the test. If it’s basic form could withstand the surge of energy that would activate it’s spark and all of it’s other systems, then it would be perfection.

    ShockWave had done his absolute best to make this one the best of all of them, to make her superior to any Cybertronian, created or organic. She would end them. Every last Autobot that dared to create problems for the Decepticon takeover would perish by her blade. Perish by the hatred in her amber-colored spark.

    He pulled the lever.

    Electricity surged violently, running through cables into the basic form that lay on the table. It held no characteristics insinuating mech or femme just yet. It held no light in it’s chest, but the appropriate CNA had already been placed inside her spark chamber. As soon as it activated, everything would fall into place like the pieces of a puzzle and-.

    A bright amber glow filled the otherwise dank room; a methodical ploy on ShockWave’s part, to soothe the developing Cybertronians. But now, every corner and crevice was coated in the light that exuded from the spark chamber of his latest creation. A few of the others stirred in their tubes, the light bothersome to their sensitive optics. ShockWave couldn’t care less at the moment.

    He stared, blocking the light as much as he could, as the light seemed to surge brighter, almost seemed to pulse and breathe.

And then it was snuffed out like a candle.

ShockWave stepped forward, toward the table, nearly stumbled in his attempts to see in what was now nearly blackness. It felt darker than it truly was due to the blinding light that had just illuminated the room. The doors slid open, light pouring in as ShockWave’s assistant, attained by Megatron’s desire to have one around more so than the scientist’s himself.

“ShockWave! Sir! What was-?” The young mech had begun, obviously glimpsing the bright glow that had been such an obvious cue.

    The older mech’s helm whipped around, glaring at the assistant with his single red optic. “OUT!” He barked harshly, and the usually quiet mech’s optics widened, glanced around once and he promptly turned and strode away, the doors closing behind him. ShockWave huffed, swearing the assistant was more trouble than he was worth. He did his best to keep the ‘green’ mech busy with menial tasks and gave him only minimal information on the experiments that took place.

    ShockWave looked back to the form on the table, which still lay painfully still, though he expected no less.

    He’d gotten his wish. A femme lay before him. Her spark still pulsed rhythmically in her chamber.

    She was in the midst of adolescence, a lean, but muscular structure to her, with added metal that indicated what path her personality had taken. One of the rarer femmes. She would work perfectly. No one would expect such endless carnage from her. She looked utterly innocent. Had ShockWave not known better, he probably would’ve thought the same. But no. No, he’d made her. A smirk crossed his faceplate. She would be everything they needed. She would make such a difference.

    ShockWave chuckled at the thought of what terror and confusion she would cause the Autobots. At all the futile efforts that would take place to stop her. To attempt to halt her path of destruction. But they would only perish in her rage. In her desire to spill their energon and make them understand exactly why they shouldn’t have gotten in the way of the Decepticons. He examined her form carefully for several kliks, testing her digits, her peds, her shoulder servos, ankle servos, everything he could.

    She was sturdy. She was perfection. She’d accepted the CNA successfully. It gave ShockWave hope for the others. He put his hand to her spark chamber, feeling it pulse beneath his digits, slow and steady. A healthy spark. Her vents came in easy movements. Slow, almost deliberately so. He grinned. Her killing instinct was already taking over. And she had yet to even open her optics. She was the Decepticon’s greatest weapon. A living, venting, ruthless weapon. Who was already programmed to develop a taste for the energon of all those who bore the Autobot insignia.

    ShockWave went to one of the now-empty tubes, testing it’s stability and inspecting the scratch marks the last occupant had left before offlining. He determined it was still plenty sturdy enough to hold a new occupant and the accompanying energon.

    In near-silence, ShockWave walked back to the table where the femme had been successfully onlined and took her into his arms, walking to the empty cylinder and placing her carefully inside. He closed it again and pulled a nearby lever; energon began to flood the inside of the glass.

    He watched as the blue began to encompass his greatest creation yet, swirling around her protoform-like appearance until no empty space was left inside. Her venting adapted instinctively so that she absorbed energon properly. It slid into her innermost chambers, fueling them properly, allowing them to develop into a sturdier state. A trickle of energon still dropped into the chamber, replacing what was lost as she absorbed it into her metal-made, though currently armorless, body.

    Her protection would be added later. If it was added now, it would most likely hinder her growth and development. ShockWave wouldn’t allow that. She needed to stay on this path. To remain perfect. Though of course, even if something took a turn for the worse and she was no longer fit to be a warrior, she was still Lord Megatron’s, perfect through careful engineering, mate. Her spark was the absolute compliment to his lord and master’s. They would create only the best of sparklings.

    ShockWave smiled, shaking his helm, amused almost, at his conquest. He’d created something the Autobots couldn’t fathom. Not until she was behind them, slitting their throats and watching their energon, precious, life-giving energon, flowing from them. Watching them writhe on the ground in their futile last seconds at attempting not to offline. His only wish was that he’d be able to watch it happen as she did.

    With just one more nano-klik examining his best creation to date, he strode from the room, leaving it in the dark as the doors slid shut behind him. Now, and only now would he allow himself recharge again.

    ~~~

    Fay huffed, sending a glare towards the door as a knock came. She sat up, not caring that she was still in her pajamas, and in her bed, conscious though refusing to leave, at noon. “Go away,” she warned, sitting up and gripping the edge of the mattress. She was in no mood for visitors. Especially when she knew she’d missed her pills this morning. They expected her to go get them like everyone else. She refused today. They couldn’t make her do anything. Especially not after yesterday. Not after Optimus being . . . Optimus. She hated him. Absolutely hated him. And yet she loved him.

    How could he have been so stupid? She was . . . well, she wasn’t ‘only human’, but she still felt like any other human. Was she truly expected to take comfort in his presence building up to the day of her father and brother’s death, and not feel something for him? Even if he was a giant, alien robot, according to him, she’d been the same at one point.

    And, well, it had become increasingly difficult to deny his claims. She’d had an incident already, and she’d been less than happy with it. She’d avoided the volleyball courts after that. Refused to go there if people were playing. It was too dangerous. It could have turned DEADLY without her conscious consent. Fay chewed on her lip, recalling how horrid it had been, how close she’d been to breaking.

    She was spared from too much thought about it when the door opened, despite her warning growl to the intruder a second ago. “I said-.” But she stopped short when she looked at the plain oak door opening, and the man who stepped in from it.

    Brown hair. A sturdy, but moderately sized nose. A strong chin.

    Silver eyes.

    Fay froze, watching him enter her room, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. The man from her dreams. He was here. He was HERE of all places in the world and he was just as handsome as he’d been in her dreams. Fay swore her spark stopped when she first saw him, only to begin pounding inside her chest so quickly that it ached as she attempted to regain her breath. She couldn’t think around him. How could she? He was so handsome.

    He was . . . her soul mate . . . That was what he’d told her . . . When she looked at him, she saw her life starting over. As a human. As just a human. And that was a marvelous thought. To be normal again. To move past this nonsense with aliens and dead family and just forget it all. Forget all the pain and regret. He’d make her forget everything, wouldn’t he?

    He had yet to so much as look at her. He had a tray of assorted pills and a list. He began opening a few, dropping them into the cup and handing it to her, with a smile that she swore would kill her if she couldn’t kiss those lips, AllSpark, she wanted to, alongside a water bottle. “Drink up,” he instructed her, and she obeyed without a second thought. He double-checked the list. “Farrah Meadows . . .” His voice trailed off a moment before he chuckled. “Quite a name. It’s beautiful.”

    Fay nearly spat out the water, and pills, she was attempting to consume. Beautiful. Had he really just called her beautiful. Her chest began to hurt with the pulsing of her spark. She hoped it wasn’t too obvious, though she could feel her cheeks flush. He noticed the change in her and his smile grew.

    “Apologies . . . I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Fay,” he told her, and she felt like his voice was nothing less than the finest satin wrapping around her, pulling her closer to him. To a deadly range if she wasn’t careful. She was already beginning to sense how dangerous she was getting to be and she didn’t want to hurt this man. She couldn’t. If she did . . . She’d never forgive herself. But she wanted to be so close to him. Wanted to be near him at all hours of the day. Wanted to kiss him, feel his skin pressed to hers, feel his warmth . . .

    She wanted to share a bed with him, she realized. And yet . . . her father had warned her about that, hadn’t he? It was a dream . . . Right . . . ? She couldn’t think clearly. All she saw right now was him. And how badly she wanted to be with him. She could control herself, she could do anything she needed just to be near him and-.

    His chuckle, soft and musical and wonderful, broke through her thoughts and commanded her attention again. “Are you quite all right? You haven’t said a word. I certainly hope I didn’t give you an unnecessary sedative by accident.” He winked, but she couldn’t understand why. Her flush grew deeper. She wanted to hold him. Wanted to be closer than the few feet of air that separated them. Like some sort of horrible, invisible wall. Her spark beat faster, harder, and she thought it might burst from inside her chest. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t possible. He didn’t really exist and yet he did.

    “Wh-what’s your name . . . ?” She stammered, nearly shaking from where she sat on the mattress.

    His smile was soft as he watched her, a glint in his eyes, either danger or affection, she couldn’t discern which, made her love him more. Made her desire him more. “Malakai,” he told her simply, gesturing to his name tag. She should’ve seen it before. She should’ve been more observant. But she swore it hadn’t been there a moment ago.

    “Malakai,” she whispered, awe sliding into her voice against her will. He seemed to love it. A small laugh escaped him, his eyes glittering, hers wide as she drank in his every feature.

    “Yes?” He asked innocently, though a bit of a danger lurked in his tone, buried deep though still noticeable if you were looking. Fay wasn’t in the least. She opened her mouth, wishing she could say something, anything, but his name. He seemed to be amused by her lack of speech as her jaw wavered with nonexistent words, then closed as she gave up on attempting to communicate. She was simply stunned.

    “Do me a favor,” he said gently, his eyes locking with hers. She nodded eagerly, never looking away from his face. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to make him happy, no matter what it took to do so. His smile grew. “Good. Now just refuse to go to the cafeteria to take your medicine again tomorrow so I may see your lovely face. Though I do hope you can manage to say more than just my name tomorrow. What do you say?”

    Fay’s mouth gaped open, and she attempted to speak, but all that came out was a small noise that sounded more like it should come from a mouse than a young woman. He chuckled and she settled for a nod.

    “All right,” he conceded. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” With that, he wheeled the metal cart littered with medication out of her room and into the hall, the heavy closing behind him automatically. Fay stared at where he’d stood for a while, wishing she could’ve kissed him. She laid back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind buzzing endlessly as she thought about him, about his every curve and feature, of those beautifully silver eyes. Of how perfect he was to her. He was . . . magnificent . . .

    But as her mind began to clear, Fay could hear her father’s words with startling clarity: “Fight HIM, Fair!”

    She’d promised, but she wasn’t exactly sure how long it would be before that promise was broken. Part of her said she’d already broken it. Fay felt awful. Her father had always asked so little, and now she couldn’t even control her stupid hormones. She flushed, gripping the sheets as she balled her hands into fists.

    “Get a hold of yourself, Girl,” she growled, knowing that her father wouldn’t approve, even if his apppearance in her dream had been nothing more but her grief-stricken subconscious. He was a proud, honorable man. He never gave in to anything petty. He was the bigger man. Always the bigger man. Unless you got on his bad side and activated his temper. Fay winced, recalling when her father had punched a man who’d gotten too close to her at the grocery store and-.

    And the man had been blonde with amber eyes. It had been not two weeks before the accident. Fay’s eyes widened and her spark began to pulse faster again. That man. Who her father had been so defensive against. Who he’d knocked onto his back with one deft blow, in public, just because he’d gotten too close to her. That nightmarish man who she’d punched on the street, and broken his nose . . . Who she’d assaulted in her dream at the scene of the accident . . .

    The man connected to the large metal being she knew as StarScream. His holoform. How much had her father known about these things? How much was she still figuring out? She cursed under her breath and wondered what else was going to hit her in the face like a ton of bricks.