~~~

    ShockWave paced around his lab, inspecting what remained of his creations. He’d added the perfected CNA to five more of the developing Cybertronians. Only one of the five had lived to accept the new encoding without offlining. A mech was now the already existing femme’s ‘sibling’ for lack of a better term. Same CNA. Two different forms. If he was lucky, they would be bonded through their processors. He chuckled at the thought, thinking of how deadly they would be as a team. How deadly his creations would be as a pack. They would be a bigger threat than the CyberWolves.

    They would have the same sort of psychic bond the CyberWolves were famous for, but their weaponized forms, made for murder and annihilation, domination, even, would make them more dangerous. Their abilities to adapt and do things no other Cybertronian could. Of course, they would be tested before they were trusted without supervision. They would be tested before their abilities fully developed, before they knew how to completely control their deadly talents.

    If they were dubbed too dangerous and couldn’t control who they attacked, they would be executed on the spot. They refused to take chances with these ones. No matter how valuable each of them was, the feral instincts their catalytic sparks caused couldn’t be taught out. They couldn’t be fixed if their instincts ran too deep. They couldn’t be saved. And so they would be relieved of duty and sent to the Well of AllSparks, or to Pit, really. ShockWave hardly doubted such abominations, no matter how useful, would be welcome in such a holy resting place. Their mission was to kill and destroy until killed.

    And if the day came when they were no longer needed, then they would be dispatched by Megatron himself. He was the only one they would never question. The only one they would never deny.

    And Megatron was on his way here now to inspect the latest creation and to see the further success on what remained of the dozens of possible soldiers that had occupied these chambers. Only nine had been lost from failed CNA tests so far, but it was a heavily felt nine. Granted, one, just one, would do the work of dozens, if not hundreds, of drones, they wished to have as many as possible survive. It would make the war that much shorter. That much easier to twist in their favor like a swift, deadly blow, like Lord Megatron’s blade back in the arena every time he destroyed an opponent. Without a hint of mercy . . .

ShockWave’s helm and single red optic turned to the femme floating alone in her glass chamber, the ones on either side empty and drained, the forms that had occupied them not too long ago now deceased. He scoffed. They’d been weak. They’d been flawed. They had no room for flaws here. They deserved to have their sparks extinguished, he told himself, trying not to have any grief for such precious things from what was likely his greatest experiment.

    The automatic doors sounded as his lord and master strode in, stepping down the large stairs and walking to towards the scientist in the dimmed lower level. The excess light was cut off as the doors closed again, and the primary glow went back to being the soft, dull light exuding from the glass tubes filled with liquid energon and developing Cybertronians. With living weapons.

    Megatron stalked around the room once, twice, looking each of the developing Cybertronians, most of them indiscernible in their gender. Only the newest creation, the femme, and the surviving mech showed those characteristics so far. The rest were still incomplete in their CNA and wouldn’t show any distinguishable characteristics until after the permanent CNA was inserted into their forms. They may as well not even be alive at this point. They were mindless drones, really. Just protoforms, like they would be developing inside a carrier, but quite a bit larger.

    “Only two have survived the experimentation, then?” Megatron asked, a low hiss to his tone, obviously less than pleased with the results, catching on to the signs of survival and death quickly with the gender differences. That, and the empty tubes that had once been occupied with so much potential. He knew very well that even two was a sort of blessing, though it would be deadly for those who stood by Primus. Perhaps it was a blessing from Unicron, then. Yet Megatron couldn’t help hating that so many had been lost when he’d spent time imagining his army destroy the Autobots with such ease.

    The kind of army that would be told in legends eons from now. The kind of soldiers that would be used to threaten misbehaving sparklings into doing what was desired of them lest they cross paths with a deadly femme or mech who knew only what they were programmed to. The kind of danger that would be spoken about only late at night and give nightmares to those who listened and make anyone terrified to become an Autobot ever again. All would bow to the Decepticon regime.

    “Unfortunately so, my lord,” ShockWave told him with a rueful shake of his helm. “On the upside, the latest creation was a blatant success. The CNA was accepted flawlessly into her coding. She will likely be the greatest of them, so long as the initial start-up makes her more stable than the others, rather than less so. It should be as I have hypothesized, as she showed no adverse symptoms during her official online.”

    Megatron stepped forward through the nearly-dark expanse; had the rows and rows of glass and metal been so organized, it would have seemed cluttered. The former gladiator looked the femme over, her tube the only one lit in the close space. He felt the absence of a glow from the ones around her a bit too strongly; more so than he was willing to admit. His optics wandered over her, taking in her features.

She was strong for a femme, lean but solidly built. She would be a force to be reckoned with hand-to-hand. Her armor would develop thick and and heavy. Her lower center of gravity would give her an advantage when it came to balance if she were facing mechs. Her wiring and cables were capable of stretching to as far as Cybertronians could manage, but it would take refinement to get her systems moving the way they were capable of. Yes, this was only the beginning. She and whatever others survived would require training when they were done developing in safety.

She did something then. She opened her optics for the first time.

    She was eye-level with Megatron from where her form was suspended and her red optics met his. They held the contact for a few short seconds that felt like near-eternity for the large mech before her lips curled back in a snarl. It was an unrefined, feral expression, for she was an unrefined femme. She currently knew only two base instincts: to kill. And to obey her lord.

    The former was winning, but the latter kept her from lashing out at the glass that kept her confined. So she floated in the liquid energon, refusing to break her staredown with him. A silent hiss escaped her, a few small bubbles disturbing the blue fluid around her. Her ruby optics burned with the desire to destroy and kill. That instinct would be smoothed out later by the scientist and the overlord. Megatron, refusing to break contact, began speaking again, but not to her.

    “ShockWave, I believe you said they wouldn’t be functional for mega-cycles, not cycles. Aren’t they supposed to still be mindless, half-dead drones so far?” It had been half a mega-cycle, half a week, since the femme had come online. Only one mega-cycle since Lord Megatron’s last visit. Her sistren and brethren were still as expected of them; half-dead, mindless drones. But her different origins made her exceptional. She was already here, hardly functioning but still capable.

Megatron stalked from side to side around the tube, her richly red optics followed his every move, much like a predator tracking it’s prey, waiting for it to believe she wasn’t a threat, and then she would swoop in and end him. But a small part of her amber-colored spark told her to halt each time she wanted to lash out and end him, to spill his energon. He was her lord and master. Some miniscule part of her processor would always know that and obey it above her desire to kill.

    Almost always. But she wouldn’t act on that now. Not yet.

    “She should be,” ShockWave replied, immediately correcting himself. “They should be. The femme cannot be specifically gauged, however. I haven’t done any specific testing or estimates for her. She’s the one created from what was left. The immediate addition of the CNA changes things, but I can’t be certain of exactly what just yet. It will be calculated soon.”

    Megatron gave a curt nod as the femme’s optics drifted closed. He’d won, and so he turned away, giving his attention back to ShockWave who was already preparing a new batch of CNA to be injected into the sparks of the protoform-like bodies. ShockWave was ready to show his lord the process, as long as Megatron had the time to spare.

So the Decepticon overlord stood and watch as ShockWave took a needle and syringe, striding towards the first in a set of five, a vial in his other hand to refill the syringe as needed. He drained the glass chamber, the liquid energon immediately being recycled, and opened the casing up, the armorless body sitting on the floor of the now empty tube. He injected the completed CNA straight into it’s spark chamber, promptly closed the tube again and kept it sealed. He knew what was likely to happen now.

    And it most certainly did. It took just a moment before the body inside began to convulse, jerking in unnatural ways, thumping against the reinforced glass as characteristics began to take over it’s form; this one was developing into a basic mech. The femme not too far away opened her scarlet optics again, watching the horrible transformation.

    His form filled out as his extremities, limbs and helm slammed around the small space. Megatron scowled in disapproval, watching the sickening display in front of him. These were his warriors and they couldn’t even online safely? He kept his gaze on the mech but spoke to the scientist. He couldn’t look away, just as civilians hadn’t been able to when he would execute an opponent in the arena.

    “Isn’t this dangerous, ShockWave? Won’t this cause irreparable damage to keep them confined in such a way while attempting to give them their permanent sparks?” He heard every impact the mech inside made amplified, thinking of how horribly his warriors could become damaged this way.

    ShockWave shook his helm and said, “This reaction is caused by their permanent CNA destroying the temporary. I’ve thought ahead, my lord. Their resilience is well enough to challenge yours, and if any damage is actually sustained, they will heal. More easily once their tubes are refilled with the liquid energon. It is highly unlikely they will hold any serious damage, should they live past the CNA replacement.”

    As if on cue, the mech inside went still, going limp for a split nano-klik, and then surged up, a wild, unrestrained look to his vermillion optics as he struck out at the glass that separated him from ShockWave and Megatron. The tips of his digits scraped against the reinforced barrier again and again, leaving scratch marks behind as evidence of his struggle. A few fervent, primitive moments later, his optics went empty and his metal body clashed against the glass limply as he crumpled into a broken pile of a now lifeless Cybertronian. He’d been part of the majority; he’d ultimately rejected the CNA.

    ShockWave shook his helm with a slow vent, placing a hand to his helm; it caused an ache every time he saw them reject the CNA he’d crafted so specially for the deadly warriors, weapons, that would be so vital to the Decepticon mission. Really, they had no need for these things to be at their disposal. The war was already weighted in their favor, but to have them, living weapons, obeying their every whim, they’d be unstoppable. The Autobots would give in at last. And those who didn’t would be executed so quickly . . .

    The femme watched intently as her brother’s spark stopped, the final pulse felt inside her own spark chamber. She’d felt every part of it, his pain, his fury, and then the dark blankness that told her she was alone again. Alone, except for the other mech nearby, who was as physically isolated as she was, but he had yet to wake since his CNA replacement. That brief flare of spark had made her feel like for once she wasn’t alone. The emptiness haunted her spark. She hadn’t been designed to be alone.

    She pressed her open palm to the glass in front of her. Neither of the free mechs showed her any attention. She doubted they had any idea she was even watching them. Every second she’d spent since waking her processor became more refined, her thoughts, while still jagged and fueled mostly by instinct, were being affected by small portions of logic. And that logic told her these mechs were killing the only others she would share a true bond with.

    Those thoughts grew stronger, as did her fury towards them, as they continued their experiments. As the mech with the single optic and the needle in his hand injected the next Cybertronian down the line.

    The door was closed and the isolated femme felt as the CNA imbued itself in the next Cybertronian, watched as it began to convulse and felt the pain as it’s body impacted against the glass and it showed signs of it’s gender: another mech. He went limp in his chamber. The conscious femme felt as his spark surged with fury and that familiar instinct to kill and destroy as she watched him attack the glass.

    She felt the heavy absence again when his body crumpled and his spark stopped. She pressed her palm flat to the glass, wanting to reach for him, wanting to save the mech whose pain she felt with every beat of her spark. But he was already gone. And the mechs who were free to move around the room unlike her or the others paid her no heed. She hated their arrogance and their lack of acknowledgement. She was here. She was alive. Why make more suffer when she was a danger on her own?

    She could still feel the faint thrum of her slumbering brother’s spark, but it didn’t ease the blow as the third Cybertronian was injected with the permanent CNA and she could feel that one join her and her brother’s sparks in an invisible bond that joined them. She watched, feeling the pain, but refusing to show it as her newest brother clashed his metal body against the glass cage. She watched with empty, cold optics. All she could focus on was the pain her brother felt, see the stillness as his body relaxed and feel the almost suffocating surge as he came to life and struck the glass that held him confined.

    Again, her spark felt that dreadfully dense emptiness as he permanently offlined and his metal body fell, and she was no longer able to feel him. Her optics flicked to the mechs who kept their attention on the glass casings as another was drained, the still, nondescript Cybertronian inside injected in the spark, the glass cage closed and sealed yet again.

    The femme focused her optics intently, her created nature giving her natural control over it as she watched, as she felt the newest member of her to-be deceased family came online. As it developed the gender characteristics of a femme. The more stable femme, floating in her blue liquid, glanced down at her own form, drawing the similarities between herself and the latest of these things she felt after each injection.

    The younger femme thrashed and the elder felt each blow, even though the younger was morphing in such an intense way that she didn’t. None of the new forms felt the damage they inflicted on themselves as they thrashed, but their sister did. She felt every ounce of pain, though it never registered on her faceplates. She appeared very much the emotionless killer ShockWave had intended her to be. The elder femme watched her sister, her optics drifting to the two mechs on the outside. They watched her mercilessly; her sister, that is. They still hadn’t even thought of looking at where the older femme watched their every move, and felt every loss.

    They were talking, their mouths moving, dentas flashing with words she couldn’t hear, much less understand. Had it not been one of the things ShockWave had been relentless in making sure they understood immediately, she wouldn’t have known they were communicating at all.

    The surge of her sister’s fury and passion for killing snapped her attention back to the femme inside the chamber, watching as she assaulted the nearly invisible barrier that protected the large mechs beyond her. Her burning optics lit with one more surge of life before the younger femme offlined, collapsing into a heap in the small space where she was confined with such ease.

    Light flooded the otherwise faintly lit area and the still-living femme let out a silent hiss, the brightness irritating her sensitive optics. Spots clouded her vision, causing her to bare her denta in a snarl. It wasn’t for another few kliks that she could see clearly. Another mech had joined the larger two, looking small and insignificant, really. It would be so easy to overpower him and leave pools of his energon behind . . .

    But something about him told her that even if she could, she shouldn’t. She did her best to push that away. The smaller mech stood with the larger two, and she watched as the fifth chamber was drained and opened, as a fifth Cybertronian was injected.

    ShockWave had huffed when his worthless assistant had come in here, looking flustered when he earned a glare from both himself and Megatron. He was so terribly useless some days. ShockWave hated him, hated how pointless it was to be stuck with him, even though he had his occasional uses. According to the assistant, BrokenWeld, he’d heard some sort of clanging and crashing, and had come to check on the off chance one of the experiments had escaped and ShockWave required assistance.

    The scientist scoffed at the notion that he would need the assistance of a mech like him in the event of an emergency, especially when their lord was here. After explaining that each of the experiments, when their CNA was replaced and completed, would always obey their lord as they did or be dispatched immediately before they became too much of a threat, the young mech flushed, frustrated and embarrassed. Of course, of course his reluctant mentor had all of this covered flawlessly. That was why he was the best, why he’d wished to train under him and assist in any way he could, even though he usually just wound up getting in the way of things.

    He tried so hard, but it usually wound up being his downfall. To the young mech’s surprise, he was allowed to stay and observe as ShockWave drained the fifth chamber and injected the last Cybertronian form of the day. He shut, sealed and locked it all back up, not a moment too soon. The CNA replaced the temporary parts, causing a burning sensation inside the spark and veins as always.

    It quickly assumed a gender, defaulting to a mech, and it threw it’s body parts sporadically around the too-small space as the CNA throughout his form changed mercilessly, warping and morphing it from a basic protoform to a distinct mech of a navy blue shade, his servos -- joints -- each lined with a tinge of rusty orange.

    The femme watched with her blood red optics, feeling each impact as he flung around the glass enclosure, watching as he caused damage that would be repaired should he live.

    She felt what was wrong with her pained brother before she saw it. His elbow servo had crashed against the glass in his frenzy in exactly the right spot to snap a critical wire. His arm was useless below the elbow servo. He wouldn’t be able to use it at all. And that was his downfall. The femme’s mouth gaped open at the pain the blow had caused, her own arm feeling numb. The first part of a new bond was when it was most sensitive, and she felt nearly everything her siblings experienced, a thin line separating what they felt from her own experiences.

    She felt as her brother’s spark evened out instead of surged. Felt his processor buzz to life ever-so-faintly. He would be conscious for a few kliks, then hibernate for cycles upon mega-cycles as her other sibling did. She slowly closed her mouth again, watching as her only other living sibling was drug out of the tube and forced to stand in front of the largest of the mechs. Her brother was smaller than even the smallest of the other mechs; she could feel the pulse of his spark, his immense calm, a killer’s calm, as he stood among the others.

    They forced him to move him each of his extremities and limbs, testing his range of motion, testing his ability to obey and move. He was silent, even as he was ordered to move his right elbow servo, which was only half-responsive, and each of his right digits. Not one of them moved. His wrists were just as immobile. He was incapable of accessing his forearm weapons encasement.

    They knew he was disabled in that way. They knew he was no good. They knew he was damaged and not worth fixing. There were more. They didn’t have time to deal with one like him. So Lord Megatron raised his blade high above her new brother’s helm.

    And he brought it down, precious energon falling all over the metal floor, the blue helm clanging as it fell and tumbled before stopping. The femme felt it as if her own helm had been severed, and a silent scream escaped her, bubbling into the energon around her.

    And then the glass shattered, energon flooding the floor around her as she fell down, a bit of shock mingling with the resonating ache in her neck. All three mechs looked her way. Now, now they noticed her. She was bitter with loss twisting in with her base instincts. She despised, hated, burned, as her optics flew up to where they watched her. Where they observed her every move. Her lips curled back again, a low, barely audible hiss escaping her, a quiet warning to them.

    She was still learning to control her vocal modulator. But that was the last thing on her mind. Unsteadily, the femme attempted to stand on legs she hadn’t used before, and fell to her knee servos after her first attempt. She’d hardly made it off the ground, really, but she tried again and managed to get nearly upright before she fell again.

    She heard the sounds of their peds splashing, even though most of it had already fallen through the drains in the floor. She looked up, glaring up, ruby red optics flaring with a terrible hatred and a terrible ache with the loss of a sibling who would have lived.

    “He was broken. Go back to resting in a new chamber or I will punish you myself,” the largest, silver mech told her plainly, glaring back at where she kneeled against her will. Her lips curled back in an animalistic snarl, and despite what she wanted to do, she nodded. The mech with a single red optic was already tinkering with one of the now-empty tubes. A heap of broken bodies lay near her decapitated brother’s.

    Her jaw clenched, but when she looked back at the mech who stood in front of her, she huffed, and looked down. He gave a nod of approval and pointed to the new, unbroken glass chamber ShockWave had prepared, sending her on her way. She attempted to stand again, stumbling slightly as she took a step towards her new, horribly small resting place.

    But she fell. Her legs didn’t get the use they needed in those things. Why was she being cooped up in such a way? She couldn’t fathom why she was held in those things for such terribly long periods of time. Of course, she was dangerous, wasn’t she? She glanced at the mech with pointed denta, baring her own in turn, a silent challenge. With a low growl, he strode over, gripping her jaw, locking his red optics to hers.

    “You will go to your chambers immediately or so help me Primus-!” Her optics wavered, then locked into submission, though her expression was still hardened. He noticed the change and gave a curt nod, glancing at her new chamber. She turned from him and wavered slightly as she slipped inside, watching him through the glass as ShockWave closed the door.

    And the look she gave him, Megatron nearly shuddered. ShockWave might’ve done his job too well; as her palm pressed to the curved glass, it was like she stared into his spark, like she knew his every desire.

And that made him desire her.

~~~