Set in the past of The Way of Your World. This fic is not kind; It outright implies ongoing child-abuse and that a canon character was repeatedly raped. If that's not your cup of tea, please turn back now.

Only thing I own is Novastream and Twisterspin.

(Our voice is strong, our future's bright.)

Novastream was pleased with herself. Very pleased. In fact the little sparkling radiated smugness.

Why was she so pleased?

She'd managed a whole orn of stalking the big blue mech -Devcon- without being seen and she'd even managed to walk behind him at times. It was a mark of her skill. She was the best at everything. It didn't matter she was part 'Con, that her Dam didn't want her, that Twisterspin kept looking down at her and threatening to reprimand her for her actions because he could and he was the Colony's military commander. None of that mattered in the light of her whole orn of successful sneaking and stalking.

She'd been Sparked for this kinda thing and no-one wanted to see it. They only saw her as something perverted.

Unfortunately for the little femme, her illusion of stealth was shattered when a hand snagged her by the scruff and hauled her up. She kicked and struggled for a breem, trying to get down.

The hand didn't let go.

"How long you going to follow me for, Scraplet?"

She blinked, huffed and scowled, arms crossed. "I wasn't following you!"

How dare he! She was undetectable! She was the bestest (and smallest) sneaker and stalker in her age group!

... and he had the audacity to laugh at her and raise an opticridge. "Really?"

"Uh huh."

The big mech gave her a smirk, set her down then walked off. "Very well then."

She stared after him before poking her glossa out in the most (im)mature fashion she could muster.

"You coming?"

She squeaked, blinked, looked up (and up and up and up) at his amused look, scowled then scurried after him, pretending that no, she hadn't just been caught in the act. She, Novastream, was the bestest of the best! He just thought he knew what she was doing.

... Because no-one outsmarted her.

As I said so, so there!

(How I long for something better than this life I know too well.)

"What did you do this time?"

The youngling glared up at the gold-and-black frontliner, teeth grit, hands fisted and mismatched optics glaring at him. "Nothing. Dogfight started it!"

"And you attacked his weakness like the Decepticon you are." Novastream refused to flinch, even knowing he was this far from kicking her into the wall with enough force to do serious damage. 'Primus knew the world would be better off without her ilk'.

"Not my fault he leaves the-" She cringed down and away as the hand grabbed her arm in a crushing grip. "Let go! Dam! HELP!"

Her Dam didn't even look at her, too busy burying his head against his friend while the gold-and-black took care of the discipline.

The lack of help hurt, but Novastream should have been used to it by now. Should have been used to the rejection, to the fact she was only barely tolerated because she was only twenty-four vorns. It wouldn't be long before she was forced to work on the Farms; maybe even kicked out for good.

She didn't want to... that wasn't what she wanted at all. She was Sparked for Stealth-

She'd heard the rumours- Decepticons took in anyone willing to swear loyalty to Megatron, who wanted a better life than what the Autobots offered the galaxy.

Oh, the Autobots claimed to bring peace, but all they brought was oppression to the rest of the universe. They were corrupt, power-hungry, war-hungry, and they let the lower classes and those they didn't like starve while they hoarded energon and made people die in War. Even her Dam hoarded energon and forgot to feed her. She'd learned fast how to steal it. It wasn't a skill she was proud of, but one dictated by necessity.

She hated it almost as much as she hated the Autobots for allowing this to happen. Wasn't all life sacred to them?

"Heh. Blue's not going to help you. Not when you remind him of your blasted Sire!"

Novastream's optics widened. "NO NO NO. I look like Dam!"

"Please. You look like the 'con that raped our Amica until you were conceived," he sneered. "You're just the product of something vile and disgusting and the reason Blue hates exposing his spark! Why we're not out there in fighting in the War-"

"Sunny-" The red-and-black shot the gold frontliner a warning look, even as he comforted her Dam through another panic attack. Her tormentor lowered his voice, enough that he wasn't shouting anymore. "When Blue's ready, he'll apply to have an Allspark forged one."

Novastream looked over at her Dam, but no response came, only a look of hatred from the red one. The one mecha who was supposed to protect her from everything didn't even look at her anymore and it only ground in how unwanted she was. It wasn't fair.

Her Dam was supposed to love her, right?

"I- But I defended myself!"

"By using Decepticon tactics. Autobots don't use those tactics!"

"YOU DO. When you fight in those matches! I've seen you both! You're hypocrites!"

He backhanded her into the wall. "Those are still Autobot tactics. Not like a Pit-spawn like you'd know. Get out of here."

Novastream couldn't leave fast enough, spark burning with emotions she didn't know how to handle.

(Though I may be one of many I feel so all alone.)

Devcon found her and her friend on the outskirts of the town; the rest of her group wasn't with her. "Hey, Scraplet."

He barely got a greeting out before Novastream was hugging his leg, systems hitching and rattling as she cried, sobbed her spark out. He only pried her off so he could sit, then the youngling and sparkling took over his lap.

He didn't mind. It gave him the chance to look her over. She was dented and dinged and looked like she'd been in several fights. Or thrown into a wall and if the rest of her group wasn't with her, then something big had happened to the Sparked.

Both, perhaps. The sparkling with her couldn't have been older than a vorn or two by his estimates, or horrifically underfed. Green and black with the same mismatched optics. Eerily quiet as he stared out at nothing and there were signs of recent repairs. "What happened, Scraplet, to both of you?"

"Dam got drunk and kicked me out and Tre'an found me and we went to play with Lolo and No'stre and then they got into a fight and it was fun. Then Spinny stopped it and made them go home. Then No'stre found me and Tre'an and we did stuff and then Tre'an had to go and we came here," the sparkling said in a way that had Devcon's spark twisting in anger.

"Dogfight started it," Novastream whispered. "He said I shouldn't - waste my time. O-On trying to be a -a Ninja because they'd never let me. Or Crossie. Or any of us. Be anything."

"And y'got angry?"

Novastream nodded, shoulders hunched and her 'field clamped down.

"Did you throw the first punch?"

"No, of course not!" She looked up at him, red and blue optics wide, honest. Afraid of him, and Devcon wanted to find her blasted Caretakers and beat the slag out of them, but that wouldn't change anything. "I'd never do that! I know the rules, please believe me. Lobe didn't either-"

"I do, Scraplet. I do." His praise drew a happy smile, even as her 'field opened to bleed hurt and pain and loneliness. Not for the first time did he wish he could take them with him, but his life - that of a Hunter- wasn't one he'd willingly inflict on any child. "Now, y'two wanna go flyng? Find yer friends and stalk me?"

Both nodded, and with a gentle care he rarely showed, Devcon scooped them up. One transformation later, the two bitlets sat in his cockpit as they sped across the Cybertronian sky.

For now, it was enough to chase their demons away, to listen to them, to offer an understanding ear and be a friend when they needed it.

And well, he'd take a respite from the War. If he ended up passing on his skills, then it was a bonus. They deserved a chance, like everyone.

(We won't go down without a fight-)

His name was Crosshairs. Crossie to his friends.

He looked like his Sire only with more green and less white. He wasn't wanted. He was something perverse. He wasn't like the rest of his agemates. They'd been cold-constructed with frozen sparks put in pre-made sparkling protoforms then given to adults to raise. Whatever that meant.

He was Sparked. He was perverted because his spark hadn't come from the Cold Storage Place.

He learned how to steal, to skulk in the shadows, and lie and always find a mark.

All before he was five vorns old, and it meant survival when his Dam returned home drunk without credits left and in a bad mood. He had to steal credits; first so his Dam would live and then so he'd live.

He hated it.

He loved it because he'd met her. Black and grey with hints of white and bitter bitter bitter with mismatched optics like his, she skulked at the edge of everything, tolerated but unwanted, left out in the dark and only ever looked for because it was expected. He met them too, others like him that she protected and taught and made sure they lived.

They had homes… places to sleep, but they never liked it at home. Home was hurt. Pain.

Hatred.

He loved her because she and him and the rest of them – they had a protector.

A huge Autobot who let them tag along, who humoured them and taught them and always promised to come back, and he did because unlike the rest of the Colony, he didn't lie.

He had a spaceship, and it was awesome but he never let them on it.

If he did, they'd stow away to escape this life, and he knew it and it wasn't fair, but he said he didn't want them to think less of him because what War made him do.

Crosshairs thought it dumb and stupid, but who was he to give his thoughts? his thoughts weren't wanted.

Then one day Devcon returned beaten up, bleeding and they found him near the Forest. It was terrifying and frightening and painful to see the big mech like he was. Novastream'd started to cry and that set them all off because what if he died?

"Hey, I'm fine, Scraplets," the Hunter said as he sat against a tree. "Nothing a bit of R&R won't fix."

"Really?" Sherma asked, red optics staring up at him. "That's a lotta damage to fix."

"I promise."

"Stay here." Novastream had demanded, optics narrowed, one hand on her hip, the other on Rook's helm as the sparkling hid behind her. "We're going to help you." She scooped Rook up. "Trapan, Lobe, Sherma,-" The three of them were about her age and they could fight like she could and Trepan and Lobe had Needles in their fingers- "stay behind. You too Crossie. You're Warbuild - and make sure he's ok while we get what we need."

"Sure thing 'Stream. We'll guard him like he does us." Lobe grinned, throwing his arms around the other two in a gesture that quickly devolved into a scuffle. Crosshairs giggled.

"Alright," Devcon said sceptically but willing to trust the small group of Sparked as they left, ignoring the play fighting from those left to 'guard' him. Trepan eventually came out on top.

Crosshairs approved; you didn't mess with Support-class.

Trepan turned to Devcon, casually leaning against his leg. "So. How'd you get like this?"

"I was chasing a bad guy by the name of Momus who was breaking the Accord..." Devcon started, spinning an edited tale of his latest hunt.

(We are the children of the night-)

"They hate us."

"Yep," she said sullenly.

"Why?" the younger tilted his head.

"I... because we're part 'Con. Because we shouldn't exist. Because ... Because our dams carried perverted things, rather than terminate them." She shrugged, smile broken in a way no young adult's should ever be. "Take your pick, Crossie. We'll never be wanted."

Crossie pouted, looking out over the skyline of Altihex. "That's not fair. I'm not her and you're not him so why?"

"It's not, and you know they won't miss us. They don't want us. I'm old enough to be sent to the Farms for good..."

He nodded, green helm bobbing down when she ruffled it. "Where we gonna go?"

Novastream looked to the stars and smiled. "Mmm. I have a few ideas." Then she stood, cheerful yet cunning smile on her face. "Come on. Let's go where we'd be wanted."

"But... What if they hate us?"

"They won't. I heard they take those like us in all the time."

Crosshairs nodded. "What about-?"

Novastream huffed, waving her hand, optics distant. "Trepan and Lobe and Sherma'll look after the rest. Anyway... He hasn't returned in ages. I'm not gonna hold out hope he's still alive cos you know... The War..."

"Why?"

She looked at him, face drawn, older than she had any right to be, then looked away as she took his hand and started towards the spaceport.

"Nova?"

She whimpered, systems hitching with pain. "Hope's not for us, Crossie. Hope's a lie."

Feedback always welcomed and wanted.