Chapter 1

Megatron himself had been the model of her frame.

He had hunted and searched for a femme worthy of carrying his own creation. He had had her body, even her tiny sparkling frame, forged out of Cybertron's strongest metals.

When he first realized that his sparkling was indeed female, he had destroyed her femme creator in his rage, and almost the youngling herself. But the little sparkling, red optics glittering with the fiercest fighting spirit he had seen in ages, had snarled and spat at him fearlessly for the way he'd killed the femme.

She clearly remembered hauling her new, tiny, heavy body over her mother's corpse, right over her darkened spark chamber, to get as close to his face as she could to vividly threaten him. She remembered staring into his cruel, cold red eyes as he bent his massive form over her, the way the anger faded to disturbing joy and pride. His jagged, sharp teeth bare in a twisted smile, he had lifted her up in his huge claws to gaze at her.

He had held her like his own precious treasure, even as she twisted and hissed.

A faceless, nameless onlooker had said, still afraid of his master's unfathomable wrath, "She shows no fear, my lord Megatron. It seems as though she's content to fight until her spark runs cold."

And Megatron, watching the little one as she continued in her rage, agreed with an almost fatherly pride, "you will do, young one. Yes, you will do."

Megatron raised her in darkness, the only face she ever saw in her sparkhood, save those second-long glimpses of a lovely, strong femme's face at the very beginning. Her existence was unknown, even among the Decepticon ranks.

When most sparklings were being showered with love, she was punished every time she so much as shed a tear or let weakness betray her. When most sparklings were encouraged to grow and explore, she was taught to live a life of hate. The Autobots are the enemy, Megatron repeated to her over and over again, They will crush you, take you away from me if you are ever discovered.

A veiled threat. A danger in the shadows. Her spark was twisted and black with anger and loathing. She spent her young days under his watchful gaze, slowly becoming the Decepticon warrior he had dreamed of. And even though all of her scars came from his hands, she thrived only for him. She worked tirelessly to please him. The only light in her life was the sinister pride that filled his optics every time she proved herself.

And Megatron himself had found a certain joy with her, a black peace that settled inside knowing that she was truly, undeniably, his. His ruthlessness, his cunning, his spark. He could see it in her eyes that she lived only for him.

But even though her loyalty never faltered as she grew older and became the very thing he had hoped to create, she couldn't help but burn with pain every time he neglected to call her daughter. She knew, deep down in her tormented spark, that she was nothing more than his deadliest tool.

And that, her spark told her, will never change, no matter how hard you push yourself.

The pain would always be there, but she would shove it down whenever she needed to. All that mattered was that she serve him, making him proud enough to actually acknowledge her as a living femme, his only offspring.

It had nearly killed her when he approached her one day to tell her that he was leaving to find the All Spark, and that she was to stay there and wait for his orders. Like she had always done in the past, she had inclined her head and said the words, Yes, Megatron. No argument. No comments. Just following orders, as he had raised her to.

For years and years and years, she had waited in that cold dark place she had known since the first days of her life. She had felt it in her spark when he had crash landed, when he had offlined. Her first instincts were to leave, to rush to his side and aid him. But his words always came back to her, and she'd run her fingers over the scars on her arms and she'd make herself turn away and wait...always waiting...

Until it suddenly came to her. A whisper that curled around her dark spark and tugged her in the direction he had left. His voice echoed through her, bringing her back to life from her age of silence and torment, come to me, Demona, your time has arrived.

Without a second thought she did just that.

Megatron and transformers belong to their creators. Demona and the storyline are mine. I know it's kind of a far shot...but I've had Demona and her story circulating through my head for a while now. I just adore her...

Usually I excel in excruciatingly long chapters...my apologies.