Authors: TheHappyRabbit and RevyCaitEll

Title: Old Wounds, New Scars

Chapter: Prologue - A Letter From Primus

Universe: Base G1, hints of Prime, Animated, Robots in Disguise 2016

Series: Old Wounds, New Scars

Summary:The war is over and the Autobots find themselves in charge of Cybertron's restoration and recovery. Turns out things ain't so simple. Other nations across the cosmos not only view Cybertron as a disgrace but some are watching the weakened planet with hungry eyes. And then there is the whole problem with the remaining neutralised Decepticon army.

Warnings: Gore, Slavery Themes, Rape, Sexual References, Sexual Content, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Death, Foul Language, Substance Abuse, Political Drama, Primus Meddling in Shit

Chapter Word Count: 237

Total Word Count: 237

Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is ours apart from plots….and they came from bunnies.


My Children,

You have done so well. You came home. You have stayed true to yourselves. Most of you, that's all I can ask for.

And as I watch you rebuild Cybertron I can't help but feel pride. You survived. And you shall live on.

I call more of your brothers home, even now. You have spread so thin and now you will all come together once more. I wish it was to celebrate the end of an era of darkness. No, that era has yet to release its grip on you my dear ones.

Now you have a new lesson to learn.

Forgiveness.

You are all equal. You are all good. You are all evil. You are all mine, and I, in return, am yours. Pain must be ignored, past doings forgotten, previous allegiances dropped.

The Civil War is over. Let the hate die with the last burning embers and move on. Let new life and challenges arise from the ashes untainted by bloodshed.

A poison spreads through the stars, it's icy clutches grasping all that it can, prosperous worlds reduced to dust. A darkness that cannot be traversed easily. It makes a steady crawl towards you, a new source of life for it to consume.

My Prime, my chosen, please. Listen to your spark. I know it calls to you, whispers its misgivings.

Till all are one.

But you are not as one. Not yet.