AN – Hello to all readers! I just signed up to fan fiction, took me an HOUR! But I got it done! This story tells of my OC Whipfist, it will also include OCs from my friends and family too. This story starts before the Bot/Con war, and goes through WFC and FOC, and then translates into Transformers Prime, while telling Whipfist's story as well. Enjoy!
Disclaimer – Transformers and all related characters and/or products are property of Hasbro. Whipfist is my own character.
Prologue
Tell me, do you know the feelings of excitement, love, and loss. If not you'd do well to listen to my story.
I started out like many great warriors: a nobody, a nameless slave worker who never knew his mother, or father, digging into Cybertron's underground. It was dark I remember, always dark, and cold, so cold that if you were too unlucky, your joints would freeze. There was never a bright moment for us, we never really get a break. When we do, many of us don't even know how to spend it, I was one of the few that did. I studied the ancient history of our planet, hoping that one day it could be useful. Some say that if you forget the past, then you're doomed to repeat it in the future. I was given a nickname, Scarred, because of the scar down my left optic, rendering it useless. I don't know how I got it, just that it's been there a long time, probably since I was a sparkling.
Now, when you're a slave among many others who are worth less than scrap, the last thing you want is to come short on you're daily requirements, because then the Overseers get angry and deem you as lazy and unwilling to work. Then they choose you, take you somewhere with a few others, take you to die. How did I know this before I was taken? Well, lets just say there are rumours, about where they take you, and they are justified by one simple fact: those who are taken, don't come back... I learned that the hard way, when I lost my closest friend. He called himself D-16, after the mine section we work in.
Like I said none of us have real names, but we do have feelings, personalities, and sparks, pulsing within our chest till the day they are extinguished. We could only tell each other apart from our colours and faces. My own colours being a dulled black with silver in some places, like around my joints, and my silver optics. My friend was pure silver with red highlights, even his face was smooth and clear, at least that's what I guessed it should be, but like me he was dulled and dirty from working down in that Primus forsaken mine! Primus, huh? The supposed maker who cared for us all, where was he when I prayed to him? Where was he when my friend, myself and many others were taken from dying mothers who they claimed "Could not be saved". Sometimes I wish I could just end all the pain and misery, even if only for myself. There was one day I wished I could have been done with my life and let Unicron come to claim my spark from the maker himself. That day seemed many shades darker for me though, almost as if Unicron wanted to grant my wish, because that's the day I was taken.
PS – This chapter is intentionally short to set things up. Review and tell me what you think. Also "every day hero", "Inkcrafter"! Now I finally got signed up, so you can review me too!
Advice from all is appreciated.