Hi! Here is my new story, Demon Spawn, requested by jack prime. Hope this meets your expectations!
Title: Demon Spawn
Universe: Prime
Rating: T.
Warnings: None at the moment.
Summary: He was always different, that he knew. No one bothered him about it. He was not sure no one even noticed or cared, for that matter. So why was this empty void buried deep inside of him? Was there a purpose, some sort of hidden lesson or riddle for him to solve? Oh, no. There was no lesson. There was only secrets, precious little secrets. And the one he carried was dangerous enough to destroy all he cared for. And the bad thing was...he was not so sure he would stop it if he could.
"But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of the past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been." Edgar Allen Poe.
He was always strange.
Unwelcome.
An outcast. A social pariah.
He knew that.
He was used to it.
He never fit in, never socialized. If he did, he made a complete and utter fool of himself all of the time.
Yet...he always felt alone.
His friends -human or not- were great, no doubt about it. But there was this void deep in his chest, buried almost imperceptibly within his heart, that could never be filled, no matter what he tried or what others did should they detect it.
There were several guesses as to what the void was housing with a cold and unyielding grasp. It was not depression, that he knew, and it would never be that; he would keep that day away as much as he could. It was not anger, not always as a result of the fact that he could become rather irritated with a certain someone. It was not fear; there was nothing to fear, not after everything he had seen. In the human world...no, that was not correct; in any world...there was always some sort of thing, be it living or inanimate, physical or mental, that terrified every being that knew what fear was out there.
Ah, yes. He knew what it was. Or at least had the nagging sensation of it.
Loneliness.
He was lonely.
Now, one may question the void that carried the inconsequential feeling why it chose to protect loneliness, out of all things, and not something more devastating or painful. The empty vessel would merely stare back and shrug, for even it did not know why it had such an occupation.
Yes, he had friends in places that were higher up, so to speak, but that did not cause his deeply engraved desolation by any means. But that was not the cause. It was his past, that event that had occurred so long ago.
A small boy ran down the sidewalk, breathing heavily. He was going to be late, and he definitely did not want that. He was finally coming home, after all those years, years in which he had spent counting the days down to minute. He counted every day, he made sure of that, and did not miss a single second. He had always been disappointed when he had said he was coming back on a certain day on a certain time, but never showed.
Currently, the thin and long-limbed boy sped down the sidewalk on his bike, thick dark hair flying behind him and breaths heavy and hot in the cool air. It was nearly dark, and he wanted to be there before it became so, not for the light but for the chance to catch a glimpse before he vanished once and for all.
The driveway was surprisingly empty when he arrived. In a lackadaisical manner he threw his bike to the side, a grin threatening to split his face in two as he ran towards the door and threw it open.
"Dad!"
There was no answer. The room was dark and cold, and smelled faintly of iron and peppermint.
"Dad?" He looked in every room, wondering if this was an early birthday present. But his birthday was not for months, and his father was not big on surprises, so...
"Dad?!"
Something darted in the corner of his peripheral vision, and he whipped around, heart pounding. A bat leaned against the wall, heavy and composed of refined metal, and he quickly wrapped his hand around it, holding it high over his head and at the ready.
"Who's there?"
Of course, nothing answered. He moved silently, heel to toe, and kept his breathing low and even, as to not alert the trespasser of his presence. Having grown up as the son of a military commander meant he had some sort of rudimentary knowledge of protecting himself and his mother, even if he had not like undergoing the "training." He was lucky enough to have a means of protection such as he did.
He headed towards the area, the end of the hall, actually, where he had seen the intruder. His thoughts drifted as he kept his eyes peeled; he was wondering how he could incapacitate the unwelcome guest. He was most likely not tall enough to swing his makeshift weapon hard enough to knock the other out; if he recalled correctly, the interloper was well over six feet and well built, but his eyes could have been playing tricks on him. However...he could aim lower. That would hurt...oh, yes, that would hurt.
His heart betrayed his inner turmoil, pounding and thrashing around like some rabid caged animal. He was more scared than he desired to let on. He had never been in a situation like this, only in so-called simulations designed by his father. What if they had harmed his mother? Or worse...?
Keep your head in the game, kid. Don't let things distract you. You will never know what really happened unless you focus on the goal you have in sight.
His father's words echoed in his head, a recalling of the time when they had been practicing combat lessons and he had ended up in a headlock.
With a deep and calming breath, in and out, he finally was at the end of the hall. Had he really moved that slow?
"I know you're here. Show yourself." His voice echoed throughout the empty and dark house, yet it did not betray his fear. Despite that fact, he still was scared. What if the other had a gun, or even a pocket knife or something like that? He did not live in the nicest of neighborhoods...
Before he could react, an iron grip appeared around his throat, and he gasped, futilely struggling. In his determination, he tightened his own grasp on his weapon, black spots darting in and out of his gaze. Eventually he had enough of his bearing gained to bring his arm back and hit his attacker in what he hoped was a very painful place.
A soft grunt sounded as the metal bat connected with its mark, and the relentless hands around his throat lessened their grip, enough to allow him to worm his way out and turn, ready to strike once more. But as the lights flickered back on, his jaw dropped in shock.
"Dad?"
Using the wall as support, a man stood there before him. He was extremely tall, with a lean and muscular build. He was clad in a sleek and expensive black suit, a clean and crisp white shirt beneath the jacket and a long and simple black tie hanging in between. Long, thick, and dark hair hung in his long face, covering all except his mouth, which was split into a tired yet wide grin.
"Hey, kid." He grunted again as he was tackled by the thin almost-teenager, wrapping his strong arms around the smaller one.
"You scared the mess out of me! What were you thinking?" He could not believe it. His dad was back! Unannounced!
"What was I thinking?" The man's voice darkened suddenly, and he wrenched the boy off of him. He could tell he was glaring at him, despite his unnaturally long bangs covering his dark eyes. Straightening, the man crossed his arms and seemed to glare down at the boy. "What I was thinking is that you would be prepared in case something like this should actually happen."
"It won't, dad." He crossed his own arms, aware of the massive size difference. "We're safe here."
"And what if the circumstances change? What then? What if you two are kidnapped or held as hostages? How will you protect your mother then?"
"I can protect her, dad -"
"What did you call me?"
The preteen pressed his lips together so hard they turned white. "My apologies. Sir."
"Good." The man rolled his shoulders. "Your mother is not here?"
"No, sir, she isn't. She has been at the hospital for late shift."
"Good." The man almost seemed...distracted?
"Father?" The boy deemed it safe to approach the other, eyes widened in concern.
The handsome man leaned down. "Listen to me, child. Come here." Suddenly his arms shot out and his hands landed heavily on the thin and bony shoulders of his son.
After a moment of tense and bewildered silence, the large man spoke. "I need to stay away from you, son. You and your mother. I am needed on an assignment, and I don't know when I'll be back."
The boy blinked a few times. "Can't we just come with you?"
"No, boy! Did you not hear what I just said? You cannot come with me!" Seeing the child's shocked look, the man sighed. "It is confidential. Even to family members."
"Then when will you be back, sir?"
The man sighed. "I do not know; it may take months, years even. I may not see you until you're old enough to drive...or even older than that."
The boy narrowed his eyes. "You will come and visit, won't you?"
"Whenever I can, boy. Whenever I can."
He never did come back. He was starting to believe that he and his mother had been abandoned. Left for scrap.
He never had a father figure, and he could only stand so much of that Special Agent Fowler.
That was why he was lonely.
"Jack?"
He looked up. His alien partner, Arcee, looked down at him, servos on her hips and optics narrowed in concern and slight suspicion.
"Yeah, 'Cee?"
"You okay? You've been standing there staring for about ten minutes."
"I'm fine." He dismissed her protests with a wave of his hand. "Just...thinking. That's all."
"If you say so." The female Cybertronian transformed into her sleek motorcycle alt, pulling up next to him. "We should get going then."
"Yeah. We should." He climbed on and they drove in silence.
Neither of them knew what to say.
Took me a while, but I did it! I hope this meets your specifications! Ideas are welcome!