Ever since I could remember,

Everything inside of me,

Just wanted to fit in

I was never one for pretenders,

Everything I tried to be,

Just wouldn't settle in

Optimus sat in darkness. His optics were fixed on the opposite wall.

He was in a war. He was fighting for his life, but no one would be able to see that if they walked in to visit him, if they got up the courage to open the door. When the door was closed, it meant Optimus wanted peace and quiet, which probably meant he was working on a project or on paperwork.

But he wasn't doing any of those. Like he thought before, he was in a war that no one could see. He was fighting and screaming, but it was all internal.

His optics dimmed as he sat completely still, his gaze glued to the opposite wall. He took slow steady intakes.

Anyone watching him would assume he was in a deep thought, in a dark room, not moving at all except to intake and exhale.

If I told you what I was,

Would you turn your back on me?

And if I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

I get the feeling just because

Everything I touch isn't dark enough

That this problem lies in me

His spark started to pulse rapidly in his chamber. His optics flickered dangerously from blue to a deep purple. He moved them, grabbing his desk for support.

His digits formed into claws and he made his desk splinter. He was screaming internally, but his vocals didn't make a sound. His pain and fear didn't make it out to the outside of him.

Optimus fought back against the dark force within him due to an accident that never meant to be. He was the accident. And it was inside him, crooning and keening to be released. He tried to ignore it, he tried to shut it out, but the sound got louder and soon the fight found it's way outside.

I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,

I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.

A monster, a monster,

I've turned into a monster,

A monster, a monster,

And it keeps getting stronger.

Optimus scrambled to regain control and when he did, he shoved the monster inside him way, way down, to the back of his helm, to the tips of his pedes. He slumped in his chair, feeling that he had won this time.

But the monster came back up and it teased him, mocked him, hissed at him in his audios.

He gripped his helm and he rested it on the desk. He felt his vocals start to make sounds, but he crushed those. He swallowed them down to his tank and he looked up.

Tears had begun to work their way out of his optics, but he did not give them any attention. Those would only distract him, if they were real tears after all.

Can I clear my conscience,

If I'm different from the rest,

Do I have to run and hide?

I never said that I want this,

This burden came to me,

And it's made its home inside

Optimus remembered the first time he had experienced this fight. He was young, only an infant compared to human standards. He was weak and the monster took him over in a matter of seconds.

He got stronger since the first encounter, and he began to last minutes and hours until now, he can go days in the fight before he finally won control or the monster did.

The monster won rarely, and when Optimus won, it wasn't out of sheer strength or will against the force.

The monster had let him win.

If I told you what I was,

Would you turn your back on me?

And if I seem dangerous,

Would you be scared?

I get the feeling just because,

Everything I touch isn't dark enough

That this problem lies in me

The monster was breaking him down now, something it hadn't done since his "teen" years. He had fought for hours then while he stood at his desk in Iacon, completely unmoving. Then the monster started to win.

He had left work then, leaving a note that said simply Be back later. He had convinced everyone that his carrier was in need of assistance, but Alpha Trion had a question he could not explain.

Did you write that note?

Of course he did. He nodded at Alpha Trion, but the older mech became more confused.

That is not your handwriting.

I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,

I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.

A monster, a monster,

I've turned into a monster,

A monster, a monster,

And it keeps getting stronger.

He made the slightest of whimpers then, just enough for his audios to pick up, but no one else's. He cradled his face in his servos as his frame shook him.

He was going to lose, he knew. The monster inside him was getting too strong for him to resist the change, the intense feeling for revenge and to bring total destruction.

His optics darkened to a purple, choking out the cheery light blue of Optimus. His digits stayed claws. He stood tall, not because he wanted to, but because the monster had shoved him back. His armor faded to black and purple and his denta sharpened.

The monster started to make joyous sounds at being finally free of its prison, then it walked down the halls towards the exit.

It was late. No one else was in the halls or even active with a berthmate. No one could hear Optimus screaming to be released, even if the monster's vocals had moved to make such sounds.

They were outside before the monster stopped. Its helm tipped up to gaze at the stars and Optimus saw through the monster's optics. He fought to regain control and he was surprised to find he had made the monster's servos lift to its throat.

He was quickly knocked back into submission inside the monster's helm.

You're going to sit back and enjoy the ride, the monster thought.

Optimus could hear him think, could see the mental images the being thought, could feel the emotions that drove the beast.

After all, the monster was him and he was the monster.

An accident had created them both, but only one could have a body.

Two beings caught in one body. It was horror. It was frightening. It was disturbing.

But it was Optimus. And it was Nemesis, who named himself.

The beast's vocals formed a roar, and in it, Optimus forced his scream out.

Two voices produced from the same vocals they shared. It scared the birds up into the sky. It startled a doe and her fawn. It spooked the rabbits back into their warrens.

It made Nemesis tremble in delight.

Nemesis started walking. He moved his pedes through the dew-wet grass as he breathed in the scents of the dying. It was all around him. He loved the scent and he had a thirst to produce it himself. It made his counterpart sob, and he found he enjoyed that too.

He began to sing. It taunted his little brother. It made him curl up and shake. He closed his optics so he could picture his tiny brother in his confines in his processor and his vocals worked. He sang loud enough for the dead to hear.

I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,

I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.

A monster, a monster,

I've turned into a monster,

A monster, a monster,

And it keeps getting stronger.