A/N: Alright, so this fic is being written as one of my shorter stories - The Boy and the Beast - is close to conclusion so this will be taking its spot while I take a break from the "bigger" fics. This has been a plot bunny in my head for months now, but only recently did I flesh it out. I hope you'll all enjoy it as it's quite a bit different than my other fics. VERY different actually.

That said...

WARNING: The following fic is VERY, VERY dark. I'm going to keep it rated T but depending on where it goes, it may go up to M due to the past events within the fic. This fic will have a background and some plotlines about HUMAN TRAFFICKING and will probably cover child abuse of the phsyical, sexual, and psychological kind. You have been warned so hopefully anyone who may be triggered by these things reads this!

PAIRINGS: Basically any canon G1 pairings. Though I doubt any will have focus.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers! I own Conner and any other OCs.


CHAPTER 1
An Escape in the Night

His lungs burned with every passing breath, knees quivering, and body shaking.

In the darkness of the night, he could still hear his pursuers. Their boots hit the ground at a fast rate, and their dogs sniffed and barked loudly as they lead the way. Tears stung his eyes as he turned to dare a look into the darkness, but thankfully, it seemed that Conner Banning had seemingly kept some distance up ahead of the men that currently kept him captive.

He'd changed many hands since he was kidnapped at five years old. The people he'd belonged to ranging from modern day slavers who ran big farms or houses, to disgruntled families whose children were taken from them for good reason, to big, posh businessmen with a "thing" for young boys and no desire to be caught.

They said that slavery was dead in America, and had been or a long time. But Conner was living proof that was a lie.

He hardly remembered being taken, as it had been so long ago. He'd been playing just outside his home, if he remembered correctly. A nice home in a nice community, too. Sure, that had made the beat up truck seem suspicious, but at five he hadn't thought much of it. Not until the two men had leapt out, and dragged him kicking and screaming inside.

The police looked for him for months, with his original captor, a man who ran an illegal "sweatshop" type of workhouse, watching very closely. He remembered that his parents were greatly upset - and tried hard to find him too... A fact which he now found odd given how few "happy" memories he had of them left. A part of him had always wondered if it was an act, especially as his captors had drilled into him how he was unloved, uncared for, and sold to them...

He often wondered if it was true. Had they really sold him into this life?

Whatever the case, eventually, the police stopped searching. His case went cold, and no one was looking for him anymore, as far as he knew. Conner had just turned thirteen, meaning he'd spent the last eight years among this small ring of slavers that operated out of North America. Hardly anyone probably thought he was alive, let alone thought of looking further for him.

How he'd finally gotten the courage to make the run for help, he wasn't sure of. Maybe it was that he'd finally had enough, maybe it was all those years of anger being pent up in his body. But that night, when the man he'd currently "belonged" to came into his bedroom, he'd taken a piece of glass he'd broken off his window, and stabbed him in the leg.

There hadn't been time to grab what little possessions he had. Instead, he'd taken off into the night with the other men who'd lived in the home in hot pursuit. The Oregon night air was cold, and a part of him wanted to stop. But at the same time he knew if he did now, he'd be thoroughly punished by his captors, maybe even killed and buried in some unmarked grave like so many threatened.

His brown eyes searched quietly for somewhere to hide. And though it took some time, just when he'd about given up he found it: a hollow log. It was with great difficulty that he managed to move his thin body inside of it, and lay there, but at last, he'd managed.

No more than five minutes later, he heard the men.

The dogs were barking more loudly now, sniffing all around. It was all that Conner could do to keep himself from whimpering as they came closer and closer. "Damn mutts, we've been searching for hours," he heard one of them hiss. "Where is that brat?"

"I don't know. Maybe he went further in."

"Probably did," the first voice responded a groan escaping his lips. "This is gonna suck. If we lose him, not only are we gonna have to pack up and vacate... But Drake's gonna be so pissed. He really liked that kid."

"I always thought he was a dirty little thing," the second voice mused. "I like mine bigger, more meat."

They continued to stand there for a while, and all the while, the dogs sniffed. Conner knew that at any moment, they could give away his location. That the men could take him by his legs, and drag him out and back to their cabin. Tears stung his eyes as he closed them, waiting for that dreaded moment. They made it sound like they'd want him alive. But in all reality, he'd rather just be dead and get it over with. Anything was better than this, ANYTHING.

There was a loud grunt, and then the first voice spoke up again. "Alright, let's get out of here. Keep moving... He can't have gotten far."

And then they were gone.

Conner could hardly believe it, but the dogs had moved on too. And soon, he could hear the footsteps, and barking getting fainter, and fainter, until he couldn't hear them at all.

It would be another two hours before he allowed himself to squirm free. It was even darker than it had been when he'd fled the cabin, and he could barely see anything in the forest. He couldn't hear anyone either, which was a great blessing...

He was free. He couldn't believe it, but he'd done it.

Standing to his feet, he realized he had a new problem: getting out of the forest. In his time there, he hadn't seen any nearby roads. He'd been brought to the cabin in a trunk, so he had no idea where to even start either. All he could see was the dormant volcano, Mount St. Hillary that the men had mentioned in the distance, and lots of trees.

He hugged himself slightly, rubbing his arms in a futile attempt to keep warm. And with what courage he had, braved the walk in the direction of the dormant volcano. A location like that might have meant hikers, people, help... Help... Would anyone even believe him? Would anyone even know who he was?

He could only wonder all of this as he silently dragged himself towards his destination.


Jazz had seen a lot of humans in his life, but this... This was something else.

His patrol had been mostly uneventful, given the lack of activity at this time of the evening. In fact, he'd been ready to pull out and drive back to The Ark when he'd found something was amiss... At first, when he'd been driving near the edge of the forest, he'd thought the child was some sort of plant. But upon closer inspection, he'd found otherwise - much to his disturbance.

Jazz had seen a lot of humans, that was true. But this boy...

The child had to be in young adolescence, Jazz figured by his bone structure. But he was so small for his age, he could have still passed for a young kid. He looked to be fed, but at the same time, he didn't appear to be getting fed enough, seemingly more skinny than the special ops bot liked. But that wasn't even the most concerning, no - those were the bruises. The deep, dark colored bruises that lined either of his arms, and what he could see of his back.

The boy lay on the ground unconscious, by the looks of it having collapsed from exhaustion. He barely wore anything on his body. Simply dressed in an oversized night shirt that was marked "XXXL" and a pair of underwear, which told him that wherever this boy came from, he wasn't a camper. No, this looked like someone who'd been running from something - or someone.

Moving one hand underneath the collapsed boy, he carefully lifted him. Thankful to find he was indeed only passed out, given his stomach moved up and down with rythm. But none-the-less, feeling his tanks churn as he tried to process where this boy came from. What was he doing half-naked and alone out in the middle of November? Where were his parents? Why'd he look as though he hadn't even seen the sunlight in several months?

"Yo, doc bot you awake?"

Jazz waited a good minute before he got Ratchet's response. "I am now. Better have a good reason to be waking me up this early..."

"I need ye to open up the med bay. I have a possible emergency."

"Slaggit, Jazz. What did you do to yourself NOW?"

Jazz frowned slightly, not amused at all. What had he done? OK, sure, he was probably just as danger prone as the twins, but he wasn't THAT bad. "Not for me... It's for a human."

"Excuse me?"

"I've got a half-naked teenager lying with severe bruising at the edge of the forest," Jazz replied, trying to keep calm. "I'd say the little fella just wandered away from camp. But slag... This kid looks like he's in really bad shape, doc."

"Bring him to me at once," Ratchet didn't even hesitate, and Jazz wasn't surprised given the description he gave. "Get him inside your alt mode and warmed up. In this weather he has a good chance of catching a cold or worse..."

"You got it."

Jazz was careful to transfom around the young human, blasting the warm air in his cab. The boy barely stirred, quiet whimpers escaping his form, though he showed no signs of waking. Yet Jazz wished he would, given the fact that it would help to know where this boy came from... If they could call anyone to help him. After all, he highly doubted that a young child had no one out looking for him.

Using his car mode, he decided to make a quiet scan of the area. Perhaps there was someone nearby who could answer his questions. Or perhaps some sort of clue... But he found none. There were no other humans nearby, and the boy seemed to carry nothing on him. Nothing but the clothes he wore on his back.

A half-naked boy in the dead of winter... Exposed to the elements.

Jazz hated where his mind was already going with this.


"And you found him at the edge of the forest?"

Ratchet had the child on a medical berth at once, carefully examining him. Jazz himself was close by, looking down upon the human as well. He had been curious about what Ratchet might have to say on the matter, after all, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to know where this boy had come from should he have woken up.

He nodded his head slowly, looking him over again. "Yeah, kid was just laying there... Like he'd collapsed," Jazz explained as he got closer toward the subject at hand. "What does it look like to you, doc bot?"

Ratchet shook his head slowly, looking the boy up and down. Jazz could tell that Ratchet was equally stumped by the whole thing. "I don't know. But these bruises seem to tell me he was in a struggle recently," he noted, trying to keep calm. "One he lost badly. In fact, I would say it was one-sided."

"But he tried to fight back?"

Ratchet nodded his head. "I would say perhaps he's a victim of sexual assault left for dead. Something I hear sometimes happens on this planet. The lack of clothing makes me lean toward that," he explained, his voice cracking at the very idea. "But we shouldn't jump too far to conclusions until he's awake and we can speak to him ourselves."

Jazz nodded his head sadly. Looking down at the boy with sympathy in his spark. Whoever had hurt the boy, he already knew them to be a coward. Because no matter how one could paint the picture, a boy like this coming out of a one-sided fight looking this way... He cringed inwardly at the thought of what it could mean. After all, though Earth was a violent place, there were terrible things done to the young on Cybertron - especially those in the caste system.

After a moment, he looked over at Ratchet quietly. "We need to tell Prime about this."

"I'm already working on that," Ratchet replied. "With how weak the boy is he could be unconscious for a couple of hours, or even a couple of days. So he needs to know about our new visitor at the very least."

Jazz nodded his head, turning around to leave the med bay. "Let me know if the li'l guy wakes up, will ye doc?" he asked, his voice tense. "May not know this kid. But I'm the one who found 'im. I wanna know if he's gonna be OK."

"I'll let you know when I accept visitors if he's awake," Ratchet replied, of course he would put it that way. "For now, you should go, leave me to work on his injuries."

"Whatever you say."

Jazz gave one last look over his shoulder at the boy. Silently, he hoped whatever this boy had gone through, the ordeal was over now. That he could put it behind him, and get the help he needed.

Little did he know just how deep this went... Or what it meant for him, and the boy.


A/N: So what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Hopefully I did a good enough job!