Disclaimer: Goldie no own Transformers. Only the people with powerful and highly paid lawyers do. Oh, and Alpha, Nightflare, Orcus, Omega, and Kit are mine. Jade and HT belong to Lady Starscream and are used with permission.

So, with that note aside, enjoy.

Pain. There was pain all around her and nothing but. It shot through her body every couple of seconds and caused her to spasm and arch whenever it did so. She wanted to escape, but couldn't move; her wrists and ankles were strapped down to the cold metal table she had been placed on when she arrived. The restraints bit into her wrists, making them bleed, and cut her ankles. There was a looser strap around her stomach that kept her from moving too much, but didn't bite deep like the others did.

From somewhere in the dark room, a pair of red optics lit up and the captive femme whimpered loudly when footsteps could be heard coming near her. Frightened emerald optics darted around the pitch-black room. Before she could pinpoint her captor, a gentle thumb stroked her cheek and she squealed in fright, struggling even more.

"N-No! Don't touch me!" She yelled, pulling on her restraints, but that caused them to dig deeper into her synthetic skin. She cried out when the hand went from gently stroking her cheek to harshly slapping it.

"Keep quite, femme!" The owner of the optics snapped; his voice was rough, harsh, and it terrified her. "The transfer is almost complete…you only have to be like this for a little longer." His voice went gentle, almost caring. "You'll be free soon."

The femme whimpered softly. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, staring into his optics, seeing as how they were the only things she could see. His thumb resumed stroking her cheek, and this time she didn't fight or try to get him to stop.

"Don't you worry about that, my dear." He answered, running the back of his fingers down her cheek. He moved his hand up and put it on her forehead. He felt the coolant sweat beads that were present there and wiped them off gently.

"But-But it hurts." She whimpered, looking up at him. She wracked her memory banks for any ideas on who this mech was, but came up with nothing. She couldn't even remember her own name anymore. She knew the basics, she was an Autobot, a medic, but she knew nothing else. "I can't move…it hurts when I try to…"

"Shh…" His finger trailed down her face to her lips, "It'll be over soon, I promise. Don't be afraid." But even as he said that, he could feel his captive trembling. He bent down and put his lips to her audios, "You'll be fine. You'll have a new life. You'll be able to start over…"

"But-but I don't want to…" Her complaint was barely a whisper, but the mech heard her.

"Believe me, you do." His voice matched hers and he leaned down and raked his fangs gently over the sensitive skin on her neck. "You do, my dear…"

The femme just whimpered, trembling fearfully. She felt his fangs run gently down her neck and shivered, trying to move away from him. He frowned in the darkness and stood up. His fingers ran down her cheek again and then a pain shot through her body, all the way to her spark. She didn't even have time to scream before it knocked her out.

When she woke up, there was nothing. No pain, no light, and no one around. The femme sat up, holding her head, and looked around, but with no light, she could see nothing. Something was wrong. Unless she was dead and this was the Pitt, something was seriously wrong.

"I see you're awake." A voice said gently; the femme's head shot over and she spotted red optics peering at her. She blinked, confused. Who the heck was this guy? Was he her creator? No, he couldn't be. She had a previous life…didn't she?

The lights clicked on and the femme winced, blocking the new found light from her optics. Looking over, she saw the mech that had been talking to her walk forwards. He was a tall, white mech with what looked like metal feathers on his helmet. He had fur all over him and his red optics burned bright; they almost scared her.

Stunned, the femme could only nod at the mech as she wracked her memory banks. Nothing. She had no previous memories, no previous life. Maybe he was her creator…? But then why did he scare her so much?

He walked over to her and she tensed slightly, even when he put a gentle hand to her shoulder. "Are you feeling alright?" He sounded pleasant enough, but she couldn't shake this feeling she should be screaming her mechanical lungs out while trying run for her life.

"Y-Yeah." She nodded; her voice sounded foreign to her. Like it wasn't the voice she was supposed to have. Hers was quiet, it sounded frail and weak. For some reason, the very thoughts of her being weak made her disgusted. She was strong! …Wasn't she?

"Good." The mech looked her over and reached at something behind her, but the stopped and the femme felt something touch her. "Your wings have healed nicely."

Wings? Since when did she have wings? Now that she thought about it, since when did she not have wings? Oh, everything was so confusing! Putting a hand to her head, she mumbled a curse that just seemed to force itself from her lips. She saw the mech in front of her frown and return. "What's wrong?"

"Where did you learn that?" He asked, obviously concerned.

"I-I don't know. It-It just…popped out…" She stuttered. He nodded and she sighed in relief.

"Don't use that word. Ever." With that, he started to turn and walk away, but then paused, "I'll be right back. I'm going to get you some energon and tell Megatron that the experiment worked."

Megatron…

Why'd that word send a chill through her spine? Was he someone to be feared? Judging by the way she responded to his name – even though she had never met him – she believed he was.

Standing, the femme tried to get her bearings, but found herself stumbling. She felt weird, off balance. In the metal wall, she saw her reflection and involuntarily flinched. Spinning around, she took in her appearance – and tried to figure out why she hated it so.

She was a seeker, that much she knew, but she wasn't sure what her alt mode exactly was. She had a pair of sleek, purple wings with golden trimming coming out of her back, on the edged of them, were bombs of some kind and, in the center, there was a purple Decepticon symbol. She had a single null ray attached to her left arm and, on her hip, she saw the handle to an energy whip. Her helmet was a light black color that made her unusually bright red optics only brighter. On her oddly western-style boots, she had a smaller wing on the outside of each – both were purple with gold trimming.

The femme frowned; she could fly, so why did she feel like the ground was place she was supposed to stay? And she felt like she didn't belong in this body. It was…different. Odd. Uncomfortable. She would ask the mech why when he came back.

"My dear?"

On second thought, she'd ask someone else.

The femme turned and spotted the white mech standing in the doorway, a cube of energon in his hand. She wrinkled her nose as he walked over towards her, but refrained from asking any of the questions that were begging to be released. He offered the cube out to her and she hesitated, but then took it. Ignoring the look in her fellow Decepticon's optics, she nipped the corner off and slowly drank.

Once she was done, she put the empty cube on the berth and then sat down, watching the mech carefully. He walked over to her and seemed to look her over. He put a hand on each side of her throat, feeling, and then pulled his hands away.

"Do you still feel alright?"

She nodded. "Yes sir." It felt so uncomfortable to call him that, but, the way she figured it, he was her creator. She had to.

"Good." He seemed to brighten a bit when he called her that. He walked around the other side of the berth and took a look at the back of her wings. With a nod, he walked back over so she could see him. "Hook and Bombshell are going to look you over," he sneered when he added, "they don't trust me, apparently."

"Do they have a reason to?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She flinched back at the look on his face.

His hand shot out and slapped her. "I have never acted against them, if that's what you mean." He snarled, all pleasantness gone. It startled and scared the femme. "Now, come. Megatron wants to speak with you."

Blinking back the tears that pricked her optics, the femme nodded and stood. She followed him out of the room as her cheek stung with the slap. Why'd he hurt her? What did she do wrong?

At least she knew now she should and would fear him. She'd do what he said now, no matter how much she didn't want to.

Goldie: You read, now review.