The lone combatant charged, his arm-mounted SMG firing off tens of bullets per nanoklik, trying with all his might to claim one more life. In his optics, I could see the desperation, the overwhelming drive to prove worth to his life by taking another. In my weary and worn state, I did all I could to dodge while backed against a wall. As his rifle jammed for a brief moment, I took the opportunity to land a single round between his optics from my DMR. As his lifeless chassis fell to the ground, I slumped and sat against the section of wall which was all but crumbling from the conflict so I could 'catch my breath so to speak. Scanning the area, I took notice of the lull and absence on the energon-soaked battlefield. Countless bodies adorned the rusted and corroded metal ground. It was desolate and cragged, and a haze had rolled in, ever so slightly obscuring my periphere. But I could clearly see all parties present before had retreated, save for the foolish or stubborn. I easily fell into the category of stubborn for the Autobots.

I knew the Cons were regrouping right now to prepare for another assault while the Autobots worked to reinforce their defense. Both had to reassess their strategies as the Decepticons had failed to break the Autobot blockade through this major supply route. At the same time, the Autobots knew their foes would not stay down forever or long at all, so the defenses and troops had to be prepared to counter. Even if it meant some time to rest. Knowing all this affirmed I had time to sit back and ease up on my servos, actuators, and other mechanisms.

While my largely black with purple chassis relaxed, I chose to reflect on my life thus far, and to be honest, it has been pretty scrapped up. I released a chuckle at the bluntness of my statement, also coughing up a little energon, leaking from the battle mask shrouding my face. It was clear the origin of the problem was an internal one but I did not care. I hurt too much from the more serious dents, chippings, and few bullet wounds I received mere moments ago. By comparison, a minor energon leak not depleting my reserves noticeably was of little concern. But I knew my better half would be up in arms at my negligence, so I deployed the repair drone I had on hand to tend to my more serious wounds. I gently rested my head against the cold, dead wall and fell back into my memories. From my time as a Senate tool to a blind Decepticon flunky to an Autobot seeking redemption for my crimes.

My first recorded memory was coming online in a banal, unidentifiable warehouse standing at attention with twenty-nine identical brothers and sisters, each painted as grey as the walls that entrapped us. Each of us were lined into six rows of five, where I was number four of row two. Up above, on the catwalks, several Cybertronians walked by, inspecting us. They talked about how "magnificent" we looked, while one constantly wondered how effective we would be. As the majority of my siblings remained motionless, awaiting instruction, I and several others briefly tilted our heads and watched them, wondering everything we thought important. Who were we? Who are the people up above? Why were we built?

Soon enough our questions were answered. My siblings and I were created with the purpose of being assassin's for the Senate. Our overseer and supervisors would never use the term specifically, preferring to use the term ARAU. It stood for advanced reconnaissance assault unit, but my brothers, sisters, and I all knew the term 'assassin' fit our job title better. The individuals seen upon activation was an unnamed master engineer (whom we never met again), the overseer of the project, and Senator Proteus, the project's primary benefactor. Our task was fairly simple: engage enemies of the Senate in covert, unofficial missions to quell possible and confirmed insurrection and rebellion. Each of us were assigned to teams of three and our names were derived from those teams. One of us was to be a tactical officer, one an engineer, and the other a field operative. I was apart of Team Smoke alongside Smokescreen, our tactician, and the engineer, Smokejumper. My name was Smokesniper and I was the field operative, the one who pulled the trigger. It was then I chose my signature blue and sparse yellow paint job.

For a time, our lives were conducted mission to mission in an effort to eliminate Senate enemies. Each one dropping into scrap metal. Smoke, Stealth, and Star Teams were (statistically) the best and eventually that shone through when the other teams were deemed failures and discharged, or were deemed KIA. At such a point, another team was chosen to clean up the mess and wipe away all evidence, including witnesses. Especially witnesses. In hindsight, I wonder how many were actually innocent bystanders who had nothing to do with the conflict. Leaving just the three teams to remain.

Even though I said my life was mission to mission, there were moments between of brief instances of life. Like connecting to my siblings. (Smoke)Jumper and (Smoke)Screen were always obsessing over a new idea or something in their downtime. Something I might end up utilizing in the field but I cared little for such machinations, most of which were not authorized by our Senate handlers. It was my brother Stealth Saber who I became quite close with during these times. He was one of us who tilted his head back in the warehouse.

Saber was arguably the most outstanding one of us. Not due to astounding merit or great feat, but because he didn't really care too much for our work. When Saber was out in the field, he said he was "Always on auto-pilot, not even thinking while carrying out objectives." He wanted to do something other than shoot people. I remember laughing at him the one time because he wanted to be an artist, forcing me to comment on how he couldn't draw even if threatened with a swarm of scraplets. The follow-up question he raised though had left a lasting impression since. "What would you want to do if you could choose a new line of work? Who would you want to be?" I regret not answering and never having made up my mind.

Much later, Smoke team was dispatched to find and eliminate Stealth Saber. We had been told he and the rest of Stealth team had attempted to escape from the program without proper discharge and the Star team had tried to rebel, prompting their destruction. I personally took the lead on finding Stealth Saber while Jumper and Screen went after the others. Since I had gotten to know Saber well, I knew where to look for him and eventually cornered him in an alley. I tried to reason and convince him to come back, but he was paranoid and delusional. In his unstable mental state, Saber drew his weapon on me, but was gunned down by a well placed bullet from Screen. It was then I started dwelling on his question, and on whether our Senate supervisors ever intended to let us go.

While I lingered on these thoughts, my brothers relished in the newfound opportunities. With there being only three left of the original thirty, Smoke team had a large supply of resources and subsequent freedoms due to our loyalty. Screen put it to the test, designing elaborate plans I thought were unnecessary. Jumper on the other hand, developed a multitude of weapons and tools. Including a multi-pronged spark extraction and execution device. Said Spark Extractor (as he called it) has since been completely ingrained into my superstructure. I couldn't care about the freedoms since I have always been performing at my most effective and efficient and didn't see a need to change.

But our freedoms did not last. As the Decepticon movement, our latest target, continued to grow and grow, I was dispatched more frequently to dwindle their numbers. But in all my efforts, I could never eliminate any members of the leadership. After several consecutive failures, Jumper, Screen, and I were shackled by the Senate. Our continuous "failures" displeased them and so they chose to branch our sparks to large, hulking triple-changers, each identical to one another but their color schemes identical to who they were bound to. They were to accompany each of us when an assignment was underway to ensure mission completion. At first I felt insulted by their lack of faith in my capabilities, but their true purpose was to spy on our minds.

We came to discover this when Smokejumper noticed someone else was poking around in his memory logs. Our frustration at the situation boiled higher day-by-day to the point it was not well hidden from an unlikely ally: Megatron. Our handlers would disable the mental link between us and our forced partners while we are not on duty. Thank Primus because it came in handy one day on the town when a nameless agent of Megatron approached us. The three of us agreed to an intimate, secluded meeting with Megatron and some of his lieutenants. Namely, Soundwave and Shockwave because he had yet to recruit Starscream to his cause.

After we met and talked, mostly everyone else as I analyzed the conversation, the Cons made a plan to free us. Shockwave figured the titanic bots were being subdued by a cognitive device disabling their natural mental processes and will and gave us each a specialized scanner to detect the inhibitors. We had to time it right or else our handers would discover our plan. Even had to secure the Decepticon meeting in specialized storage drives so they weren't noticed. Ultimately, the work paid off as we confirmed Shockwave's suspicion.

Several more risky meetings with Megatron and his Decepticons, Shockwave handed us more unique tech. Working off the scans we acquired for him, he was able to create a patch to disable and fry the inhibitors. All we had to do was slap the things on our respective titans and hide it from them as the scans revealed something alarming to Shockwave. Should the Senate handlers find reason, the titans are designed to terminate their own sparks, and with it ours.

We spent days trying to find the right opportunity and found it during the return from a successful mission. The op was pretty routine, but when we were going through the final stages of disabling the mental links, one of us tripped the sensors. To date, I don't know who it was but at the time my concern was saving my life. I readied the patch and sped to my titan. As he swung his arm to deflect me, I slipped by and snuck the patch onto his neck, disabling him momentarily. Security soon arrived in overwhelming numbers and I had to fight them off on my own. Until the titan came back online with his mind belonging to him again.

"Going to kill me?" I asked.

He responded with a simple "No."

"Then I suggest you help me get us out. They'll want to terminate you too."

"Understood." With his help, we wiped out the group of security drones. The fight was so surreal I couldn't believe what was happening. As we gunned and weaved through the fight, my titanic partner and I reacted to each other instinctually. The link between us became a weapon as our thoughts mingled with one another to see, hear, and feel what the other did and be able to cover one another.

When the last guard fell, I took a moment to ask a simple question. "Got a name?"

"Gigant Bomb. You are Smokesniper, correct?"

"Correct. But you can call me Sniper too. My brothers do."

"Understood."

With our introduction out of the way, Gigant and I took off to find our brothers. Arriving in the command room, Jumper, Screen, and their titans (Dreadwind and Dreadwing respectively) were just cleaning up their messes. While Screen disabled whatever backdoor programming and tracking devices the Handlers had left in us six, the rest of us set charges to detonate the building and everyone left inside. All I thought while I set up the charges was 'This is payback for Stealth Saber you monsters.' With our shackles undone and our final task complete, all six of us flew out at breakneck pace and left the building and our previous employers in a ball of flame engulfing everything we used to know.

On that day our lives were changed as we looked on the smoke clouds raging through the sky from dawn till dusk. The day began with us as pawns, tools for the Senate to use and throw away when they felt threatened. It ended with us proudly bearing the Decepticon emblem upon our chassis. As we our time of slavery ended, our time of freedom had begun. Or so I thought…