The first few parts are supposed to be confusing, but they are laden with plot that ties into later chapters. Also worldbuilding. Because that's always fun.

There is non-graphic non-detailed spark-rape in this chapter. If that squicks, I tried to make it as easy to avoid as possible. I honestly wouldn't show it if it wasn't important for mindsets later on.

This chapter takes place roughly at the same time as the last chapter.

(Of nightmares made real, and nightmares of the past.)

Her sister bounced her and the sparkling giggled, tiny claws waving. "More more!"

"One more," the yellow-and-green tank nodded, doing it once more before settling her down on the berth. The sparkling pouted and reached for both her sister and the exhausted slave with them, but the older tapped her nasal plates. "Nuh uh. You need to recharge. We'll be at New Kaon soon and then you can run him ragged all over again."

"Play-play?" she chirped excitedly.

Her sister nodded. "When we get there. Recharge. I'll watch over you, and Dino will too."

A blob appeared in her field of vision. She pouted. It drew back to show a white-and-blue frame like her carrier, with mismatched optics like hers. The sparkling gurgled, reaching for him with light-grey hands. He was one of the warriors protecting them because her sister said Sire said so. "'row?"

"I don't mind." He spoke with a funny accent; it wasn't Lucifer or New Kaon.

She squealed happily, snuggling up to the offered pillow-thigh.

She was fast asleep within the breem.

-/-

She woke to fire and bullets, screams and flashes of Outlier-talents, some controlled, some not. She woke to smoke, to energon tricking down her frame as the white-and-blue adult – Dino? – carried her through the slaughter. She could feel his weapons firing and that scared her, but it also reassured her because he was safety and –

Mismatched optics looked up-

The dangling red optic seared across her cortex alongside the energon splatter-

Another explosion, more shouts. More gunfire as Cadets or younglings panicked even as they were herded down to the lifepods. Sire's slave was behind them and she giggled happily because she liked the slave. He was funny and warm and familiar -

Something hit her in the lower leg.

She screamed. Loud and clear, wanting to make the fear and pain and fighting and everything ever stop, and somewhere in her mind, she felt another and latched onto them and they latched onto another and another. Around her, multiple things happened. Warriors barked orders aloud and over the comms, her sister stopped fighting the slave that was dragging her away from things. The adults grabbed any younglings and sparklings they could. The slave-collars refused to shock anymore.

They ran. Through hellfire and brimstone they ran for the shuttles. Behind them, the Mad Decepticon and Madness. Behind them, death and those too slow to escape as bulkheads slammed down in an effort to minimize the damage. She didn't care.

She kept screaming until they were in a shuttle, ejecting from the imploding Death-Ship. How she knew this, she didn't know. She only knew she had to protect everyone. They had to protect everyone and she could hear them Singing in her mind. Her agemates, her cohort.

She was them and they were her and together they were something bigger than big and they could do this and keep everyone alive and safe-

Her screaming stopped as white hot fire lashed across her mind.

Pain exploded across their link and she shrieked now because several of them had died and it hurt and her mind was on fire fire fire-

The shuttle shuddered. Something had hit it they didn't have shields, and she didn't know how she knew this but she did-

Her fire-wreathed mind stretched out as it took command like a strange virus that twisted about within her spark, begging her to use it–

She forced her way into as many controls as she could, just like the others were doing.

Something amplified and linked them. She didn't know how she didn't care.

Hide hide hide hide hide us hide us hide us -

She hid everyone she could. Some she couldn't save because they couldn't reach those controls.

They died. They imploded as the Mad Decepticon and his allies hunted down every lifepod not hidden by those too young to understand what they'd done; what they were.

It wasn't an attack. It was an ambush. A slaughter and a massacre.

Why why why why-

Mean and horrible faces flashed through their minds, seared into it as sure as a supernova. They were evil, and they were not good and they bore red and purple marks and they were traitors and she was scared because they might find them and then they'd-

She didn't stop crying for almost a cycle, optics white-bright as her spark burned within her. By the time she'd fully settled, she was in her sister's arms, the slave watching over them.

Her mind was elsewhere, caught within a web she wasn't sure she wanted to leave.

we are safe hidden a mystery

they don't know

can't know

they'd fear us

we will not be experiments

we are one and we are many

swarm guards own

not swarm hive?

Maybe unsure too soon

yes mine mine mine, mine

Nii-san wasn't here ...

Safe, safe. Feel kin-bonds yes, yes

Oh nii-san-!

Joy/happiness/love flooded the connection.

how many...

... too few who is left

I'm ...

she said.

Name's...

Sharpshot

Call me...

I'm ...

Shrapnel, Sharpnel

Bombshell

I'm Ly...

I'm Kickback

we failed, failed?

no

set the beacons –

Beacons set, she fell away from the warmth, away from what she wouldn't remember as more than impressions, if at all. She was too young - they all were.

This is what it's like to find the one he'll do anything to Protect. It is joy and happiness, his Spark leaping and flipping and Singing with Purpose. It's sadness and despair and fervent prayers he never ever loses them.

This is what it's like when he sees them and his Spark leaps but then he sees the symbol on their chest and he stops. He stops because he wants to scream and cry, rage and curse his creator-god and scream at how unfair it is.

He is a Warbuild. A Destron in all but badge, they say. Kaon is home, the only home he's ever known. It's safety and warmth and pain and learning how to defend himself and rely on those he trusts, but not too much because if someone betrays the group –Unit-, then that's the worst thing ever and it rankles until he finds the traitor and makes them pay.

This is what it's like to have blood on his hands. Hot and sticky and horrifying. It's sticky sticky sticky; it smells, and he knows he shouldn't lick it, but he does anyway and it tastes disgusting.

He did not know energon could taste like that. He purges soon after, in a back alley, surrounded by his Unit, all of them so very worried worried worried, and he hates making them worried, because he's the commander and he Has to Protect them.

He – the one you were Sparked to Protect - is a Cybertron – Autobot? Maybe. It doesn't matter, the Government will always oppress you people, and they'll never let you have a voice because they have decided they don't need-. He's white-and-navy with trailer-wings hanging from his shoulders. He's pretty and appealing and the icy-azure optics are so so so innocent. He needs Protection because his Spark Sings a Song like no other.

He's a 'guard, part of a squad.

They end up friends, somehow, someway.

-/-/-

"It's not right – they shouldn't be doing this-" He said, waving the datapad in front of his friend's face.

"What – They passed it?" Red optics widened in horror.

"Three cycles ago. It's been all over the news-nets," he said, dropping down into the seat beside the miner and sometimes gladiator, trailer-wings sprawling either side of him, unassumingly regal. "Riots have already started and they're sending in troops to pacify the whole city."

"Then you need to go. I will not see you caught in this-"

"No. If I leave my squad'll be pulled into-" He looked away, hands fisting helplessly, 'field flush with worry and fear. "And he's here. I can hear It singing to me, Megs."

Megatron burst into broken laughter. "They'll never give it to you. You're not one of their precious False-Primes in line for the Hammer."

"Not the Hammer." His companion shook his head. "I told you this before."

"I thought you meant-" Megatron blinked, confusion written over face and 'field.

"What's inside. You know-"

Optics widened. "It wasn't lost when -?"

"Not if I can hear it Singing to me." A white hand covered his own, face smiling despite the faceplate. "We can keep you safe, and I can work up the ranks, and you have your Lord of the Skies-"

"Our Lord of the Skies. Windsheer hasn't named him her Heir, yet. He's still so young..."

"It'll happen. We've met him. He's the next Lord of the Skies. Primus Below, I'm surprised she isn't insane yet, but the Guard's around…"

Megatron snorted. "You assume Ultra Magnus is a Guard, and you're assuming I'm even part of this."

"You are- And we're going to march and take back what is ours-"

-/-

This is what it's like to lose the one he needs-wants-loves: Pain and fear and hatred and pain and panic as his systems scream as though through a battle-haze. He should not have been here, he should not have shown himself so openly.

He fell. They attacked from behind and front and by the time he got to him his Spark was guttering out and the newest Lord of the Skies was trying to get free from an Enforcer – A False-Prime who had a two others like them around, and they had no right to touch what was his and if they killed him too–

Rust-red is the colour of rage and hate. Pink is the colour of energon, of life leaving a body. Pale-grey-blue is the colour internals now externals. White-blue-white is the colour of Spark-deep violation as his Spark and Code shriek in denial as unending pain and jagged edges cascade his mind.

His Spark hurts.

By the time he came to grips, he'd damaged the False-Primes, claws almost stained with body-fluids and the Lord of the Skies was hiding behind him, cowering in his shadow and Megatron smiled. He still sees the last Enforcer's face. Beaten broken bloody. Terrified.

Of him. Of his power.

He wants to say he's sorry, that he didn't mean it, that he won't do it again.

But he can't and by the time he splutters something out, the survivor's turned on him. He's not down but he will be if he doesn't fight, and it hurts in a way that feels good and then there's a scream and he has a spark in his hands and –

It splutters and gutters in a lightshow-

He tries to run away and then his face is there, staring, accusing him as his Sky-Lord turns their back on him for what he doesn't know, how can he know when his Sky-Lord will not speak to him, and the Guard – the wretched cretin that pretends to be a Guard because he's not – is there and disapproving and then they choose Another and it's a False-Prime-

He screamed; battle-systems whirled to life-

Fired.

Megatron's aim thankfully wasn't true, though Zeta's shriek of fear/terror was.

It pleased him, even as he swung out of the berth and stalked towards him, false battle-haze lingering alongside the memory-nightmare. Past and present intermingled, and he didn't want to distinguish between them. Not when his face was so fresh in his memory, the smiles and the kindness and the dream of a better Cybertron, the dream of a better Empire –

Ruined because of trigger-happy False-Primes.

He had a False-Prime within reach, its chains taut. He heard the pathetic clicking of long ago offlined weapons systems. "Come here, Zeta."

Megatron ignored Zeta's struggles as he dragged him closer. It wasn't energon-lust on his processor. Perhaps it would have been better, perhaps not. Megatron didn't care, didn't want to care. He wanted to hurt the Autobot as he'd been hurt, and the best way to do that was to commit Taboo by Autobot minds.

Zeta screamed as his sparkplates were forced open, revealing the strange object welded to his sparkchamber. It was not the first time and it would not be the last, and how he wished Megatron would kill him already. Megatron smiled, vicious and cruel, angry and hate-filled.

"This is for-" The name was lost to Zeta's shrieking as the Decepticon Warlord violated him, unyielding, unrelenting and unflinching. The False-Prime, like all, deserved it. He'd give to them the same level of violations inflicted by them. Make them feel the same level of pain he felt.

They were not his people, not Cybertron. He would never Protect Autobots.

Megatron mourned, in his own twisted way, for what he'd failed to Protect, not once, but twice. Above all, he ignored what his Spark told him. Hope was a lie, and his own Spark deceived him.

Elsewhere, almost on the other side of the galaxy, a young mech woke with a shout, battle protocols onlining, always and forever insisting he had trailer-wings that were guns. "Gah-"

Pain played at the edge of his Spark and the impression of his internals becoming externals wasn't a new one. It was still unpleasant to online too, and he hated it. Hated when he dreamed of that fragmented dream. "What-"

But that dream - He didn't even understand it, no matter how many times it happened.

"Are you alright?"

And the team medic was in his face and he almost shoved her away, but she wasn't quite in reach. He pouted. "Y-Yes. Bad defragment cycle."

"You should let me scan that," she said, pinning him with a look.

"'m fine-"

"Red's right. Ya should let 'er scan," the red mech said with a low-Kaon drawl.

"Fine, if it'll get you two off my aft. Don't tell Kup." He held his hands up, even as Red came in, scanning him. Somehow, it always felt like she was running two scans at once. Impossible.

Right?

"Find anything?"

"For a prodigy, your battle-systems seem out of line yet again; otherwise, you're fine," Red said as she shut the scan off. "Perhaps that's what's causing these bad defrag cycles."

"Yea..." He looked down, rubbing his chest. "You're right. It'd probably settle if I got to see action. Or those upgrades."

"Perhaps our next assignment," Red said gently.

Arms crossed over dull red-and-orange. "You said that last time."

"Ah don't wanna have ya'll standing out even more than ya do, Minor. Kup'll agree."

"Fuel up. Your guard shift's soon." The medic gave him a Look that ended the topic, and somehow he felt outmaneuvered by the very 'Bots he was supposedly commanding. "Just be thankful they haven't targeted this one yet."

"You're right." He nodded and headed out, missing the look shared between Red and the other mech. They had to do something about those dreams. The last Minor or Prime with those upgrades had deactivated rather... brutally.

"Perhaps you missed something."

"Ah come on! I'm tellin' ya there ain't no way I missed something. She's gone. G-o-n-e."

"You did, rodent."

"Oi. No. No way. Do you know how hard it is to sneak around Fort Max when Magnus has this thing locked down thirteen levels tighter than the Axalon or th'Code of a Hero on a bad day? You are takin' care of m'ship, right, chopperface?"

"One would believe you have a deathwish, rodent. But yes, your rat's nest of a ship is regrettably still docked within the Code of a Hero."

Rattletrap grinned. "Yea yea. What you gonna do about it, sweetspark? Can't touch dis through a screen."

And as far he knew, the warship was still in cloaked orbit over New Kaon. He also knew personally the commander wouldn't risk the Doomsday-class without direct orders. It was why they'd hauled all Thanatos-class into Evac-duty. Slagging Autobots and slagging 'policing' them. They'd promised to remain in exile but noooooooo. Autobots had to enforce that exile and breed hatred and distrust and act against them for crimes long in the past.

Slag sucking fraggers.

The General on screen smirked. "Is that so? Perhaps, then, when we are... face-to-face."

Rattletrap placed a hand over his spark, mock swooning as if he were still a youngling. "Ohh. You gonna show me my place, handsome?"

On his back, sparkplates open, the other above him as they rutted and fragged each other senseless – Rattletrap cut his imagination, and the General's smirk remained in place, if not toothier. "Perhaps."

"My place or yours?" Rattletrap gave an easy grin and held his hands up in mock surrender at the growl - clearly, the answer was his CO's place - before turning serious. Now was not the time, and he knew that. "All flirting aside, sir, Arcee is gone. It's like she just woke up and vanished, and I know what the Autobot techheads said. Her fragging CPU was scrambled."

"Unless... Go over the footage from the last orn or so."

"You think Special Ops?"

The General's grin was toothy.

"Oi, do you how many cycles I'll be spending making sweet, sweet love to the footage? I ain't a fragging Support mech."

"You are Special Operations, saboteur."

Rattletrap huffed. That didn't mean he was Support-class fraggit. "Fine, whatever. You owe me a full darkcycle at the topless bar in New Kaon, chopperface."

"We shall see."

"Yea yea." Rattletrap sighed raised his hands in true defeat at the Look he got. "I'll let you know what I find, Sir."

"See that you do."

Rattletrap made a face after the connection was cut. "Yesh you'd think getting bumped up to General would improve his humour. Eh, at least he's stopped quotin' that Nebulon playwright what's-its-face."

Even so, a crack of knuckles later, he was hacking his way into the security feeds of Arcee's medical room. Time to find out how one so-called processor dead femme could just vanish into thin air. He'd have asked Shockwave for help, but the spy's position was tenuous at best now; at least the breakout from the Stockades a megacycle and a half ago had eased some pressure.

Eh. He couldn't find it in his spark to pity whoever Wasp had been gunning for when he'd left Cybertron. Whoever it was deserved what they got.

"An'dey call us sparkless. At least we find d'truth afore judgement..." He muttered, optics narrowed.

Megatron had a happy, then it was taken away and now he has unhealthy coping skills! I'm thinking you guys will guess who the prodigy is.

Non-Earth Autobots in Animated are really quick to jump on the Guilty/Blame/Cover up things/For the Greater Good bandwagon. That does not exactly imply a nice culture under the surface...

Thanks for the reviews and feedback.