Not much to say right now except that I don't own Transformers or anything related to it. I'm sure I'll think of something at the end of the chapter, but it can wait for now. For now, though, enjoy.

Chapter 9

Slowly and painfully, I opened my eye, taking a look around where I was. I was in a dark cell, quite injured, and couldn't see much because it was so dark. How did I get here? And then it all came rushing back to me.

After that one night, Prowl and I made an unspoken deal to talk every night before we tucked ourselves in for the night. Occasionally, we had Smokescreen and Bluestreak accompany us, but it was mostly just my guardian and I.

It was 19:26 when the alarms blared across the Ark, closely followed by Red Alert's voice informing us as to where the Decepticons were attacking. We gathered our weapons and ran to the transport room. This was a room constructed while still on Cybertron by the Chief Engineer, Wheeljack. A swirling green vortex formed when Red Alert pulled a lever. This was a ground-bridge, which could transport us anywhere on Earth. It certainly saved a lot of time.

I rode in Prowl's alt mode, and the other Autobots were also in their alt modes. The team consisted of Prowl, Jazz, Bluestreak, Skyfire, Ratchet, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Ironhide, and Optimus Prime, because Megatron had been spotted amongst his minions. As soon as we were all through, the ground-bridge was hastily cut off and disappeared into nothing.

I darted from my guardian's alt mode, so he could transform with the others. Immediately, Bluestreak ran for high ground, because being a sniper, you had the best advantage over the enemy by being higher. Skyfire took to the sky, peppering the Decepticon grounders. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took off with whoops of joy, like one would shout when they won the Olympics or something. I swear I saw the Seeker, Starscream, shudder in the air as the yells reached his audios. Ironhide began to blow things up, simple as that. Optimus ran out to meet and grapple with his brother.

Ratchet also had some distance firing training in him, so he wasn't actively in the heart of the battle. He would only go into it if one of the Autobots got injured and needed him. Prowl and Jazz fought back to back, the other having strength when one faltered.

I, myself, had ducked behind one of the sand dunes that blanketed the Sahara Desert. The harsh sun beat down on us, adding stress to the already hard-working bots. With practiced ease, I forced back my discomfort and sighted in on the Combiners when they tried to do as their name suggests. One by one, they fell permanently offline. Unless the Decepticons had a shard of the AllSpark that we didn't know of, there was no way they could come back to the land of the living. Or unless their entity granted them another chance at life.

We fought for what seemed like an eternity. But I felt a presence behind me, and turned to face it. But even with that scorching sun beating down on me, the blood in my veins froze at the sight of a single reddish gold optic.

Shockwave. Oh, Prowl's going to hate me for doing this, I thought to myself. Without giving any warning to the crude scientist, I whipped around, shooting a sabot round right into that ugly optic of his. His roar of pain was just loud enough to cause every Cybertronian to turn and look for the source.

I don't remember much of what happened after that. I think one of his little creations came and attacked me, and I fought back. Maybe that's why I still had a decent chunk of armor gripped in one of the hands suspended above my head.

Knocking that train of thought off of its tracks, I began to assess my wounds. I had numerous lacerations, varying in length and depth. Most had clotted, but a few still oozed blood in small trickles. My prosthetics were gone, the stubs throbbing agonizingly. Various bones were, with no doubt, broken or fractured in some way, leaving me in an all-too familiar world of white-hot pain.

For crying out loud, I felt worse at this moment than I had my entire five-year stay in the Ethiopian base as a POW. And that was saying something.

The beat of unfamiliar pedes sounded outside the room and stopped. A door slid open, revealing an outline of a large mech and one glowing optic. Shockwave again. I was so dead.

He came closer to my cell, which I realized was more like a birdcage to them. If anyone says that my brother is emotionless, I'll be more than happy to show him or her a picture of this mech. No noise, other than Shockwave's systems, permeated the tense silence that reigned over the brig. We stared each other down, sizing the other up, trying to figure each other out.

"Prisoner: Wounded." Even his voice was absolutely devoid of emotion! Sure, I had heard the same kind of tone from Prowl when his emotional center is turned 'off,' but it never cut into me almost like a real, physical knife. Great assessment, idiot, I sarcastically said in my mind. Outwardly, nothing changed in my defiant expression. "Conclusion: Won't harm experiment."

That didn't sound good…

As he stepped away from the birdcage of a cell, and turned the lights on by a command, my heart nearly stopped in my chest. This wasn't a brig…it was a mad scientist's lab, a torture chamber. Large pieces of machinery and equipment laid around the room in an order that only Shockwave could understand.

But what stood out to me were the two tables, various wires and tubes all round them. The smaller table looked like it had been specially crafted to fit for me. Not the kind of endearment I would expect from Decepticons.

I blame my father for my sarcastic nature.

However, the other, much larger table already held a body. The bare protoform of a bot, and by the look of it, it appeared to be female-like. A femme. But I thought they were almost an extinct frame type? Where would the red optics acquire one? Or did they build it? Too many questions, not enough answers.

There were no special or attractive features to the protoform. Actually, that was just like me. I wasn't overly beautiful, but not an unattractive person, either. I was just normal.

As I continued to stare at the machinery, the protoform of a femme, and the empty table, something clicked in my tired, over-worked brain. My mind jumped to the little bits of a conversation I had overheard almost five months ago, on my first mission. That was back when Jazz and I had infiltrated the Nemesis, and I had heard something like 'human' and 'experiment.' And now they had a test subject.

Oh crap. Not good.

Shockwave strode up to the small barred gate that was the door to freedom, or certain death. He had rearranged some of the machinery, some of it now closer to the two tables and console that stood in front of the slabs.

Mindful of his sharp talons, and the fact that I was already too injured to do much anyways, I didn't move a muscle as he grabbed me and took me over to the smaller inclined table. I was strapped into it, from bleeding head to aching stubs. Without waiting for any more time to pass, wires and tubes were painfully stuck into my body. I unconsciously arched away from the new intrusions, but it did not deter my captor. I bit my lip so hard to keep from screaming in agony that I bit right through, blood pouring down my chin, dropping onto my stained and shredded clothing.

The femme was already hooked up previously, and the evil scientist walked behind the console, typing in who-knew-what, pressing buttons, and things of that sort. It felt like forever before that single optic locked with my single eye.

"Prisoner: To receive new body. Purpose: New weapon of war." Mass destruction. Put the Autobots through emotional and physical…well, a bad word…this would completely crush them. They had trusted me, cared for me…maybe even loved me. And now, becoming nothing more than a mindless drone, becoming a weapon of war, it would end the war, in the Decepticon's favor.

Without further ado, a lever was pushed up and all I knew was blinding pain. For once, even with all those years of training and previous torture, I screamed. I screamed so loud that I was sure that I shattered Shockwave's audios. It felt like electricity was pulling my body apart. It was on fire! I burned, but at the same time, I froze. Bones loudly snapped apart, muscles tore, and my lungs felt like they could burst. My heart clenched in pain, writhing in on itself. And still I screamed.

… … … …

Systems check: 100% functional

Weapons check: No weapons found

Warnings: None

"Ugh…" My head throbbed, like someone was using it as a drum. So many other 'checks' came up in my dark vision, but everything read good. All systems were green and were a go. Wait a second…systems? When did I refer to my internal organs as systems? And why are these messages popping up in my vision? What the heck just happened?!

"New Decepticon: Designation: WOMD-1," said a voice in the most boring monotone I had ever heard. And that name just doesn't do it for me. WOMD? Really? Nothing cool, like Black Dawn or Silent Stalker, or something like that? Just WOMD? Boring!

"What does WOMD mean?" I asked, not bother to do anything else but move my mouth to formulate the question.

"Abbreviation: Weapon of Mass Destruction." I'm a weapon? I don't think I like to be used like that.

"What is my purpose as a WOMD?" At last, I opened my eyes to look at the one I was talking to. He had a single optics, with black and purple plating.

"Purpose: Extermination of Autobots." And I had no reaction. What is wrong? I felt like two forces were battling inside of me. Brain fought heart. What's going on here?

… … … …

And so ends another chapter of Shadows and Gold. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love it if you left your comments in the reviews. I know, this chapter was longer than the others, but I couldn't just leave it off where I had originally wanted to. Anyways, have a good day everyone, and I'll try to update soon!