Spectre!Verse. Thanks for all the favs and reviews, sorry I'm not big on words.
He waited with dark sad sockets where optics would normally be and a small smile, rarely seen around the dark recesses of his occupancy, graced his ashen face.
The white mech would return soon; he always reappeared around this time every day, he was always punctual that way.
The mirror floated casually along the dark path where he sat out of the way of the older life forms, he would normally never be able to be so close otherwise. He was left alone because they knew the white mech could not be taken over, the other's battle computer stopped any new entity from being able to take control of him.
The young mech had learned that the hard way when he'd unwittingly tried to possess the white mech. He'd only wanted to see the world that was taken from him so young, experience the world beyond in the short time he would have had in the other mech's frame.
Sadly he had made it into the other's frame only to be brutally assaulted within by the other's frame rebelling against him. In his distress he'd tried to jump back from the mechs frame and through the mirror, to the safety of the dark world he'd come to know as home.
They called them Spectres, most mecha knew nothing about them; they were the shadows in a bot's peripheral that tended to go unnoticed. They were that feeling a bot got when it felt like somebot was watching even when alone; they were myths, just stories told to younglings to scare during the dark cycle.
In reality they were very real, ghosts to everyone but the Underworld where they resided. They were bots that offlined tragically and had been caught by the Unmaker before the Creator could reach them. Their only contact with the outside or the light world was mirrors. Specifically, any reflective surface: energon, puddles, glass, etc. From there it was possible for a Spectre to jump through and possess any mech who happened to pass by, though it only worked on weaker minded bots so Spectres had to choose carefully or experience some backlash.
It was impossible for a Spectre to remain in the frame forever though, their set time limit was approximately one day and then they would have to leave back to their dark home to recover from their light exposure before re-possessing another mech.
Portals lined the long winding road, each looking through whatever reflected into its surface so the Spectres would know whom they were diving into. The older Spectres tended to make it difficult for the younger and weaker ones to make a possession by blocking off most of the easily susceptible mechas' portals.
So the younger, smaller Spectres tended to remain in the bowels of the Underworld out of the way of the more aggressive older of their kind. All bore expressions of sadness from their short lives and the now long death that they now lead in the cold darkness all huddled together for warmth that would never come.
All Spectres were bound in similar armor that kept them tied to the dark plane, and unable to survive the light world. Their chest armor was marred with gaping black holes where their sparks should have been much like where their optics should have been. Their cheeks were hollowed where they could take in no sustenance even though they didn't need it anymore; altogether they appeared as lifeless ghouls that wandered the Underworld. Damage done during their deaths remained, whether it was losing a limb or being ripped in half, the scars were there and limbs remained detached.
The white mech had booted the young Spectre from his frame with little trouble as the dark mech had been trying to escape after the first wave of pain. He was surprised and frightened when he felt the other touch his wrist right before he disappeared back through the mirror.
When he'd turned back nervously to look through the portal again, he was confused and fearful as the other mech stood there on the other side staring as though he could see him. The mech began to speak and he was surprised to find that the other could see indeed see him.
Sadly the young Spectre had no voice of his own but he could still hear and did move closer to the mirror, portal when the other asked him to and when the white mech reached out to touch the mirror over where his face would be, he felt like he could cry at the gesture.
He glanced up in his curled up position, arms wrapped around his knees as he looked at the blank wall through the portal. The white mech was late, but he was sure he would show, he always did.
Even in his short life, it had not been a very good one. He was abandoned at a young age, never knowing whether he was left intentionally or not. Either way no one came looking and learning to live on the streets at such a young age was nigh impossible when you knew little to nothing about the world around you.
He had been struck by a mech in alt mode and tossed several feet before hitting the ground hard, the hit nearly ripping his small frame in half as he lay bleeding on the ground. The mecha that gathered to try and help could do nothing as a ringing sounded out in his audials and he found the world growing dark and cold.
When he next "woke," he was standing in a dark open space, other small opticless bots staring up sadly at him as he slowly ran his shackled servo over the gash in his belly. He stared down with a fearful expression as little streams of black smoke left the gash. Two of the other bots quickly moved to pull him into their huddle, and lay down as soft sobs started up and could be heard coming from him.
The small mech smiled to himself; the white mech had said he would see him every morning and every night as the portal he sat near led to the mech's personal washroom. He told him stories about the outside, things a youngling would be interested in and he soaked it up eagerly. Sometimes the other would even show him trinkets that even though he couldn't touch, he would still marvel at.
The youngling fidgeted with his digits as he looked back up at the empty portal, coldness seeping in slowly as the time wore on and the white mech didn't show when finally somebot appeared, though they weren't the white mech and could not see him as he watched in confusion.
The bot was gathering items out of the washroom into a bag as though they owned the place and were leaving. The young Spectre watched with rising dread as a knot formed in his throat when the white mech appeared and hugged the other bot from behind and began helping the other gather his belongings.
A lone black tear slid down the youth's cheek, soon followed by more as the white mech never glanced in his direction as his attentions were completely focused on the other bot and packing. Slowly he backed away from the portal and crept back into the bowels of the underworld to weep with his fellow lost youths of the "life" they now suffered.
