Also, to the anon that said that the first chapter was grammatically incorrect, you're absolutely right. However, it's a reference to the Tori Amos song 'Me and a Gun,' and the first lines of the chapter (five am, Friday morning) is also a reference to it.

[~]

You don't know a thing about me
Is there something that you should know?
I can tell you what you want to hear
Let your inhibitions just go
No you don't know what you will give up
You don't know what you want
It may take you years to find out

You don't know what you need
It's something that may never come to you
Trust is something that comes easy
When you've never been a victim
Lies and promises and words are said
It's your decision to accept them

~ "Disconnected," Face to Face

[~]

Chapter XXXVII: Caught

It was a rather strange request Megatron had.

After clearing out the remainders of the monstrosities, Breakdown awkwardly approached him, relaying the order that Megatron needed him to return to the Nemesis right this klik, no excuses. He couldn't even aid in the collection of any energon deposits, it was that urgent.

So as he straightened himself up and did his best to not betray any confusion, he managed a cordial grin and tone as he approached his leader, "you needed to see me?"

Megatron didn't give him the courtesy of an explanation; he just spun around and loomed over him with an unholy level of irritation, "where were you born?"

What kind of question was that? This just couldn't be what Megatron needed him for.

"Excuse me?"

"Where. Were. You. Born."

It had to be a joke, it just had to.

He looked over at the staring Vehicons and shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all, but relented, "Centurion. You know this."

Apparently he didn't, as his leader's face twisted into an infuriated grimace. A much larger servo grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the floor.

"Open."

Open? Here?!

"Now is not the time," he wished he could have laughed at the ludicrous request. There were other bots here, all staring at them. Revealing one's Spark to a whole slew of individuals was just, well, crass.

He felt more pressure being applied, threatening to bend the metal leave damaging marks to his frame.

"Open or I will tear your Spark out from your chestplate.

It wasn't something he wanted to do, but…he had to. Against his better judgement and to his own humiliation, Starscream gave in.

Megatron's red, red optics focused squarely on his Spark, and with a disgusted noise released him. There were perturbed murmurs from all around them, from other lesser beings who should be keeping quiet. He didn't bother listening closely to the foot soldiers' mutterings.

"You disgust me, Starscream. I graciously—foolishly—allowed you a single rare privilege, and this is how you repay that kindness."

"I—I didn't know this was going to happen! This was not on purpose!"

"Enough excuses! You disgrace the Decepticons with this. The Second in Command to my armies, and you're bonded to an Autobot. Tell me, Starscream, what would your own family say if they saw this?"

Everything came to a screeching stop; his thoughts, the world around him, everything. How dare he? How dare he?! Shame forgotten, he gathered up his pride, his birthright, and refused to be cowed.

"Don't you dare bring them into this! You should be honored to have even looked upon them! They gave you everything, and you rewarded them with nothing! I am more than you will ever be by birth alone, and for that I am not a disgrace!"

There was a grave silence on the bridge, one that he didn't bother filling with pleads and whimpers of forgiveness. He knew what would come next and yet couldn't feel anything resembling fear.

With an angered snarl Megatron unleashed the full force of his rage: with a quick and forceful backhand right to his torso.

He was thrown backwards by it, far enough to collide with another surface. The back of his head struck the wall, and everything went black

[~]

Between the body numbing headaches and two unpleasant nightmares, Arcee only got five hours' worth of recharge last night. And she knew it down to the nanoklik; she stared at her clock as if it were a brand new, never before discovered piece of technology.

So safe to say she was not in a social mood the next day. Humans had a saying for it—not a happy camper.

If she stayed in her room all day that would make them worry, and Arcee was tired of that. There was a nagging in the back of her mind that she couldn't keep it all in forever, that she would eventually have to open up.

One day, but not now. Not when the wounds were too fresh.

So there she was, walking into a predictable scenario with a perfect script that would be recited word for word. Though if she had to choose, Arcee would always pick being in the base than being with Starscream.

At least her comrades cared about her, enough to drive her insane.

She sat on a nearby crate and collected any and all thoughts into a neat, easily accessible pile.

"You look exhausted," Bulkhead, always the master of tact and grace, looked her up and down as kindly as he could.

She sighed, "thank you, Bulkhead. Without your incredible insight I would have thought otherwise."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud it's just, well…Ratchet could probably give you something that could ease with anything, you know? He probably knows how to make a tonic that could help you recharge better.

He probably could, all she needed to do was ask. "Right now I'm no—"

She felt something hit her, a phantom punch straight to her entire upper half. It sent her reeling, the only sound she made was a frantic keen of confusion. Then, right after that, a sharp pain to the back of her head.

Everything became a messy blur, then nothing.