Thanks to reviewers!

Guest: Glad to know you liked it! Well, it is a T-rated story, and as I warned at the beginning of the first chapter, this story contains abuse. However, this chapter is the extent of it. So you can skip this chapter and I'll provide a summary in the next if you don't want to read. It is important to the plot, rest assured.

Lirica: Glad you liked it! Here is an update, sorry if I'm a bit sporadic...

TF:P no mine.

Enjoy!

The instructor gave her extra rounds, because he felt like it. She ran, as he commanded, but she cursed him under her vents the whole way, though she was careful not to let him hear. When he finally let her go she went to the sparkling play rooms. Law Enforcement sparklings were trained from two vorns to play aggressive games and develop the 'fighting spirit'. She collected Prowl, lingered for as long as she dared and walked slowly to the exit, hoping, praying that they wouldn't be waiting for her.

They were, of course.

The tallest one, Fellraft, had a smirk on his faceplates. "You're late, sweetspark."

Sweetspark was what her formers had called her. What she called Prowl sometimes. She hated it when they mocked her like that.

He placed a firm servo on her shoulder-plates and 'guided' her out. As usual, nobot was around.

Prowl clung tightly to her, knowing what was coming. "Forcen, hold him." Efflux called. Forcen prised Prowl away from her, as usual, with great difficulty. The yellow and blue bot then straddled the sparkling between his pedes and held him, so that he wouldn't be able to move. They all took it in turns to hold Prowl. As though this were some kind of ritual.

She swallowed.

Fellraft's smile grew wider. He was never one of the bots restraining Prowl. He was the chief, the leader, her main torturer. "So, lowlife," He never called her by name, of course. Low castes weren't supposed to have names. "How're we doing today?" A servo moved from behind and pushed her helm against the wall, so that her back faced them. By now, she had memorized each and every detail on the wall : it was made of dark, craggy stone, with little juts that she was afraid would one day poke her in the optic. "Well, I hope? Managing to keep up with the sparklings, I suppose. But since you just started training this stellar cycle, I doubt if you could even do that."

"Well, here's the deal: If you leave your brother behind for today, I'll spare you for the rest of your life. You taking it today, or are we doing this again?"

She shook her head, as she did every single solar cycle they asked this question. She wasn't sure what exactly they wanted to do to Prowl, but she cold let it happen. At any cost.

His voice turned venomous. "Ungrateful scraplet-spawn, these low castes are." He spat.

Arcee tuned him out. She'd heard worse, she reminded herself. There was no need to reply to him, just to keep her helm down and submit. Then they'd go easier on her.

She snapped back to reality when she felt sharp claws moving on her winglets.

They'd discovered that weak spot, her winglets, only three solar cycles ago. It was guessed that they were formed on a bot when they were grounders related to Seekers. Since Seekers were Elite castes, they were a much prized sign of beauty amongst the lower castes. Arcee had been proud of having them.

Wings were very sensitive, and winglets merely had the same amount of sensory nodes crammed into a smaller space. This made the armor very thin, practically protoform, making it even more sensitive. In fact, they were the most sensitive part of her anatomy.

All this meant that it was practically considered a crime to touch a bot's winglets without permission, even if they were medics.

Those claws frightened her in a way nothing else could.

They knew that, no, they enjoyed it.

At least they weren't doing it to Prowl, she reminded herself. She prayed that would never happen. If this was the price she had to pay, so be it.

The claws slid up slowly, poking here and there, just to make her cry out. She heard them laugh, as though this was a great big fragging joke. They reached the tips, and got a good grip on them. She resisted the urge to cry. I can't let Prowl see me cry. Then the servo twisted.

Because the armor there was so thin, and also because she was still very young, it was pliable. He winglets actually twisted, deforming the metal. She screamed. Pain shot up her winglets and into her spinal struts.

Suddenly, another servo knocked her helm against the wall. It bounced off, rattling her processors and making the wall, the only thing she could see, swim in and out of focus. "Shut up!" A voice hissed in her audio receptors. "If Master Yoketron hears, then we're dead! And then we'll offline you!"

She wanted, so badly, to scream. Her processor slowly inched its way back to normal, and made her slowly aware of the pain from her winglets, making everything clear and defined : she could see all the little shadow and lights on the stone playing with each other in high definition. The pain ebbed and surged at odd intervals. She was vaguely aware that the other younglings were arguing, but she had no idea over what.

Then a loud shout, and they all fell silent. Then the servos restraining her let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

Ratchet was not a heroic mech. In fact, when he saw what was going on by the training building, his first instinct was to run away. Him, an engineering caste bot, against five law enforcement mechs? He'd be slagged in five microcycles.

And even if he hadn't minded volunteering to be slagged, it wouldn't help Arcee or Prowl.

He gritted his dentas. Running away was not an option. Ratchet could see Arcee's crumpled winglet. That would need repairing. Heck, he was surprised she was still standing. He knew how sensitive winglets were.

He glanced at the bullies. They were arguing, and their voices were slowly getting loud enough for Ratchet to hear. "You fragging idiot, you're the one who bent it-" The tallest one bent over a green and red mech threateningly. "Well, what do we do with her now?" interjected the one holding Prowl, sounding bored. The tall mech scowled at him. "If she screams again, Yoketron'll come here. And then he'll kill us."

Rage began to boil in Ratchet's spark. Just how long had they been doing this to her? And why had he never bothered to find out until now? He hadn't known, but... In hindsight, it seemed rather obvious that something had been going on. He hated himself for being so stupid.

Yoketron'll come here. They were afraid of their own Guild Master. Ha! That was something he could work with. If he made a loud enough noise, would Master Yoketron come running out of the building?

"Just dump her here." said the dark violet femme, who was leaning against the wall opposite Arcee, some distance from where it bent into Ratchet's corner. "We can say that we had nothing to do with it, and even if she says it was us, who's going to believe somebot like her?"

"Oh, but she won't say that it was us. She knows what we'll do to her if she does."

"Then let's get out of here!"

No. He couldn't let them get away. They'd done a lot to Arcee already, and they had to pay for it. To distract them, or...? No. The only real option was to run into the enemy and hopefully cause enough of a ruckus that Master Yoketron would come out. It was the no-cowardice-allowed option, and Ratchet knew he could well end up needing repairs himself. But he couldn't waste time gathering his courage. So he charged.

He plowed right into the violet femme, throwing her to the ground. Then he swung at the tall one, only for him to catch his servo and twist it. "What's your malfunction?" He demanded. Ratchet winced as the others gathered around them.

Then he remembered that the point of this whole exercise had been to make some noise, and he hadn't made a peep yet. "MASTER YOKETRON! MASTER-"

He was slammed to the ground. "What do you think you're doing, huh?"

"MASTER YOKE-"

A door swung open violently. "What is going on here?" A powerful voice boomed. Ratchet looked up to see an old white and silver mech with broad shoulder caps and a long staff standing in the doorway. Ratchet spoke before anybot else could. "They were touching her winglets!"

Yoketron looked enraged. It was satisfying to see somebot else get angry on Arcee's behalf after aguing so much with everybot he knew. "You five! Inside. Now." The tall mech gave him a last kick and a dirty look as he left. Then the door swung closed and Ratchet realised that Yoketron was gone, too.

Ratchet lifted himself off the ground carefully. He heard the pattering of light pedesteps and without thinking, braced himself for another attacker, only to realize that it was Prowl, running to Arcee, who had collapsed. The little sparkling was sobbing. "Agraja? Agraja!"

Ratchet crawled up to her. She seemed unconscious. He shook her shoulder-plates. "Arcee. Wake up. We've gotta take you to a medic." Ratchet glanced around for help, but the lane was deserted and almost dark. He realised that he might have to call his sire. Just as he was on the verge of touching his comm. link, she onlined her optics. They were hazy, but at least he wouldn't have to carry her to get her fixed up, or something. "Arcee?"

"Agraja!" Prowl burst into fresh tears. Arcee shook her helm and tried to pull herself up, but failed. The sparkling put his arms around her helm tightly. When he finally let go, Ratchet offered her a servo. She took it hesitatingly, and tried to haul herself up, but failed again. Finally, Ratchet steadied her and with his aid, she was able to sit properly. Ratchet discovered that it had been because her damaged winglet had been scraping against the ground. With a sigh, she let Prowl crawl into her lap. "I'm pathetic, aren't I."

"No, you're not." said Ratchet firmly. "You just need a medic."

She shook her helm. "Please, no medics."

"How will you fix that, then?"

"I don't know, but how on Cybertron are we going to explain how it happened?"

"We can tell them the truth."

"Huh?"

"That some bots were bullying you, and they...did that to you."

She vented deeply. "And what can I tell them when they ask why?" Tears appeared in her optics. "I..." Ratchet trailed off, not sure how to respond. She was right; while bullying happened, it was mostly an abuse of power. Her own caste mates bullying her was sure to be looked into. And going as far as to touch her winglets... Well, it wasn't exactly common. By chance, he happened to glance up, and spotted Master Yoketron observing them from the third storey balcony. The old mech nodded at him. He was watching over them.

He gripped her shoulder-plates. "Never mind that for the moment. Arcee, they won't hurt you again."

She perked up. "What do you mean? How come?" He described all that had happened as quickly as he could. "Why didn't you talk to Master Yoketron before?" He asked quietly.

She winced. "I did. He-he said – that he couldn't interfere...that he couldn't change the attitudes of all his caste – that I would just have to bear it-"

"No..."

"-That this wouldn't be the last time- that I was going to pay the price for trying to reach above my caste all my life – the sooner I got used to it, the better..." She shook at the last sentence. Prowl gripped her tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Prowl. I-I-" Her voicebox glitched.

Ratchet said nothing. He looked up, searching for Yoketron, but he had disappeared from his balcony. Rage gathered in Ratchet's spark. "Slag you! She doesn't deserve this!"

Nobot appeared on the balcony. Ratchet got up and stomped over to the wall, kicking it. "Stupid-slagging-idiotic-fragging-miserable-!" His pede started to hurt. He stomped back to Arcee. She looked up at him with wide frightened optics. "Get up. We're going to a medic."

"No!"

"You don't have a choice. Move. Now."

Tears started to gather in Arcee's optic again. "Please. Ratchet. I can't!"

"You think Appa isn't going to notice when you come home with a deformed winglet?" He demanded. "And what are you going to do at school tomorrow, huh? How are you going to hide it from the instructors? From Orion?"

She flinched away from him. "Ratchet, please..."

"What are you planning to do about it? Are you just going to leave it like that? Doesn't it hurt?"

"It does." She mumbled. "Then what are you waiting for? For Hadeen to turn green?"

"No. Ratchet, no. Let's go home."

"What d'you mean, go home!"

"Sift – your sire – knows that I'm a low caste." She reminded him urgently. "He's the only one who might be able to do something."

Ratchet considered this for a moment. "Alright." He held a servo out to her. For a moment, he was terrified that she wouldn't take it and he could not deal with this. Then she took it, and stood up. He looked her in the optics. Those ringed optics, mark of mutated CNA, the price of being a low caste.

A longer chapter? How was it? Please leave a review, they're my sunshine!