Starlight released a soft groan as protocols began to activate within her processor to end her recharge cycle. She was surprised to feel no pain. She couldn't remember the last time she onlined without it. All she felt was a small ache throughout her extremities, no doubt a side-effect from being forced into stasis lock. She felt her optical sensors powering up. They flickered for a moment as they attempted to adjust to the gloom. At first, her vision was blurry and hazy, only to make out shadows of a large room. How long had she been recharging?

Then she noticed the unmistakable glow of crimson optics watching her a fair distance from the edge of the berth she was on. Staring at her. Immediately, defensive protocols kicked in and she released a shrill scream. They had taken her back to that horrible room... This mech was going to inflict more pain upon her. That's all they ever did...

Starlight scrambled back on her elbows and heels, hardly noticing she was on a soft, warm material. Especially when her veins turned cold as her back pressed against a solid wall. Another scream erupted from her throat. No, not again, not again, not again! A deep growl drifted across the air, but she didn't heed the words any mind. She had to get out!

Searching frantically for something nearby, her optics landed on a datapad sitting harmlessly next her on what appeared to be a desk of some sort. The prisoner snatched it up and reflexively hurled it at the intruder's helm. Only for a clawed servo to strike from the darkness, plucking the device midair with effortless skill. Those fearsome crimson optics narrowed.

Starlight released another shriek as she hastily scrambled away, trying to put a sizable distance between herself and the mystery Decepticon lurking on the other side of the room.

Hugging her knees to her chest she maintained her distance since the Decepticon had yet to reveal himself. Fearing the worst, she picked up the stylis still sitting on the desk where she'd grabbed the datapad and held it up threateningly with a shaking hand and growled, switching from defensive to aggressive and released a snarl.

"Even though I don't have combat experience like the rest of you...I'm sure that I can find a way to use this... to end you," she hissed with plating bristling in warning. Starlight felt her vocalizer going hoarse. No doubt from all the screaming she'd done earlier upon awakening.

It was then a laugh erupted from the Decepticon.

"I am afraid it will take more than that to defeat a Champion of Kaon," a proud drawl declared.

Starlight flinched. She knew that voice…

She trembled with fear when the Decepticon stepped forward into the circle of light, revealing curved, sharp armor and pointed denta. Megatron.

W-what was he doing here? Then suddenly the memory surge washed over her processor. The mech, trying to force open her chest plates, only for the Decepticon leader to cleave his helm right off of his shoulders. Then she was in the medbay, with that medic, then…

Starlight frantically looked around again, but instead of looking for a weapon, she tried to take in her surroundings. She was in a spacious room, barren of any extravagant furniture. She lay across the flexible surface of a berth, twice-no, three times-her size, with its head against the wall. What was this place?

"W-where amm I-I?" Starlight stammered, her vocalizer glitching, as it finished the rebooting cycle from the stasis lock. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Megatron's grin widened. "These are my personal chambers. I did not realize I required an invitation."

The statement was dripping with sarcasm, but it made the femme's energon freeze. Personal chambers. She was in the personal chambers of her captor, the leader of the Decepticons. The most wanted and despicable mech on Cybertron.

Suddenly something within her snapped and she began to hatefully fling accusations at him, regardless that he was a known killer and the Decepticon leader. Starlight didn't think. Words began spewing from her mouth before she could truly process them. Had she been of sound mind, she would have remembered that any living spark that had the gall to raise their voice to the infamous Decepticon warlord, were asking for a death wish. The young femme didn't care. Her small, slender frame began to quake with barely contained fear and fury, her golden optics narrowing as her normally melodic voice darkened.

"What is your true motive for keeping me here with you?!" Starlight vented before continuing, her voice beginning to rise in pitch and volume as the stress strained her vocalizer. "The Decepticon you killed...the one who tortured me, who you allowed to torture me, over and over again to the brink of death... was going to force me to be his. How do I know that you are any different?," she spat angrily.

She was not one to forgive so easily. Despite her angry demeanor, she was still hurt...and trusted no one. Her lower lip began to tremble as she kept her chosen 'weapon' poised defensively. She continued with a wavering voice as she choked on sobs, though in her anger she refused to allow her tears to fall. Her quaking frame rattled with greater intensity. "How do I know you won't do the same?" she whispered as a strangled cry finally tore out of her throat. The neutral met those crimson optics, that burned like hell-fire head-on. Their gazes clashed, each with their own, unique intensity.

Megatron allowed her to rant, only staring at her with those inscrutable optics. When she finished, he blinked, but it was far too lazily.

"If I wanted to take you, little fool, I would have already done so," the lord drawled. "And if you care to notice, you have been left untouched."

He used a clawed digit to tap his insignia above his spark, causing Starlight to glance down at her own chest to prove as much. The scratches that had marred her plating were gone, replaced by shiny, flawless polish. Her aggressive, defensive demeanor slowly melted away, yet her optics still retained a great degree of distrust and doubt. Was this a trick? Was he truly being sincere? Or was he lying to her, promising to grant her mercy only to turn on her later, just like all the rest?

"Why am-am I here?" Starlight demanded, still holding the stylus between her and the monster..

"I assumed you would have preferred a more comfortable place to recharge," the Decepticon shrugged.

"I don't believe you," she glowered at him.

The mech hummed thoughtfully and canted his helm and slowly began to close the distance between them.

"Are you afraid?" Megatron leered as he stepped closer.

Starlight was unsure of how to answer. Admitting her fear could prove to be fatal. And yet denying it could prove just as deadly. She hesitantly answered after coming to a decision.

"Yes."

Megatron remained impassive for several minutes and simply studied her. Her answer had been firm. Despite the flicker of fear in her optics, they still retained that old, fiery flame. One of defiance and courage. Neutral or not, this femme had the spark of a warrior. Never before had he seen one of her kind display such bold, tenacious characteristics. She intrigued him...

The two occupants in the room remained silent, although it was clear to see that the wheels were rapidly turning in Starlight's head.

"Why did you save me?" she questioned quietly as the hand holding the stylis slowly lowered. Despite the action, she maintained a heavy guard and stared at him in suspicion, as though waiting for him to try something.

"Save you?" Megatron scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

Starlight flinched at the cold tone. "Then you are going to terminate me?"

The sterling tyrant tilted his helm. "Perhaps."

She watched him carefully for any sign that might suggest, his statement regarding her possible termination, held a kernel of truth. At last, she scoffed.

"I don't believe you. You would have done it by now if you truly wanted to be rid of me."

Megatron raised an optic ridge and the beginning of a smirk began tugging at his lips. Before he could utter another word, an unannounced visitor came to the door. He stood and walked towards the entrance to send them away but was beaten to it, when one of his officers triggered the unlocking mechanism for his quarters without permission. The door slid open and a growl escaped his throat when he came face-to-face with Starscream.

"What IS it?!" he snarled, clearly not happy with the Seeker's unwanted intrusion.

"Well, Master… I was informed that the prisoner was repaired. I'm here to escort her back to her cell…" Starscream's crimson optics brightened when he caught sight of Starlight in the room. He raised the shackles high enough for her to see them, and with a sick grin he rattled them. "To play, of course."

-Flashback-

Starlight was powerless. She was currently pinned down by two Decepticon mechs, while the new warden, Starscream, approached her with a wicked grin. He released a dark chuckle as he held up the dreaded device that every prisoner learned to fear. Starlight did not yet know what it did but it was probably going to hurt… a lot.

She whimpered and tried to crawl away, only for her limbs to refuse to move underneath her captors' cruel grip, reminding her that she couldn't. Starscream made a 'tsk'-'tsk' sound as he stalked ever closer like a predator ready to devour his prey.

"Now, now...resisting will only make this worse."

It was her second vorn as a prisoner but the first time meeting Megatron's second-in-command. Not yet completely broken, her defiance and fiery spirit still burned true. She spat at him with a sneer.

"Someday, once I finally get out of here...I'm going to take that thing, and shove it up your exhaust port…"

Her statement of course made Starscream's dark chuckle turn into a full blown laugh, as though he'd heard a joke.

"My, my...are are a feisty one. No matter. You will soon learn your place!"

He managed to clasp the metal collar around her neck, inserting a chip that connected to her processor that controlled the rest of her neural net. With a sick grin, he pulled out a small remote and waved the two guards holding her down to release her. Her optics burned with fire as she leapt back up to her feet with a growl. She lunged for him with the intention of strangling the Seeker but something stopped her in her tracks.

A scream escaped her throat as a sudden, excruciating surge of pain coursed through every circuit within her body. She fell to her knees and then on her side, writhing from the raw electricity that erupted through every single one of her pain receptors. Soon her vocalizer shorted out from her constant screaming and Starscream finally ended her new torture session. He gave her a smug look...one that she wished she could permanently wipe off his faceplate and narrowed her optics with hatred burning in her soul.

"That fancy inhibitor around your neck, not only incapacitates the wearer as you've just experienced...but it also prevents transformation." His wicked grin grew wider as his crimson optics flashed with a sick delight. "Be a good little prisoner. Misbehave and we will play again…"

-End Flashback-

Starlight's fear was instantly replaced with rage as the earlier conversation with Megatron flashed through her mind. She should have known that the silver tongued mech was lying to her! He baited her, lured her into a false sense of security! She felt utterly, and hopelessly betrayed...

It was then the femme felt the frozen gears in her body unlock as a hot energon coursed through her veins. As a familiar, ancient instinct reached the surface of her processor, giving her a single command: run.

Starlight obeyed. In the flicker of an optic, she lunged off the bed. Part of her knew it was irrational. The only escape was the door, blocked by her warden, Starscream. But she didn't care. She only locked on his hiked up wings and startled expression, talons raised in defense. Only for the image to be replaced by a silver wall.

Without warning, thick, strong arms wrapped around Starlight's middle, pinning her limbs to her sides. She was aware of her chest being pressed against another. Her vents sputtered as suddenly she recalled her torturer, clawing at her chest, all the while pressing his heavy weight against hers. She was right! It was all a trick! Megatron merely wanted her for himself, and was going send her back to that awful place.

With a scream, Starlight writhed, flailing her legs and pulling at her trapped limbs. There was a bark above her, but she ignored it as she pulled her arms free. She raked her claws across Megatron's chest, filling the air with an awful grating noise. When her captor did not flinch, she curled her servos into fists, pounding them against the Champion's broad chest, screaming in rage. She had lost all logic, reduced to a raving mech-animal as fear and hatred fought for dominance. Starscream only snickered in dark amusement from the doorway.

"YOU SICK LYING FRAGGER! I should have known! You are just like the rest! I HATE YOU!" she spat in fury, screaming, and snarling. She hurled curses, threats, and harsh accusations at the Decepticon leader.

The mech just held her small frame, unflinching, allowing her to vent her rage. She wasn't damaging him in the slightest. He watched her impassively as her heated, violent motions began to weaken and her vocalizer grew hoarse and staticky. Soon she exhausted herself, nearly going limp in his arms.

Starscream stepped forward with the intention of chaining her. Starlight's optics widened and her assault on the Decepticon lord ceased. She hid herself within the towering mech's hold, as if seeking his protection would save her from the inevitable. A haunted fear grew within her optics and hopelessness flooded her spark as the Seeker stalked closer.

"No… please…" she whimpered, turning her head away to bury her face against Megatron's broad chest, in a pitiful attempt to hide herself. Subconsciously, she leaned further into the warlord's odd embrace. For a second… it almost felt as though he had briefly tightened his hold on her.

"NO! NO!" she shouted, as she felt a slender hand grab her arm, pulling her away. Starscream ripped her away from Megatron's side, cackling in triumph. Starlight's hysterics reached audio shattering highs as she desperately struggled against the mech.

The prisoner flailed, trying to free herself. She didn't expect to succeed, falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Only when she raised herself on her knees, did she find herself trapped between the wall and Megatron's great size. The only escape was towards a sneering Starscream.

She couldn't go back down there… she couldn't…

"PLEASE! Please don't let him take me, I'll do anything! ANYTHING!" she begged, going so far as to grip the Decepticon lord's leg and bow her helm against one of his massive pedes in supplication.

A single optic ridge rose and a helm tilted curiously. Starscream merely shook his head.

"The prisoner is obviously glitched from processor damage," the warden sighed. He stepped forward, pointing his null ray at Starlight's helm. "I suppose it was an inevitable outcome. Would you like me to put her down, my liege?"

The Seeker blinked when a dismissive servo was waved in his direction.

"No."

"Um, what?"

The warlord ignored him as the titan sunk to one knee. He gripped Starlight's shoulders, holding her upright as he leaned down, looking into her optics. It was that inscrutable expression, one that the femme could not hope to read.

"Anything?" Megatron echoed in a low rumble, like thunder.

Starlight's eyes flitted up to give Starscream a fleeting glance and then looked up to stare intently into Megatron's optics. Pressing her lip components into a thin, grim line, she answered him with a tone of voice that not even Starscream had heard from her before.

"Yes. I will do whatever it is you ask of me," her voice was soft, and for the first time, filled with a small yet reverent amount of respect. He had after all, pulled her from her prison. Kept her from harm thus far. She supposed whatever he had in mind had to be better than going back to her former prison… besides, he had shown no ill will towards her, unlike his underlings.

Megatron stared a moment more, his narrowed optics like a smoldering pit-bright and almost mesmerizing, but dangerous to the touch. It was like that gaze was trying to scorch through her armor. Boring straight into her soul. Then-

"You will swear fealty to me."

Starlight's audios twitched, not convinced she heard him right. "W-what?"

"You said anything, did you not?"

The neutral merely stared, unable to register the words. She hardly heard Starscream sputter.

"My lord, you cannot be serious," the second-in-command insisted. "This femme is practically a feral. A danger to herself and others-"

"Starscream."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Starscream looked like he was slapped across the face, but did not dare disobey his lord's order. Meanwhile, Megatron's gaze never broke away.

"Well? Do you accept? Or should I order your remains to be sent to the smelting pit?"

Starlight knelt down on one knee. With a hand over her spark, she gave him her answer.

"I swear my fealty to you, my lord," her optics glanced at Starscream and she sent him a silent, smoldering glare before locking her golden optics upon the warlord's own, "And only to you."

~59 Million years Later~

Orion Pax Witwicky slung his battered backpack over his shoulder with a deep frown as his social worker finished processing the paperwork that would send him to yet another foster family. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his ripped jeans, leaving one thumb hanging out, while firmly grasping the faded strap of his pack with the other.

He did not have many personal possessions, having been moved around a lot from one house to the next. Over the years he'd grown to hate the system. He'd been torn away from one family after another since he'd lost his parents at the age of three. There were a few foster parents that had taken him in, but only for the government money. Those people never cared for him. Never loved him. Rather than using that money to buy him clothing and food, they'd used it to buy things for themselves… some even going so far as to use those government funds to buy brand new gaming consoles for their real children.

Orion never knew his birth parents. He couldn't remember what they looked like. He couldn't recall his brief time spent with them. There was no memory. There were no graves.

Orion felt no sorrow. No grief. No heart-felt longing. He felt no pain. He could not mourn someone he did not know. His tear ducts might as well have dried up for he shed not a single drop. The boy came to realize that he could never miss his biological parents. They were strangers to him. They were just a briefly married couple that birthed him, departing the world too soon, leaving him behind to grow and age alone. Orion didn't have a clear concept on family, seeing as how he'd never really had one. He was told that his parents left a will, but he would not see it until he came of age.

His mother and father had gone missing just two weeks after his third birthday. Two days after their disappearance, their modest home had mysteriously burned down, leaving nothing behind but ashes and burnt rubble. He had no other living relatives that could take him in. .

Orion Witwicky had always been on his own. He did not care how some foster families would ignore his existence, or if they made an effort. He merely counted the days until he turned 18. He would be free to go wherever he chose and do whatever his heart desired. He would no longer be confined or chained to a system that sent him to live with strangers who didn't give a damn about him.

Then he would be free. He could do whatever he wanted. No one would tell him what to do, what not to do. He could care for himself, like he'd always done.

Growing up had been tough. More than tough. Even though he'd been very young when he'd first entered the system, he did remember the first family he'd been sent to live with. The adult couple had been nice enough but their birth child hated him since he'd first stepped foot into their home. At that time, Orion was the youngest member of his new, temporary family. Their birth child would steal food from the kitchen, or break things (usually on purpose), or "trip" when they went outside to play.

But it was always Orion's fault. All the child had to do was sob to the heavens and point, and it would be Orion who was punished. In the end, they handed him back to social services, discarding him like a dirty rag that needed to be thrown away. They did not want to deal with a child that was surely plagued by some sort of conduct disorder. Of course it wasn't the case. Just any excuse so the family could get rid of him.

He was sent to another family, then another and another and another. Each one put him in school, but wasn't much of a relief. He never made any friends. At least any that he could keep since he was constantly moving from one school to another. The other kids would cruelly tease him. Their hurtful words stung at first. They never used his real name. They would tell him that the reason his parents disappeared, was because they ran away from him. That they never loved him or wanted him to begin with.

The cold words were followed by a fight. It was them something unexplainable would come over Orion. He didn't know how it would happen. Time would slow to a near standstill and the world disappeared. His muscles would move by their own command, his arms and legs striking and body turning. Once he broke a kid's nose. Once he twisted an arm from its socket. Once he threw a teen twice his size across the room. Then another time, he'd sucker punched a bully so hard in the abdomen, that the kid had to go to the ER for a broken rib.

It was almost like, he knew how to fight. He didn't understand how. He had never stepped foot in a boxing ring or a dojo in his life. It was just there, inside of him. He never initiated a fight. But he always finished it. Pretty soon, those bullies left him alone.

Of course, his foster parents were never happy. The first time, they merely pestered him for answers and scolded him, like they had been there. Like he could have stopped the fist coming for his face, over and over and over, until a powerful fist of his own collided with the jock's face. The second time, he didn't care. The third, he was expelled from school.

He was labeled as a problem child and it became harder and harder for social services to find him a new, temporary family to live with, especially as he got older. There weren't many people that wanted to care for a troubled teen. Most were more interested in caring for the younger children. The more "easily managed ones." After his first twelve years in foster care, he'd lost all hope that he'd ever be adopted into a real family.

When he was younger, around 12-years-old, he ran away a couple of times. Just to see if his host parents truly cared about his well-being. To see if they loved him at all. The police didn't find him until the third day. Those so-called parents never reported him missing and didn't even try to look for him. The cops picked him up at a gas station, where he'd committed petty theft, just because he'd been hungry and needed to eat. His social services case-worker, Laurie, managed to get him out of that mess. Luckily, the owner did not press charges and the cops dismissed the case after Laurie promised them that Orion would never commit the act again. At least until he was seventeen, and he decided to "borrow" his foster brother's Ford Mustang.

The entire car was custom, from the V8 engine to the leather seats to the gold stripe on black plating to the window louvers on the back. The jock had practically worshipped the thing, not even allowing Orion's "greasy paw prints" near it. Said that a street rat wouldn't know how to drive a "real ride." However, apparently he didn't love the car enough when he decided to transfer to an out-of-state college. As freshmans were not allowed to have any vehicles on campus, the young man left it behind with a clear threat that Orion was dead if there was a single scratch on it.

He didn't understand what the problem was. It was usually his foster mother sending their cars to the shop. So, when his foster parents went with a group of friends for a late dinner, Orion helped himself. He quickly learned why his so-called brother was obsessed with the damned thing. It was by far the best ride of his life.

The Mustang accelerated effortlessly, hitting over fifty in before he could count to ten. The muscle car between vehicles with grace and hugged the tightest of turns. Orion remembered the dozens of SUVs and pickup trucks he was dragged into throughout his life, where he was jostled and thrown around the cab, sometimes deafened by the roar of a sputtering engine. He didn't feel a thing as the Mustang glided effortlessly across the road. The fifteen-year-old boy didn't even realize he hit a hundred.

The was when the Jeep Wrangler pulled up beside him, its engine sputtering as it struggled to keep up with the high speed. Orion only laughed, pressing on the accelerator. He cranked up the stereo and blasted his favorite rock music. The young teen slowed down, allowing the other driver to catch up. They drove side by side for a short time, all the while Orion giving them the illusion that they had even the slimmest hope for victory. Then with a devilish grin, the young teen shifted gears and stomped on the gas pedal. He released a wicked laugh as the headlights slipped to his rearview mirror.

Orion's fun was spoiled by a red light. The teenager thought about running it, but with his luck, there would be a cop around the corner. Then he would have to explain why he was driving a car that was not his. And then explain to his foster family why he decided to take the Mustang for a drive. So he reluctantly slowed to a stop.

The Jeep paused behind him, engine still rumbling from the strain. The driver's window rolled down, revealing a pair of mischievous faces. When the driver gestured for Orion to lower his window, he obliged.

"You wanna go again?" the driver challenged, revving his engine.

"Where and when?" Orion asked. When the other pair blinked in confusion, he elaborated in a dismissive tone, "I don't race Jeeps."

The driver looked like he had been slapped in the face; his friend only snickered. The other teen quickly blinked out of it, trying to regain his dignity. To Orion's surprise, he gave a time and location, telling him about how a couple of the local gangs were sponsoring a race. The suggestion of an illegal street race wasn't a surprise, but he found himself leaning in at the driver's next works. The first place winner would receive up to 4K.

The light turned green.

To say he was excited was an understatement as Orion rolled up to the starting line. He initially felt a bit intimidated when he saw what he was up against. There was a sporty 2018 blue Corvette Stingray sitting innocently to his left. From the throaty revving, Orion knew it had a V8 engine. The young teen eyed the driver of said Corvette and knew without a doubt that the owner was no millionaire. The punk appeared to be in his earlier 20's and had on a white tank top with black jeans and appeared to be of Latino descent. He was making out with his girlfriend, prompting a disgusted mutter and an eye roll from Orion at the sight. He leaned out of his window and shouted over to them as he revved his engine.

"YO! GET A ROOM!"

The other guy flipped him off and turned his back on him, ignoring Orion entirely. How dare he turn his back on him?!

A hot-headed Orion, moved to step out of his "borrowed" car but didn't even get the door open before another racer drove up to the starting line right beside him, effectively taking up the empty space between Orion and the Corvette. He glared daggers at the offending mystery racer who was hidden behind dark, tinted glass, making it impossible to identify the individual in question. His eyes did brighten however and he released a whistle as his eyes hungrily took in every feature of the brand new, shiny red Aston Martin. He could tell that the owner of the car was obsessive-compulsive if the lustrous finish was anything to go by. The teen could see his own reflection! Whomever owned the Aston Martin was no doubt narcissistic.. It struck Orion as odd that the driver, who so willingly went to such great lengths to maintain the pristine vehicle, would risk damaging it in an illegal street race. Whatever. With a disgusted scoff, the orphan scoffed at the car just before rolling up the window.

The Aston Martin arrived just in time, as Orion glanced up to see a skinny blonde with flawless skin, wearing too high of heels and too short of a skirt. Sure enough, the boy soon heard the catcalls and whistles through his window as the young woman sashayed before the growling sports cars. Hand on her curved hip, she raised a hand in the air.

The crowds on either side cheered and whooped, encouraging the engines to rev and wheels to inch forward. Even Orion was joining in, his heart already beginning to beat faster and faster as adrenaline filled his veins. Beside him, the Aston Martin did not even move.

Without warning, the woman sliced her hand downward. Instantly the half a dozen cars floored it at the same time, just narrowly avoiding the line of people that had pressed in as close as possible. Orion's back pressed against the seat as the world went by in a blur. The cars next to him disappeared. It was then he realized these were no cocky teens in a Jeep. In stunned awe, he watched as car after car passed him.

The teen had always been competitive and hot-tempered. Many times it got him in trouble. This time, he unleashed it fully without fear of consequence. With a loud hollar, he shifted gears and stomped on the gas pedal. The other racers ahead of him, two in particular, had some sort of nitro booster installed, both taking the lead. One was the Aston Martin and other was the Corvette he'd previously envied. With a snarl of frustration, he slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel while simultaneously pulling the emergency break, forcing his own car to skid and easily drift around a sharp turn he'd almost missed in the evening gloom. Had he continued straight, his foster brother's custom Mustang would have crashed through a guard rail and plummeted over a cliff into a small canyon below.

His disadvantage: driving the unknown race course.

His advantage: his rage. And his fearlessness.

Orion was not afraid to die, something he never understood. Over time he attributed it for the ideology that he had nothing in this world left to lose. He had no family. No real home. No one who would ever miss him. There was nothing to fear, if everything was gone. He was not suicidal by any means. He was could not survive for long without an adrenaline rush. The young man needed these thrills to make him feel alive. Without it… he felt strangely hollow. Like he was missing something or someone. A paradox to be sure. Yet that feeling persisted from deep within his soul...

Orion was brought out of his thoughts as there was another sharp turn, and he barely had time to repeat the process. He cringed when the back of the Mustang clipped the gaurd rail. His brother wasn't going to appreciate that. The driver straightened out, to see he was a few meters behind the Corvette. He pushed his engine to its limits.

The back of the Corvette came closer and closer. Almost, almost... Then the Aston Martin veered.

The Corvette spun out of control when the Aston Martin violently nudged the sport's car's rear bumper.. Orion swerved and spat an enraged curse the cheap trick, veering violently to avoid the other car from crashing into him. Headlights blinded the boy as Corvette spun past, missing his own Mustang by inches, finally coming to a stop when it slammed into tree on the side of the road.

Gritting his teeth, Orion quickly corrected, straightening back out. Then he realized it was only him and the Aston Martin. The driver pushed the gas again, and in seconds he and the Martin were neck-and-neck. He could see in the distance, the finish line approaching. He poured on another burst of speed, pressing the accelerator to the floor, noticing the speedometer needle pushing beyond the top speed. With gritted teeth, he slowly gained ground but screamed in outrage when the Aston Martin tried pulling that same dirty move on him. He hit the brakes but not before the Martin slammed into his driver's side, shattering glass.

Uncaring of the consequences, Orion clenched his teeth and with fury burning in his eyes he turned the wheel and smashed into the perfect finish of the red car. Orion soon noticed a dangerous drop in speed as he heard the tell-tale sound of a tire popping.

"NO! No-no-no-no! COME ON! You slagging DIRTBAG!" Orion snarled after the pristine vehicle as it passed the finish line. The young teen couldn't even reach it. He'd blown a tire and his rims were cracked. His foster brother was going to be pissed….

Oh, well. Shit happened. Worst thing they could do was throw him back to social services, and he had been through that plenty of times. Orion had to admit that even though he was angry and disappointed at losing his first race, he did enjoy it. Immensely. He pulled out his cell phone and called for a tow truck. The Mustang needed a repair shop.

Not long after that, Orion moved out and was sent to a children's shelter until they could secure him a new home.