"Alright, Orion. We are all set. You ready to go?" Laurie asked with a small smile.

She'd been his case worker for the past ten years. She knew him better than all of his foster parents combined. She was the only one who seemed to genuinely care about his well-fare. He used to wish she'd adopt him or take him in herself. Of course it was against government policy. She did try to help him as best she could though. But then again, it was just her job.

Laurie escorted him out of the building and pulled out her car keys. Orion did what he'd done dozens of times in the past. He tossed his backpack in the backseat and took his place in the front on the passenger's side with a heavy sigh. His case worker got into the driver's side and both occupants in the car buckled up with distinctive clicks.. She started up the engine and began driving. They both sat in silence. Laurie gestured towards the radio and gave him a soft smile.

"Pick a station, kiddo."

"No. I'm good, thanks," Orion replied before turning his gaze out the window. He watched the world rush by. Houses and trees and commercial businesses became a streaking blur. He turned his head back around to face Laurie when she began speaking again.

"Orion, this might be your last chance to remain in foster. If this family doesn't work out, you will be placed in an orphanage until you turn 18."

"I know," Orion mumbled bitterly. It wasn't his fault that some families didn't want him. Most of them didn't even want to take the time to try.

"This time might be different. Kate doesn't have any biological children of her own, but she takes in foster kids and raises them by herself."

Orion snorted and had to fight back an eye-roll. How would this be any different? The woman was probably going to be like all of the others he'd lived with. She was probably in this business just for the money. Another five minutes passed in silence as they stopped at a red light. Orion broke the silence.

"So...am I gonna have brothers or sisters at this new place?"

Laurie glanced at him before turning her full attention back on the road.

"The girl is six-years-old and the boy is twelve-years-old."

Orion said nothing and went back to his window watching. He was surprised when they pulled into a nice suburban neighborhood. Laurie parked the car in the driveway of a house that looked as if it were brand new. Modern design, pristine paint, no damage. He hesitantly unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly got out of the car. Not knowing what to expect, Orion remained guarded and was more than surprised when he had a welcoming committee walk outside to greet him.

The woman, his new foster mother he assumed, was smiling. It wasn't fake like all the others he'd seen over the years. The lady looked genuinely happy. Behind her came the six-year-old girl, who hid herself shyly behind the woman's leg. The twelve-year-old boy had earbuds in, and was either listening to music or playing a game on his cell phone. The young foster mother, gently elbowed the younger teen with a smile getting his attention. The other boy ripped the earbuds out of his ears, his cheeks immediately heating up when he realized he was being watched by the newcomer.

He gave Orion a sheepish grin and gave him a short, awkward wave in greeting. His new foster mother quickly approached him. She was well-dressed, wearing crisp black trousers and a tight black blazer over a white undershirt. Her black heels were spotless along with her rings and diamond necklace. Orion couldn't help but wonder about her profession. For a single adult, it appeared that she was set for life.

"Hi! You must be Orion!" the woman gushed warmly as she reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Kate. It's a pleasure meeting you." She turned her head to take in the other two youths still standing behind her, "Kids, why don't you introduce yourselves?"

The shy girl poked her head out and quickly blurted her name before ducking back behind the woman's leg, grabbing a fistful of her trousers.

"I'm Selah," the six-year-old smiled shyly up at him.

"Keith," the other teen greeted with a short nod, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Orion immediately noticed that these foster kids were not wearing grungy, hand-me-down, yard-sale bought clothing. In fact, they looked brand new, as did their shoes. The front lawn was meticulously cut and sported lush green grass. A basketball hoop stood near the garage where he could glimpse a brand new vehicle, a glossy black BMW from the look of it. The bright, white cement composing the driveway appeared newly paved. The two kids looked happy themselves. The other teen, Keith, even had his own smartphone.

Orion took a step back to view the whole scene. A beautiful house. Happy kids. A loving mother. An inviting family. It seemed picture perfect.

Too perfect. The more he thought about it… the more worried he became. The orphan knew from experience that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. He'd gotten used to disappointment. He was pulled from his grim, silent musings when his social worker clasped a hand on his shoulder in farewell. She whispered in his ear, low enough that his new foster family wouldn't hear, much to his relief.

"Please. Behave."

Hmph. Like he would have some stuck-up rich woman tell him what to do. Orion sucked air through his teeth. Just ten months. Just ten months and he would be out of this hell. With a pointed look, Laurie climbed back into her car and rolled down the window. She poked her head out to shout out a final farewell before driving away.

"Call me if you need anything! Bye!"

Orion watched his case worker drive away and released a long-suffering sigh, tightening his grip on his backpack as he turned to face the expectant gazes of his new "family." He didn't know what to expect, so the teenager remained guarded. Once they walked into the house, his new foster mother smiled warmly at him.

"Would you like something to eat?" Kate offered.

Orion shook his head in the negative as he continued to inspect his new living environment. Everything was clean. Pristinely free of any clutter or grime. He took two steps before being confronted by Keith. The younger boy gave Kate a smile and then looked at him.

"Come on. I'll show you to your room."

Keith waited expectantly by the stairs and didn't take another step until he was certain that Orion was indeed going to follow him. After reaching the second floor, Keith scratched the back of his head and then gestured towards a door on the left of the hall and used an index finger to point from one room to the next.

"That's your room. Further down is Kate's, mine, and then Selah's. The three of us have to share a bathroom up here. Kate has her own in her master bedroom," the boy paused as he pulled out a folded paper, "here is the list of rules we are expected to follow. If you got any questions, you know where to find me." Keith gave him a nod in farewell and then returned to his room.

Orion rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the '"list." It was the same old garbage as one of his previous homes: 10 pm curfew, expected to make high grades in school, respect for each household member, and to help with chores on assigned days. The teen trudged into his room and was surprised to see it was already furnished with a bed, a desk, desk chair, a nightstand with a reading lamp, and a small entertainment center bare of any movies or games. It did have a TV that was connected to a dish though.

He was relieved to see his bed was already made with fresh sheets and blankets. His bedroom window overlooked the backyard and the boy was surprised when he spotted a large trampoline and a in-built swimming pool. Tossing his backpack down at the foot of his bed, Orion reclined back, deciding it a decent time to watch TV. His heavy eyelids began to flutter. He fought sleep for as long as he could but exhaustion took its toll. HIs eyelids slowly drooped. His fight to remain conscious was a lost cause as the back of his head hit the pillow.

That was when Orion began to dream…

Nightstalker was afraid. Very afraid. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it was bad. There were so many loud noises! Each one had him flattening his sensitive audios with a flinch. It did not help that his guardian, Soundwave, had gone away, leaving the young mechling alone in his quarters. When Nightstalker asked what was going on, Soundwave merely told him to stay quiet, and not to open the door for anyone. His confusion grew when he heard it lock closed.

Then the screaming started. Vicious shouts and roars, along with high-pitched wails and screeches. The pounding of heavy pedes sounded outside the door, sometimes so loud and so close that Nightstalker was driven to hide under the berth. His pitch-black plating gave him an advantage, blending him into the shadows. He did inherit silver and white highlights from both of his parents, but his primary color scheme made him a child of the night. It was his sire who had named him. The scary sounds outside in the hall became deafening. W-What was happening?!

The young mechling, roughly the Earth equivalent of a four-year-old, didn't want to be alone. Especially when he heard someone trying to override the lock and break down the door. He remained frozen when large dents appeared in the metal. Soon it was violently kicked down and the youngling's plating began to shiver as a dark chuckle reached his audios.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" came the deadly sing-song voice of the unwelcomed intruder. Nightstalker's crimson optics shut tight with a violent flich when the grown mech upturned furniture, and filled the air with horrible noises. The mech paced back and forth, tearing apart anything in his way, as he thoroughly searched the room.

Then Nightstalker screamed when the berth he was hiding under was carelessly tossed aside, leaving him exposed. His plating rattled as he scrambled away and curled in on himself with a whimper. He craned his head up to look into a sneering face. The mech's crimson optics flashed dangerously, his wicked grin widening as the mechling backed himself into a wall.

"Well, well, well… look who we have here. Megatron's little heir…" the winged mech leered as he flashed dangerous claws. "All alone. Looks like your sparkling-sitter had more important things to deal with. What a pity." The Decepticon slowly advanced with a darkly amused chuckle.

Nightstalker felt a small, bold, sliver of defiance emerging from his spark and the little one snarled in warning, his tiny plating bristling like a frightened cyber-cat who was backed into a corner. It wasn't nearly as intimidating as he wanted it to be, as he was pitifully small compared to the massive Decepticon.

"With you out of the way...nothing will stop Starscream from regaining his former title as rightful heir to Lord Megatron's throne," Ramjet lunged for the little mech with outstretched claws.

Nightstalker crawled a few feet away but was violently yanked back towards his attacker when Ramjet roughly snagged his leg. The Decepticon youngling felt pain explode where he'd been visciosly grabbed and heard something "pop" out of place as he was hefted into the air, earning a pained shriek. Then, the brute firmly grasped his scruff-bar and lifted him up by one hand in order to bring the mechling face to face. The youngling hissed and bared little fangs as he began punching and kicking the open air between himself and the mech who wished him harm. His pitiful display earned an amused guffaw from his captor.

His violent motions ceased when Ramjet painfully tightened his grip on his scruff-bar, reflexively causing the mechling's small body to curl up into a defensive ball, with tiny pedes and little legs tucked beneath him. It made him look more like a sparkling than a youngling. Nightstalker hated it. It made him feel weak and powerless.

Nightstalker's spark instinctively screamed out to the one and only soul who could save him, his fear flooding their bond. He felt an answering pulse and felt emotions not his own. Rage, fear, and desperation.

The mechling's fear grew to astronomical levels when another winged mech entered the room with a blade drawn.

"Ramjet! Stop toying around with him!" the newcomer snapped, fresh energon staining his chassis. "Starscream's diversion won't last much longer! Kill the runt already!"

"Dirge, I thought Screamer wanted to offline the little runt himself."

"You thought wrong, you imbecile! It won't be long until Megatron finds us out!" The interloper stormed into the room, wings raised high, deadly sharp fangs bared. When Nightstalker's captor did not move, the mech snatched the youngling none-too-gently, ripping him out of the other's grip, ignoring his high-pitched. "Fine, I'll do it myself!"

The youngling shrieked again as he was roughy slammed onto the ground, pain jolting through his entire frame. Lubricant escaped his optics, causing him to look up at the looming figure through a water film. The mech's single servo easily holding him down, the other brandishing his long, wicked blade high in the air. The tip pointed directly towards Nightstalker's exposed neck.

A vent hitched in the youngling's throat. What was he doing? That would-

Before Nightstalker could finish his thought, the blade came down, filling his entire vision-

Then a deafening, terrible roar racked his sensitive audios. The blade froze and the mechs above him went unnaturally stiff, optics wide and bright. Nightstalker saw a silver flash behind the mech holding him down, right before long, sharp talons seized the back of his captor's neck. There was the sound of crunching metal, his assaulter letting out an undignified sound as his fragile neck cables were crushed.

Then in the flicker of an optic, the mech vanished from sight. There was another high-pitched scream accompanied by a horrible sound of metal-on-metal impact. The room shook with a reverberating thud.

Nightstalker flinched at the almighty noise, finials flat against his helm. Shaking uncontrollably, he glanced up, to see a titanic figure. His creator. Megatron.

The Lord of Decepticon's crimson optics, burning with power and hatred, were wide and his razor-sharp fangs were bared, glinting in a snarl. His curved, silver armor was bristling to make him look twice his normal size, making him twice as intimidating. Nightstalker was assaulted with a rush of heat of a raging EM field, so powerful it filled the vacuum of the room.

The youngling had seen his sire's fearsome temper before. Very few beings were capable of calming down the raging warlord, and one of them was his carrier. Nightstalker wished she was here, right now, but she had gone away to secure another location, leaving him in the care of his creator. However, feeling that burning rage and looking into that terrifying glare, Nightstalker realized Megatron was not angry.

He was livid.

"L-Lord Megatron!" one of the youngling's assaulters cried, the one that found him. His attackers were in a tangle of limbs on the floor, pressed up against the wall with the menacing shadow of their lord looming over them. "W-we were just securing your heir, my liege. So that the usurpers-"

"SILENCE!"

The thunderous bellow made both winged mechs flinch and had Nightstalker covering his audios. It hurt! However, his raging sire paid him no mind, instead glaring at the shivering mechs on the floor.

"So, tell me," Megatron growled, low and deep and dangerous, in a tone that even young Nightstalker knew all too well. The one that promised pain and suffering. "Did you believe I would not find out? That you attempted to slay my heir? In my OWN FORTRESS?"

Once again Nightstalker and the mechs flinched at the harsh volume. While the youngling only shuddered, the mechs' shook their helms so fast he thought they would fall off. The rest of their bodies fared no better, plating rattling violently as they trembled underneath their lord's blazing gaze.

"M-Master... " the mech that had threatened Nightstalker's life dared to speak. He repositioned to all fours, wings flat on his back and his brow pressed against the cold floor. "Please… we beg for forgiveness."

Without further prompt, the second winged mech followed his example, falling into the show of submission only reserved for the Lord Prime. A show, Nightstalker knew, that his creator only detested. Sure enough, Megatron's optics flared even brighter, glowing like the depths of the Pits themselves were behind them. Then he said a single word in a harsh bark.

"Soundwave."

Nightstalker blinked in confusion, daring to glance up, only to see a silent specter at the doorway. The lithe spymaster watched the scene, his blank, black visor betraying no emotion.

Megatron's tone was likewise inscrutable as he growled, "Take Nightstalker far from here."

The third-in-command did not have to be told twice. Without a single word, Soundwave crossed the room over to the shaking Nightstalker, plucking the little thing up in his arms. The youngling was tucked under broad wing-blades, out of sight from his attackers. Nightstalker instinctively snuggled further into his guardian's chestplate. He still felt no safer, still in pain and very much afraid, lubricants leaking freely from his optics now as whimpers escaped his lips. He felt the feathery touch of long, blunt fingers against his back, rubbing gentle circles.

Soundwave then completely ignored the fury hanging heavily in the air, all too casually walking out of the room. Nightstalker thought he heard whimpers of younglings drifting from the doorway, and it took him a moment to realize it was his attackers, pleading.

Suddenly the protective arms around Nightstalker grew tighter, nearly crushing. His audio was pressed against Soundwave's chest, so he could only hear the steady, rhythmic pulse of his spark. The other servo covered the youngling's free audio, muffling the sounds of the whimpers, which grew louder in volume and pitch. The fingers continued their pattern across his dorsal plating. Comforting, distracting.

But Nightstalker could still make out his sire's voice, resuming that deadly, chilling tone, that mechs only heard in their last moments.

"I do not forgive those that betray me..."

Then came the sounds of muffled screaming, following them as Soundwave continued on in a brisk pace. Then the pleas and shrieks faded away, replaced by eerie silence and the sound of Soundwave's spark. Nightstalker did not see where they were going, as his face was effectively buried in his guardian's chest. He did not know how long Soundwave traveled, but he recognized the throne room once they arrived.

It was a massive space, able to accommodate a Decepticon of any size. The walls were a large distance away and the ceiling disappeared into the darkness above. The floor was barren save for rows of great pillars on either side. The room was barren of any furniture save for the single one, telling all that there was only one source of authority.

Nightstalker felt safe in here. It was always quiet in here, and nothing bad happened. He would spend joors in this room with his sire, either playing at his pedes or dosing on his lap. Usually there was another Decepticon here, to stand loyally by Megatron's side or to keep a careful optic on a rambunctious Nightstalker.

But there was no other soul in the throne room, leaving the youngling alone with Soundwave. The guardian kept his possessive hold, stroking the shaking mechling's helm gently. When Nightstalker did not react, the Decepticon crossed over to the throne. Very careful as not to even touch it, Soundwave placed the youngling on the edge.

It reminded Nightstalker just how /small/ he was compared to his creator's titanic size. He looked like an insect sitting in a chair made for a giant, making an almost comical image. While sometimes it made Nightstalker feel silly, Megatron only purred, assuring one day that his heir will fill his seat. But today was not that day, as Soundwave knelt and gently took one of the youngling's ankles.

He raised it, carefully, but Nightstalker could not stop the squeak of pain that escaped. Soundwave immediately froze, having his leg hang in the air. Allowing them both to see the ugly, deep dent in his ankle where precious protoform was cruelly squeezed. His pede hung loosely, dislodged from the gears that held it in place.

Nightstalker stared. Was it… supposed to go that way? Before he had a chance to ask, Soundwave delicately gripped the sole of his pede and the other took his lower leg. There was a moment of stillness, and before Nightstalker could ask what his guardian was doing, the Decepticon moved.

He jerked his arms in opposite direction, having a loud, metallic pop fill the air. Quickly followed by Nightstalker's pained screech. Immediately lubricants spilled from his optics as pain radiated from his ankle, now reattached to his leg. But it hurt! Why did Soundwave do that? What did he do to deserve that?

A whimper escaped Nightstalker. Reacting to the pitiful sound, his guardian scooped him up in his arms. That soft touch returned, but it was too late. The youngling tilted his helm back with a loud wail. Lubricant spilled from optical sensors like a leaky faucet, the mechling unable to hold back his cries of pain. He sobbed his spark out, as the most recent events plagued his processor. He could still feel through the bond with his sire that he was still incredibly angry at the ones who had wished him harm. Nightstalker paused in his cries to vent before his intakes hiccuped. Then the disheartening wails returned until the mechling was left gasping, his tears finally spent. All he could do was lie, moaning in his distress. He wanted his creator, his sire, to hold him… and nothing else.

As though his wish were his command, not a minute later, Lord Megatron strolled back into the throne room. The ruler's frame was not as tall as Nightstalker usually saw him. His broad shoulders were slumped and his gaunt was slow, his gaze downcast and his expression inscrutable. However, to Nightstalker, he looked as regal as ever. The shivering youngling dared to peek from out of his guardian's protective hold once the spymaster's grip on him slackened. For just a second, the two of them locked identical crimson optics.

Then, two small arms reached out in his direction, silently, imploringly. With an expression his sire could never resist, the mechling made his desire to be held, clearly known. With the beginning of an amused smirk tugging at the warlord's lip components, Megatron obliged his only son's request, easily closing the distance between them with just a few long strides.

Deadly, impossibly gentle claws wrapped around Nightstalker, carefully pulling him out of Soundwave's protective grip. The youngling found himself pressed against a massive, broad chest, with thick, strong arms encasing around him. Talons wrapped around his helm, protectively and possessively, a single thumb stroking his audio fin. The little one purred in contentment and leaned into his sire's soft touch.

"You are mine, Nightstalker," Megatron rumbled. "No one will ever take you away from me. No one."

It was then the sire held his creation for a very long time. The little mechling soon falling into a deep recharge while snuggled safely in his arms.

This was his family. This was his home. Nightstalker knew that here is where he was safest. And it was here that he belonged…

Orion awoke with a short gasp as the foggy remnants of his dream slowly began to fade. The images and feelings were both familiar yet alien to him. He tried to hold on to what he'd seen and felt but all of it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. It frustrated him...and the inability to remember details left him feeling strangely hollow. For Orion had been sure that for just a second...his soul had felt what has always been a foreign concept: home.