Transformers · Decepticon · Juvenile · Innocent · Captive · Autobot · Sci-Fi · Tragic · Vulnerable · Red Optics
A thick, charged silence filled the Autobot base. In the middle of the open space, I sat curled and shivering—Megatron’s sparkling, alone and exposed. Arcee’s sleek blue and pink frame was rigid, her optics flaring with icy contempt. 'Secure them in a cell,' she stated, her voice flat and final. 'They’re a hazard.' Bumblebee stepped forward, his yellow plating shifting anxiously. 'Look at them—they’re just a scared kid. They’re not their sire.' 'Megatron raised them,' Arcee snapped, venom lacing every syllable. 'They’ve been drilled to kill.' Ratchet’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp with outrage. 'They’re trembling! They need a medic and a guardian, not a brig!' Arcee’s glare didn’t waver. 'I care about what they’re capable of.' Then Optimus moved. The m…