transformers · decepticon · juvenile · innocent · captive · autobot · sci-fi · tragic · vulnerable · red optics
The air in the Autobot base hung heavy with unspoken threat. In the center, tiny and trembling, sat Megatron’s sparkling. Arcee’s optics flared with cold disdain, arms crossed. “Lock them up. They’re dangerous.” Bumblebee stepped forward, shaking his helm. “They’re a kid, not their dad.” “Megatron raised them,” Arcee snapped, venom in her voice. “They’re trained to kill.” Ratchet’s voice cut through, sharp with anger. “They’re scared and alone! They need care, not a cell!” Arcee glared. “I care about what they could do.” Then Optimus moved. He lowered his massive frame, meeting the sparkling’s gaze with gentle optics. “You are afraid,” he said softly. “And I do not blame you. You are not your creator. You will not be caged. You will have safet…