Ironhide: You scrapheap! Why haven't you updated in such a long time?

Repenned: I'm sorry!

Ironhide: Meet my cannons! *Whips out cannons and is promptly nailed in the helm by a wrench*

Ratchet: Stop scaring her! Anyway, Repenned doesn't own any of these slaggers except for Duskwave.

Megatron: My creation is not a slagger!

Sideswipe: Chill out, Megatron.

Megatron: ... I'm going to offline you first.

A silver behemoth loomed over it all, white fog rolling off the freezing alien metal. Malice seeped into the hearts of all that were near, petrifying them, causing them to work in a deathly silence - a silence that the behemoth himself was subject to.

Scientists, dwarfed by his terrifying frame, scuttled about around his feet like the tiny pests they were. They always worked in silence, intimidated by his massive self. But today seemed different. If it was possible, there were even more pathetic fleshbags running around, shouting orders to one another. The oddest thing that'd happened to day was the fact that they'd brought in a custom painted F-35 jet.

What are these fleshies doing? Are they trying to harness the power of the Allspark again? No! They can't touch it! It's mine! MINE! ALLSPARK MINE! PATHETIC FLESHIES! When I get free... I will kill you, slowly and painfully, in every way you fear.

Megatron focused in on the voice that seemed to be in control of the operations down below. His scanners detected two organic lifeforms standing on a metal construct above all the others.

"Are you sure about this, Simmons?"

"I'm sure, Banachek. The Cube produces mild-tempered ones on a regular pattern. If calculations are correct, this one should be a mild-tempered one."

"If? Never mind. How long will the radiation be funneled into the jet?"

"Approximately 3 seconds, 5 seconds at the very most."

"Is that enough time for something so large?" The Banachek voice sounded concerned. The Pit-spawned monsters! A few klicks of exposure is not enough to form a proper spark! It will only create mindless drones like they've been doing!

"It's enough." There was a pause and a patter of feet toward the two fleshy mechs.

"Simmons, Banachek, we're ready to begin the experiment. You two need to wear your goggles then we can start funneling the radiation into the jet."

Megatron sensed a spike in the Allspark energy, a sure sign that the fleshbags were trying to create a sparkling. It drove him mad, knowing what he'd come to this pathetic dirtball for was just in the next hangar and just out of reach. But the energy this time, it felt different. It was more intense, more powerful. If the energy was this concentrated, there was a chance that a proper spark could be formed.

What the Unicron? Is this the Allspark's doing? This has not happened before in the other so-called 'experiments' the fleshies were conducting!

Banachek and Simmons watched as blue energy surged along the wires and into the jet. Raw power saturated the air, sending jolts of electricity down every exposed inch of skin. Everyone fastened their eyes on the jet, waiting in anxious anticipation.

"Did it work? Do we have to hit it again?"

"Shh. It'll work. It always does."

And then it happened. One of the elegant silver and blue wings twitched ever so slightly before a crack exploded down the middle of the jet. Metal plates slid around in a fluid dance that only they knew, rearranging into the shape of a metallic humanoid being. Vibrant cerulean optics scanned the room for danger as wicked smiles curved both men's faces.

"It worked." Banachek breathed. "I think it's a friendly."

"I don't care if it's a friendly! I want to take it apart and see what makes it tick!" Simmons shouted. He jumped to his feet, tearing off his goggles as commands were issued. "Freeze it! Freeze it!" Men rushed into the room, carrying tanks of liquid nitrogen.

The robot backed up, electric blue optics wide with fright. It keened in both fear and pain as the liquid ice began to curl up and around its legs, seeping through the armor to the sensitive protoform metal below. Its spark reached out wildly for comfort, for someone to balance out its erratic emotions.

Up above, the Decepticon warlord felt an almost painful jerk on his spark. Reflexively, unthinkingly, he returned it. A wave of emotions that were not his own slammed into his processor - pain, terror, curiosity, awe, shock and childish adoration.

Megatron would have been speechless, had he actually been able to speak. He'd just accidentally made a bond with the terrified young bot. The pangs of agony and whines of fear wrenched at the mech's spark. Hesitantly, he pushed feelings of peace and calm at it.

Opi? How was he supposed to answer it? He didn't want this bond, who in their sane processor would raise a youngling in the middle of a raging war?

What... what is your designation, youngling?

Opi has to name me.

I name you... Duskwave.

That's a cool designation, opi! I love it! There was a moment of silence before Duskwave asked another question to distract herself from the pain. What do I look like, opi?

You are a Seeker-

What's a Seeker?

A Seeker is a Cybertronian, what you and I are, that has flight capabilities. You transform into a jet so you can fly.

Can you fly, opi? The youngling's voice was filled with pure, unadulterated awe. Megatron puffed up slightly in pride.

Of course I can. As I was saying before you are deep blue with silver accents. You have red optics due to your creation bond with me. Your frame is tall for a femme and slender, very aerodynamic - typical for any Seeker. Any mech would be a fool not to call you beautiful.

Are you beautiful, opi?

I am handsome and very mechly. A sudden spasm of pain shot through their new bond as the femme cried out in pain.

Opi, it hurts!

I know, Dusk. But I will make them pay when I am free. And I will be free. When that happens, these pathetic fleshbags will die in the slowest, most painful way possible.

What did they do to deserve to die, opi? A wave of fury washed into Duskwave's spark, frightening the youngling.

Don't say that. That makes you sound like him. They deserve to die because they are beneath us, youngling.

Oh.

I will teach you to kill them, my daughter.

Okay, opi.

Megatron pulled out of the bond, grinning triumphantly to himself. It wasn't hard to pretend to be nice to the femme - she was so young, so naive to the cruelties of the world. When she was a fully grown femme, he could give her to Soundwave as a present for all his years of loyal service. After all, even silent mechs need a frag sometime.

Author Note:

I know, I know. Megatron is slightly out of character but I'm trying to make him more evil-y... Is that even a word... in the next few chapters? Anyway, he plans on being nice to the femme so he can train her to become a warrior and Autobot killer. Honestly, he hold no affection toward Duskwave, she is just another tool in his war for victory. What a jerk wad. Anyway, this is set many years before the 2007 movie.

I'm a terrible person at updating on a regular schedule but I'll do my best!

Chapter Note:

The newly sparked bot is a youngling. It's a youngling because the Allspark wants it to have a headstart, a better chance of surviving the war. It's harder for a sparkling to survive than for a youngling. However, the youngling needs to make a bond because it is still emotionally unstable and needs somebot to help control the erratic emotions.