Hurt: A Symbiote Droid Tale

Ravage (Bonus 2)

A/N: Warning! The following was written while under the influence of writer's block. It ebbed for a moment before immediately coming back at the end. I apologize for any abruptness or lower quality work. 

"... and the wings," Hook shook his helm. They both stared at the prone form of Skywarp. He was on his side. Ravage could see the fresh welds on and around his wing joints. The smell of heated metal burned throughout the room.

"It'll be a while before he can fly." Hook admitted. "Out of all the Seekers... Skywarp is the most bizarre. He's an anomaly. He doesn't act like the others, and his coding..." A frustrated ex-vent left Hook. "I don't know if he'll cope without being able to fly."

"Good thing a qualified medic is coming then." Ravage said, ignoring how Hook's field reacted to her comment. "I'll alert Soundwave of this development. You are dismissed."

Ravage turned away, ignoring any comment made about her or her frame types. The only sign that she heard Hook's mutters was an audial twitch.

Although the Decepticons were supposed to represent equality, Ravage has never seen such vicious prejudice outside of the ranks. By the Pits, their fraction seemed to make up new slurs each day. Many bots tried to brush Ravage and her siblings off as mere drones. Mecha would say they were just extensions of Soundwave.

Ravage would quickly show them how wrong they were.

It didn't seem to matter though. The comments were still muttered and whispered. Mecha grouped themselves in their frame types. There was some twisted version of comradery there. It was still likely- if not more likely- that a mecha of the same frame would stab each other in the back. However, they joined together to mock the other frames of the Decepticon faction. This was especially true for the gestalts and Seekers.

Once upon a time, the Decepticons would have welcomed anyone within. Freedom was the right of all sentient beings.

That was a motto that the Prime preached now, and it made some Decepticons sneer in disgust.

Change. Constantly spinning. Will it ever end?

Probably not. Ravage had once been hopeful to live to see a world that was destroyed by war. Or at least make sure her cohort siblings did. They were young, for symbiotes. They should see what a Golden Age looked like.

But all this war had been doing was snuffing sparks. It would end with their extinction, Ravage was sure of it. Even if a truce came, there was too much history- too much hate- built up between the factions. They could never know true peace.

The knowledge made Ravage's spark twist sharply.

She prowled down the darkened halls. She ignored everyone that walked by. Ravage had grown her reputation through the decavorns. Mecha only interacted with the cougaraider if needed. Otherwise she was left to her own devices.

Soon Ravage arrived at the nondescript door. The only thing significant about it was the three different control panels. One way up high, one average height, and one slightly lower.

The one in the middle was standard commissioned. A sleek touch screen that allowed normal mecha easy access. Normal mecha. Not beast former symbiotes.

That's where the other two panels came in. The one above was for the aerials in the cohort. There were switches and knobs easily grabbed by talons. The lower one was for Ravage and the twins. It was also a touch screen, but more durable and simplistic. Ravage went up to it and put a paw up. She felt the scanner read her EMF and spark. A beep sounded and the door slid open.

Ravage walked into her Host's quarters. Having an almost full cohort, Soundwave was given much more space than the average mecha. The only ones that had more area were the gestalts.