Transformers re-Prime-d (Season 1)

Shadowzone

"Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Good. You are dismissed."

...

Silence. I stood around... waiting. Just, waiting. Their eyes skipped over me. A few times I would catch those who worried about themselves. Worried about what I thought. What I caught. What I could report about. It was like staring into a ginormous mirror. All I could think about were day-codes, and rules of conduct, how not do that labeled misconduct, how not to appear suspicious, how to be the good, the accepted, the right Decepticon. That was what killed me. That was what my existence boiled down to. I waited patiently, not in anyone's way, not in any way useful, I just existed... as a deterrent. I was, as my father always wanted me to be: a prime example for one to follow. And I hated it.

...

"Psychology?" The Shadow of Death asked.

"Psychotherapy." I replied. "Nickel says it really helps the cons back on the Peaceful Tyranny."

"Philosophy?"

"Towards Peace?"

"Tarn's favorite."

"It's a part to the whole."

"More, then?"

"Philosophical works aren't outlawed."

"Only discouraged."

"Not yours."

"You've—"

"Read them? Yes. Admired them? Quoted them? Used them to prove a point? At least one time per each."

"And... you thought they were good?"

"What I think doesn't matter. They are good."

"Thank you, Ghost. I can't tell you what that means to me."

"... You're welcome."

I had never been thanked before. Not really. I liked the feeling. I wanted more. I wanted to talk to her more.

...

"And your brothers?" I asked.

"Were always a source of competition for me."

"What was worth the struggle?"

"Looking back on it, nothing important."

"Superiority?"

"Pride, power, and my parents' respect."

"Parents?"

"The human word for creators."

"Humans? They inhabit this world, correct?"

"They are very similar to us."

"How?"

"Pain, fear, following rules... they do all of it."

"So, then, they are like us?"

"We all share something. Similarities are the dirt that underlie even the most steadfast of stone."

"You think we all want to be different?"

"I think some are more different than others, but that we're all the same underneath, no matter what we want to be."

"Cybertronian?"

"Not alone."

...

I enjoyed talking to the Shadow of Death. She was the only Decepticon I was comfortable communicating with. Most held ranks, which it would be socially unacceptable for me to barge up to without purpose and converse with. The rest would be so far below me, that to talk to them, meant dishonoring my "father's" teachings. The Shadow of Death was different, though. In her boredom, or sheer lack of having anything better to do, she would come to me. Or, perhaps I was mistaken. I was assigned to watch and guide commander Starscream through his recovery. It was never specified whether his recovery should be painful, painless, quick, or long and drawn out. I decided to be quick and successful. She came a few times. Checked on him. Sympathy? Perhaps. The commander was recharging whenever we talked. I don't think she remembers it: Any of it. But, even so, I enjoyed speaking with her. She gave me new words for my vocabulary, and ideas for my mind to ponder. She doesn't say too much, not at one time, at least. She knows that I follow rules; that I keep my word. With her, it's confidential. And with that I find no crime. Although it is odd that she prefers to keep this information from the audio receptors of our Lord, I suppose we all have things we'd rather not like for him to hear. Besides, I enjoy speaking about "subjects" with "Shadow". Talking with her helps me pass by any sorely hated time. But, time flies ever so slowly, and sometimes, I think my patience is wearing thin.