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Life	By : Rockinmuffin Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 2035 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro/Takara. I claim no ownership over any recognizable characters, settings, etc. and own only my own ideas and the plot. I make no money by writing this story.

Chapter List
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This story will be a series of related one-shots, all of them revolving around Nightbird, the female ninja robot created by humans, and her relations with the Decepticons. I recommend watching G1 Transformers episode 25 "Enter the Nightbird." It's one of my favorite episodes. Seriously, search it on YouTube.

SPOILER: I was always disappointed that Nightbird was never seen again after that episode. She was so useful I can't imagine why Megatron wouldn't have tried to get her again. That's why I decided to write this fanfiction. This is how I imagine things would be if Megsy decided she was still a valuable asset.

Enjoy.

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Golden optics glow eerily, the haunting gaze surveying its surroundings, briefly observing flashing lights and metal paneling with disinterest before settling over the imposing form of the large silver mech. The optics flicker for a moment, the only display of disbelief that could be identified, before glowing even brighter (though it was impossible to discern whether it was from surprise or anger.)

Megatron chuckles, the sound deep and raspy, almost painful; like rubbing sandpaper over her audio receptors.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

If Nightbird had a nervous system she might feel shivers running up and down her spine; she doesn’t, so she remains still, optics focusing on the mech, steady gaze scanning, searching for an answer.

He doesn’t wait for her reply. The humans didn’t build her with a vocalizer and the Decepticons never felt the need to give her one. It doesn’t matter whether or not she can speak; all that matters is that she listens. He speaks and she listens and he knows that she listens because it’s in her programming to do so.

Deep in her circuits, she’s a Decepticon, and that makes him her leader.

“It was foolish for those flesh creatures to think that they could simply lock you up; their defenses are laughable at best. I’m disappointed that you couldn’t manage to break out on your own, though I suppose it could be a flaw in your programming…” Megatron strokes the metal plates of his chin in consideration, red optics glowing dimly in thought. “A cerebro-shell is no replacement for artificial intelligence. I need to talk to Bombshell about the adjustments he made…” he thinks aloud, the raspy baritone voice a smidge softer as thousands upon thousands of possibilities run through his CPU in a matter of seconds.

Nightbird might have had the decency to look indignant at Megatron’s lack of faith in her intelligence if she were to actually care. She doesn’t. Besides, scowling is not a feat easily accomplished when one is not built with a mouth.

“However, your performance when we first… acquired your services”; a nice way of saying she was kidnapped; “Were impressive enough to merit a rescue mission. You should be honored.”

Her optics dim. She doesn’t feel much of anything. All she knows is that it is her duty to obey this mech without question. He is the only absolute truth in her world. Megatron is all that matters; Megatron and the Decepticon cause. It is her only reason for living, the only thought constantly running through her processor.

Movement in the corner of her eyes. Nightbird turns her head accordingly, optics narrowing only briefly at the sight. Starscream. He notices her stare and meets her gaze, sneering arrogantly in her direction.

“I don’t see why you’re wasting your time on this human-made tinker-toy, oh mighty Megatron.” Starscream’s voice is more painful than Megatron’s; the sound akin to a dying organic creature. His lips curl into an irritating smile though his optics clearly express his distaste. “That outdated pile of scrap metal won’t last long. She’s already failed in her mission once before.”

“Because of your treacherous interference” Megatron growls, his fist in the air as if preparing to strike the seeker with a sweep of his arm. Slowly, composing himself, he lowers his arm, opting for a smirk instead. “And while Nightbird has failed me once, you have managed to disappoint me countless times.” Megatron pauses, enjoying the way Starscream grits his dental plates in anger as the comment sinks in. “Perhaps now that we have Nightbird among our ranks again we might get something accomplished.”

Starscream’s fists are clenched, trembling. “She doesn’t belong here!” he screeches as he stomps towards Megatron, stopping only one foot away from the tyrant and in his personal space. An unwise decision. “She’s no Decepticon!” Nightbird’s optics flicker as an accusatory finger is pointed in her direction but she remains as is. “The flesh-bags created her! She’ll never be a true Decepticon.”

Megatron’s smirk remains as he wraps one hand around Starscream’s throat, putting pressure on the second-in-command's vocalizer. His expression doesn’t falter even as he lifts the seeker above the ground, holding him so that their optics are level with one another’s.

Megatron’s voice is a soft, whispery rasp; the grip of his hand and the harshness of his words more than make up for it.

“And yet she’s a better Decepticon than you’ll ever be.”

It’s hard to determine what hurts more; Starscream’s broken pride or the dents and scuffs marring his armor after he’s thrown viciously to the floor.

“Remember this the next time you try to undermine my decisions.” Megatron turns his back on the fallen mech, the sound of his foot against the tile floor insufferably loud as he moves across the room. He sends Nightbird a meaningful glance as he passes her and continues onward.

She follows him without question.

(She always will.)

He stops moving and she does the same. He turns toward her and she meets his gaze. He reaches for her and she does not flinch. He roughly places the familiar purple insignia of the Decepticons on her chest and she does not fight against it.

“You are a Decepticon.” His expression is stern, serious. “That means you belong to me.”

Nightbird does not protest. She can’t and she won’t and she doesn’t want to anyway and not just because she is programmed to think that way. Everything she has, everything she is, she owes to the Decepticons and to Megatron especially. Without them she would be nothing more than an experiment, a mindless servant to the humans. Her loyalties lie completely with the Decepticons.

It was the humans who created her, but it was the Decepticons who gave her life.

Megatron watches her carefully, trying to determine what was running through her mainframe. Her stare is calm, betraying nothing.

Megatron grins, satisfied. “You’re among the greatest warriors of the universe; you should be proud.”

Nightbird’s optics flicker in agreement. If she were capable of feeling such a thing, she knows her spark would be swelling with pride.

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Life