It has been way too long since I sat down at the keyboard and let Del tell her story. I keep making excuses, wanting things to be just right…the weather, the time, my attitude. This popped in and needed to be written. What is she thinking and why?

It was a surprise really. To be chosen to carry a singular spark. To give life to someone who will one day do great things. It was the most marvelous day in my life. Somehow the air was fresher, the sky clearer, the future brighter.

And I had to hold on to that feeling for a vorn…a thousand vorns…a hundred-thousand vorns…or I would go mad. But I did go mad. I did horrible things in my madness; to thieves, murderers, slavers…Decepticons.

In the underbelly of Cybertron, in its alleys and hidden back ways; dead-end streets.

They called me Nightmare.

My total number of victims hasn't been tallied and was always under-reported anyway. I was good at what I did. I thought I was helping in the war effort. Chase down a couple of Cons, a few double-agents…that would teach them to hurt sparklings…MY sparkling.

I hacked computers, ran viruses, stole funds, re-routed energon, slit energon lines, crushed sparks, gouged and slashed and hit and tripped and hurt…always hurt…

Always hurt.




And it would not go away. It would not cease the droning of Seeker jets that constantly sounded in my audials. The scorching heat of the flames constantly liked at my armor and protoform. My processor was seared with the picture of dead and dying shells of younglings and their caretakers.

It had to end. I had to end it. I tried…several times. The last time I nearly succeeded, until he came. Until he stopped me and saved me and brought me back to the land of those I held nearly as responsible as the Decepticons.

Jazz…my friend, my colleague, my almost lover. He brought me back. He brought me back.