(A TFP Shattered Glass Fanfic)

         "Where is that good-for-nothing scrapheap of a medic?!"

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, universal scourge and enemy to all. Originally known as Optronix, a lowly data clerk tossed around simply because he was weaker than most, but that is the case no longer. Now he reigned supreme, above all, and no one dared stand in his way.

         "He's in his lab, my lord!" Bumblebee spoke with a salute, he was Optimus' favorite of his followers, never failed and always eager to please.

         "Idiot," Arcee hit the mech upside his helm. She was known as the temptress, a sort of icon to most mechs, someone Optimus wasn't too fond of knowing how the snake rose up in her ranks, but her shenanigans amused him, "Ratchet's in the mess hall. You'd know that if you knew how to be a proper Scout."

         "You glitch! Take that back!"

A fight would have broken out but Optimus wasn't in the mood, and with a single swing of his fist, both Cybertronians were knocked to the floor. Bumblebee might be his favorite, but the doesn't mean he won't beat him like the others when irritated.

         "Bring me Ratchet," he ordered, "instead of fighting like the overgrown sparklings you are!"

With a quick nod the two scrambled back up and away, neither wanting Optimus' anger to grow towards them, knowing he could very well offline them if he so pleased, and no one would question it.

     Optimus sat in his thrown with a sigh, tired of the constant stupidity he always seemed to be surrounded by. That's when a small tapping brought the tyrant from his thoughts, annoying him as it became louder by the second. The nearer it came, the more annoyed he was, the soft cicks now seemingly in the room as he looked around, activating his canon. Optimus stood, wary of his surroundings, already on edge and angered by the unwanted interruption.

         "Show yourself, coward, and I may be merciful."

         "The great Optimus Prime, merciful?" A sweet cackle reverberated throughout the room, "That's the funniest lie I've heard my entire life."

This voice was youthful, but not that of a youngling. Perhaps an inexperienced rookie being trained, but Optimus would have known about it.

         "Reveal yourself, femme," the Prime ordered, "or risk the inevity of your offlining."

His canon began to warm itself, preparing for its next kill. Disapointingly the shot was never taken as a limber femme fell from the rafters, the very place Optimus would have never thought to look. She stood up from her crouch and looked to the Autobot leader optic to optic, a suicide mission of itself, but this femme had no reason to fear him.

     The maniacal Prime found himself staring into the most ominous of purple optics he had ever seen. Not the purple of Dark Energon, but the purple of a Scraplet. Any Cybertronian, good or bad, knew to fear such a creature, the stupid things being hard to kill but easily multiplied. How can this singular femme hold such a crippling power of fear?

         "Even the fearless leader of the Autobots is afraid of me," the thin femme sighed, her skinny frame competing against that of the Decepticon Starscream, "I should have guessed."

Optimus shook his helm after a moment, changing his surprised, and slightly fearful expression to one of anger and defensiveness.

         "Who said I was afraid?" He challenged her statement.

         "The fumes from your engine, Prime," she chuckled, "Natural chemical reactions don't lie."

         "You're rather adept, for a femme."

She was dangerous.

         "I'll take that as a compliment."

She was brave, though perhaps that's stupidity.

         "What do you want?"

         "Hm, straight to the point. I like that," the femme smirked as she began to sway around the Prime, knowing he was only a few steps away from terrified, "I want to be your guard."

Out of all possible requests, she wishes to serve?

         "Do you think I cannot protect myself, creature?" Optimus accused.

         "Oh, I know you can," the thin, silver femme slid a digit to frame his faceplates, sharpened edge matching her equally as sharp denta that could be seen just past her derma, "But a creature as easily feared as me by your side will make many think twice before striking you."

     The Prime yanked his helm from her touch, the feeling toxic and dangerous, a cold as ice pinprick that made his circuits prickle with a nervous electricity. His optic brow furrowed to show his anger at this reaction, as involuntary as it may be. He was about to speak when the doors to the throne room slid open abruptly, revealing a frantic medic and an alarmed Bumblebee.

         "My lord, terminate her!" Ratchet pointed at the now hissing femme, who narrowly dodged a blast from Bumblebee. She flew up into the rafters, where she easily transformed, condensing into the form of a true Scraplet.

         "Ratchet I want an explanation," Optimus demanded as he simply watched the hybrid skitter into the vents of the Nemesis.

         "An escaped experiment," the mad doctor scowled, "I have successfully fused the CNA of both Scraplet and Cybertronian to form a naturally feared weapon. The only fallback is I failed to strip her of her free will."

     Many screams were heard from the outside of long closed throne room doors, and everyone knew who it was that made the drones scream so horrifically.

         "You better hope her only appetite is for the drones, Ratchet," Optimus growled, hearing the screams draw nearer.

         "She's half Scraplet my lord," Ratchet jumped as another scream sounded just in front of the door, dissipating into wheezes and gurgles until it was eerily silent, "the creature will devour any one of us when given the chance..."

         "Then don't give me that chance."

     The scout and war lord pointed their weapons at the femme who stood in the doorway, picking her smiling denta with a delicate digit.

         "Allow me to be your guard and I'll go back to eating the less than sufficient scrap metal. I'm sure your drones will appreciate it."

This science experiment was most dangerous indeed, a formidable weapon against those goody-goody Decepticons, but a weapon that could easily turn on them as well if not treated nicely and with an amount of care. The easiest option would be to terminate the thin femme. No danger, no risk, no worries. Thinking this through, the Prime let a small grin spread across his faceplate. He never liked doing things the easy way.

         "Come," he gestured as he sat on his throne, "Choose your post wisely."

With a wide toothy smile, the femme condensed back into her Scraplet form, and Optimus found that she was a bit bigger than any normal Scraplet as she flew to land just above his helm on the edge of the throne back.

         "So, what is it that you are called?" He asked after being able to relax from the fact that a natural metal eating enemy was just above him.

The femme transformed, draping herself elegantly on the throne above the Prime.

         "Call me, Alloy."