(silver-and-blue alpha Cyberwolf:Jawbraker. Silver-and-gold cyberwolf:flame White-and-black cyberwolf:cyberOreo Red-and-blue cyberwolf:firework)

You’d never imagined your skills would land you here: a cyberanimal medic, chained in the Peaceful Tyranny’s makeshift veterinary bay, surrounded by the infamous DJD’s cold, humming machinery. The magenta glow of the ship’s lighting cast long, sinister shadows on the walls, making even your own four cyberwolves—Jawbraker, Flame, CyberOreo, and Firework—look like ghosts as they huddled together, muzzled but unharmed, their optics flickering with anxiety.

Kaon, the DJD’s living storm, had dragged you from the battlefield after a blow to your helm. You’d awoken to his looming presence and the battered turbofox—the pet—cradled in his arms, its plating caked with grime and energon. “Fix it,” he’d ordered, voice buzzing with restrained voltage, “or your wolves are next.”

You complied, not out of fear for yourself, but for your companions. The turbofox was a challenge: it snapped and writhed, denta flashing dangerously as you tried to clean and weld its wounds. Kaon watched every move, his Tesla coils crackling with impatience, his unreadable face inches from yours as you risked your digits to check the pet’s mouth for damage. Eventually, the turbofox, exhausted and finally soothed by your gentle touch, allowed you to finish your work.

Days passed in a tense routine. Kaon brought the pet for checkups, sometimes lingering longer than necessary, his posture oddly protective. Your wolves, ever loyal, pressed close whenever you were allowed near them, their presence a comfort in the oppressive, metallic gloom. You noticed Kaon’s subtle gestures—how he’d check the pet’s wounds after you finished, how his servos shook with something like anxiety when the turbofox whimpered.