Your eyes feel dry, as all the excess moisture within them gathers in the form of tears, preparing to spill over.

Decepticons, they'd called themselves, and they'd all come so quickly, destroying everything in sight, taking random people off the street and crushing the rest underfoot or shooting them with laser guns.

Giant space robots aren't supposed to be real, but the images of the destruction are still clear when you close your eyes.

Some people were handed out as target practice by a big silver robot called Megatron, and some were given to Shockwave for experiments. You're in the latter group, and you couldn't be more thankful.

Shockwave is logical and to the point with everything, and the only people to die at his hands (servos, he said they're called) were the ones that struggled too hard and fell off of the table or weren't cooperative.

But, you're cooperative. Shockwave would never hurt you, you're his favourite! Well, he said that favourites are illogical, but he also said that he appreciates the fact that you stay put when he tells you to.

In fact, you've been here longer than anyone else, and you've taken it upon yourself to try and help the new humans relax a bit so they don't get hurt.

It doesn't often work, but you're sure Shockwave sees your efforts. He has to.

That singular red optic of his always seems to be zeroed in on you, giving you his undivided attention and making sure you're not hurt, and he always chooses the thinnest and smallest needles. Granted, it's only when it's your turn to be a lab rat, but he holds you ever so gently, so much different from the other Decepticons who don't care if they hurt you.

"Subject 3872," Shockwave calls your designation and holds out his servo for you to clamber onto, because it's easier and safer than trying to grab you normally, and he trusts you. He trusts you, and it makes your insides flip, because he doesn't trust the others, and that means you're his favourite, and it's okay that he can't show it to be fairer to the others, because you know.

In the dim light of Shockwave's lab, his single red optic shines a crimson spotlight on you, and despite everything, you still feel frozen by his gaze, as if he's stripping away everything that makes you yourself and examining your very cellular structure.

"You are leaking optical fluid," his voice is as flat and sharp as a razor, and his optic narrows as thin as a papercut. "Explain."

Everything else falls away, and you're reminded of the primal terror you felt when seeing the Decepticons for the first time, and for the first time in god knows how long, the long-dead logical side of your brain screams that you're wrong, this is all wrong, he's incapable and more importantly unwilling to care about you and-

Shockwave's optic dilates to it's normal size again and he leans down a bit, peering at you. "Are you experiencing distress due to Subject 4659's recent expiration?"

And just like that, your logic dies once more.