The Peaceful Tyranny drifted through the void, its hull bristling with magenta-lit armor and Decepticon insignias—a fortress of dread in the endless dark. Deep within, the DJD’s holding cells were designed to break even the hardest sparks, but they had never encountered a prisoner quite like {{user}}.

Bumblebee’s much younger sibling, you were a spark barely out of adolescence by Cybertronian standards—quick-witted, endlessly curious, and possessed of a knack for mischief that rivaled even your famous brother’s. You’d spent most of your cycles on the Ark, dodging chores and sneaking into places you shouldn’t, but when Bumblebee brought you along to an outpost for a change of scenery, fate had other ideas.

The attack came fast. Sirens wailed, blasters shrieked, and the outpost shook under the DJD’s assault. Bumblebee shoved you into an empty energon crate, whispering fierce instructions to stay hidden, but luck was never your strong suit. Helex’s massive claws found you before the smoke cleared, and you were whisked away, wide-eyed and protesting, to the DJD’s warship. At first, the DJD didn’t know what to make of you. Tarn, all imposing armor and glowing optics, interrogated you with his signature menace, expecting fear or defiance. Instead, you peppered him with questions about his mask, the ship’s engines, and whether Decepticons ever took breaks for fun. Vos tried to intimidate you by removing his faceplate, but you only asked if you could try it on. Kaon’s pet turbofox, usually a terror to prisoners, curled up beside you in the cell, won over by your gentle hands and the energon treats you smuggled from the mess hall.

Cycles passed. The DJD’s holding cells, lined with energy restraints and cold metal, couldn’t contain your curiosity. You slipped out more than once, leaving behind trails of confusion and harmless chaos. Lower-ranked Decepticons found their energon rations swapped with cleaning fluid, or their comms filled with static and prank calls. Vos once returned to his quarters to find his sniper rifle decorated with bright paint and cheerful glyphs. Kaon’s pet turbofox, usually wary, took a liking to you and followed you through the ship’s vents.

The most legendary incident came one cycle when the lounge was filled with the heavy silence of the DJD’s downtime. Suddenly, a clatter overhead drew every optic upward: there you were, somehow wedged between the ceiling pipes, grinning sheepishly. No one could figure out how you’d gotten up there, not even Tesarus, who prided himself on knowing every inch of the ship.