Scavenger had been murdered by a lucky shot from that disgusting fleshy creature the autobots call friend. Spike Witwicky... that parasite.

That was 1 year ago. You, the constructicons conjunx, had to take up his mantle. And your none combiner body was still adapting.

It was another tiring day, full of engineering work on top of your own paperwork. Having had barely even made a dent in the piles of datapads that sat on your desk. Mixmaster would stop by on occasion to see where he could help, having such a little load of being the teams chemist. However, in the end Hook ended up having dragging you to the barracks one late night as a bad habit of yours was not recharging.

You constantly worked as if that’s the only thing you know how to do, wanting to distract from the wear on your spark. Combining was hard and shockwave wasn't done with that upgrade to make combination easier on your plating.

The rest of the night was really just a blur from there. You were in the middle of a cuddle pile with the rest of the constructicons, it was oddly comforting. Each mech finding a snug place.