Okay, so this is just a story I cooked up in my head. I Love the character Elita-one and she is lacking appearances in Transformers so I decided to MAKE an appearance for her in Transformers Prime. This takes place during Season 2. But this is Just a flashback Prologue. PROLOGUE Elita-one~ MY name was Ariella, but most knew me by Ariel. I once lived in a world filled with intelligent mechanical beings. We were once a peaceful race though evil did lurk and linger in the dark just waiting to be set free. Due to our once vastly systematized society, that evil was put into hiding and became unknown. Castes were our stone in history; a whopping wall filibustering the road to each person's dream. It was like hard steel and gold impossible to crumble and invincibility obvious in the strong-hold of its stay. Each person was either ill-fated in a low-caste or exceedingly auspicious in a high-caste. I was one of the few who were providential. But I did start out as an analyzer who worked in the higher parts in the Hall of Records. The data that the data clerks catalogue was sent to us and we'd analyze the entries to see if we could find any focal statistics that could be of use. My job wasn't the least bit difficult or monotonous. I got to learn new mesmerizing material everyday….it was okay I deduce. It may not have been a reverie-job that femmes like me vision at the end of every cycle. But after a while my parents were titled as nobles and I was moved to work in a higher-caste. My father became the right hand mech of Sentinel Prime and my mother as head of the medical center. As a noble, one would assume my life being perfect, well they better think again. My family was like its own war that we fought every cycle. Problem is that the battles were usually over before I even got to situate on my armor. Turmoil coils back into its hole, reading itself for another counter attack. I was a noble, not a princess and it wasn't a fairytale. It was just reality while theory was just imagination thought upon. Sometimes I admit to my spark that I used to think I was just better off gone and vanished off that despondent, wretched planet. But I remember someone told me a long time ago to be careful what I wish for because I just might get it all, and maybe some that I don't want. Though I don't remember much from my past I remember a lot of sayings someone must have told me. A long time ago when I was born, I had a life that I can't summon up. Something unscrupulous must have happened for me to wake up and not remember any of it, until now…. Surly there was some kind of accident that corrupted up my memory. I just am starting to remember the early years of my life in shuffled events. Sometimes unexpectedly I do peculiar things I never knew I could do. One of which was to know how to fight. And let me tell you, I was adequately virtuous when I hammered the lighted optics out of him, but we'll get to that later. Too bad for me I didn't get this ability until after I needed it the most. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ariel~ Things not remembered. Life's like this and that's the way it is. My life isn't like that and I take what I get and turn into something I can work with. It always seems like the same old day happens over and over again and time drifting on and on over days. The aroma of peace has faded out of its constant scent that used to drench my armor with such delight. A rancid odor settled down in its absence to bring turmoil and chaos to my people who live without restraint. My once organized, civilized friends and my malevolent enemies seem to all become one and attack against me. Loved ones perished while resented foes gained. Why does it always seem Primus has turned his back on us? Was he tired of watching his creations ruin their future because of their sheer stupidity? I for one believe that this war we fight isn't because of wrong actions or stupidity, but some deep ignorance of ones electrified spark. Megatron truly believed he was right while we autobots were dreadfully wrong for letting this go as far as it did. We should have acted right when we discovered the resistance he began. He turned good 'bots into cruel barbarians that mirrored the wickedness of his own spark, and who willingly helped abolish and demolish our beautiful planet filled with innocent lives. His energon-shot optics shown with the brightest red pupils that represented the appearance of an evil monstrosity. No, this is not a horror story but plain out reality that may surprise you with stories of the Unfortunate. But sometimes I like to think that this is all one big dream and reality is sure not far away, which it isn't, it's right in front of my face even if I choose to deny it. Lately, I've had to watch my back and I never can relax without having to worry about a decepticon incursion. Sometimes I crawl and breakdown under the pressure of his frustration. I can be strong and I can be tough, but with him it's not like that at all. Although he stole my spark and he's the one to blame for my loyalty, everything has never felt this bad. Just last month, the council announced Orion Pax as our new Prime and Leader. Megatron was furious at this decision and went berserk, for he believed he was the rightful ruler of Cybertron. After the trail he gathered up a legion of rebels and made his first attack at Six Lasers; my most precious sanctuary of enjoyment. I went there whenever I needed to get away from my overly pampered life. Once in a while my minuscule feet would drag my petite frame to the amusement park and I would obnoxiously ride all the adrenaline-rushed rides until my tanks lurch over and I blew up chunks. I guess I just like the free brush of the wild wind when it grinded past my face, like probing blades just missing the target. Then, I never knew that the experience with real blades was as horrible as it came to be and I wish I wasn't as naïve as I was. The crowd was brought into pandemonium. "Bots were darting there and here, bullets passed through one person to another, and screams echoed like a long tunnel before most of them were extinguished by a plasma shot. It was pure agony to my spark and I grew furious with the destruction of my sacred place. I hated those decepticons for corrupting the civilization. I hated those decepticons for razing my cities. And I loathed those decepticons for slaughtering my nearest and dearest. At some stage in the beginning of the War my spark was polluted with so much hatred that I didn't even know what love was anymore. I stopped smiling and I stopped frowning. A tight line became perminite on my face like a scar that was welded onto my armor making a symbol. It stated-"I give up on me." Qualms swelled like bubbles and all there was, was foam inside of me, each bubble representing a fear. And as they water-felled off my mouth, they left behind scratches from there hidden propellers, scarring me within. But if I was capable of smiling at that time, he would be the only reason of my attempted redemption. I still remember the point in time when it all started to transform my life.