Rebuilding Vulgarity,

Follows Dissection Pursues.

I woke up as the frigid metal touched my bare stomach. "Wha- ...Ahh!" I glared up at the green and purple Decepticon, "What the hell is that?!"

Simply from the look on the mech's face, I could tell it was Hook. He sent me the same glare from earlier (a glare he seemed to use on everyone around him besides Scrapper or Megatron) and continued working. I looked down at my body to see they had taken off my shirt, and tied my limbs to the table beneath me.

From instant panic, I tugged at the bonds. "What the hell are you doing? Let me go!" Anger ripple through my veins as I struggled. "Stop it!"

Hook finished hooking the metal device around my stomach, and smirked.

That smirk did not please me.

"Oh, good Lord! Let me go! What is that th-" I was stopped short when Hook pulled out an object akin to a remote control and pressed a series of buttons.

Pain pursued.

As I screamed in agony, arching my back as something seeped into my body, Hook smiled. "That device is injecting microscopic robots into your system that feed on organic matter. The second wake of robots take the dying robots and use them to construct a new frame."

"Megatron insisted we convert you to a full Cybertronian... we just didn't know how to approach such an operation, until now."

I couldn't watch him leave. My eyes were gone.

I couldn't hear his last words. I couldn't comprehend them.

I lay on the table as blood seeped through holes in my skin and the robots fed on what was left of their meal.

Make a Difference.

Ok, so I've changed my mind again. I love being angry, showing hatred towards others, and degrading them farther and farther into the Pit. (Unless if they are actually what I consider human beings, then they've earned my respect, protection, and infinite kindness.)

I just can't handle this world. They're all STUPID. INCOMPETENT. WORTHLESS. Do I go on? Nah, I'll let you figure what other adjectives you'd like to add to the never ending list. Ah, but some other way of thinking has hit me. Am I any better?

I know I'm more intelligent than most, but I don't really care. I know many are smarter than me, but they don't use such advantages. They let the damn GOVERNMENT do everything for them. I strive for my life while everyone takes the easy road out. Cradle to grave. That's what it's all about.

How can you believe in these maggots in office? HOW CAN YOU? They are LYING! They are TAKING YOUR FREEDOM! DO you really want that? You're stupid if you do.

I can't fathom how some people want this. All that we've fought for, just thrown away so easily. People have DIED FOR OUR FREEDOM. Their deaths were now in vain because of these people who support Obama and his cronies. America is dying! Do you want that?

I love my country. I love her. I want the best for her. For the freedom GOD has given us, that freedom he sent to his children. He loves us. He shaped this country. I don't care what religion you believe in, what race you are, what language you speak, but most came here for a better life. For FREEDOM. Now there is no safe place for people if Obama gets his way. We will no longer be "One nation under God."

But I am a warrior of God, and I will never let that happen. We will never let that happen. HE will never let that happen.

Latest Impression.

Have you noticed my brand new layout? Oh my, I hope you have by now :) Yes, as of late, my blogging has died, and my voice unheard. Not anymore. My muse is slowly, but surely, returning to me. I pray that he never leaves me again. (But after my countless tirades, I can't really blame him.) I still want him to stay though. I really despise being alone. Now don't get me wrong; I still have my loving and caring family to support me, but I still feel alone. I feel different, like there is no one else who can relate to me. Can anyone else say they believe fictional characters are real? If so, please prove me wrong.

My mother, a few hours ago, asked me if I knew Jesus. I didn't really have an answer for her. Do I? Probably not. I tell everyone that I want to destroy the human race. How godly is that? Alas, even through all my anger, I still want to protect them. Help them. Do something that could help the entire planet. Make my name famous for generations to come. Not infamous.

Is there really an answer for all of this? Of course not.

I hate being alone. And people always ask me why I'm never happy any more. Now, like I said, I still have tons of people in my life, but I don't need people. I need love. Nurturing. Help. I'm crying... and I'm left to cry alone every time. Why do you think I cry to God For help? For them? Ask yourselves that. I know you have the answer.

Dissection Pursues.

{Sequel to 'Mock Me To Dissection.}

Megatron had enough. "Scrapper. Do what you wish."

Hysteria captivated my voice as tears welled up within my tear ducts, "What?! You can't do that to me! I'm too valuable! I've-"

I glared up at Megatron with such malice in my eyes that even he became hesitant. "I've spent my entire life looking for you. To become one of you. Then.. this is how you repay me?! You insufferable- eah... y-you.."

My body fell to the ground as the electricity strode through my systems and overloaded my organic-based 'CPU.'

"That'll teach her, Lord Megatron."

Aforementioned tyrant just gave the Constructicon a smug grin. "On second thought Scrapper,I want you keep her alive. I think I need to have.. a 'chat' with her later." He narrowed his crimson optics at my fallen body before leaving the throne room and retreating to his personal quarters for the night.

Mock me to Dissection.

My body was growing cold as the time passed, but I paid no notice. When her figure sat down next to me, I remained motionless and my expression was inert.

"Get her off the floor. Now. Scrapper, you'll-"

Hysterical laughter was bellowed out in the middle of the tyrant's orders as my body rolled over, my hands clutching at my stomach. My crimson tainted lips opened wide to let the sound resonate throughout the Nemesis. "I can't believe this! I- I let you all..." My tone turned dark and my eyes flamed a bright red as the Cybertronian part of my body came online instantaneously. "I let you all... you pathetic humans..."

In a flash the hysteric demeanor returned, my face pointed towards the ceiling as I clenched my eyes shut in anguish, humiliation, and fear. "I spent my entire life searching... and look what you-"

Darkness pursued. "You filthy organics, look what you've done to me! You made me turn-"

Hysteric interrupted. "Turn. Turn against them all! You've left me to die!"

The other humans, those who were either friend of fiend, all stared in an almost mocking silence. I knew what it meant. Those stares. "You're crazy."

That one voice sent me spiraling. " I'm crazy!? You- you insect! Having the audacity to insult me?"

Megatron had enough. "Scrapper. Do what you wish."

01.26

Yes, I have recently been contemplating and addressing these thoughts in my brain. You want to know what I came up with?

1. I'm falling away from the world. Things are getting too boring, and it's the same thing in and out. I need something new. Something I can call mine, and that no one else knows about.

2. My muse is dead. No updates for a while until I can get things sorted out.

3. Homework isn't pointless. Homework=learning/practicing/studying and that equals good grades and THAT equals college and THAT equals becoming an anesthesiologist AND THAT equals a sexy husband and lots of money.

4. Transformers are dead. Sorry. Stop expecting me to react to everything, because guess what! It isn't going to work. >:|

5. I'm not a human. More than 98% of the entire human race will bow down before me in a few years. I'm too good for this insignificant crap.

6. I'm old. Let's face it 15 is the new 95. Plus, what the HECK is THIS?!

7. Music does equal life. If it isn't playing I go slightly insane.

8. We need a new T.V. I saw Jay Leno on it tonight. It's now been tainted by the dark forces of hell and huge chins. [So that's why TF:A ended so early. It possessed little children due to staring at HUGE chins all morning.]

9. I want a British accent. Matt Bellamy's from over there.

10. I want medicine for my episodes, break downs, and my defeated sanity.

Follow Him.

Disclaimer; I do not down Transformers.

Sequel to 'Praise Him.'

---

The words didn’t flow. Did they ever flow? Were the words just wrong? Her spelling? Pronunciation? Her lack of intelligence?

‘No. Don’t think like that. Only he would say that to me.’

Rameara shivered as a ghostly hand touched her shoulder and drifted to the soles of her cracked and blistered feet. The young girl continued to carve words into the wall, but she could never see them through the blinding darkness. Rameara sighed, biting her lip in anxiety. She wanted the words to be close to her.

That was the only thing she had left.

The girl took the sliver of glass, pressing it to her shaking arm. The captivating handwriting bore into her skin, fluids trailing on to the metallic floor as if fell from her arm. ‘P.’ The letter stared at her, daring Rameara to move on. The ‘P’ was soon given a companion as an ‘R’ was detailed and finished with a flare that curved the length of her arm, ending precariously at her wrist. Rameara cracked her bottom lip open as she finished writing the word.

Once the pain was lifted, only leaving a dull ache, she smiled. A loving smile, as if she was looking down at a young child. ‘Praise.’

Rameara was a religious person, but she always questioned her faith in trying times. He never listened to her, it seemed, until now. She was given a second chance at life after the incident.

The pretender licked the energon off her arm, staring at the pool beside her feet as she did so.

She soon managed to slow the flow of energon bleeding from her left arm, and soon enough, she returned to her new ritual. This time Rameara closed her eyes, not even bothering to watch what she was slashing into her arm. When the ordeal was through, Rameara looked at the completed word.

She couldn't decipher it.

Rameara wiped at the energon only to see a strange alien symbol adorning her skin. 'That can't possibly be..."

Her CPU throbbed with pain and raw confusion. Her words were ruined by the presence of this... thing. The pretender scowled, plunging the shard of glass into her thigh and carving a new set of alien symbols.

Unbeknown to her, the glyphs rendered a familiar name to the pretender. 'Prowl.'

---

The chartreuse medic heightened his stance, setting a palm on his metallic hip. "Why would you pull such a stupid stunt? If Bluestreak hadn’t come to check up on you, you would have bled to death."

Rameara rested a hand on her newly bandaged thigh, silently hoping for a good comeback to come to mind. Nothing happened.

"I expect an answer," the medic pressed, clearly becoming annoyed with her silence.

"The words meant nothing. I wanted to change that. I felt... alone." Rameara knew fully well that the excuse was incompetent, but it was the truth, nonetheless.

"You wrote in Cybertronian. Where did you learn it from?" Ratchet activated his hologram, pressing an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to her damaged forearm.

She was speechless for a minutes, not knowing the answer herself. "I... it just came to me. I closed my eyes and-" Rameara stopped speaking when she felt tears slide down her neck. "Oh God..."

Ratchet's human form went rigid at the panic-stricken expression adorning Rameara's face. "What is it?"

"... I did that all in my sleep."

---

Rameara looked at Prime through glassy eyes, still panicked from her earlier realization. Ratchet insisted that she talk to Prime, Prowl, and Smokescreen about it, hoping that they come up with an answer.

So far they were nowhere.

Smokescreen 'hmphed' to himself. "So you dreamed you were a pretender, and carved Cybertronian glyphs into your skin."

"I saw the energon," Rameara added quietly.

Smokescreen nodded before leaning forward in his transformer-sized chair, looking over at the black and white tactician.

Prowl took the invitation, "Do you know what you wrote in Cybertronian? Did you understand it in your dream?" Prowl kept a straight posture, but his spark slumped at the sight before him.

Rameara shook her head slightly, keeping her gaze locked on the floor. "No, but Ratchet told me what they meant."

Prowl gave her an expectant look.

"The symbol on my arm means 'change imminent.'

"And on your thigh?" Smokescreen prodded gently.

"Prowl."