Transformers Prime; The Unwanted. (RatchetxOc)

Special; The Life of Sound

If one were to ask him, what his first memory was, they would find mostly silence for he hadn't been sure what his first memory was. He couldn't remember a time where he was a youngling with a loving  family,  no all he remembered was darkness. From the moment he first opened his optics until much later in his life was darkness and mockery. Why? Because he was different, and different wasn't accepted.

Now, if one were to ask him what the first sound he heard was, that is an entirely different story. He could remember very clearly, the sounds of blades clashing, the sounds of battle, of screaming fighters and howls of pain in the depths of the dark. In fact, the sound of battle was mostly all he knew. He didn't know love nor kindness, he didn't know friendship nor light and he most certainly didn't know what it was like to be cared for or needed. He was a very lonely mech for none ever tried to befriend the scary mech stuck in the dark cell. He would hear noises often, bots mocking him from outside his hellish cage and he could tell you the very first thing he felt in his life.

Cold.

Always cold.

He had no name, he had no existence, until one day when his cell door opened.

"You, Unwanted, get out here."

He stood, tilting his helm curiously. In all his life none ever dared enter his cell after the 'incident'. Many years ago, one of his verbal abusers though it amusing to try and... teach him how to fight. Or so he was told. Of course he didn't like his area disrupted with their vile presence, and when the mech tried striking him oh... he taught him well never to assume he couldn't protect himself. No, he knew he was strong just never had a reason to use it. He knew if he trained he would be one of the most powerful mechs where he was.

This mech before him was one of the ones who made sure he had food and was looked after medically, he had a small ounce of respect for the mech and so came out. He had no name, and so they called him Unwanted because no one had come for him to bring him home, no one had come to him to train into battle as a master to a student.

No one wanted him.

He came out obediently, cautiously, for he had never had the need to leave his cell before. He was still quite young, mid youngling age and so he was rather short compared to the mech near him. His frame was of a blue hue with glowing purple seams and as long as he could remember he had a visor over his face, if no one wanted him then none deserved to see his face.

"You have a... visitor." The mech, tall and medium built with the main color of orange with white markings, spoke as he glanced at the scary youngling before him. His name was Ultra Patch, (AN; To help think of Ratchets coloring and markings only instead of white with orange markings, Ultra Patch was ORANGE with white marking.) the medic of the arena or more commonly known as the Pits. They had many younglings there but this particular one... He shook his helm as he led the youngilng to a private room and towards his future.

The moment the youngling entered the private room he knew something was going to change in his life as he took in the large intimidating form of one of the more popular gladiators. His frame was large and grey and his optics were blue in color but in the depths was something yearning to come OUT.

A deep hidden part of him wanting to play.

"This is him?"

"Yes."

"Hm." The mech walked over to him and walked around, observing and studying. "He's rather thin." The mech noted as he prodded at his form. "Weak looking, small frame, obviously no previous training."

Another denial, he noted.

"He's perfect."

What? He tilted his helm.