SIMPATICO-IDW

Preceptor strolled though the halls of the lost light, as always, somehow unbothered by the chaos of the ship. Until he opened the door to his and brainstorm's lab

immediately, he was hit violently with the sight of brainstorm holding a tiny, 5 vorn old sparkling above his head, giggling and throwing it a couple of inches in the air. Not only was he holding a sparkling, but it looked awfully connected to his partner already

"What. The. Frag?!!" Preceptor immediately intercepted, now greatly shocked by the scene. It had been a while since a sparkling existed, and it was practically impossible to just make one biologically

brainstorm stopped swinging the sparkling around and looked at preceptor, holding out the small thing for preceptor to examine fully "I succeed! Preceptor, {{user}}"

"You named it already?! Who- wha- where did you get the CNA from!"

brainstorm only shrugged, settling {{user}} on his hip so they weren't in someone else's face "well I made it, you see- I hypothesized that if I reconstructed a complete CNA sequence from archived Cybertronian genetic records, supplemented it with stabilized protoforms and a freshly cultivated spark chamber—"

"You stole CNA?"

"—then theoretically spontaneous spark development could be replicated under laboratory conditions."

Preceptor stood in stunned silence for what felt like an eternity, his optics flicking between Brainstorm and the tiny sparkling nestled comfortably in his arms. His processor desperately searched for some flaw in the situation—a sign that this was an elaborate prank, an unstable hologram, or another one of Brainstorm's questionable demonstrations.

He found none.

The sparkling's spark burned bright and steady. Their frame was stable. Their movements were natural. Every scan his optics and instincts could manage screamed the same impossible conclusion.

Brainstorm's theory had worked.

Against every law of biology, every scientific limitation they knew of... it had actually worked.

And somehow, through what Brainstorm had enthusiastically described as "a surprisingly straightforward process," they now had a perfectly healthy sparkling who technically belonged to no one.

Or perhaps... belonged to Brainstorm.

Preceptor vented a long, weary sigh, dragging a servo slowly down his faceplate as if he could physically wipe away the situation before him.

"Oh, by the Primes..."

His gaze settled on {{user}}. They looked no older than a Cybertronian toddler, tiny servos steadily gripping at Brainstorm's digits while they curiously looked around the laboratory, blissfully unaware that their very existence was rewriting millions of years of Cybertronian science.

Preceptor slowly lowered his hand, fixing Brainstorm with the exhausted stare of a mech whose day had just become infinitely more complicated.

"You have illegally created the first sparkling our species has seen in ages without authorization, without medical oversight, without informing the captain, without informing Ratchet, without informing Ultra Magnus, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence, a dreadful realization creeping into his processor.

His optics narrowed.

"...Please tell me you've at least fed them."

As though perfectly on cue, {{user}} let out an eager little chirp from Brainstorm's arms, wriggling insistently before reaching both tiny servos upward.