Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Slowly clenching his hand in a fist, Megatron groaned, standing up and pacing amidst the fog.

“Starscream! You failed me yet again!!!”

Crouching in place in his current hiding spot, unable to see a thing before his face, Starscream stalled, staying very still: he had awoken a few minutes ago and was doing his best to avoid his leader.

Slowly the decepticons blinded by the fog, surrounding the radius around the explosion, followed the muffled sound of Megatron’s voice: excited, Laserbeak flew ahead and cawed, landing right atop her leader’s shoulder.

Megatron’s surprised scream of pain made every advancing decepticon stall: immediately throwing the landing bird on the ground, he held his shoulder, feeling for the leaking fluid, growling.

“Isn’t it enough that we fell in the autobot trap?? Soundwave! Call Laserbeak back!”

Uncomfortable silence: nearly silent steps came through, followed by a guttural big cat’s growl coming to his knee’s height.

“Ravage. Locate Soundwave. Now.”

Growling once more, the cat purred and rubbed his face in Megatron’s leg, who jumped backwards, startled, going very silent and thinking , finally stretching his arm to the symbiont, sliding his fingers from head to tail, registering the surprisingly soft fur.

Fur?

Recoiling his arm as if burned, he passed an idle hand in his head, stopping deadly mute tracing his face.

“Decepticons. We appear to have a major problem.”

No joking, thought Starscream, still crouched, as he heard Buzzsaw screeching from up close.

Turning to the sound, Megatron made his way slowly through the fog as it progressively dissipated and his sight devised the widestretched shadow of two pair of wings and a dark, glossy feline, protectively crouching over…

“Soundwave?”

He finished walking there, his sight going clear and confirming his suspicions, commanding with his hands for the symbionts to give room as he crouched down besides the passed out form with small fragments of the debris of Wheeljack’s bomb pierced in face, and one single large piece going through the midsection.

Shaking his head at the sudden screech come from the middle of the fog, Megatron smirked, satisfied: having Starscream go through this with them would certainly make his day slightly less miserable.

Reuniting his strength, inhaling deeply, and taking the prone form in arms, he lifted the damaged Soundwave off the ground right into his arms, standing up slowly, very aware they would need the autobot’s help, and shouted.

Standing behind the radius of the explosion, the autobots, unaffected, having duked in time, turned their optics to Optimus as Megatron screamed in their video feed from the dissipating fog, coagulated blood trailing down his right shoulder.

“Optimus Prime! Whatever you had planned to inflict upon us, you succeeded. We are utterly defenceless and Soundwave needs the adequate medical help!!”

Squinting, Ratchet shook his head.

“That’s beyond my abilities and you know it, Prime.”

Optimus shook his head, sighing.

“I know. But we can still transport them to the closest allied military facility. It’s the least we can start doing to help. Afterall, we did put them in that mess, right, Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack meekly glared down, scratching his battlemask and waving a hand to the screen.

“That is, after we get them a couple of clothes.”

Chapter Text

Standing above his Tower in gun mode and watching over the planet, Shockwave, immovable, a force to be reckoned with, detachedly received the incoming call on Lord Megatron’s emergency channel, from Earth.

Root-moding and lowering his platform down, he stepped out of it and with all the grace of a tank, strolled through the labs towards his comm station, sitting rigidly before it, preparing himself to see what the decepticon leader wanted of him.

As the faceplates of Optimus Prime came into view, the cyclops, not a stir in his EM-field or even a hint of surprise, minutely bowed his head in a nod, yellow optic glowing as he spoke.

“Autobot Leader Optimus Prime. For you to have had access to this particular comm line, I presume Decepticon Leader Lord Megatron was captured.”

Optimus, from across the screen, millions of light years away from their home planet, couldn’t help the flinch at the cold tone, as the cyclops still spoke.

“Considering the Decepticon hierarchic chain, for you to have contacted me, Autobot Leader Optimus Prime, Air Commander Starscream and Chief Communications Officer Soundwave must be out of action as well. Know that I will not surrender Cybertron, much less exchange my rule for their continued existence. It would not be logical.”

Optimus attempted to speak, getting interrupted by the droning Shockwave.

“The War for Cybertron continues. Shockwave out.”

Shockwave then moved his right hand to the console, shutting it down.

Facepalming, Optimus groaned, as Prowl, arms folded besides him, just glowered at the screen, unfolding them and repeating the call.

On his personal comm, Shockwave sat back and answered again, this time meeting the faceplates of Prowl.

“Subcommander Officer Prowl. I believe I made my point clear and the decepticons will continue fighting.”

The autobot SIC squinted, approaching the screen.

“I strongly advise you to listen to what the Prime has to say.”

Shockwave, still, droned, unaffected.

“Unless it is about your therms of rendition to the logically superior decepticon forces, it does not hold interest to me.”

Prowl minutely twitched his right optic ridge, the instant Jazz shoved him aside and blew a kiss to the screen.

“Heya, Shockers. Good to see ya. Lookin’ purple. Ya have a good optic on ya.”

Unaffected by the autobot TIC, Shockwave led his hand to the panel, intent in shutting the comm off permanently, suddenly stopping millimetres from the keyboard as Prowl sent Jazz away from sight and his single optic met the faceplates of Wheeljack, meekly coming to sight and fidgeting with his hands.

“...I did a thing and the thing blew up and now the decepticons are turned human.”

Recalling his hand back, Shockwave kept his glare at the screen, as this time Optimus Prime came back into view right besides his SIC.

“Since it’s the Autobot’s fault that Megatron and the others are turned human, we are offering them help and shelter until Wheeljack can revert the effects.”

“If they can be reverted.” whispered Wheeljack as Optimus glowered.

After reflecting for three full seconds, optic staring at the Prime, his SIC and the engineer, Shockwave droned.

“Autobot Leader Optimus Prime: you are telling me that with your illogical actions, your Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack brought forth unto the Decepticon High Command on Earth, via obscure scientific means, a bodily change that has high chance of being permanent.”

Nodding, Prowl cleared his vocalisers, turning to the screen.

“Precisely. Now. Shockwave: here’s the deal. We propose a truce for scientific cooperation between you, as Chief Science Officer, and our Science Team to find a way of reversing the human-formed decepticons back into normal. You will have ready access to our labs, facilities and resources during your stay with us.”

Shockwave, tilting his head to the right, spoke.

“Turning the Earth-stationed decepticons into weakened flesh versions of themselves is beneficial to your side of the War, in that you have effectively neutralised the opposition, however, out of misplaced sense of guilt, you are willing to revert said beneficial effects.”

Optimus sighed, but nodded.

“Yet, you wish my cooperation into reversing the effects, against all logic, when instead your Chief Engineering Officer should get rewarded for excellent service in taking the decepticon forces on Earth out of action.”

Wheeljack blinked in surprise, as Optimus shook his hands and his head towards the screen.

“No, this is not how we autobots do things. Wheeljack knows what he did is wrong and he’s very sorry, right, Wheeljack??”

Optimus turned to the engineer, squinting sternly, as Wheeljack finally sagged. Shockwave, processing the received data, nodded.

“Until I have hard, convincing evidence that the decepticons, especially Lord Megatron, were turned human, I will not leave my station as Guardian of Cybertron.”

Prowl, nodding, with a definite smirk, expressionless otherwise, shifted the camera view towards a greyed out, clearly annoyed man wearing military greens.

“Presuming you are the Decepticon Leader, Lord Megatron, I request you provide me your personal emergency override code.”

Megatron, beyond angry, punched the panels, then growled and started typing a gigantic code from heart on the touchpad, as the cyclops received on his comm the sequence, finally bowing his head in a respectful nod, with no hint of emotion, droning.

“Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons. How may I serve you and your greatness?”

Megatron, huffing, worried with Soundwave, who was undergoing surgery as he spoke to that dreaded drone, planted both hands on the console and approached the screen.

“Just haul your aft from your experiments for once and bridge yourself to Earth, now!!!”

Chapter Text

Cold, fluorescent lights shone from the ceiling-mounted surgical light, the light-green dressed first surgeon speaking to the second surgeon.

“According to the ultrasound there seems to be no arterial and intestinal damage, the shard going through the omentum without reaching any vital organ. This should be a protocol laparotomy.”

The second surgeon sighed, glaring at the main fragment.

“I still don’t agree with them being kept in the base. As far as I understood these people are dangerous. Did you get to see the exotic pets? I mean, I can understand the panther, but… who keeps vultures?”

The first surgeon, having just opened from sternum to pubic bone in a single line their patient’s injured abdomen, the metal shard’s entry site at the right of the navel, ignored him and ordered.

“Focus. The patient is bleeding on the incision. Cauterise.”

Making quick work of the blood with the electric bistoury, the second surgeon followed with his eyes behind the security glasses as his hierarchical superior cut with the regular scalpel the lawyers of fatty tissue, reaching the aponeurosis of the external oblique muscle and cutting through it.

“It is not our place to judge what our superiors do."

He then inched towards the linea alba and quickly opened the connective tissue between both of the rectus abdominis underneath, as the second surgeon kept speaking, waiting with the electric bistoury in hands.

"I've heard that the giant robot Optimus Prime intervened against the pets being taken away, and insisted they are part of the family, whatever it means, and should be kept with all those caged men. ”

The first surgeon stopped what he was doing, looking directly at the second.

"It is not our place to gossip."

And went back to the incision, as staring at the entry site of the shard, imagining its irregular cut and the end result later, the second surgeon shook his head.

“I still think they should have called a plastic surgeon as well.”

Visually inspecting the viscera around the metallic shard, taking most of the mesenteric omentum he could out of sight, the first surgeon made sure to expose the small bleeding veins for his surgical aide to clamp, making sure the ultrasound was correct and no piece of small intestine would be needed to get removed, tracing his hands alongside the foreign body whose tip currently was firmly lodged into the left ilium.

“Will I have to call your replacement or are you going to focus?”

The second surgeon sagged, as the first surgeon mechanically finished fishing for bleeding.

“No deeper damage confirmed. Removing shard from periosteum. Proceeding to inventory of viscera afterwards.”

The second surgeon observed attentive as the first detachedly pulled the metal from the iliac bone, nodding as no sudden, unexpected bleeding started and the metallic piece was placed aside, quickly taken by a nurse and labelled to be taken for analysis.

“I mean, it’s a shame. Plastic surgery is life. I wouldn’t want to sport any unsightly scars, specially on my face.”

Viscera in gloved hands, manually and visually inspecting each centimetre of the intestines for further previously unseen damage, the first surgeon never glanced to his subordinate, droning.

“Once we’re done here, and the patient is stable, Doctor Pitanguy, you will have all the time of the world to recall on how to do intradermal sutures and make sure no bad scarring remains.”

Once more going through the solid viscera and making sure no lesions on the spleen, liver or pancreas could be found, going so far as the kidneys and the bladder, making sure no fluids accumulated into the pelvic floor, and every single organ was whole and sound, the first surgeon nodded to the second.

“My work is done and the patient will live. Finish closing the whole mess. Have fun.”

Taking the gloves out and sling-shooting them into the contaminated waste bin, he left the surgical circus, as the second surgeon just plain sighed, taking the catgut-chromed suture lines and beginning to close the many abdominal layers back in place.

Just out of the communication’s room, Megatron made his best to look and feel like as tall and migthy as the autobots surrounding him, staring almost eye to optic at Optimus Prime from the raised platform he was walking at.

“Now I made sure Shockwave will come to help your incompetent inventor, Prime, what else do you require of me before I go back to my cell?”

Megatron spat, the Prime minutely flinching.

“You must understand the humans, Megatron. They don’t know who you really are and have not located you on the citizen files, they are playing safe. Not to mention the exotic pets.”

“They are cowards. As if I could make any kind of permanent damage in this frame.” he then smirked “Isn’t it ironic that my Ravage is the most respect-inspiring of us now, Prime?”

Shutting up as the Prime rose a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, Megatron walked to climb down the stairs.

“I always thought Ravage was Soundwave’s.”

Stalling for a second then continuing on his way down, Megatron spoke.

“All my decepticons are mine, Prime. This conversation is over.”

Growling low as he was escorted by two heavily armoured and armed human soldiers out of the room, Megatron left as Optimus sighed, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

Megatron glowered at the door of the room he and his decepticons were currently assigned: the place was filled with bunk beds, a few sofas, armoires and the minimal necessities a bunch of men and now three exquisite pets might physically need.

Having been ordered in and locked up immediately after, swallowing his pride, he clasped both hands behind his back and stared at his expectant troops, equally dressed in military green, the instant Starscream stood up, folding arms.

“So. Is that dreaded drone coming or not?”

“Do not attempt to tell me how I manage my troops, Starscream.” Megatron spat “Of course Shockwave’s coming. As if he would let the chance to experiment pass.”

Starscream huffed, smirking.

“Whatever you say, Mighty Megatron. Any news on your other drone??”

Immediately punching Starscream in the face, Megatron hissed, shaking his right hand and holding it against his abdomen, grimacing at his second in command and watching the seeker screech in pain and clutch against his nose, blood flowing from it freely.

“Primus!!! My nose!! Fraggit it hurts!!”

As Thundercracker widened his blue eyes and Skywarp pulled Starscream to sit on one of the lower bunk beds, hugging his shoulders, Megatron, regaining composure, glowered his other decepticons into silence and pushed Astrotrain out of the sofa, sitting regally on it and watching Starscream panic at the sight of blood in his hands and uniform.

“Why so upset, Starscream.” he stared at his already swollen hand, ignoring the pulsating pain “This is just a flesh wound.”

As Hook snickered, glad he knew nothing on how to fix a human and would not be volunteered to help, the seeker threw a major tantrum and Thundercracker rushed to the locked door, punching it and demanding a medic.

Megatron, not denying he was amused, gave two pats at his side on the sofa, the empty spot instantly filled by Ravage: staring at the loyal symbiont, now lazily yawning and resting his head on his leader’s lap, a pair of inquisitive yellow eyes looking up, the tyrant groaned.

Cursing these fleshed out human forms for not having something as basic as a private comm, he shook his head, scratching Ravage behind his ears, earning himself a resigned purr, as two pairs of wings and eyes were barely visible from atop the fluorescent lights hanging by chains from the ceiling.

He wanted to tell them that carrier was well, otherwise they would have had news already, but he couldn’t, not with the decepticons glaring at him and measuring him up, certainly trying to assert he was still fit to rule.

Megatron had a reputation to keep, not to mention his hand hurts from the punch and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep himself in power by merely being stupidly strong and violent as usual.

Which was one more reason why he needed Soundwave alive and kicking: the tapedeck had always been the glue keeping the decepticons together, the one who knew secrets enough to blackmail every single mech into subservience for ages to come.

Jolting out of his thoughts by the locked room’s door getting opened, he fleeted a glance to his air commander getting escorted out of there by the two armed soldiers, coagulated blood having filled the front of his greenish shirt, a worried Skywarp getting prevented of going after him by Thundercracker, who pulled him close and back into the bunk bed.

Shaking his head, Megatron supposed being arrested in this fleshling base was not the worse that could have happened to them: were their roles reversed, he would have just stepped on and crushed each single autobot-turned-human under his pedes, ending the War for Cybertron right then and there, much like Shockwave had soundly suggested, and for once he was glad Shockwave was not an autobot anymore.

If only he had news on how his communications officer was, he might be able to reassure the three cassettes, who wanted to know where Rumble and Frenzy were as well.

Waiting at the communication’s room, Optimus dismissed his command chain and his guardian, only Ratchet currently remaining, having just been informed on Soundwave’s current stable state, aware that the Chief Medical Officer Doctor Eisenhower requested to meet them.

As such, climbing over the elevated platform and getting right to Optimus Prime’s and Ratchet’s face level, the doctor caught a print report from his wallet in hands and looked up to meet the two giant faces.

“Optimus Prime. Since you brought these men and took responsibility even on their pets, I suspect these people are slightly more than meets the eye, so, instead of reporting to my military commander, I thought about bringing the surgical report to you first.”

They exchanged a curious glance, as Ratchet nodded and Optimus spoke.

“Continue.”

The human medic cleared his throat.

“As you already must know, the surgery was successful and that human codenamed Soundwave will live.”

The autobots nodded as the medic turned a few pages in his report.

“We strongly advise bedrest, and a series of future scheduled appointments. I don’t know who was the responsible for this, but it was very irresponsible of whoever started this mess to send a pregnant woman to the field.”

Chapter Text

Awaking in a jolt at the Surgical Ward, eyes frantically scanning the room as alarms beeped loudly, Soundwave tried screaming.

Vocoder: disabled. Status: in pain.

“Keep calm. Stay put. You have been under surgery. There was a tube down your trachea from the anaesthesia and it will hurt a little to breath or speak. Follow me up.”

The post-operative care nurse raised a hand, moving it right and left, Soundwave following the motion with burning golden eyes, a sudden urge to lunge against that stupid human and make him swallow a datacable down his fuel intake for him to see if he would keep calm!

“Good. Does it hurt too much? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Soundwave, trying to growl and only getting a meek rasp to come out, stopped trying and obeyed, blinking once. The nurse nodded, taking a syringe from the metallic tray and accessing the IV on Soundwave’s arm, injecting it.

Nausea hitting fully, a stinky smell reaching all sensors and vision immediately going foggy, Soundwave almost instantly collapsed into recharge.

Eyes opening wide, having lost track of time, Soundwave tried standing, to no effect.

Chronometer: off. Hydraulics: defective. Sensory net: hypersensitive. Weapons systems: disabled. Docks and connections: muted. Telepathy: absent .

Slowly lifting a sluggish hand, and immediately stalling at the sight of what was clearly not a traditional cybertronian servo, Soundwave turned the hand slowly, making sure it really belonged there, then slowly rested it back against the berth.

Soundwave: with holomatter disguise.

Trying to stand up proved impossible: looking down, Soundwave discovered both legs were trapped into a kind of pumping machine.

Attempting to sit, Soundwave soon desisted: whatever faulty hydraulics there were in this disguise, they must be damaged because activating them to raise his own torso was just too much.

Soundwave: exhausted.

Reviewing whatever faulty memories were left, Soundwave recalled the explosion and the world going woomp, the automatic emergency tapedeck locks turning ON and trapping Rumble and Frenzy inside, and…

Hurting from within, a hand clutching involuntarily against the bottom of the communication’s officer hips, angling to the midsection, finding something soft where only solid plating should be, Soundwave did everything possible to glare down, the effort igniting a new wave of pain.

Hissing in a voice that didn’t belong as the deep set, burning hurt continued, Soundwave trashed against the two pumps on both legs, kicking them up and down in attempt to get free.

Whatever had happened, Soundwave needed to escape!

Soundwave never got far though, for as soon as one of the devices was literally kicked away, the echo of rubber and metal clanging in the place, three humans in white coats surrounded him, once more the hazardous smell and the unconsciousness filling the decepticon’s mind.

The third awakening was less surprising and less sudden, coming slowly, the neutral beep of machinery whirring on the background of the now darkened room.

Opening both eyes slowly now, Soundwave still felt the burning pain, just smaller and less unbearable.

Self-repairs: ineffective.

Looking down and confirming that the Master of the Spy-net was not tied to the berth, Soundwave did everything in power not to call their attention anymore: as far as understood, no matter the reason for being trapped in a human, until discovery on how to turn off what was supposed to be a disguise, the best bet for now was playing safe.

Besides, Soundwave didn’t want any humans coming and drugging the master-spy into recharge anymore.

Effectively sitting and inspecting the two rubber and metal pumps on both legs, concluding they had to be some kind of stasis cuffs, aware that their removal might call the wardens’ attention, Soundwave slowly swung them to the left side of of the berth, bracing against the guard rail and standing up, taking time to adjust.

As far as understood, he was in a kind of fake human shell, and from the knowledge on humans, apparently someone saw fit bestowing the communications officer a female avatar, snorting: the irony.

Before able to complete three steps though, Soundwave was greeted by a sombre nurse bringing a tray of medication.

“Back to bed. You’re not supposed to walk around in these.”

Deposing the tray on a table, the nurse came to Soundwave, grabbing the arm not displaying an IV, and steered the stubborn patient back into sitting, then laying down, adjusting the pumps.

“I don’t even know how you managed to walk. These things are heavy. Do you need to relieve yourself?”

Soundwave blinked, not understanding, darting the golden eyes into the nurse and squinting.

“I see. Sore throat. One blink for yes, two for no. Need to go to the restroom?”

Soundwave glared, then blinked three times: one for yes, two for no, three for what the slag. The nurse sighed, gloving her hands and taking a flat open urinal.

“Lift your behind.”

Soundwave stared puzzled as the nurse literally grabbed the underside of both thigh s with one hand and pushed it up, shoving said urinal underneath the spy-master’s aft.

“Now. Whenever you feel like. Do it.”

Soundwave just glowered: after a full minute of the nurse pretending not to stare at him, she turned.

“No?”

Soundwave, puzzled, raised both hands: that was the moment she raised a hand to the patient’s lower abdomen, under the slight volume, placing it firmly there.

“Sometimes after getting fitted with a urinary catheter, people have a hard time urinating again. I’ll help increase the pressure.”

Without access to databanks outside this own pretender shell, Soundwave followed the nurse’s gloved hand palming the soft squishy abdomen with learned expertise and pushing down.

Immediately stalling as a feeling of pressure intensified, in a sudden Soundwave went still, a full body shiver (followed by warmth crawling up and down the back of both legs) coming, as the sound of water filling the metal urinal from underneath reached his audials.

Soundwave: leaking.

Soundwave wasn’t supposed to eliminate any fluids in a holomatter disguise or under use of a pretender shell: being familiar with the concept of emptying waste tanks and urinating, though, done by organic beasts and humans, and…

Wheeljack: at fault.

Wheeljack was the creator of the bomb that went kaboom in the battlefield, right before Soundwave was hit by its shards and blacked out.

Wheeljack’s stuff always blow up and have hazardous effects.

Wheeljack’s bomb blew up and now Soundwave was turned a human, Rumble and frenzy being currently trapped inside, and…

Wheeljack: going to pay.

Soundwave had barely no time to properly plot revenge, however, being jolted out of the impish thoughts, as the nurse unceremoniously looked at the now full urinal, nodded, then wiped in between both legs with a sanitary napkin, pulling the urinal from underneath, adjusted the covers back and left to the room’s restroom.

Sharpening both audials, Soundwave, hands now grabbing at the edges of the covers, listening to the sound of the toilet flush, analysing the recent events, sagged.

“The Doctor will come by later to clear you out if everything is fine with the surgery. Be a good girl.”

Meekly nodding at being reminded, Soundwave pushed the covers up until the neck, observing the room’s door close.

The current organic nature of this alt-mode prevented the decepticon of getting proper revenge against the autobot, so this part of the plan would be put on hold.

Right now, what Soundwave really needed was to find how to reach the trapped twins, and how to get to Lord Megatron: if as suspected, all the decepticons on the blast radius were granted the same kind of bodily change (and thus the other three symbionts were modified accordingly as well), they certainly were getting human aid through the benevolent hands of Optimus Prime and his autobots, and...

...and now everybody just knows .

As soon as Dr Eisenhower left the two autobots in their meeting room, the only place where humans could safely interact with the cybertronians without fear of being stepped on, with his recommendation and his endless rantings, he breathed, relieved for getting out of their oppressive nature.

These are supposed to be the nice ones , he reminded himself.

If he was already overwhelmed by them, imagine if they had to interact with their enemies, the Decepticons!

Snorting at the absurdity of the notion, he shook his head: once the first 24h after surgery were done, he had a codenamed Soundwave woman to instruct on where and how to get proper pre-natal care and a few prohibitions to give.

Afterall, a pregnant woman wasn’t supposed to engage physically in the field.

Hell, women weren’t supposed to even be military, except maybe when working behind a desk with paperwork, taking account of stock, mailing reports, managing resources, just generally managing communications, hard lines and computer nets!

Shaking his head, he turned on the corridor: Agent Fowler has requested the details on everything relating Codename Soundwave, and the doctor was going for his immediate superior Officer to report.

Chapter Text

Wheeljack, sitting on what would become his new, temporary lab in the Autobot Allied Facility, at Warehouse E, sighed, missing his old Lab at the Ark, mentally reviewing what went wrong with his latest craft.

Sure, it exploded, but that was expected: his stuff always invariably ended up exploding, except for the one time he really had wanted it to actually explode, and...

And now Shockwave would be coming by to help.

Which brings him to his current predicament, a very empty, unlived, immaculate, never exploded lab.

Not that he had anything irreplaceable: hell, not even his parts were - he recalled  substituting limbs more often than Prowl ever sent Jazz into the brig.

He had memories in the old Lab at the Ark: each dent in the wall, each spot of dark smudged fog up the ceiling, every blast-radius radioactive impression set in the metals and the rocks marking the ground...

...everything left behind just because Shockwave was coming and Primus Forbid the Cyclops of entering the Ark!

As if the decepticons didn't already know where the Ark was, more or less like every autobot also knew where the site of the decepticon spacebridge on Earth was.

Shaking his head, he recalled the physical placement of the decepticon spacebridge on Earth, an inconspicuous site whose location both factions knew with precision, only lacking a road sign with directions, and Wheeljack for a second snorted: as a static alt-moded gunformer, Shockwave would have to either fly himself in root mode or get brought in by no one less than the Prime himself with his subspaced trailer, and as soon as he came by…

A green swirling portal, conjured up out of thin air, showed up in the middle of his lab, the immovable faceplates of Shockwave stepping out.

“Primus Almighty!!!”

The purple towering Cyclops, followed by a screen-faced legless drone on wheels, instantly dipped his head down.

“The correct designation is Shockwave.”

Wheeljack turned his head and followed the drone with his optics as it came in carrying a truckload of boxed supplies.

“What’s that?”

Shockwave, slowly glancing at his drone, droned.

“That is my drone bringing boxed supplies. I expect you do not mind.”

Wheeljack, wide-opticed, watched the screen-faced drone get in, then out of the hole, unceremoniously piling a couple of boxes on a corner, finally shook his head in denial, deciding he didn’t want to know.

“No! What’re you doing here??”

Shockwave glared expressionless at Wheeljack until the autobot twitched, then droned.

“I have been specifically invited to give much needed scientific aid with the predicament of the decepticons as humans. Your superior Officer, Subcommander Prowl, sent me the coordinates to this allied facility.”

Wheeljack, peeking at the growing pile of boxes on the corner, raised a hand to scratch behind his neck as Shockwave, reactionless, stood rigidly in the middle of his lab, glaring back until the autobot finally, vigorously shook his head.

“NO! I mean. Primus. You’re difficult. The green swirling thing! This is… I can’t even name what it is. You have to teach me! How did you make this portal!!!”

Shockwave slowly turned to contemplate his portal, dipped his head in a nod, then unsubspaced a huge remote control.

“The solitude on Cybertron allowed me to make tremendous advances: I upgraded the spacebridge three million years ago. The prospect of free-flowing energon cubes made me cease being overzealous with saving my own meagre energon reserves, which allowed me to use the energy-suckling mobile spacebridge instead of the usual, low-energy-required fixed spacebridge site.”

Wheeljack, gleefully twisting his hands, not knowing what to do with them, erratic thoughts filling his upper processors as his spark singed before the prospect of doing potentially dangerous things, finally fidgeted with his fingers: it was a shame the autobots lost Shockwave to Shadowplay. So much knowledge to exploit.

“So you really came to help m… us revert the… thing. That I did.”

Shockwave did not spare a nod, walking around the lab and thoroughly scrutinising every surface.

“To provide any insight, however, I will require that you hand me the prototypes and blueprints of your latest doomsday device, Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack, staring down, shook his head, shifting on his pedes.

“IdonthavethemIdidthembyspark.”

This time tilting his head to the right, Shockwave stopped and stared at the autobot, processing what he had been told.

“You are telling me you did not prepare blueprints or made any calculations, and just plainly assembled the thing together. By spark.”

Wheeljack nodded.

“Fascinating.”

Wheeljack blinked.

“You think so?”

Completely unaffected, Shockwave droned.

“I am positive that with scientific rigour we should be able to extract all your crude, instinctual qualities into an ordered, productive, predictable and chartable fashion as befitting a Science Caste mech like you and I. Despite brilliant, you are careless, and I must then presume you did not test your only prototype, neither with a proper cohort, nor with a comprehensive n before taking it into the field.”

Wheeljack humbly shook his head. He usually never followed any of the scientific rules required to properly be considered a Scientist. He just liked assembling stuff and seeing them blow up.

Shockwave dipped his head in a nod, continuing.

“The situation is not irreversible: I will require that you reassemble a similar device, with its trigger properly locked, so I can reverse-engineer it into proper blueprints. Being the impressive artificer you are, I expect you can reproduce it by spark.”

Wheeljack meekly nodded. Shockwave, neutrally unaffected, turned to his drone.

“D-3. You are responsible of staying in the lab at all times and aiding Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack, taking full notes on every single step he does to produce the device, even apparent mistakes. Do you copy?”

“Yes, Mighty Shockwave.”

“I expect results.”

He then turned to Wheeljack, equally droning.

“I expect results.”

And turned to leave the room, without saying farewell, both the drone D-3 and Wheeljack staring at his aft as he went away.

Chapter Text

Agent Fowler finished shuffling through the report, as Dr Eisenhower, left leg crossed over his right knee, both hands interlaced in his own lap, cleared his throat, speaking.

“May I speak freely, Sir?”

Slamming the papers on his desk, the Agent side-glanced the medic, a clear no in face.

“Who exactly are these people?” he asked anyway.

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

Eisenhower rolled his eyes under his glasses, as Fowler pinched his nosebridge.

“All you need to know is as soon as Codename Soundwave is cleared, they will no longer be your problem, Doctor.”

“It is my problem when unregistered women are rescued without uniform or clothes, surrounded by equally unclothed men in a battlefield against giant alien robots supposed to be the good guys, sporting bomb clusters made of said alien metallic material sunk down their pregnant pelvises, and I am ordered to not report it.”

Agent Fowler shook his head, as Eisenhower nodded solemnly.

“The only thing worse than that would be knowing that in truth these people are the Evil robots battling the good ones, somehow turned as human.”

Fowler, angry, glowered: Eisenhower kept talking.

“I mean, I’d hate to find out I had ordered my staff to operate on a dangerous, evil, pregnant alien robot turned human.” he snorted.

“Doctor Eisenhower. Out.”

Eisenhower followed the digit and blinked.

“But I was only joking.”

Before the medic could protest, Agent Fowler pushed him towards the door of the room.

“Out!”

And just like that, slammed the door on his face, leaving him on the outside.

Starscream, currently resting at the infirmary, bag of ice up on his nose, cotton stuffed up both nostrils, now wearing the dreaded hospital gown open on his back, made sure to remain quiet and appear as sick and harmless as possible.

He wanted to remain right where he was, no matter how demeaning his current situation could be.

At least here he was being taken care of: they gave him that liquid thing, what’s its name, water , and something that he had to chew and swallow – bread – to feed on, and he had privacy enough to discover how to do a few distasteful things that he knew humans had to do as well, like urinating, and was glad he had the excuse of being dizzy on him not knowing exactly how to do it, getting patiently instructed by the male nurse that brought him the appropriate urinal.

Briefly asking himself how his trinemates might be faring, he shrugged: Skywarp was a suck up to Megatron, and Thundercracker was intelligent enough to keep out of trouble, and they should be fine.

Megatron blinked slowly, not knowing how or when he managed to fall under recharge over the sofa, cursing the lack of a proper inner chronometer, rubbing on his eyes as they adjust to the dark.

Outlining the contours of his equally recharging decepticons, he squinted as one of them appeared to be sulking, staring against the locked door.

Trying to divine which of his decepticons was this one, Megatron grimaced: to him they all looked the same, except for the obvious hair, skin and eye colours (not visible under the dim light), as such, unable to discern in the semi-dark, he stood up, gave the sleeping Ravage a last pat and walked there, as the sitting man sighed.

“You hurt Screamer. He was bleeding.”

Megatron nodded to himself, recognising the voice.

“Starscream should have known by now not to insult my communication’s officer, Skywarp.”

Resigned, Skywarp shook his head, glaring at his boots.

“Did you know?”

Megatron raised an eyebrow.

“Know what?”

“That Soundwave is a girl.”

Skywarp drew the shape of Soundwave’s cybertronian tapedeck, square and large, in the air: nodding solemnly at the reminder, Megatron let silence speak for him, as Skywarp asked with a smirk.

“Since when??”

Megatron then shoved Skywarp aside in the lower bunk bed and sat besides him.

“Had anyone else asked me that, I’d have already punished him.”

Skywarp nodded, winking.

“Aww, but I can ask. I’m the loyal seeker.”

Megatron sighed: he knew.

“And I find it cute that you worry, but don’t tell Screamer when he’s back.” he then whispered “TeeCee finds it cute too, but he’s shy.”

Skywarp giggled , as Megatron shook his head: stupid autobotish seeker.

“Enough, Skywarp. Don’t make me send you into repairs too.”

There was no true fire and Skywarp knew it, leaning against his leader’s shoulders, the instant the doors of the room flung open and the lights were turned on, revealing two armed soldiers, giving way to one unarmed officer.

“Codename Megatron: present yourself.”

Scowling, Megatron stood up, hands clasped behind his back, Ravage’s golden eyes glowing in the ill-lit room from his spot in the sofa.

“The Autobot Leader Optimus Prime is requesting your presence.”

Chapter Text

Doctor Pitanguy, Second Surgeon, walked the halls with his tablet and his patient files, stopping before the infirmary where he knew Codename Soundwave was, and identified himself to the soldier guarding it.

He had to check up on her and on the amazing sutures he did on her face!

Positive she would love to know there would be no bad scarring due to his incredible intradermal suturing, Daniel got the door open and slowly stepped in, closing it behind himself and staring puzzled at the empty bed and the abandoned IV serum hanging from its support.

“What the hell...”

Preposterous! Had the patient been released already and no one told him?

It had to be Dr. Eisenhower’s doing!

Turning his tablet on, he started checking on the registry to know what happened, the instant a heavy, grey and black pump was heavily sung into his head.

Instantly blacking out and falling noisily on his nose, all papers scattered on the ground, the medic never noticed the tablet literally be ejected out of his hands right into a pair of bare feet, instantly taken by a small white hand.

Raising the tablet to the level of both eyes, a smug smile creeping up the stitched up face, Soundwave nodded and immediately touched the screen, the device coming alight with wireless internet access.

Soundwave: Superior.

Megatron literally growled at the soldiers who escorted him back to the presence of Optimus fragging Prime, leaving the two faction leaders alone in the room.

“Megatron. I’m glad you decided to come.”

Snorting, Megatron spat.

“Irony does not befit you, Prime. As far as I know, I have had no choice. Now. What do you want?”

Optimus sighed at Megatron, currently stubbornly folding arms at him from his spot on the ground.

“We have to talk.”

Fuming, the decepticon looked up at the towering Prime, scowling at the elevated platform.

“May we meet at face level like leaders of equal standing, then, or are you going to keep reminding me of what I have lost?”

Optimus patted the elevated platform twice, and Megatron couldn’t help comparing it to how he had called up Ravage, squinting.

“I do not authorise you to beckon for me to come. I am not yours for you to play with me, Prime.”

Tired , Optimus showed the stairs of the elevated platform once more to his mortal nemesis.

“Can we just talk for a change? It’s actually important.”

Momentarily taken aback at the weary tone, Megatron finally groaned and climbed up the stairs.

“Fine, Prime. I’m listening.”

Optimus nodded, taking between his index and his thumb a series of print out papers, that he brought to Megatron at touching distance.

“I’ll take it slowly. Soundwave’s human body is female. Do you confirm Soundwave’s spark is purple as well?”

Megatron snatched the papers off the Prime’s digits.

“What do you take me for, a moron?” Megatron growled and squinted at the print letters.

Optimus decided to take that as a yes, continuing.

“Were you aware Soundwave is sparked as well?”

Megatron, never raising his eyes off the report, stalled.

Optimus, amused by the wide-eyed stare Megatron gave down the papers, cleared his vocalisers and spoke.

“Does the fact that they are twins rings a bell?”

Megatron immediately looked up from the report as Optimus continued.

“Do you know where Rumble and Frenzy were during the last battle when the transformation took place?”

“You tell me, Prime.” he spat. “Where are they?”

Optimus sighed: coaxing useful info from Megatron was a pain in the aft, so the Prime simply pointed to the report in Megatron’s grasp, as the decepticon leader growled, opening them and flipping a few pages, finally raising the report up and pointing angrily at the dark grey imagery print in paper.

“What kind of joke is that?” he poked the papers until he ripped a few holes in them “These are not Rumble and Frenzy. These are blotches!! Where are my spies??”

“This...” Optimus spoke slowly, deciding not to mock the possessive tone in my spies “...is not a joke. Apparently, Wheeljack’s invention saw fit converting the two docked hellions into human embryos, which for lack of a better definition, means that Soundwave’s sparked. Carrying. In human therms, pregnant. With twins.”

Megatron, scowling, looked down the now damaged papers, staring very pensive at the blotches.

“So Soundwave will go through a full sparking cycle, again. Unexpected, inconvenient, but harmless: my communications officer underwent four cycles during the course of the war and all of them came out fine. Why should this even be a big deal?”

“Because humans don’t deliver fully-formed humans, and the bitlets will come out requiring constant attention.”

Megatron snorted.

“As if Rumble and Frenzy didn’t require constant attention. Soundwave will be fine, not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business when the responsible for throwing you in this situation is my Chief Engineering Officer, Megatron. Shockwave has already arrived and he and Wheeljack must be working on a reversal. Meanwhile, you’ll remain under our custody.”

Aware the unconsciousness of that white-coated human wouldn’t last too long, looking down at the now passed out medic, Soundwave immediately bent down ass up in the air, taking the medic’s white coat and then the green clothes off, fumbling with them until getting fully dressed, unable to push the pants above the somewhat protruding abdomen.

Stretching the shirt to cover the protruding belly down, Soundwave finally stole the shoes, wriggling all toes inside them: they were just too big.

A good fit or not, they would have to do: walking around looking like a patient would be the sure-proof way to get captured back.

Very aware that there was a soldier standing guard on the outside, Soundwave stared down the tablet, flipping screens with the touch of a fingertip and visually scanning for anything that might give an advantage in leaving the room, nodding satisfied at the emergency code icon on the upper right corner of the screen, begging to be pushed.

“You mean under arrest as prisoners.”

Optimus sighed, recalling the fact that they were indeed locked up.

“I would prefer to think guests.”

Before Megatron could retort, loud alarms klaxon-roared in the room, his hands automatically releasing the papers as they darted to cover his ears and Optimus Prime, worried, made sure to capture Megatron in his hand.

“Release me Prime!”!!! What kind of indignity is that?

Ignoring the decepticon leader, Optimus, about to truck-mode and steer a protesting Megatron out of there through the autobot’s huge garage entrance, stopped very still as he zoomed into the figure that just came through the human’s door and slammed it closed from the inside.

Soundwave, currently rested back against the door, wearing the passed out medic’s stolen clothes, held a hand through the green shirt against the stitched abdomen, breathing shallowly: it burned from the inside and the sprint the communications officer took as soon as the medical emergency alarms did sound didn’t help any.

Contemplating the fresh blood stains from the suture, Soundwave rested against the door and lowered down to the ground, closing both eyes and now protectively holding the tablet.

This flesh body was too weak and still damaged of whatever they did to its insides. Even having left the room unnoticed, they would discover Soundwave left and would give chase.

It would be persecution just like Polyhex, all over again, until the day Soundwave managed to mind-control Flatline so that the unscrupulous decepticon medic could build a new, exclusive male carrier-host shell, to which the communication’s officer sparkchamber with the purple, female spark pulsing within, was transferred, and from that day on, the communications officer joined the Gladiatorial Ring to begin a new life as Soundwave, the Gladiator.

Damned weak human shell, revealing the dreaded, hidden, true spark. Soundwave would never get to the symbionts like this.

Soundwave would never find Lord Megatron again.

Soundwave: failed.

Head resting against both knees now, Soundwave didn’t even flinch as the familiar whirr of autobot hydraulics echoed in the room and stopped a few metres away.

Optimus Prime, lowering his hand down, deposed Megatron right before the crouching woman.

Scowling at the Prime, Megatron briefly adjusted his military greens and stepped close, clasping both hands behind his back.

“Soundwave. Report.”

Chapter Text

Optimus Prime, having just witnessed Megatron interact normally with Soundwave and request a report , before the human soldiers indeed came by and took both of them out in cuffs, was currently deep in thought.

It was obvious Megatron knew , as much as it was obvious Megatron didn’t mind .

“A shanix for your thoughts, Optimus.”

Shaken out of his mind, Optimus shook his head as he stared back at Ratchet.

“I’ve just realised that I have segregated the autobot females including my no-longer-then-to-be-bonded Elita-One on Cybertron for their own safety in the War, only to find out the most competent, dangerous decepticon spy and hacker managed to keep hidden literally beneath our afts, and that Soundwave must be having a laugh now.”

Starscream, literally lounging on his bed at the infirmary, having managed to gather special privileges like the remote control of the TV, his nostrils no longer stuffed up with cotton, squinted as the Second Surgeon Dr Daniel Pitanguy was nearly pushed into the bed neighbouring his.

Groaning and rubbing the back of his head as the nurses who let him in left, the surgeon startled as soon as a grating voice filled his ears.

“You, there. What happened?”

Not that Starscream cared , but he was bored and that human looked interesting.

“That crazy woman ambushed me and knocked me out in the head! It’ll leave marks!!!”

He pointed to his scalp, as Starscream squinted.

“I can’t see anyone seeing any marks under all this shiny red hair.”

“I don’t care: I’ll know they are there.” he sulked “In thinking I saved her from those shards! I even expertly sutured her face. Ungrateful brute.”

Attention picked, Starscream stalled.

“Wait. You’re saying you operated on Soundwave?”

“And I deeply regret that I did! If I knew she would give me indelible marks, I...”

Literally jumping out of his bed, Starscream captured the human by his shirt, envying the full-body pyjamas he wore instead of the standard patient vest .

“You, Doctor Knocked-Out. You’ll tell me everything you learned about Soundwave. Now!”

Megatron, currently sitting on a standard chair, briefly contemplated the frowning Soundwave, sitting besides him in another standard chair, both cuffed one to the other.

“Soundwave: immensely displeased with current metamorphosis.”

Megatron nodded : he couldn’t agree more.

“Soundwave: will murder Wheeljack in his recharge. With cruelty.”

Megatron groaned: he couldn’t agree less.

“Granted, but not before he and Shockwave can conjure a way of reverting the change and returning us to the correct bodies. Until then, the autobot lives.”

Soundwave nodded, resigned. The silence stretched between them.

“Soundwave: accepted like this?”

Megatron raised an optic ridge.

“What do you mean? Of course I won’t refuse you just because you are turned human.”

“Soundwave: accepted even in female human shell?”

Megatron, taking a full second to process the question, inhaled deeply.

“You know very well that when I met you I had no idea that underneath your plating pulsed a purple spark.”

Soundwave, reminded, rested the free, non-cuffed right hand over the slightly protruding abdomen.

“Soundwave: never wanted to own a purple spark. Competent spy: did everything possible to hide. Moved into male shell. Erased all databanks cybertronwide. Entered gladiatorial ring. Hid all sparking cycles successfully: all creations disguised under pretext of symbiont bonds.”

And looked down at the ground. Megatron, fleeting a glance at the closed door, then at the mirrored wall from where he was sure they were being watched, spoke.

“Ravage, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had been turned into organic versions of themselves.”

Soundwave nodded, already expecting something like that, as Megatron fleeted a glance to the cuffed up wrist whose hand was almost touching his own, then shook his head, recalling the blotches.

“And, according to the Prime, Rumble and Frenzy are alive and well, inside, in what passes as a carrying cycle for humans.”

Soundwave, attention picked, glared back at Mega tron, about to ask further, the moment the room’s door opened and a dark skinned man entered the room with a folder.

“Codename Megatron and Soundwave. At rest. I am Agent Fowler, responsible for this Allied Facility and currently aware of your alien nature and particular predicament.”

Megatron scowled, as Soundwave kept a neutral face.

“Know that I am less than thrilled by your presence here, and I’m positive the feeling is mutual. The only reason why you are being kept alive is the fact Optimus Prime himself vouched for your continued existence and promised to rectify everything.”

Fowler walked around the two chairs, looking down and squinting at Soundwave, then turning to Megatron.

“My way of rectifying things would be executing you all right away, the day the Prime brought you in, while you are powerless and human, but Optimus believes in the sanctity of life, even decepticon lives, so for the sake of diplomacy, we will side with his wish, for now.”

Megatron snorted.

“As such, the already diminutive human staff of this facility will be moved out to make room for you and your subordinates to have a freer range of movement around the base, until your scientists can conjure up the reversal. Food, sanitation, clothing and shelter will continue being provided. Only essential medical staff and basic security will remain, and be made privy of the situation, and of who you really are.”

Megatron, defiant, kept glowering, as Soundwave remained eerily still, only the golden eyes following the agent as he stopped before the pregnant female.

“The main reason why we are leaving a medic on site is you, Codename Soundwave. You will have to undergo a series of examinations and scheduled appointments due to your condition. Do you have any questions?”

Soundwave’ s expression darkened: having always had Hook for physician, one of the few privy to the purple spark pulsing underneath, the communications officer did not want to have to take on a human to do the perfectionist constructicon’s job.

“Lord Megatron: Soundwave has request.”

Megatron fleeted a glance to his right, meeting the golden eyes, giving a single nod, as Soundwave turned to Fowler.

“Soundwave: requests to be assisted by decepticon medic Hook during carrying cycle.”

F owler darted his widened eyes to the speaking human, and couldn’t help glancing down the ill-concealed belly showing underneath the blood-stained green shirt.

“I don’t think your medic has any useful knowledge on humans to properly help. What he’s going to do? Use a wrench on you when it’s due?”

Megatron glowered at Fowler, then, as Soundwave insisted, unaffected by provocation.

“Hook: competent and perfectionist. Perfectly capable of learning on how to assist Soundwave as human.”

Fowler, annoyed, turned on his heels.

“I will have our medic instruct yours as soon as possible. For now, the soldiers will come by to take you two into solitary detention.”

A nd left the room, stomping and slamming the door.

Chapter Text

Prowl nearly lunged against Shockwave the instant the purple cyclops strolled inside the main living area of the base, as Jazz held him by an arm.

“Chill’out, m’a mech. I’ll do it.”

Shockwave walked past them and just plain grabbed an energon cube from the dispenser, sitting on a huge crate on a corner and fitting his straw with a flexible end into its lid, setting it up to drain the energon from inside, slowly.

Prowl, barely contained by Jazz, growled and stomped out of site, fuming, as the saboteur scooted close to the scientist, pulling a crate too and sitting over it, giving him a too wide smirk and crossing his legs one over the other, mocking a sultry pose.

After minutes of Shockwave silently ignoring him, understanding Shockwave was not going to offer a single reaction, Jazz addressed him at last.

“So. Shockers. What did’ya think of seeing ol’Megs in that human body? Shocked??”

Not caring to face the saboteur, Shockwave’s vocoded voice spoke.

“I am indifferent to how Lord Megatron looks like, Autobot Spy and Saboteur Jazz.”

Jazz rolled his optics.

“Oh, sure. Ass long as it’s your Meggy delivering, ya just suck it up. Ops. No mouthplates. Sorry. Bet Sounders sucks it up better than ya.”

Slowly turning his single yellow optic towards the saboteur, Shockwave droned.

“My personal preference for the superior energy field of the blue spark is irrelevant to the decepticon cause and needs not to be discussed, since I would never be able to completely fulfil Soundwave’s role. Due to owning a blue spark myself, I cannot provide sparked creations via natural cybertronian processes mingling mine and My Lord’s spark to further the Decepticon cause like Soundwave and her purple spark could.”

Jazz, shaken out of his teasing, gaped.

“Wait. Ya always knew???”

Shockwave started droning a not-answer.

“Normal carrier-hosts have to hunt for potential symbionts either among the cybertronian wildlife or just plain force-bond bipedal mechs and convert them into cassette frames like it happened to Ratbat.”

Jazz, recalling Blaster, absently nodded.

“Every single symbiont just appeared one at a time, except obviously for the twins – I will get there – after a very suspiciously regular interval of a hundred centuries in between each of them, during which Soundwave went through a cyclical pattern of admittedly discreet behavioural change that comprised of periods of purged tanks, inability to retain energon, visits to Hook’s medbay, followed by increased fuel consumption, in a crescendo, until suddenly everything went back to default levels and in a few more centuries the cycle started again. After the first three cycles, I logically concluded the symbionts were being sparked by Soundwave every single time, and thus he had to be originally a purple-sparked mech, namely the one whose spark can kindle with sparkmerge, unlike the regular blue sparks, who cannot.”

Jazz, not willing to admit, had to agree Shockwave’s observations were very logical, and remained quiet, waiting for more.

“Soundwave then entered what I called the Fourth Cycle, or the cycle of the twins.”

“Da little wreckers.”

“Indeed. I have observed Soundwave enough and charted the officer’s energon consumption, extrapolating a formula just to conclude through calculation that this time instead of one, there would be probably two sparks in the making, charting the data in an encrypted file and waiting for the predictable outcome.”

Shockwave kept droning, as Optimus Prime and Ratchet arrived in the room, brought in by a very furious Prowl, who grumbled something on having to flip a few tables otherwise he would kill him and left.

“As such, after the same usual amount of centuries took place, I finally confirmed my suspicions the day I saw the two wreckers, as you pointed out, bringing havoc around the ship. I closed the file after the fourth event. I was now absolutely convinced that Soundwave had a kindling, purple spark pulsing underneath.”

Ratchet also pulled a crate and sat close.

“I can’t believe you would just close the file!” Ratchet spat “You never completely leave your toys!!”

“Logically, Chief Medical Officer.”

Shockwave replied, uncaring to the fact he had by now amassed a small audience, as the Prime also pulled a crate to sit by, and kept droning.

“Soundwave remained a scientific obsession for me, and I often indulged observing from afar and taking scientific notes. Coincidentally or not, Soundwave stopped making symbionts after the fourth event. A whole million years passed without a single new tapeling. I concluded the double sparking event took a toll in the officer’s systems and to make sure such event would not take place again, for it would tax the productivity and endanger the Cause, I concluded I needed access to a verifiable number of purple sparks, for me to have enough subjects to begin creating failsafe anti-sparking protocols.”

“I have the feeling I really don’t want to know.” whispered the Prime.

Ignoring him, Shockwave continued.

“As such, after each modification of the protocols and installing them in the captured female autobots, I would make sure to sparkmerge with each of them.”

Ratchet nearly choked on his own fuels, as Optimus Prime, outraged, EM-field flaring wide, protested.

“...but this is rape!!”

“...and ya don’even like females, mech.” Jazz glumly recalled.

Ignoring his audience’s beliefs, Shockwave merely nodded at their logical conclusions.

“A necessary sacrifice for Science.”

Ratchet then snapped.

“So that’s why you were obsessed in capturing female autobots and experimenting on their sparks!!!”

Shockwave tilted his head, squinting his optic.

“Chief Medical Officer. My work with the female’s purple sparks benefited immensely my subsequent discoveries and the Decepticon Cause, to the point I have devised ten parallel projects just because of it, including the seeker squadron. Having followed my scientific drive to confirm my suspicions on Soundwave provided me enough females under stasis, many carcasses and purple sparks to last a lifetime.”

Optimus facepalmed, as Jazz shook his head and Ratchet glowered, standing up from his crate and stomping towards the cyclops.

“You are saying you almost extinguished all the females of the planet, making us completely dependent on the Matrix for reproduction, just because of your scientific curiosity???”

Shockwave, unaffected by the display, droned further.

“It was a scientifically relevant curiosity. Each time the anti-sparking protocol program failed and resulted in a newspark I made sure they would reach their full development by continuing to sacrifice my own preferences by sparkmerging with the prospective carrier, admittedly a tasteless duty, then once ready, I stored each creation in stasis chambers for later use in my laboratory experiments.”

Optimus Prime was by now too shocked to care showing his outrage, Jazz for once not knowing what to do as Ratchet stuttered.

“You. You, mister I hate all the female autobots. Your own creations.”

Shockwave nodded.

“One from each different creator, ensuring spark variability to the species, logically. I never repeated the subject once separation of newspark from their purple-sparked carrier was done. It would not be logical.”

Optimus blinked stupidly as Ratchet snapped.

“Primus, you kept a whole harem????”

Shockwave ignored further his audience and continued.

“I am satisfied that my sacrifice of sparkmerging with purple female sparks bore fruit. All my creations resulted in valuable assets to the Cause. Acid Storm, Sunstorm, Ion Storm, Nova Storm, Sandstorm, Hotlink, Red Wing, Wheezing Arrow, Nacelle, Bitstream and Slipstream. I chose all names myself.”

Now Jazz snapped.

“Wait! Wasn’t Sunstorm the Screamer’s clone??”

Shockwave dipped his head in a single nod.

“Spy and saboteur Jazz. I am satisfied to see your Intel indeed captured the fake report I sent.” the cyclops eyed every single autobot surrounding him “Starscream’s flightform blueprints were the most logical choice for the production of a squadron of efficient flight frames, so I could pass off the seeker squadron as clones.”

He then turned to face Ratchet.

“Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. To your knowledge, every single time a spark was created, proving the program failed, I would modify the program again, and try again, and again, until I finally reached a p of less than 0,001 and could finally deem the protocols safe enough for Soundwave.”

Ratchet scowled at the cyclops, who merely continued.

“There was an inherent problem in that, however. I could not come to Soundwave and simply offer the program, so I had to use my brilliance once more and my own many spying and hacking skills to invade the autobot net and install it there, added to the fake historical fact that Solus Prime had comprised the protocols for all her cybertronian physical representatives, namely the 13rd part of the population, for them to install and thus avoid unwanted sparking due to by rape during the Great War.”

Jazz, now completely furious that his spying skills had been totally surpassed, left the room stomping, after Prowl.

Optimus Prime, mind spinning lightly at so much information, not missing the irony that Shockwave raping female sparks created the anti-sparking protocols meant to avoid getting sparked by rape, exhaled, very tired.

“From there on, the outcome was logical. I had put on a trigger in the net to warn me to when a decepticon caught the files, and it registered that Soundwave’s creations themselves infiltrated the Autobot’s Historical Registry, downloading through Laserbeak the anti-sparking protocols, and the fake historical facts, and finally I considered this part of the experiment done, gathering one more evidence to the fact that Soundwave owned a swirling purple spark beating underneath.”

Beyond angry, Ratchet stomped closer to the scientist, pointing a finger to his single optic.

“I can’t believe Soundwave fooled everyone and just plain walked around exhibiting that very blue spark under the tapedeck glass!!!”

Shockwave, having by now finished draining his energon cube, set it aside, collected and ignoring the medic’s outburst.

“Interesting that you mentioned it, Chief Medical Officer.”

Primus, he’s not done.

Taken aback, Ratchet sat back on his own crate.

“Understandably, since I lacked the hard evidence, I remained scientifically curious. After millennia observing and taking captured visual feed and applying calculations on the hue and reflection of outer images reflected by Soundwave’s chestplate tapedeck cyberglass with the appropriate lightning, I concluded there must have been colour filters applied. Scientifically proving my suspicions turned out a fascinating challenge.”

Optimus exchanged a glare with Ratchet , exasperated, as Shockwave kept droning.

“Since I could not come across a single sample of any shattered glass from the tapedeck, for Soundwave’s sparked creations made absolutely sure there would never be a single shard left to be found, all the glass always being recycled by Hook under secrecy, I had to develop a spectophotometric ray that could read the minerals and chemical compounds mingled into the glass’ composition, ensuring myself safely, from a distance, the readings I needed to reproduce the special cyberglass. I was enthralled to confirm it specifically filtered for a female spark’s colour and shading, making it to all effects visually resemble the male spark.”

Both autobots nodded, meekly.

“I then devised the version of the cyberglass meant to reverse the filtering effect live, installing it in a surveillance drone: it took pictures and films from Soundwave and here in my Lab, I finally had the physical evidence of the purple spark beating behind the deck. Logically, I destroyed the glass, the drone and the formula afterwards, and all data provided, making sure to keep Soundwave under secrecy: I had no intention of losing such a fascinating subject.”

Shockwave then stood up, trying to leave the room, as Optimus stared shocked at Ratchet, who lunged his arm against the retreating mech and actually touched his arm, trying to get him not to leave, as Shockwave stopped and eerily looked down at their point of contact.

“I have no interest whatsoever in your touch, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. No matter my preferences being wired into the blue-sparked, non-kindling, so called male representatives of the species, they do not extend a single inch to you. I expect you to have a very logical reason to have touched me, and to be still doing it.”

“Is that all of it??? You practically extinguished the females, managed to maintain a harem and produce more sparked creations than Soundwave herself, hacked the autobot files, and when you obtained the final evidence of Soundwave’s hidden spark, you just stopped?? Where’s the rest of the story??”

Shockwave glared at Ratchet’s hand until he released hid arm, then turned his single eye to both Optimus and the medic, droning.

“There is no rest of the story. My scientific curiosity was done. I decided not exposing Soundwave would be the most logical course of action.”

“But, but.. why?” asked the Prime.

“Autobot Leader and Commander Optimus Prime. The decepticon cause would have benefited nothing. Soundwave always did impeccable work even while being constantly sparked. I have deep respect for mecha that simply go and do their work without petty sentiments and with efficiency.”

Dipping his head in a nod, Shockwave merely left the room, abandoning the empty energon cube on the ground besides the two flummoxed autobots.

Chapter Text

Soundwave was shown a cell containing a single bed with bedclothes and a pillow, one toilet, a sink, and a change of clean clothes.

“News spread fast. Everyone already knows you’re dangerous.” said the male warden “Get in and behave. The nurse will come shortly to bring you your post-surgery meal.”

Soundwave, leering at the tone of voice, ignored him and stepped into the cell, still wearing the bloodstained clothes, taking note of the spartan, minimal features, and the lack of a privacy curtain.

“Soundwave: requires privacy to change.”

The warden smirked, locking Soundwave in.

“No such luck, girl. I’ve been ordered not to take my eyes away from you, and I plan to do exactly that. You may begin changing anytime.” he smirked.

Head dipping in a single nod then, watching the warden position himself with his back lounging against the far wall, folding arms and facing the cell, Soundwave unceremoniously placed the clothes on the bed over the pillow, deciding not to provoke him for now.

As far as the communications officer understood, at some point most of the security would be taken out of the base and they would be given freer range of movement: Soundwave was fairly sure there would be plenty of time and private opportunity to take these dirty things out in the future.

Soundwave: patient. Can perfectly wait.

Taking on the bedcovers and laying down, Soundwave covered up and remained still, back against the wall, ready to plunge and attack should anyone decide to come too close, barely waiting until there would be permission to see the symbionts and Lord Megatron, again.

Megatron, having been literally thrown into solitary detention, rose from the ground and cursed these weak human bodies for having unprotected pain sensors all over its surface, getting to the hard, cold wall-mounted bed, taking note on the lack of covers, unlike those that they had been provided on the other, collective room.

“Your ration is already at the table.”

Megatron, taking a shameful amount of time, spared a glance at the covered up thing in the table, frowning as the warden spoke from the outside.

“I suggest you eat it before it gets worse.”

As Megatron once more glowered at the covered plate, the Warden left, and the decepticon was never more glad for small mercies: inspecting it, poking it with the spoon provided, he made sure it wasn’t alive, then let the goo drip once at the table and on the ground, carefully observing if it wouldn’t be corrosive or anything.

Finally dipping a finger at the lukewarm goo, concluding it couldn’t dissolve or kill him, he recalled on how organics fuel, remembering the water and crackers they were told to eat earlier in the collective cell he and his decepticons had been placed at, and tried raising the spoon up, taking a tiny amount into his intake.

Biting with more force than needed the spoon, Megatron made a mess of the goo, now dribbled down his chin and into his green clothes, cursing and immediately trying to scoop it back in the spoon, finally leading the thing back in mouth and grimacing as he swallowed, his only current happy thought being the hope that this dreadful condition would be reversed and he would get his revenge on the autobots very, very soon.

Filtering out the gory details of the surgery, Starscream, slightly more acquainted with organics than the regular cybertronian, nodded mildly disgusted at the description as Dr. Daniel finished his informal surgical report, finally taking his time to ask the seeker back.

“So, Starscream, or whatever-is-your-real-name. Are you the culprit??”

Starscream, slightly outraged at the fact Soundwave apparently deceived every single cybertronian by effectively displaying a pulsing blue spark underneath the tapedeck glass, turned to the red haired medic and spat.

“Culprit of what?”

Dr. Daniel outlined the shape of a pregnant belly before his own, as if it were obvious, as Starscream squinted.

“What purpose serves that gesture?”

Rolling his eyes, Daniel repeated the gesture, slowly.

“She’s pregnant.” he snorted “Even though, much like a praying mantis in heat, I believe she actually beheaded the unlucky father for sustenance.”

Starscream, making the mental image of an insecticon queen consuming the prospective sire with her cheliceare once she was done mating, disgusted at the humans for having equally primitive means of reproduction, unlike the cybertronian’s superior sparkmerging, finally understood the analogy.

“Are you telling me there’s a tiny human… inside?”

Starscream waved a hand at the general direction of Daniel’s lower abdomen, where the medic previously demonstrated the presence of a bump.

“Correction.” Daniel smirked “There’s two of them.”

“Primus!” he slapped his own forehead, realisation kicking in “Rumble and Frenzy!!”

Daniel, smirking, nodded, clasping a hand on the Screamer’s left shoulder.

“Congratulations then, surviving daddy. So cute. They even have nicknames already.”

Daniel winked. Starscream widened his eyes and instantly swatted Daniel’s hand out of his shoulder.

“No! You’re getting it wrong! I have nothing to do with that!!! I have never even came close to the tapeglitch!!!” he snapped “Imagine that! Me, the Prince of Vos, sparkmerging with the stiff and formal uncharismatic bore!”

The medic, briefly pondering that this man had to be undergoing a schizophrenic attack, to the point of believing he was royalty of such fictional place, gave up on asking what sparkmerging would be, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to question the insane, just going along and humouring the madman.

“If you say so… well, no one in their right mind should nail a woman capable of beating them unconscious afterwards, but apparently someone did.”

Starscream snorted: now that he put the situation in perspective, it wasn’t so difficult anymore to know who actually did it.

At the cell where most of the decepticons were by now locked, a different kind of conversation was underway.

“I think they are executing us one by one.” dourly stated Skywarp.

The decepticons shared very worried glances in the semi-darkened room.

“I mean, they already took away the command trine.” Skywarp fidgeted with his hands “Who do you think will be next, TeeCee?”

Thundercracker shook his head.

“Megatron did say Commander Shockwave would be coming.” spoke a worried Scavenger “Does it mean he was taken out of commission too?”

Glum silence followed for three seconds. Finally, nudged by Blitzwing, Astrotrain spoke.

“Megatron has fallen: Starscream has fallen. Soundwave has fallen. Shockwave has fallen! I, Astrotrain, now shall lead the decepticons!!!”

Before he could speak further, he and Blitzwing were immediately mobbed by the constructicons, except for Hook, arms folded watching the spectacle and smirking, very, very glad for once he wouldn’t need to fix anyone once the fight was done, as Skywarp started rooting for the gestalt group and Thundercracker just facepalmed.

“Codename Soundwave?”

Blinking awake and sitting on the bunk bed, holding the bedcovers against both legs, Soundwave glared at the figure dressed in white holding a kind of covered tray, standing outside the cell: by the looks of it, it was probably the nurse with the so called meal.

Watching the woman order the warden to open the cell up, Soundwave followed with eyes only the woman walk in as the warden locked the cell back, then depose the tray on the table, immediately getting close and unceremoniously inspecting the by now dried blood on…

“Why haven’t you changed your clothes? A pregnant woman shouldn’t stay filthy!”

Soundwave squinted, fleeting a glower to the warden and deciding to play the card.

“Soundwave: demanded privacy. Not granted.”

The nurse nodded, turning to the warden.

“You already locked me inside with her. Leave us for a couple of minutes, she needs to get these things out. It’s an order.”

The warden, snorting and recalling the nurse has ranked higher than himself, saluted and did, the nurse huffing as he went away, then finally turning back to the communication’s officer and taking the clean clothes out of the bundle they were into, offering them.

Soundwave, staring between the clothes and the nurse, spoke.

“Requires privacy.”

The nurse shook her head.

“Not from me. Take these out. Here, let me help.”

Sighing, Soundwave stood up, looking slightly up to meet her gaze and getting ordered to raise both arms up, as the nurse started pulling the green shirt up, talking all along.

“Soundwave. I am Second Lieutenant Nurse June Darby and I have been made privy to your condition of cybertronianturned human.”

Attention picked, Soundwave darted the golden eyes to her, feeling the chilled air in the room prickling on the skin as the bloodstained shirt was discarded on the ground.

“Agent Fowler designated me as part of the medical staff that will remain with you once the base is emptied.” she nudged the sides of the ill-fitting pants, lowering them down the decepticon’s legs and guiding Soundwave’s feet out, one by one “Tomorrow, once you’re free to move out of the solitary confinement, I’ll guide you through your first bath and these sutures will be properly cleaned.”

Taking the clean clothes from the bundle, the nurse shook a kind of long, large shirt in the air, contemplated by the stark naked Soundwave standing up in the middle of the cell, belly protruding under the navel, enough to form a distinct bump.

Finding it interesting that this woman might be so trusting to the point of dismissing security, considering how Soundwave had previously attacked that medic, specially because she already knew what they truly were, the communication’s officer couldn’t help a smirk, before getting ordered to lift the arms again and having the long shirt slipped past them, down, covering up the whole body until the knees.

“A dress is more comfortable to your condition.” she gave a light pat over the bump, twice “The twins will thank you for not squeezing yourself in pants.”

Soundwave, looking down the bump, glared at the nurse’s own abdomen, looking for one as well and finding none.

“Query: Soundwave, sparked. Pregnant.” Soundwave deliberately placed a hand into the bump “Presumption: twins housed inside bump. Correct?”

The nurse took some time to process the odd speech pattern, finally nodding.

“I am aware you are new to this whole thing. For now it suffices to you that they are there. More info will be provided later. Now, I have brought the special post-surgery meal. Who wants to learn how to eat?”

Chapter Text

Optimus Prime, under the desert’s sunrise, watched with a mix of dread and relief the base’s human staff coming out and away from the desert they were at, the jeeps and trucks taking most of the vulnerable men and women away from the decepticons as only a selected few remained behind.

Agent Fowler, commander of the operation, was one of them, and was currently debriefing his staff, one by one.

“At rest, Lieutenant. You had been one of the few selected to stay behind in this operation.”

“Selected. You mean doomed.”

Fowler glowered at the medic’s lack of formality, and Daniel sighed: no such luxury as having a choice: this was military and they couldn’t afford the pleasure of getting away from an unpleasant job.

“First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy. Need I remind you about who paid your studies?”

The surgeon sagged. Uncle Sam did, and he had to work a few more years before his debt was done.

“No, Sir.”

“Very well. This will be the most important mission you ever received. Everything you ever thought about Life will change after this. Make sure to read it all. These people we are housing here at the Autobot’s request are very dangerous and no detail should be overlooked.”

He handed the surgeon a folder and the tablet he took from Soundwave back, as Daniel meekly received them, sighing and flipping the pages absently, skimming through the report detachedly, until his eyes zoomed in and both pupils went very wide.

“...evil, giant robots codenamed Decepticons were turned human via an obscure, exploding, alien plot device????”

Fowler nodded, pinching his nosebridge: he had gone through the same explanation with at least five other staff members, and all of them reacted exactly the same way.

“What kind of fluke is that??? Are you saying Dr Bowman and I operated on a giant robot magically turned into a pregnant human female?”

“Technologically turned human. The autobot’s inventor and engineer made a bomb that caused this.”

Daniel threw the papers on the ground.

“Why isn’t Dr Bowman here instead of me?? He’s as much a surgeon as I am, and a Lieutenant-Captain nonetheless! Higher rank, higher responsibility, right?”

He stared at his superior officer, hopeful. Fowler rolled his eyes.

“Doctor David Bowman has a wife and two kids waiting home.” Fowler tried summing up all the patience he didn’t have “Doctor Daniel, did you fully understand that the decepticons are housed here in stand-by until the autobots can revert them back into their true selves, and that the instant they get their robotic selves back, we fully expect them to strike back and...”

Daniel zoned out the end of the speech, and inwardly cursed his lack of luck: he knew he should have married that puerto - rican brunette who proposed him a fake marriage last year just for her to get a green card.

“...are we understood, officer?”

“...basically that means this is a suicidal mission and I’m going to die a gruesome, lonely and awful death.” he sagged.

Fowler glumly nodded, continuing to speak.

“By the way, Doctor. You’re getting a student. Codename Hook, their medic, will be taken to your presence shortly after you first visit the future mommy. I expect you will not mind.”

Fowler, watching quite amused the glare he received back, dipped his head in a nod, saluted and left the room.

Soundwave, having received basic instructions on how to function as a pregnant human, sutures cleaned, skin brushed and hair washed and tied in a ponytail by Nurse Darby herself when she taught the decepticon how to take a proper shower, currently sat on a regular single bed in a semi-private suite meant for officers, wearing once again a loose dress ,bare feet dangling from the side, amused.

Soundwave: receiving special care.

Taking notes on how the nurse emphasised the need to not bring any kind of unneeded trauma to the bump, Soundwave expertly understood that the estate of pregnancy was important enough for the humans to grant the carrier some degree of immunity, and couldn’t help smiling at the privilege of a room with private access to the human version of washracks.

Soundwave: constantly leaking. Must stay close to hygienic facilities.

Barely waiting the moment they would call up for the so expected meeting with the symbionts and Lord Megatron, Soundwave glared at the slowly opening door, a certain red head peeking from the open slit.

Inwardly smirking at the memory of the doctor, Soundwave, head dipped in a single nod, stood silently as Doctor Daniel stepped in, tablet in hands and a grumbling, reluctant, yet resigned armed soldier in tow.

The fact he was ordered to assume the medical care of this lunatic didn’t mean he had to sacrifice his own security, afterall.

Clearing his throat and straightening his back, Daniel, glaring at the eerily still, expressionless and silent woman, spoke.

“Codename Soundwave. I am First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy, and I have been designated your primary and antenatal care physician. For the duration of your predicament you will be treated like any woman in your condition should, having the same exams and medications prescribed, and procedures taken to ensure the safety of the unborn foetuses.”

Soundwave stood up, rigidly, as Daniel took from his coat three flasks full of pills, showing first the copper-coloured ones, then the yellow, and finally the white ones.

“You will take one daily pill of ferrous sulphate to prevent anaemia, folic acid to ensure the correct brain development and a multivitamin supplement for greater measure. Any questions?”

Soundwave had loads of questions: all of them vanished the instant the pair of golden eyes darted towards Daniel’s tablet, making Soundwave step ahead twice, extending a hand, palms up, irises wide.

“Soundwave: requests datapad.”

Daniel, stepping back twice at the approaching woman, nearly threw himself at the soldier standing guard behind him.

“What? No way.”

Soundwave, stopping, remained with the hand in supine position.

“Soundwave: politely requests datapad.”

“This is federal property.”

The medic gave a not-answer and stared at the still hand, swallowing dry at the woman’s proximity and inching closer to the equally worried soldier supposed to protect him, but currently stepping back as well: when earlier Daniel asked him to come in, he had just been debriefed and was shocked to learn evil robots were turned into humans and didn’t like to know he was supposed to help protect the base against them.

Unflinching however, ignoring their inner struggle, Soundwave insisted.

“Soundwave: apologises for hitting doctor and stealing clothes earlier.”

Momentarily taken aback, Daniel blinked, as Soundwave took the lack of reaction as a good sign and stepped closer.

“Soundwave: new to the whole experience. Datapad: required for gathering information.”

Daniel blinked, right eye twitching as Soundwave gave one more step ahead and the medic finally snapped.

“Fine!! You’re forgiven!! It’s yours!! Just stop looking at me like this!!”

He quickly jolted the tablet into the waiting hand and immediately scurried out of the room pulling the unresisting soldier along, as Soundwave, eyes darting to the tablet and a slow smirk forming in face, instantly started exploring the device.

Hook stood awake the whole night, cursing his lack of luck.

Apparently, not knowing anything about humans didn’t prevent his gestalt of coming to him for help.

“Who told you to go there and fight? Seeing Starscream bleed wasn’t enough of a clue that these shells are weak? Dimwitted light-bulb. Hold still.”

Scavenger whined as Hook inspected his swollen, purple left eye, prying it open to meet the bright green iris staring right at him.

“Seeing me? Yes? Fine, optic not damaged then. Apparently this is cosmetic. Now get back into bed.”

Scavenger meekly nodded at the fantastic bedside manners, briefly contemplating Mixmaster idly massaging his own also purplish and swollen jaw, and finally hugged Hook for a full second before getting shoved away with a grunt.

Having seen each of his gestaltmates, and having dutifully ignored both Astrotrain and Blitzwing, each sulking on a different corner with their own wounds, he sat back at the sofa, right besides Scrapper, who was staring at nowhere and would occasionally lick his split lip.

“I can understand Bonecrusher barging in. But you?? I would imagine that being our leader you’d have a bit more sense than the others.”

Scrapper gave him a dirty look, about to exert his authority as leader of the gestalt, the moment the room’s door came open and no one less than Agent Fowler stepped in.

Briefly contemplating the mess of the decepticons sporting bruises and raising his eyebrow, deciding he didn’t want to know, he merely stood his ground, hands clasped on his back, scanning the room for the prowling panther and the perched up vultures over the rail of one of the top bunk beds.

Before he could speak, however, Scavenger spoke.

“Which of us will be next?”

Blinking, Fowler glared.

“What?”

“Aren’t you taking us away one by one for execution?”

Fowler blinked and the decepticons stared. Finally, he shook his head.

“You’re here under the custody of Optimus Prime. No one is getting executed.”

As they visibly relaxed, Agent Fowler continued.

“I am here to inform you that this base has been cleared of non-essential human staff and is from now on open for your use. I advise that you maintain good behaviour. Now everyone stand up in line before me. I’m taking you to your leader Megatron.”

Ravage, lazily napping over a top bunk bed, blinked his eyes open at the mention of his master , jumping down and walking before the Agent, just plain sitting on his hindquarters, glaring up, the two vultures landing right behind, Buzzsaw ruffling his feathers as both hopp ed after their older sibling.

Raising his eyebrow and doing his best to not snap at the pets, Fowler cleared his throat.

“...right. One by one, in line, after them if you may. Now!”

Chapter Text

Megatron, brought already un-cuffed to Agent Fowler’s presence out of the solitary reclusion cell, squinted as the man spoke.

“Your men had already been taken to the showers earlier, and should be waiting for you in the mess hall, as soon as you make yourself presentable.”

Looking down his human self briefly, Megatron leered.

“I’m trapped in flesh. I don’t think I can get presentable.”

Fowler, now smirking, just signalled for the soldier to steer Megatron to a side room, speaking.

“On the contrary. There is always room for improvement.”

With a mocking flourish, Fowler presented Megatron the row of five ceiling-mounted collective showers.

Looking up the pipes in the ceiling, Megatron followed with his eyes Agent Fowler walk towards one of the showers and quickly turn a wall-mounted knob counter-clockwise, cold water flowing out of it.

“A brief lesson in organics for you, Megatron.” he threw a bar of soap in the decepticon’s hands “As cybertronians you might only need to clean if you actually get down dirty, but trust me. If you don’t wash, preferably daily, as a human, oils from skin will go rancid and you’ll start to stink.”

Megatron gave his own skin a disgusted look, as Fowler continued.

“You may begin anytime. Unfortunately your troops used up all the hot water. My soldier will remain with you during the ordeal, in case you need help.”

The soldier, one of the few selected to stay behind and aware of who these men really were, widened his eyes and held his rifle close at being volunteered, green eyes going wide, as the agent pointed to a bundle over the bench in the far side of the room.

“After washing, dry yourself and dress in clean clothes.”

As Megatron glowered, Fowler smirked and finally left the room: the tyrant, looking down the bar of soap for a second, then at the apparently worried soldier, instantly growled the man away.

“Stay your distance, human. I don’t need a fleshling to sparksit me.”

And just plain started taking the uniform away, throwing it on the ground and stomping stark naked to the open shower, diving under the freezing water, unable to avoid shuddering, hating the sensitivity of this weak body, but determined to make tnings work: he wouldn’t be defeated by his own human shell in something as basic as a wash!

Starscream, already with a new change of clothes, very glad to be out of the patient’s gown open in the back, and currently sitting in the mess hall on the company of his untouched plate of goo , watched with amusement the line of decepticons coming from the showers, Skywarp leaving the line in a jolt and nearly teleporting into his lap, hugging him.

“Screamer! So it’s true! They aren’t executing us!”

“Don’t call me that, you imbecile!” he pushed Skywarp away “Of course they aren’t! I’m here! Now. Where’s our idiotic leader? Did he actually hit each of them? I hope they had killed him in return!”

“What?” he turned to briefly contemplate the constructicons selecting one table of eight seats and filling it “Oh, no, we thought the squishies were taking us away for execution one by one and that the high command was already gone, so Astrotrain tried to make a grab for leadership.”

“I… see.” he briefly contemplated the ex-triplechangers sulking on their own into a separate table.

“You can see how well that went.” spoke Thundercracker, approaching and politely guiding Skywarp to a seat of his own, then sitting in another himself “Now, Starscream. Any news on Megatron or Soundwave? What if they had been executed and you’re now our leader?”

Starscream snorted.

“No such luck for me. Trust me, Megatron would rather rise from the dead instead of allowing me to take my rightful place as decepticon leader!”

Daniel Pitanguy, First-Lieutenant and Second Surgeon, was currently willing his heartbeat to slow down through wish alone, hiding in a far corridor near the storage area.

“I’m not fit for this. I’ll defect, leave the country, disappear with my old ID and start an underground plastic surgery business. People will flock to me to get a boob job and a bubble butt.”

The soldier he dragged along, a tall, brawny, tanned, golden- brown-eyed man, glumly nodded.

“When you leave, count me in. In thinking I joined because I wanted to be in the action and get officially allowed to shoot and break things.”

He clutched against the rifle, as the medic briefly contemplated him and passed a hand through his shiny red hair, extend ing another in a handshake.

“By the way. I believe we haven’t been introduced. First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy, MD, Second-Surgeon.”

The soldier, still clutching against the rifle, stared at the open hand for two full seconds before comprehension kicked in.

“Oh. Sorry.” he held the rifle with his left hand and captured the medic’s hand on his own “Leonard Brock, dumb cannon-fodder and foot soldier.”

Leonard showed the soldier insignia on his left shoulder, as Daniel nodded, and they finally let go of their point of contact, silence stretching, until the other man spoke.

“What if these decepticons have alien germs or something? What if we are part of a sinister experiment like in the movies?”

Raising his eyebrow and actually snorting, Daniel patted once the taller man’s shoulder.

“Don’t be that paranoid. Freaky accident, sure, but actually a ploy to experiment on us? To what purpose? Don’t you think those giant robots have better things to do? I would have if I were one.”

As Leonard actually imagined for a second the red-haired man turning into a giant, red-plated robot, he immediately shook the notion away, watching the doctor take the hand out of his shoulder and walk away, the white coat slowly flowing with each step on his back.

Chapter Text

Jolted out of the wonderful world of wireless internet, Soundwave barely had time to stare up.

Instantly mobbed by an overly affectionate panther, Soundwave clutched Ravage in a bear-hug, the big cat immediately beginning to growl a purr and uncomfortably not-fitting on his master’s lap, as he rubbed his face against Soundwave’s chin and cheeks, golden eyes closed, in bliss.

Soundwave, wanting to just pick Ravage, possessively fold him into a tiny mass-displaced ball and throw him inside, never letting go, forever close to the spark, looked up to both avians, perched atop the end of the bed, head dipping in a nod at them.

“Cohort: complete. Rumble and Frenzy: trapped inside.”

Soundwave placed a hand in the bump, Ravage following the motion with his eyes, coming close and immediately rubbing the sides of his face against it, slowly, as Laserbeak ruffled her wings, tilting her head right and Buzzsaw started cleaning his own feathers, pretending to ignore the display and the fact he was waiting for his own turn with carrier.

Having watched the encounter from the half-open door, Nurse June Darby pursed her lips as she silently left the room.

She had been more than sufficiently debriefed on the true nature of these decepticons: they were ruthless, evil, wanted to steal all of Earth’s energy for themselves, extinguishing the humans as species and enslaving the autobots in the process, and should have been executed on spot as soon as they were first brought in.

Being a mother herself, her only son Jack currently deployed far and away in Iraq (a high-ranked Officer nonetheless, but on Iraq the same), she could understand the pain. Even knowing Soundwave was Megatron’s most loyal officer, cold and emotionless enough to the point of employing one’s own children in the effort of War, June Darby couldn’t help feeling some degree of empathy, even if the telepath didn’t deserve any as far as everyone could tell.

Megatron, arriving at the mess hall, squinted at each of his decepticons making the most pitiful efforts they could just to get used to eat.

Not going to confess his own shortcomings, he made sure to get satisfaction whenever he could, going in a beeline right to Starscream’s trine.

Startling as Lord Megatron made sure to clasp with force on his left shoulder, Starscream, the only seeker actually managing to eat without making a mess of himself until then, nearly squawked as he dropped the whole plate of goo on the ground, barely missing his own leg and boots.

Skywarp busted in laughter, goo literally shooting out of his nostrils and nearly drowning him, as Thundercracker couldn’t help sniggering at the now screeching second in command, who stood up and immediately started furiously poking Megatron’s chest.

“Curse you, Mighty Megatron! Why won’t you just offline??”

“You would love that, wouldn’t you, little glitch?” he swatted the seeker’s hand away “How have you fared in the human medbay?” He suddenly tweaked Starscream’s nose, earning himself a yelp. “I thought so.”

Walking past the seeker trine, with Skywarp still cracking his ass out laughing, Megatron walked to the Constructicons, squinting at the six dark-haired, green eyed men.

How was he supposed to differentiate them? They all look practically the same!

Shrugging, he just plain grabbed the closest of them by the arm.

“Hook?”

The green eyed man yelped and stared in confusion at his leader, as Scrapper shook his head, licking once his split lip and pointing to the only one of them not sporting bruises.

“This one you got is Longhaul. Hook is there.”

Megatron, groaning, let the constructicon go and approached his faithful medic, just plain pulling him out of the table through a shoulder, leading him away until he sat the constructicon medic on the farthest possible table, instantly seating as well and matter-of-factly stating:

“You will assist Soundwave in the current sparking cycle.”

Actually choking and starting to cough, Hook widened his eyes, hoarsening his way through the next phrase.

“Did by any means Solus Prime’s anti-sparking protocols fail?”

Megatron shook his head: all the decepticons were by now trying to overhear and he lowered even more his voice.

“Rumble and Frenzy were trapped inside when the bomb was set. I guess whatever it is the way it works, it saw fit converting the twins into the human version of unreleased sparklets.”

Hook nodded, in dismay.

“...I’m afraid I don’t have the necessary skill to assist humans, Lord Megatron. If I did, I’d have already healed my own gestalt.”

Megatron nodded, very aware.

“Soundwave specifically requested your medical assistance during the cycle. That human, Agent Fowler, promised to send their medic to instruct you.”

Unsure if he felt offended at hearing he would be instructed by a human, or proud that Soundwave trusted no one but himself for the current situation, Hook ran a hand through his currently sweating forehead.

He would be doomed if he failed assisting. He had no choice but to comply.

Finally meeting Megatron’s grey eyes, he nodded.

“It will be an honour, as usual, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron nodded, standing up and instantly grabbing Hook by his shirt, bringing him up to the level of his own face, now speaking aloud for everyone to listen.

“Even though everyone knows by now, an outcome I currently loathe, I expect you all to treat Soundwave as you always did. Soundwave’s a fierce gladiator, and a cunning spy. Soundwave’s not a girl.”

Hook, having been made privy to the purple spark beating beneath Soundwave’s plating long ago, still in the Gladiator Ring, and having been properly threatened into silence by the Spy Master himself, gave Megatron a single nod, as the other decepticons, even Starscream and his gestalt, wisely scattered.

Chapter Text

Smoke filled the room as Wheeljack attempted shooing the offending fog out of his face and battlemask, pitifully looking down his until then blossoming prototype.

Making sure his servos were not turned into fleshling versions of himself, he sighed, then sagged: he had no idea on what went wrong. He assembled the thing the same way he did before.

Fine, he didn’t have blueprints, nor a semblance of plans, but it had never been a true impediment before.

Sitting on his wall-mounted bench and glaring ahead, at the dark smudge now tinting the wall and around the bench in a small blast-radius, he couldn’t help smirking: at least his Lab was getting a bit more cosy.

“I have heard an explosion. Do you have the blueprints for the prototype already?”

Startling at the voice, Wheeljack looked behind, finding the immovable faceplates of Shockwave walking by.

“Ah, well, not really, it exploded but...”

Immediately the inventor went mute as Shockwave completely ignored his existence and went straight to the screen-faced drone, repeating the question.

D-3 started depicting written text in its screen face, the Cyclops reading it and finally dipping his head in a nod, dismissing the drone to the other side of the lab, and only then turning to the autobot.

“My drone had been watching your progress and stored today’s failure for later comparison. Do not worry about making blueprints, Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack. D-3 will do it for you as soon as a prototype is ready and prove it is working, by experimentation.”

At the word experimentation, Wheeljack stalled.

“What experimentation?”

Shockwave, turning his face slowly towards the autobot, spoke.

“Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack. You obviously did not expect to assemble the prototype and to not test it, once again.”

Wheeljack glowed his side panels twice, stuttering.

“I…”

Shockwave then intruded into the inventor’s working bench with his fine taloned, lavender, biolight-glowing right hand as Wheeljack followed the motion, the cyclops picking on a large metal shard and bringing it close to his single optic, droning.

“We do not have a large enough n to be able to statistically calculate the predictability of the outcome, so hard evidence of at least one cybertronian turned human under controlled laboratory settings will have to suffice.”

He returned the shard to the bench, as realisation kicked in and Wheeljack widened his optics.

“...but...but...who’s going to volunteer to that???”

Shockwave then turned on his left and finally intruded into Wheeljack’s personal space, EM-field held tight and composed, looming, looking down at him, almost optic to face.

“Do autobots routinely volunteer to be experimented upon?”

Wheeljack shook his head.

“It’s not like I have had offers, I mean, It’s always better to work with help, but so far no one ever volunteered, and...”

Shockwave briefly touched his hexagonal head and yellow optic to the autobot’s blastmask.

“Must I presume then you are volunteering, Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack widened his optics and held his in-venting, as Shockwave’s pointed talons traced his blastmask, thumb running underneath the jawline and resting on his chin, slowly turning the engineer’s face right and left, finally lifting it slightly and making him face the single yellow optic.

“I have side projects that could benefit from a willing, cooperative, scientifically capable test subject.”

The single, unflinching yellow optic coldly focused on his own blue orbs, as blinking back into life, the clawed fingertips burning on his plating, Wheeljack hurriedly removed Shockwave’s hand from his face.

“No!! Primus, no. I... we won’t be able to revert anything if I get.. sidetracked.”

Wheeljack looked aside from the unnerving optic, as Shockwave droned one logically and tilted his head right, stepping back.

“I am for now operating under autobot rules, and thus I will not insist for you to be my test subject, then. Perhaps another time.”

Wheeljack, surprised, blinked.

“That is… nice of you??”

Shockwave, turning to glare at the smudge tinting the wall, ignored the question and stood there rigidly, droning.

“Thus, under autobot rules, I require that you find a consenting subject to test your prototype when the time is due. If you don’t, I will be left no option but to break said rules and bridge one of my many female autobots under stasis for the procedure.”

Wheeljack slowly nodded, still scared to see the cyclops apparently gave up on dissecting him, as Shockwave turned on heels and stared at his drone.

“D-3 will assist me in routine maintenance now. I will order his return shortly.”

“Huh… fine?”

Making a gesture for the drone to follow him, dipping his head to the autobot, Shockwave unceremoniously walked out.

Doctor Pitanguy nervously tapped his fingertips at his new tablet, sighing.

“You do know why you have been brought here, right?”

Hook, fleeting a glance at the green eyed soldier standing guard by the door, stared at the red-haired medic before him, counting to ten before speaking.

“I am here to be instructed on how to properly assist Soundwave during the human version of a sparking cycle, or as you call it, a pregnancy.”

Daniel nodded: having been minimally debriefed on the cybertronian reproductive process via sparkmerging by that white plated autobot, Ratchet, he had an idea on how to address the subject via comparative anatomy.

“Tell me what you know about human pregnancy, so we can go on from there.”

Hook shook his head, sarcasm flowing in waves.

“I know nothing. Instruct me, doc. I’m dying to learn.”

Daniel sighed: why had he thought it would be easy?

“Look. I have received the orders to make Soundwave’s medic, namely you, capable of helping the patient to go through this pregnancy. Don’t make it worse than it has to be, and please stare at the screen: if you know nothing, then I will begin with the basics.”

Projecting the image of the human female reproductive system, side by side with the male reproductive system, both with the external and internal anatomy exposed, Daniel started speaking, a smile behind his lips as Hook visibly winced at each phrased explanation, deeply regretting the day he was cold-constructed millions of years ago.

Chapter Text

Hook tried to futilely reconcile everything he thought he knew about life with a single undeniable fact.

Everything about organics involves fluids.

“Can I help?”

Looking up from the datapad he had been given with many pdf books selected for him to study on, Hook met the worried blacked-out eye of Scavenger.

“Will you stop looming, idiot? I’m trying to think.”

Scavenger stepped back, pouting and side glancing at the tablet, as Hook shook his head and muttered something about disgusting fluids, going back to read.

He was given a deadline until the next morning and a basic guideline to follow, and feared he might not be able to go through it in time: despite expected, due to the fluid-driven nature of organics, Hook had no actual idea it truly involved so much of the disgusting things to actually take place.

It’s not like Cybertronian reproduction was that complicated: spark-to-spark conjunction led to the budding of a newspark between the blue, non-kindling, energy-dense donor spark and the purple, kindling, energy-sucking receptor spark, with the requirement of frequent sparkmerging to keep the newspark energised and growing, until the sparklet was ready to be separated from the purple-sparked carrier and delivered into a cold-constructed or a forged-in-a-hotspot body.

As such, being suddenly thrown into the universe of organic reproduction and learning that the female human body was actually the forge from where the new human would come from, that humans didn’t really have sparks and instead all their existence was based on coded info from their genetic code that brought forth their shells and brains, and that a single exchange of fluids was the initial requirement for the process of reproduction, no further contact between prospective sire and carrier being needed, Hook was truly shocked to see that any species could even manage to have survived with so much dependence on fluids and chance-meeting of male and female reproductive cells.

Basically, as far as he understood, there would be no required human-version of a sparkmerge to keep the two hellions alive, which in a way was a relief in itself: he absolutely did not want to go through explaining to anyone how humans merge.

It was bad enough already they were drowned on amniotic fluid, getting fed by the exchange of nutrients via blood in something called a placenta, and that Soundwave was technically the equivalent of a walking, leaking human hostpot.

Which made disturbing sense: Hotspots were guarded with fierceness, and it did seem to bear great resemblance with how Soundwave was getting treated, with what he would call nearly obsessive care.

Megatron hesitated outside the door of the room Soundwave had been assigned to.

Frag you, Soundwave, for being so spot on and seeing right through him: of course Megatron was disturbed by the fact that everybody knew Soundwave owned a purple spark. When it was only a secret held by a selected few, and Soundwave was the silent, cunning spy and communications officer, displaying the visual deception of a blue spark pulsing beneath the glass, Megatron could cope.

Before he could turn on his heels and get away however, the door creaked open and the golden eyes usually hidden behind a decepticon-red visor focused on him.

“Lord Megatron: planning to loiter or actually intends to come in?”

Steeling himself into a rigid stance, Megatron nodded non-committally and followed in as Soundwave sat back on the bed and caught the tablet in hands, zoning out of the world and restarting to read, silently, as Laserbeak ruffled her feathers in glee and Buzzsaw detachedly cawed and mechanically cleaned his feathers, each from atop a side of the couch.

“How did you know I was there? Tell me you have maintained mind-reading powers.”

“Soundwave: unable to read minds in current shell. Megatron: pacing.”

Megatron mentally cursed then: he was trying to pace silently, damn it!

As if reading his thoughts however, Soundwave actually stared up and smirked.

“Sound of pacing: beneath my detection range. Ravage: has better ears.”

Megatron then instantly squinted at Ravage, who squinted back at him from his spot at the foot of the bed, lounging lazily, stretching and yawning, somehow managing to occupy even more space than before, sprawling over Soundwave’s lap in a possessive purr.

Mine.

Megatron, getting the non-verbal message across, scowled, then tried to reconcile his previous trail of thought with the sight currently filling his eyes.

“Do you realise you’re the only one of us with a private room?”

Soundwave didn’t bother to nod, droning.

“Carrying: prized by humans. Species: relies solely on human-to-human means of reproduction, having no Matrix or Hotspots available. General info on the Process: potentially dangerous to the carrying human, entailing viviparous birthing method of whole infant shell that might or not require surgery to come to completion depending on conditions available and urgency of situation. Soundwave: aware of the risks if situation stretches for too long. Unwilling to go through them, despite the apparently privileged status of being a carrying human.”

Megatron nodded, fleeting a glance at the fingertips touching the screen much like datacable feelers, flipping tabs quickly, eyes never raising off it, focused on searching.

“Did by any means their medic already instruct you on how to deal with the current carrying cycle?”

Soundwave pointed to the three vitamin bottles and finally to the datapad.

“Human medic: scared of me. Soundwave: ordered to take pills. Medic: surrendered datapad when requested politely. Datapad: more useful source of information than medic. Soundwave: satisfied with outcome so far.”

Megatron couldn’t help smirking at the thought of Soundwave instilling fear even in this shell, and futilely tried to visually scan the surface of the bed in search of any unoccupied spot so he could sit besides his conjunx, finally clearing his throat at Ravage.

The panther lifted his head, glaring defiantly at him, refusing to let go of carrier , and thus they would remain, until the instant the tablet in Soundwave’s hands suddenly blacked out.

Agent Fowler, having been left as chief of the Operation, as unwilling to be there as his subordinates were, nearly dozed in his office/temporary quarters the moment Dr. Daniel busted in.

“Don’t tell them I’m here!”

The medic had migrated from the door to literally hide behind the agent’s chair, as the dark-skinned man slowly turned to face his subordinate.

“First-Lieutenant Daniel Pitanguy. Care to explain what’s going on??”

Before Daniel could speak, however, dipping his head in a nod, Megatron strolled in, unable to hold a smirk as he folded arms and observed Soundwave step right behind, turned off tablet in hands, going in a beeline right to the scared doctor and extending it.

“Datapad: offline. Soundwave: requests means of recharging device.”

As Daniel backed off from the woman as if she were contagious, Soundwave remained in position and Fowler actually squinted at the tablet.

“What is that?”

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Soundwave.

“Datapad: federal property surrendered by medic for personal use.”

Fowler turned to his subordinate then.

“...did you give federal property, namely a tablet with internet access, to Soundwave?”

“... uh ...”

“...are you aware Soundwave is the most dangerous and skilled hacker of Cybertron?”

Megatron smirked: Soundwave remained rigidly holding the tablet, waiting for a solution: Daniel scratched his head.

“You know, Sir, when you put it like this, it does sound like a bad thing.”

Fowler, glowering, decided he didn’t want to know and just opened a drawer, taking one charger from inside and unceremoniously placing it in Soundwave’s open palm, not caring to explain how it worked, finally taking his subordinate by the scruff of his neck with one hand, and pointed to the door with the other.

“Doctor Daniel. Just… out. Before I decide returning you home inside a bodybag.”

Daniel widened his eyes and instantly saluted then (quickly eyeing the visibly proud Megatron and Soundwave fiddling with the charger and trying to figure out how it worked), scurrying to the doorway and disappearing as Agent Fowler shook his head and facepalmed.

Chapter Text

Megatron didn’t recharge.

He has kept up all night so far trying to get Soundwave to recharge.

“Soundwave. Turn this thing off. It’s late.”

Soundwave, browsing and reading, never took both eyes from the screen.

“Soundwave: has refuelled. Will continue working. Has always overworked before and had never been object of Megatron’s worry with something as menial as lack of recharge.”

Megatron rolled his eyes.

“These shells have to sleep, specially you in that dreaded, organic condition. You were a cybertronian, not a f...”

Soundwave squinted at the unspoken word hanging between them, and stared darkly at the greyed out man.

“Lord Megatron: has agreed to watch Soundwave work.”

Megatron then squinted.

“Are you turning rebellious on me?”

Soundwave instantly stopped and nudged Ravage aside, standing up and taking Megatron by one arm.

“Soundwave: never rebellious. Always compliant. Soundwave’s work: gathering of information; learning; studying. Requires calm, peace and silence. Has antenatal care appointment in four hours with Hook and human medic. Has no time to indulge into recharge. Intends to have millions of questions ready. Will not accept disturbance.”

And walked to the door, opening it up.

Outraged, unbelieving, Megatron snarled.

“Are you sending me out???”

Soundwave briefly looked at the open door then and merely repeated.

“Soundwave: will not accept any disturbance. Not even yours.”

Megatron snapped.

“Do you forget I’m supposed to be there at the appointment with you??”

Soundwave nodded respectfully once.

“Lord Megatron: sire. Welcome to show up.”

After a full minute staring down the pissed off pregnant form, Megatron ripped his arm out from Soundwave’s hand, growled and finally left, stomping out.

Starscream, suddenly pulled out of the lower bunk bed he was occupying into the ground, blinked stupidly until his eyes focused.

“Megatron?? How did you get in??”

Megatron, growling, didn’t bother to tell the door was unlocked, and merely ripped the bedsheets out, laying back in Starscream’s place, turning his back on him and facing the wall, as the SIC folded arms.

“I thought you had left to pass an idyllic night with your beloved tapeglitch and all the little nuisances.”

Megatron did not dignify that with an answer, as Skywarp, awakening in the other lower bunk bed, sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s Lord Megatron doing in your bed, Screamer?”

“Don’t call me that, idiot!” he crossed the distance between the bunk beds and pushed Skywarp aside, sitting besides him. “Give room.” he snorted “Looks like our glorious leader decided bunking up with the seeker trine tonight.”

Megatron, pretending to be already asleep, did his best not to move, as Skywarp scratched his chin, looked up the upper bunk bed above, where Thundercracker was, and shook his head.

“I don’t want to be between you two when you actually start fighting. These shells bleed. I’m bunking up with TeeCee.”

Before Starscream could protest, Thundercracker, overhearing everything, just extended his hand from upwards, as Skywarp nearly beamed and took it, climbing up in one step and snuggling against his favourite trinemate.

Starscream, left to sulk and stare at the certainly pretending self of Megatron, scowled and turned on his back too, forcing himself back into sleep.

Doctor Daniel, having spent the whole night inside the medical appointment office, made himself a makeshift bed at the examination table and ill-slept all along, absolutely resolute in not being alone in this wretched base anymore.

“Did I really have to remain here all night standing guard with you?”

“Sitting guard. Like you had anything better to do, Leo. Don’t forget you’re into my favourite couch.”

Leonard snorted, cushioning himself against the couch.

“You sure have good taste, doc.”

Daniel rolled his eyes: obviously.

Jumping at the sudden knock in the door and scrambling to his feet, the medic widened his eyes and pointed to the spyhole in the door, hissing for the soldier to see who it was.

Clutching against his rifle and standing up, stretching and going to the door’s spyhole, closing one eye and looking out with the other, he was immediately hit by the opening door right in his nose.

Yelping and holding his hand against his left eye, Leonard stepped back as Daniel squinted at who arrived in, folding arms.

“Second-Lieutenant Nurse June Darby.” Daniel met the stern, dutiful face “What are you doing here?”

Walking in, she briefly inspected the room, shaking her head at the messy examination table.

“I’m here to make sure the room is in order: apparently it isn’t.” she raised the sheets with disgust between two fingertips “Were you sleeping at the gynaecological examination table?? With its supports propped up??”

Not caring to listen to the reply Daniel didn’t want to give anyway (because he sure had propped his legs up the struts - who wants to get varicose veins?), she handed Soldier Leonard a flask of 70% alcohol solution, and pointed to the table.

“Clean it up.” she turned to the medic, uncaring he was her immediate superior officer “It’s almost dawning and you don’t expect a pregnant woman to lay on his filth, do you?”

Daniel groaned: nurses and their obsession with cleaning!

“I am not filthy. I washed before coming and was fully dressed in the proper attire. I’m not going to contaminate her.”

“Sure thing, nurse.” Leonard was spreading the alcohol solution in the examination table with a disposable napkin “It’s their alien germs we should be afraid of.”

Hook, unable to sleep despite exhaustion, gave up trying and was one hour early for the antenatal care appointment, charged up tablet in hands, obsessively reading as he waited, sitting on the ground against the corridor wall: in his sleep-deprived, medically tortured mind, he concluded he would never learn enough and know enough anyway so what would be the point of reading all those stupid human books and that he was damned if he showed weakness before that sorry excuse of a medic, ‘cause if he just had some more time he might be able to master this pregnancy thing and altogether send that human medic away and he himself take over the appointment and…

“Hook: early.”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Hook held the tablet against his chest and looked up, watching Soundwave observe his reaction without a flinch, tablet in hands, Ravage on tow.

Nodding at the duo and almost involuntarily checking up the communication’s officer shell, from the calves up into the bump  and over the loose dress, he met the unblinking eyes, suppressing his breath for a nanoclick.

Recalling that Lord Megatron had left with them earlier and was supposed to be here as that human Daniel said he should be (but wasn’t), before he could stand up, Hook was once more flung out of his thoughts as June Darby’s voice echoed in the hall, calling them both in.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 - Busted out!

--------

Chapter 18 – Busted Out

Hands clasped behind her back, Nurse June watched up close Doctor Daniel take the appointment over, extending his carefully manicured hands, palms up, towards the two chairs before the desk.

"Welcome, codename Soundwave, our esteemed patient, and codename Hook, my esteemed apprentice." he then turned to Soundwave "When is the father showing up for us to begin?"

Ravage, until then silently observing from the most shadowed corner of the room, stood up from his hindquarters, walked on a beeline towards Leonard, circled the soldier's legs twice while loudly purring, then jumped up on the desk, carefully stepping in between papers and pens without dislodging a single one of them, unceremoniously planting his aft on Soundwave's blank patient files, purposefully slapping the medic's face with his heavy paw.

Daniel shrieked, somehow managing to sound like a distressed turkey as he held both hands up on his face.

"WHAT THE HELL, YOU MAIMED MY PRISTINE FACE, YOU OVERGROWN BOMBAY! STAY AWAY!" he shook his head "Kill it, Leo!! Kill that beast! It cannot be trusted!!!

Leonard blinked, observing with his not-swollen right eye the black panther softly purring on the sofa, no longer looking dangerous, then stared at Nurse June, who had just sighed and walked to the screeching medical officer, prying his hands away from his supposedly irremediably damaged face, keeping very silent as she inspected it, sighing.

Contemplating the reddened faceplates where the paw hit, Soundwave took mental note of the distinct lack of claw marks at the medic's face, slowly turning to Ravage, who yawned slowly at carrier, finally making sure to unsheat one claw at a time, filing them between his teeth.

"Oh my god I'll need plastic surgery, won't I??? Your silence says so!"

Absolutely expressionless, Soundwave turned between Ravage and Doctor Daniel, monotoning.

"Ravage: protective: has not clawed the medic's perfect skin."

Nodding noncommitally at Ravage's warning blow, Hook schooled his face into neutrality as he smirked inwardly: for Ravage to have behaved so, and for Soundwave to evade providing any info on Megatron's whereabouts, it could only mean one thing…

...Soundwave certainly expelled Megatron out of the room, and now the Tyrant will stubbornly not show up, out of pure spite.

The one other time it actually happened, their falling out lasted for nearly 50 full solar cycles, during Buzzsaw's sparking cycle: back then, Megatron spoke in no-nonsense therms that if the sparklet actually offlined it would be on him, Hook, so he would better find a way to keep it alive and kicking.

Obviously it happened back on Cybertron, where Hook built with no-mech’s help, his most brilliant single project ever, The Spark Charging Machine, that did precisely that: it provided a charge not dissimilar from a Sire's Spark Charge, meant to energise Soundwave's creation during the whole half-century their leader simply refused to sparkmerge with the tapedeck.

Leave it to Megatron of all mechs to skew from his Sire’s duty all the while making it Hook's problem!

Obviously, back then, It would have been immensely easier to just nominate a volunteer from their team to do substitute-sparkmerging with Soundwave.

Who, though?

Mixmaster was too insane, Scrapper too stiff, Scavenger too dumb, Bonecrusher too careless, and Longhaul loved to boast his own qualities a bit too much for the task.

Considering the secrecy of the situation, only Hook would be able to really solve the problem, either by sparkmerging with Soundwave, which would be a deactivation-sentence once Lord Megatron found out, OR to find a way - which he proudly did! - of creating his not-so-aptly-named Spark Charging Machine.

Recalling with a proud smirk the day he handed Soundwave the perfectly functional machine, Hook preened in place as the communication’s officer nodded and left with his newest device properly subspaced and out of everyone else’s prying optics.

Nodding to himself at the almost fond memory, Hook was immediately jolted back to the present once that poor excuse of a human medic started asking Soundwave a couple of questions.

“Right, let’s get it on then. Soundwave: How Many times did you pregnant?”

“Soundwave: sparked four times in 42 million earth-years. The last ones to come were the set of twins currently inside.”

Dr. Daniel then bit the cap of his blue BIC pen.

“So... it is a new pregnancy, I suppose. When did you have your most recent period?”

Soundwave, having gathered enough information from the human internet, shook his head.

“Cybertronians: no periods. Current sparking cycle: artificial. Twins long born, at least 8 million years ago according to the human solar cycles.”

“...you’re probably around 35 weeks pregnant, in human therms. You certainly had been with child before the battle where you were turned human.”

“Soundwave: no longer able to get sparked since installation of anti-sparking protocols, about to 7 million years ago. Twins: trapped inside tapedeck when Wheeljack’s invention exploded in the field.”

Dr Daniel Pitanguy, in full blown cognitive dissonance, finally gave up and went with the motions of the scripted, textbook anamnesis he tried to yet miserably failed taking.

“Very well, Soundwave: do you consent to a physical at the presence of the crew inside this office?

Briefly taking sight of the armed soldier who very much did not want to be there, the impatient human medic that wanted everything to be over soon, and the helpful yet mean nurse, Soundwave finally glared for a full second at Hook’s green eyes.

“Hook: allowed to proceed. Human medic: allowed to help Hook. Human nurse: will remain present during examinations. Human soldier: may remain in the room, far enough not to see anything.”

Nodding to hide his leer, Daniel stepped back and with a flourish opened way for the Decepticon medic to come closer.

Hook, on his side, stood up faking confidence, not giving a single clue that despite everything he read, he might not accomplish a good enough physical: the moment he got close enough to touch, Nurse June instantly handed him and Dr. Pitanguy a pair of gloves, then placed a sheet right underneath the bump, covering the pregnant form’s intimate area down to the knees.

Swallowing dry, Daniel put on his set of gloves as if it was second-nature as Hook visibly struggled until Nurse June held each glove in the right position for the Decepticon medic to wear, then gloved herself and waited for instructions.

No matter she knew perfectly what to do: Dr. Daniel was her superior officer and so far he was in charge of the whole ordeal. She had to wait for him to order her around, and knowing him as she did, he would. It was only a matter of time.

“Second-Lieutenant June Darby. Would you be so kind as to demonstrate how the physical works?”

“Yes, Sir.” She smiled. “Doctor Hook, please come close and pay attention.”

--------

Thundercracker was the first to wake up in their collective room, staring at the recharging form of Skywarp, lodged between his body and the wall, for a second asking himself why his trinemate was up there, until he remembered.

Unwilling to wake up anyone in the room, he made sure to sit the most silently he could, then climb down and finally tip-toe to the door with those feet coverings - shoes! - in hands.

Opening the door slowly, he slid out of the room, closing it back silently, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding and resting his back against the wall of the corridor and putting his shoes on.

He had no idea what time it could be, for they had no access to sunlight inside the complex, but he knew he was hungry, and even though no one rallied them to mealtime, it wouldn't hurt going to the mess hall and seeing if there was anything he could get.

Two pairs of sharp eyes perched atop the fluorescent lights observed in silence the lone seeker going at the place where they learned they could get meals.

Exchanging a silent glare, both stood still until no one else remained in the corridor, one taking flight after the other, in search of something they themselves still didn't know what it would be.

They were full, they were rested, but neither Laserbeak or Buzzsaw could remain idle: were they still capable of docking within Soundwave, they would be patrolling, recording, spying.

So, disconnected from carrier, considered too creepy by the humans to remain around being visible, unable to record and relay info, they had nothing to do but explore, and explore they did.

Once they reached the end of a narrow corridor, a flush of brown fur managed to almost escape the periphery of Buzzsaw’s eyes, who glided over closely followed by Laserbeak until they met a walking, fresh potential meal, plunging down over it in less than a nanoclick.

----

Frustrated at finding no food yet, Thundercracker did what any sane mech would: roam the corridors until the mess hall opened up, trying to stay out of trouble.

These shells were easily hurt, short-lived, and he had no intention of ending up like Stascream, with a broken nose.

Hearing the not-so-distant double cawing followed by the most pitiful yelps he ever heard from what could only be an organic creature, Thundercracker made sure to follow the sound until be found the source of the problem.

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing! Go find someone your size! Shoo!!!”

He frantically flailed his arms at the two vultures, crouching over the helpless creature whose eyes they were just trying to peck out.

Once the two symbionts returned to perch at the ceiling’s tubing, Thundercracker, without thinking much, took the furry little thing in arms, hugging it with a vice grip and staring at the curly brown fur nearly obliterating the twin set of half-lidded brown eyes, getting immediately licked in his face by what seemed to be a quite grateful sort of true mechanimal pet, except it was organic and could be too easily hurt.

He always wanted a pet. Some little thing to fuss over that was solely his and he didn’t have to share.

As a Decepticon, he could not justify the extra energon required for keeping a mechanimal: as a human, could he perhaps keep this one?

Cradling the yapping creature in arms, he left the corridor silently, whispering very low only for his tiny beast to hear.

“Welcome to the decepticons, Buster.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 - Deadlines

Megatron, having managed to find on his own the stupid flashy human medic’s office, quite late for the appointment, placed his hand at the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked.

Not willing to sound either desperate or worse, worried, he decided upon not demanding for the door to be open.

The downsize of not doing so was the fact the door remained dutifully closed up and locked.

At the impossibility of blasting the door with his currently non-existent fusion cannon, much less kicking it open without risking getting a bone fracture, Megatron resorted to the next best option: sulking, sitting with his back to the door and waiting for the ordeal to be done.

Glumly recalling the 50 year-long sparkmerging strike that he started and Soundwave continued on, he shook his head: he was not going to be exchanged by a non-sentient piece of machinery ever again, or worse, by any other living mech willing to risk their mind and spark to hit that purple, plentiful spark, so plentiful that Soundwave decided himself to employ Solus Prime’s anti-sparking protocols, before the frequent sparking cycles wearied his spark down and he ceased being useful for the cause.

Not being the one repeatedly sparked, Megatron knew he had no true say whether Soundwave should retain the ability or not: once, long ago, he might have wanted a very big cohort with his long-therm sparkmate, in a renewed Cybertron with plentiful energon for everyone, no empties turning zombies on the streets, no miners offlining beneath Kaon in Tarn without having ever seen the light of a single day...

...real life’s a glitch though, thus leaving them where they were: depending on humans doing the Autobot’s bidding in order to find a cure for the horrid predicament of being trapped in flesh bags.

------

Having just had the bump measured up by no one less than Hook to 38 cm from the pubic symphysis up to the top of the womb’s contour underneath the skin, Soundwave watched like a hawk for cues at his medic’s face about whether it was a good thing or not, receiving a side glance from the constructicon, who nodded in silent approval, letting the measuring tape at the desk and going for the sonar.

How primitive, he couldn’t avoid thinking as he followed Nurse June’s directions, palpating the huge bump slowly, in an attempt of locating each twin’s heads and rumps, making sure to determine where each of their backs were, to listen to both their heartbeats, and finally steer clear from this suffocating room.

Actually getting congratulated by the Nurse and immediately receiving an envious squint from Dr. Pitanguy, Hook decided upon ignoring both, staring down at Soundwave’s brown-golden eyes, making sure to let the minutes stretch, one hand holding the bump, the other the sonar’s head, Rumble and Frenzy’s heartbeats within the desired range.

Concluding both were already upside-down, gloved hand lazily rested atop the uterine fundus, Hook was actually surprised the instant Soundwave led a hand to cover his own, followed by a kick exactly where their hands were.

“Symbionts: unwilling to be further prodded. Soundwave: satisfied with assistance.”

Receiving a slight squeeze from the ex-tapedeck’s now much smaller, warm hand, Hook closed his eyes for less than a second, opening them up in a side glance at the communication’s officer, who immediately droned.

“Hook: dismissed.”

Nodding, the decepticon medic stepped out, with Nurse June taking his place and helping Soundwave to close the dress up, then leave the medical berth.

------

Getting immediately startled as the door he had been sitting against opened inwards, Megatron literally fell on his back with a thud, too stunned for a full click, as slowly Soundwave’s unflinching face came into his line of sight.

He wanted to say he was sorry: he wanted to please ask Soundwave to not exchange him for a machine again: he wanted to stand up and carry him bridal style back to his private room.

“Lord Megatron: too late.”

Immediately breaking every single nice thoughts Megatron might have been harbouring, Soundwave literally stepped over his prone form, followed by a hissing Ravage, until a gloved hand was extended at him.

Following the gloved hand up, he met what could only be Hook.

“My Lord? May I help you?”

Instantly enraged, absolutely not taking the offered hand, Megatron nearly jumped onto his own feet, first towering then staring down at the Constructicon and yanking him by his left arm.

“Debrief me on Soundwave’s appointment, Chief Medical Officer Hook.”

Holy slag, my full rank and title, pondered Hook as he stared up and slowly removed the gloves, briefly going back inside to throw them away properly, then returning to his leader with a slight nod, wearing his well-schooled neutral facial expression.

“Of course, my Lord. How you’d like me to debrief you?”

--------

Rubbing his eyes slowly in the dark, Skywarp glared at the ceiling, for a split click pondering why was he even seeing the ceiling, since he was occupying the lower bunk, finally remembering why he moved up.

“TeeCee? Screamer? Lord Megatron??”

Glaring down, not finding either Starscream neither Lord Megatron on the two lower bunk beds, he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, a breath that he instantly held back once he realised Thundercracker was also not there.

Making sure to jump down and falling clumsily on his feet, groaning as he limped to gather his socks and boots, Skywarp cursed his lack of teleporting abilities, a roar from his stomach reminding him that he was hungry and thus he decided doing the logical thing, to stroll out of the room to gather food...

...getting immediately greeted by a slamming, opening door right into his face.

Wobbling in place, holding both hands at his forehead, nosebridge spared by pure luck, Skywarp stepped behind until he met the wall, doing his best to remain on his feet: before he could complain, however, he was immediately pulled in an embrace.

“Don’t worry, it’s me.” Thundercracker slightly lowered his face to meet his trinemate down “I have someone you’ll love to meet.”

Squinting, Skywarp stood stupidly glaring at TC’s blue eyes until he heard a yap.

“I wanted to keep her just for me, but I realised it’s not fair to leave you out, since you are my favourite trinemate. So… meet Buster.”

He rose the doggy up, Skywarp’s hazel eyes shooting down, a gigantic smile opening up his face.

“OHHH DOGGY!!!!” he got licked in his face “Can we keep her??? Please TeeCeeeee?”

“I have no idea how to maintain her if we ever get reversed back into cybertronians.” he spoke, in a very low and sad voice “The atmospheric pressure down the Nemesis would crush her. Not to mention she’s too tiny. You or even me might even step on her on accident. And perhaps Starscream on purpose.”

Tilting his head to the right, Skywarp rose a hand to meet Thundercracker’s face.

“Awww TeeCee, you worry so much it’s cute.”

Pulled down into a kiss, Thundercracker almost let go of Buster, locking his arm around her in reflex, the dog yapping happily, as the blue eyed seeker’s mind raced.

“’Warp!??”

Skywarp slammed the taller seeker against the door.

“Merge me.”

Thundercracker, horrified, broke the kiss, Buster actually jumping down and yapping happily around them in circles.

“Just like this??? What about me being cute??”

“You’re so cute you make me want to merge.”

“But!!! We can’t!!” he darted his eyes around the room, finding Buster quietly sitting on her hindquarters, watching the door “What if Starscream comes back?”

Thundercracker was then instantly, tightly pulled back as Skywarp made sure to talk through the kiss.

“Let him envy you.” he almost growled "Let him watch."

“But what if Lord Megatron comes back first???”

At that Skywarp actually made an effort to think.

“He can watch too??”

“WARP!!!!”

“Why? Can’t Lord Megatron do anything he wants to us??”

“Not. THAT!!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Squinting up, Skywarp drawled his voice the slowest he could.

“Soooo… if he wants to scrap one of us like he often does to Screamer it’s fine, but if he wants to watch us merge, suddenly it’s a no-no???”

“Precisely that!”

“Oh.” Skywarp immediately beamed “I know! We will lock the door then!”

Thundercracker groaned.

“Skywarp, we are prisoners. We don’t have the keys.”

“But that Agent What-his-name, Pheasant, said we are guests.”

Facepalming, Thundercracker silently counted to ten: sometimes he wished to be naive and stupid as well.

“Guests who cannot lock the door to their own rooms are nothing but glorified prisoners, Skywarp.”

Minutely taken aback for three clicks, Skywarp suddenly beamed, giving his favourite trinemate one more kiss before sprinting towards the set of bunk beds most closely located to the door, holding his breath, then finally placing himself behind the set, keeping both feet firm against the ground and pushing his own back against it, moving them in a single, screechy move, until the door was effectively trapped closed.

Pretty much proud of himself, at having found a way of locking a door he wasn’t supposed to keep locked, Skywarp donned Thundercracker his most sincere, loving smile, a mere click before tackling him into the lower bed of the bunk me had just moved, whispering into the kiss.

“Is it locked enough for you now???”

Can we merge now???

Thundercracker, relentlessly kissed, under the heady, full weight of Skywarp gripping his military-green shirt, feeling something he couldn’t explain literally swell up from his guts and up into his chest, as usual being the voice of reason, finding it increasingly more difficult to not let himself go, inhaled.

“Do… do you even know how to merge under these forms???”

Skywarp instantly stalled.

“I… I was hoping you knew. I mean.. you always know everything, TeeCee.” Skywarp then smiled “Hey! I bet Screamer knows. He’s a scientist before being our trine leader! We could ask him.”

Thundercracker shook his head.

“Do you want to make Starscream even more insufferable?”

Thundercracker finally extricated himself from underneath his trinemate, trying to unwrinkle his shirt with his hands, as Skywarp glumly sat by, once elbow resting on each knee.

“Who can we ask then?”

--------------

Getting to his Gestalt’s quarters, Hook actually shooed everyone out and away, including Scavenger, who pouted miserably and donned his best puppy eyes, in vain: Megatron specifically requested the privacy of Devastator’s own quarters for the debriefing, and this truly left the Decepticon medic remembering about the “50 year old sparkmerging strike” and his most brilliant invention, fully destroyed in a bout of envy and anger by the Decepticon Leader himself.

“Very well, Hook. Why don’t you come closer and tell me everything?”

Megatron patted the sofa twice, lazily lounging, one canine bared, beckoning for Hook to come closer, like a cat chittering to his future prey, resembling Ravage so much that it was actually scary, as Hook had no choice but to sit by.

“From what I gathered, my Liege, Soundwave is undergoing a protocol human carrying cycle for twins. Both Rumble and Frenzy are alive, both healthy, both upside-down. They might not even require surgery for emergence, but I believe the flashy human medic will prefer doing surgery once the time is due.”

Megatron nodded non-committally, watching Hook from the corner of his eyes.

“What about my sire obligations towards Soundwave and my two scraplets while on this dreaded human condition?”

Hook breathed deeply, keeping silent for a full click before carefully thinking on how to break the news to Lord Megatron.

“There are actually none, my liege.”

Megatron rose his left eyebrow.

“Do you mean… there is no sparkmerging required?”

Hook nodded.

“Humans have no need of sparkmerging much less keeping any sort of contact between carrier and sire to keep bitlets alive until emergence.”

“How so??? How can this pitiful species even survive???”

For once Hook could see Megatron was genuinely puzzled, and actually not trying to actively offline him, so he felt bold to explain further, both to show-off his superior intellect, and to finally prove he was fully deserving of assisting Soundwave.

“It is actually simple and complex, baffling and outrageous, my Liege. Once the human zygotes meet and the first mitosis takes place, the sire needs not do anything. A sheltered, safe, well-fed carrier is single-handedly capable of providing everything biologically required. Probably at the rate those squishies must die, it makes evolutionary sense for the carrier to not need the sire at all after fertilization.”

At once dispelling Megatron’s fears and at the same time giving him brave new worries, Hook made sure to keep speaking.

“Once the creation is ready, in between weeks 37 and 42, it is either viviparously birthed, or surgically removed from carrier.” he rose his fingers up, counting. “According to the human medic’s calculations, Soundwave is 35 weeks along.”

Megatron contemplated the facts, thinking.

“What would be the consequences of us taking too long to be reverted to normal, concerning the casseticons? In case they emerge too soon?”

Hook breathed deeply.

“Humans, no matter how great an impression of themselves they might have, evolved from base animals of this world, namely mammals. Their newborns, the equivalent of newsparks albeit unlike them, are birthed completely defenceless, dependent on their carrier to acquire nourishment via milk.”

Having read the name milk associated with cows somewhere on the human internet long ago, Megatron groaned, and Hook took the lack of aggression as a good thing, continuing to speak.

“For at least six earth months the newborns require obligatory provision of milk, that is a kind of very refined energon just for sparklings: during this tim, all they can do is cry, scream, gurgle, suckle, and excrete waste.”

“I see, just like Starscream.” he chided, as Hook was unable to suppress a smirk “Now, back to this six month period. Once it’s over… how long until they recover their consciousnesses and get their abilities back?”

At that Hook shook his head.

“I suspect that if the two wreckers were released as human newborns, they would never be able to be reverted to normal. They would require constant supervision before they were actually able to do Rumble and Frenzy’s functions, if they even reached their level ever again.”

Megatron then stood silent, thinking.

“I see. If we are not returned to cybertronian shells before the due date, I risk losing my two most competent infiltrators, and my best spy. Soundwave would be reduced to spark-sitting full time.”

Even for Soundwave's overbearing carrier protocols, it would be too much to take in. The Decepticon cause would suffer a nearly irreparable blow: autobots might not want to squish them during their current predicament, but Megatron was positive at least Prowl and Red Alert would do everything they could to delay the transformation back.

Even Shockwave might quit his efforts with the clumsy autobot scientist, Wheeljack, if he concluded the end result would not be beneficial to the cause.

Sighing, shaking his head, Megatron darted a hawk-eye not dissimilar from Buzzsaw’s coldest glares at Hook.

“Hook. Listen very carefully. If we do nothing to prevent Soundwave from releasing the hellions before we are converted back, we actually have less than 2 earth weeks to go back to normal.”

Hook nodded: he knew.

“Very well then. Your debriefing has been thorough and enlightening.” Megatron stood up from the sofa, heading to the door. “From now on Soundwave is your full responsibility. Make sure Soundwave’s needs into a human sparking cycle are adequately taken care off, and that he gets an overabundance of berthrest, specially now he has no need of my constant presence. We don’t need an early emergence, do we?”

Hook shook his head, silently, as Megatron unceremoniously opened the door of the room out, and left.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 - The Waiting Game

Finally free of their duty at the antenatal appointment, Dr Daniel and Soldier Brock made sure to hit the mess hall once they fully tidied the medic’s office, in time for lunch: both quickly ate whatever was available, then left, for Leo had a very important task to do.

“Are you sure Agent Fowler will approve of it, Doc?

Daniel, nodding as Leonard carried a military-grade cot, made sure to lead the way towards his quarters, with one single objective in mind.

“Agent Fowler doesn’t have to know any of this. He’s not the one getting his hands down and dirty with those germ-riddled Decepticon aliens.”

He then combed his brownish-reddish hair with the fingertips of his left hand, for added dramatic effect as he spoke and the soldier hauled his cargo.

“Afterall, I’m so far the most precious commodity our local forces left behind as part of the skeleton crew: you and me, essential personnel all along. It’s only logical that you will bunk in my personal room.”

Leonard nodded, absently, rifle and duffel bag on his back, as the medic continued his monologue.

“Never forget you’re supposed to keep me safe: how do you expect to protect me if you are not with me at all times?”

Unable to refute the seemingly flawless logic, Leonard stopped walking before the medic’s locked door, peeking inside as Daniel opened the room and waved with his left hand for him to come in.

Taking brief account on the distinct lack of bunk beds, the presence of a private bathroom, the single, standard bed, barely better than his own cot, one other fancy sofa, and finally Daniel’s desk (where a turned off notebook was), Leonard dragged the cot inside, assembling it right besides the door.

“Once you’re done, Leo, you and I are going to have a very well-deserved afternoon sleep. I have a feeling that Codename Soundwave will be more trouble than she, he, whatever, already is, so we must be rested at all times.”

Nodding along as he unwrinkled the cot’s meagre coverings, feeling for the coils underneath the mattress, Leonard sighed, already missing the bunk-bed he had been sleeping at, albeit glad for not being alone in a room anymore.

Resting his duffel bag at the ground besides the screechy cot, he removed a full change of clothing, a military-grade soap, and fleeted a glance at Dr Daniel taking at least three extremely comfortable-looking fleece bed-covers, throwing them on the berth, managing to make them all fit together in a beautiful crescendo of colours, from black to crimson to the cleanest white Leonard had ever seen.

After probably staring a bit too long at them, he was startled by a question.

“Didn’t you bring anything else to cover that cot?”

Blinking and staring at the minimally furnished cot, he shrugged.

“I don’t have the pay to afford a big closet of fancy fleeces, Doc. I make do with army-quality material. It’s fine.”

Pursing his lip-plates together, Daniel finally shook his head and pointed to the en-suite bathroom’s door.

“Go take a shower. There are supplies other than soap, and many towels in the cabinet, some never used before: just take one of those for yourself to use from now on. We don’t need these decepticon’s alien germs, do we?”

Nodding at the near-order from a superior officer, Leonard silently obeyed, heading there with his change of clothes, as Daniel couldn’t help staring one last time at the cot before he took a decision and went for his own wardrobe.

-----------------------------------------

Screeching a high-pitched yelp, Wheeljack jumped as he felt the brush of the coldest EM-field he ever met, instantly turning his head right, to face - at touching distance - the unflinching yellow optic within the hexagonal head currently looming over him.

“We have no more than 2 weeks left, Chief Science Officer Wheeljack.”

Willing his sparkbeat back to normal, Wheeljack’s side panels glowed twice, silently, as Shockwave droned further.

“According to my calculations, that I have extrapolated from two thousand, five hundred and ninety three human scientific papers on Google Scholar concerning normal pregnancies for twins, we have no more than two Earth-weeks to revert your genius scientific feat.”

Ah. That.

Ashamed to admit he had actually forgotten he was supposed to reverse the decepticons back into their Cybertronian shells, Wheeljack glared at the completely different contraption he managed to produce while thinking on absolutely nothing, working with his hands alone.

Before he could make a grab for his new prototype whose function he had no idea what it would yet be, Shockwave managed to snatch it from the desk, rotating it before his single optic, with his delicate, taloned, purple hand.

“D-3. Scan this prototype, generate its blueprints and produce an exact copy, for field testing.”

“Yes, Mighty Shockwave.”

Sending a scanning beam towards the prototype in Shockwave’s hand, D-3 immediately left to follow his orders, as Shockwave merely subspaced the prototype.

“Hey! I needed that!”

All protest dying as the unflinching yellow optic glowered back, Wheeljack sagged.

“Worry not. I promise to return it once I have compared D-3 blueprints with the original and the copy my drone will produce. If the three items are completely identical, I will then return you the original, although I would rather be allowed to retain any originals you manage to produce.”

“You would?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Shockwave merely nodded, taking one of Wheeljack's servos in his single right hand, studiously inspecting it as he spoke.

“You have extremely capable servos, Chief Science Officer Wheeljack, and a privileged motherboard within your triple-reinforced durasteel-cybertronium helmet and blastmask. You should be proud of being able to put the brunt of the Decepticon Forces on Earth out of commission. A pity your Prime does not show you the deserved appreciation for your instinctual qualities.”

Silence stretched between them, as Wheeljack ponderei whether he should or not remove his hand from Shockwave's, glumly staring down at it.

“What if this new prototype fails like the previous ones?”

Unfazed, Shockwave released the other scientist's hand.

“Even if they fail like the last twelve originals you assembled, and I regrettably did not come before you could disassemble them, we shall keep trying. Science is made of trial and error, and careful charting and documented use of test-subjects, and you provide too great of a challenge for me not to actively engage even if we end up not achieving the desired outcome. Your abilities are fascinating and it gives me plenty of satisfaction to watch you work.”

---------------

Finally alone in his Gestalt's room, Hook instantly slumped his back against the sofa, right hand pinching his nosebridge, as all his gestaltmates bolted inside, surrounding him with worry.

“Did he hurt you?” Scavenger asked, fidgeting. “He looked like he would.”

“I co-could po-poison him for you.” chimed in Mixmaster “Cru-crude almonds, gr-gr-ground apple seeds, e-ev-even Mandioca brava. All natural sources of cy-cy-anidric acid-d-d. Those can offline a hu-huuu-man if given at the right amounnnt."

Bonecrusher instantly backhanded Mixmaster as Longhaul chuckled, and Scrapper gave them all a very dirty look, finally turning to Hook.

“What did Lord Megatron want from you, that we’re not supposed to know about but you’re telling us anyway?”

Hook sighed.

“You know how Lord Megatron is.” he pinched his nosebridge once more, a headache brewing “Lord Megatron merely wants me to take full care of Soundwave’s every single need during this carrying cycle.”

Longhaul snorted, ready to boast his most colourful opinion, as Bonecrusher elbowed him into silence, and Scrapper decided upon ignoring them both, turning to their medic.

“Please just tell me neither of us will have to do substitute-sparkmerging with Soundwave.”

Hook shook his head.

“Unlike with Cybertronians, fortunately for all of us there is absolutely no need of any kind of deeper interaction: human carriers can actually fare very well on their own as long as they remain fed, sheltered, and healthy.”

The five other constructicons released the breath they had been collectively holding.

“However.”

The five of them groaned in unison, as Hook continued.

“Soundwave is 35 earth weeks along. Which means, in human therms, considering there are twins trapped inside, that emergence may happen, at best, at 37 weeks. At worst, it might start right now.”

Scrapper looked very worried for a split-click, as Hook retained a blank stare at nowhere, still speaking.

“Megatron wants me to actually prevent Soundwave’s early emergence. Of twins.” he chuckled darkly “Every single medical book available on Obstetrics advises resorting to surgery in the presence of twins, no matter if they were well-positioned or not. Sometimes they just get stuck one to the other and… it never ends up well either to carrier or creations. Not to mention most of the times they do emerge early.”

Bonecrusher actually scratched his head.

“What does it all actually mean?”

Longhaul shook his head.

“It means we’re doomed, idiot.”

“Unless Shockwave manages to rev-revert Wheeljack’s gi-gi-gigamajig fast enough.” Mixmaster chimed in.

Scrapper, pensive, pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“Right. What exactly has Lord Megatron told you to do?”

Hook dove his face in both hands.

“My mission is: to cater to Soundwave’s every single needs, meaning nourishment, shelter and berthrest, and enough sleep, and actually not to stress about anything or even do any semblance of work in order to prevent said early emergence.”

Scrapper groaned as Longhaul actually whistled and blurted.

“Soundwave, not working and actually sleeping?” he raised his arms up the ceiling “We’re all gonna die.”

Hook somehow managed to slump down from the sofa to the ground: he knew.

----------

Having their first meal since the previous day, Astrotrain and Blitzwing scurried into the mess hall very carefully: having taken a beating from the constructicons, and knowing they would be persona non gratta with the only decepticon medic until they managed to apologise enough, they were playing safe by avoiding everyone else besides themselves, for now.

Squinting to read the instructions on the juice dispenser, Astrotrain wasn’t sure if it would be best to come closer or to step away from the small print, only to in the end call his partner for help.

“What, defeated by a juicer, Astrotrain?” Blitzwing approached the machine, pointing to each colour and saying what was stored in each dispenser. “Grape juice, orange juice, apple juice, milk, coffee, cold water. Got it? I’m not reading it again.”

Astrotrain grimaced, nodding: not his fault he was onlined with defective optics, and was used to navigating life with instruments. He never truly needed seeing anything in detail, so he also never cared to replace them before now.

He no longer had his instruments to rely on, and his current set of organic eyes simply did not work as it should.

Unsure of how long it would take for any reversal to take place, if it would ever, Astrotrain punched the grape juice option, watching the cup fill nearly to the brim, glad for the automatic function.

What was this thing he heard about some humans wearing to improve their faulty sight?

“Hey, Blitzwing.”

Blitzwing groaned.

“I told you I’m not your personal secretary!!” he sighed “Right. What do you need me to read now?”

“Did you ever hear about this thing humans tend to name as glasses?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 - Hooked up

Exhausted so far from the most stressful day of his whole existence, Hook finally managed to flee his gestalt’s collective quarters, in order to hide somewhere very, very far away in this dreaded cave that this sect of the military adopted as covert base.

He didn’t have long before he must report to Soundwave’s presence, and he fully intended to get a few hours of peace before the day was officially over.

When he thought his day had gone bad enough, with having to arrange a miraculous way of preventing the inevitable, right when he managed to gather some dry crackers and plain bottled water before fleeing the mess hall, he was nearly tackled by Skywarp against a wall, the over-excited seeker dragging a visibly flustered Thundercracker along with a kind of yapping, also over-excited organic pet.

“Hooker!”

“Don’t call me that! he grimaced, immediately getting surrounded by the slobbering, yapping brown little thing, turning along with her as he did his best to avoid being touched - “What do you want???”

“How can we merge as squishies???” he beamed, lifting Buster up and almost shoving her at the medic’s face “By the way, meet our doggy Buster.”

Barely acknowledging the poor barking dog, choking on air alone, Hook started coughing as Skywarp retained his unwavering smile with Buster in arms, as Thundercracker, torn between shame and worry for the choking medic, patted heavily against his back.

“You don’t have to answer this moron, Hook. At all. We’re leaving. RIGHT SKYWARP???”

He then shifted a mean glower to his trinemate, who pouted, as Hook un-capped the water bottle he was carrying and chugged half of it down almost at once.

“But TeeCee!!”

“I am very certain Hook has more important things to do than to teach you to merge.”

“As if you wouldn’t reap the benefits, TeeCee!!!”

Now he himself instantly choking, Thundercracker convulsively coughed as Buster ran around him barking in worry and Hook could do nothing but simply pat Thundercracker’s back and offer him some of his water bottle in return, watching the blue-eyed seeker almost finish it in one gulp and a half, a thin sheen of water left.

Feeling slightly better that he was not the only one with a semblance of sense, Hook breathed, slowly controlling himself, the slightest sliver of an evil plan going through his mind.

“I… haven’t yet gotten to this part in my crash-course of squishy medicine yet.” he lied “But I’m positive, Skywarp, that the human medic, Dr Daniel, would love to explain everything in sordid details. Make sure to schedule an appointment!”

Beaming, Skywarp turned to Thundercracker.

“All right, goin’ there now, YEAH!!”

Facepalming, beyond shame, Thundercracker let himself be dragged out, as Hook literally ran, the last thing he heard being Buster’s increasingly more distant barks.

--------------

On the opposite site of the base, having managed to spend the most uneventful day of his whole career, which was a feat considering he was surrounded by decepticons-turned-human, Agent Fowler re-read Liutenant June’s written report on Codename Soundwave’s appointment.

Shaking his head as he managed to giggle at the description of Dr Daniel’s reaction to getting pawed by that panther pet, Fowler sighed: Dr Daniel was one of the most obnoxious creatures he had ever met, and he fully deserved whatever way he was being treated.

No matter the medic was a coward, self-serving man, with a truly admirable gift for surgery: Fowler wouldn’t have gone far up the hierarchic chain if he didn’t know how to exploit and manipulate his subordinate’s best qualities or lack of thereof, to obtain the desired effect.

By teaming him up with one of his dumbest soldiers and making sure the medic was lulled into a false sense of security in the presence of his guardian, Fowler smirked at his own brilliance: with both literally Stockholmed together, having only their own company against those evil, evil people, it made them harder to simply go AWOL.

Especially now that, according to the cameras, Dr Daniel apparently managed to convince Leo to move into his room.

Obviously, he couldn’t allow only the decepticon-minded-people to watch for the decepticons. He had to have his share of well-trusted personnel on site, which led him to right now: Soldier Ferdinand Bull and his own written report.

For now abandoning the pure piece of comedic gold that Nurse June’s report proved to be, turning his soldier’s report pages slowly, Fowler cautiously watched from the corner of his eyes the tanned, broad-shouldered, green-eyed man: usually print reports were a no-no, but the presence of Cybertron’s best hacker and spy among them forced the whole base to resort to good-old paper to prevent Soundwave from remotely hacking into sensitive files.

Let Soundwave access internet. Better to have that uncanny woman harbour the illusion of having free reign, than to have a bored hacker in the fold.

“Soldier Bull.”

Sitting to attention, the soldier saluted, as Fowler rolled the report absently in his right hand, lightly beating it against the palm of his other hand.

“Have any of them tried to leave?”

Ferdinand shook his head.

“No, sir. But a... security breach allowed for a dog to get in.”

“… a security..”

“...breach.”

He ran a hand through his extremely short hair, as Fowler leered.

“Before we could recapture the dog, one of the decepticons decided keeping it and has even named it Buster.”

Fowler pinched his nosebridge

“A dog sneaked in.”

Fowler squinted.

“We are in the middle of nowhere, guarded by the Autobots. Yet, a dog sneaks in. How??”

Ferdinand fidgeted with his hands.

“In our defence, Sir, the dog is tiny. The Autobots probably never even realised the poor thing was around.”

Fowler sighed.

“Let me guess. The name begins with Ma and ends with Rissa Faireborn.”

Ferdinand bit his lower lip for an instant, then nodded.

Fowler groaned slamming the report at his desk, paper clips clittering up and down: the pilot had an unhealthy obsession with the seekers, to the point of requesting permission to visit them as soon as word ran in the upper circles that they had been turned into human.

Schooling his features into eery neutrality, Fowler pursed his lips, standing up and clasping both hands behind his back.

“Unfortunately, all we can do now is damage control. Where is she?”

----------------------------------

Having coated the underside of her dog’s paws with degraded haeme compounds that luminol can read in the dark, Marissa made sure to follow through the sprayed-out trail of the luminol-coated steps in the dark corridors of this forsaken base.

Smiling, she recalled how she had made sure to hand her own rescue dog pieces of seeker anatomy, conditioning her to follow its scent, during the four times she had been quarantined for a full month due to an outbreak, and the only company she could keep had been this faithful little dog.

A pug-beagle mix. Uncreatively named Puggle. Quite the stupid little thing, but a lovable stupid thing nonetheless.

Grimacing at the inordinate amount of time she had been kept away from family and friends while on duty, Marissa once more sprayed luminol at the corridor, outlining then revealing the little paws begging to be followed…

...until she ended up at what could only be the post-dinner, empty and darkened Mess hall.

Stepping cautiously, a headlight turned on, tiny dust particles floating free before the light beam as she walked, Marissa sprayed the trail once more, finding the little paws headed to a table, where the little one apparently hopped around, hovering between three seats.

Smirking, Marissa couldn’t avoid tracing the table, taking the seat where the biggest amount of paws could be seen with luminol: absolutely certain this is the table the seeker trine uses to have their meals, she finally stood up, spraying more luminol in an attempt to locate the freshest trail possible.

If she found one seeker, she would soon find the others. Every single Air Force pilot secretly wanted to come close to a seeker, pilot a seeker, and…

… and she fully intended to see them up close, if anything, to clear her head up from those stupid phantasies she indulged into while sleeping, because yes, these could only be phantasies, taking place at the only moment she couldn’t control herself.

The dreams made her awake wet, covered in cold sweat, heartbeat pounding behind her ears, the near-memories filling her mind, memories-yet-to-be of her organic self getting grievously damaged in combat and requiring, as last resort, that her core consciousness gets transferred permanently to a cybernetic shell, her mind filled with dreams of blood loss and energon shedding, failing heartbeats and quickening sparks, purple sparks, and it made absolutely no sense, and…

...and Puggle walked up until here, following the scent of the seekers, so… yeah. This is where she could finally meet them.

T he Elite Seeker Trine.

Perhaps finally meeting them will break the phantasy for good and she will be able to finally let these stupid, persistent thoughts go.

Puggle was a good judge of character though. Perhaps Marissa herself would be fine, since the dog was with them and alive.

If not… well. She would deal with the problems as they came by, like she always did.

So, breathing deeply and spraying one more puff of luminol, she followed the trail.

---------------

Sitting by himself on a far away dead-end corridor, Hook had finished his crackers dry, and was trying his best to enjoy solitude, the moment his tablet’s screen flared alight.

Squinting at the screen, Hook brought the tablet into view, unlocking it and meeting face first with a huge, greenish dialogue window occupying the full screen, where he could read…

“Hook: presence required.”

For a click opening his mouth to speak, the Decepticon medic immediately shut-up. Glaring down at the screen, he managed to bring forth a virtual keyboard, typing.

“Commander Soundwave? How…!!”

“Human medic: asking unobjective questions during antenatal appointment. Hook tablet's chat frequency: obtained via wireless connection when human medic was too distracted making these questions to notice. Soundwave: extremely resourceful. Soundwave: Superior.”

Hook couldn’t help a tiny smirk at reading those words, familiarity lacing them, and for a click he could pretend they were at the undersea base, back into their shells, the moment a new message showed up on the screen.

“Explanations: given. Soundwave: informed that Lord Megatron ordered Hook to fully assist during carrying cycle. Hook: dutiful presence immediately required.”

Schooling himself as if he could be mind-read through the tablet, Hook cleared his throat, typing.

“As you wish, Commander Soundwave.”

Standing up with his nearly empty bottle of water, Hook finished downing the last droplets down, pondering it wouldn’t hurt to refill it at the mess hall before finally heading to Soundwave’s private room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22 - Domesticons!

Out of the shower, Leonard, already dressed in a change of clothes that was exactly like the previous one, visually inspected the room, for a second actually raising his hand and scratching his head, before he remembered.

He was not at the communal showers.

He had moved a cot to First-Liutenant’s Doctor Daniel’s private room.

Which explained why he had both his dirty change of clothes and a fluffy blue towel on his hand, futilely looking for the bin to throw it in, so it could be washed by the cleaning staff then later returned.

It did not explain though why there was a very comfortable-looking pillow, with a pair of fleeces neatly folded on the cot.

One brown, one blue.

Squinting at the pillow and the fleeces as if they could all jump and attack him, he glowered long and hard at them. He didn’t own anything like this. Fluffy. New. Tasteful. Pristine.

“This unbecoming cot doesn’t fit the decoration as it is. Besides, you brought no pillow.”

Turning to the voice, he met the surgeon’s face, hands currently typing on the notebook at the desk.

“Do my sense of fashion a favour and please cover the cot with these covers if you may?”

Leonard, blinking thrice, nodded and went to just do that, about to hide the pillow underneath the fleece, as Daniel spoke further.

“Please don’t cover the 100% swan plume pillow up like you would an itchy, foam-and-polyester one. It’s a 1.000 thread Egyptian Cotton pillowcase. It’s meant to be felt up against the skin.”

As the soldier nodded, holding himself not to pick the pillow and instantly bring it up on his own face, Daniel closed the notebook’s lid and stood up, walking up close and extending is hand, palm up.

“The wet towel, please. And the dirty set of clothes. The last thing I need is you forgetting about them and leaving both on the cot covers, or worse, at the sofa. Once I end my own shower, I’ll place everything at the wall-mounted washing machine inside the en-suite bathroom.”

Leonard, just finished straightening the brown fleece over the thin coiled mattress of his cot, stilled, turning to the medic and taking the towel and the dirty clothes from his shoulder, finally handing them in the expectant hand.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea you owned your own washing machine.”

“It’s a wall-mounted Electrolux LSE03. Small, can wash up to three kilograms of clothing and is extremely convenient. It even has a function allowing the clothes to be washed with hot water. Since the army is cheap and every single piece of clothing is made with polyester however, better not use the function. Those army clothes must be made by slave labour in third world countries with leftover fabric, I tell you. Did I mention this machine delivers the clothes actually completely dry?”

Leonard shook his head, then nodded, recalling the laundromat where his mom used to take their clothes to be washed in big machines: they were never well-off enough to own one, not even the most primitive types, that cannot deliver the clothes dry and require people to hang the clothes up to dry in the sun, as Daniel kept on talking.

“The main reason why I got this installed however is because I absolutely refuse sending my non-army belongings to the communal bin. It would be too easy for things to disappear. Like the silk white coats. Besides… even though we had been left behind with a skeleton crew, so no chances of anything being stolen, the clothes that those decepticons wear are being washed there. So...”

Leonard instantly saluted, proud for having picked what the doctor was getting at.

“Got it, Doc! No alien germs here! Don’t want them either.”

Daniel dipped his head in a nod then.

“Good. Now excuse me. My turn.”

Leonard stared as the medic walked into the bathroom, locking himself in, then turned to face the cot, sitting down and finally allowing himself to feel the brown fleece’s texture beneath his fingertips.

Refusing to mar the experience with thinking, something he had to admit he wasn’t that good at anyway, he deeply sighed, laying on his back, covering himself up with the blue fleece, this time gripping it with his left hand and turning on his left side, back turned against the wall.

Head resting at the extremely comfortable pillow, the left side of his face sinking at the fancy Egyptian pillowcase, he did have to agree with the doc that it felt really very good up on his skin, then closed his eyes, finally ready to sleep.

----------------------

Arriving at Commander Soundwave’s closed door, Hook transferred the tablet to his left hand, raising the right one to knock, unsurprised to see it come open before he actually touched anything.

Dipping his head down in a single respectful nod, he lowered his gaze as Soundwave rigidly stood before him for a split click, then stepped back, giving him room to come in.

“What is it you require of me, my Liege?”

Closing the door back, forgetting to lock it, Soundwave stared back at the Decepticon medic, droning.

“Room: provisioned with two recharge berths. Second berth: originally meant for Lord Megatron. Lord Megatron: not recharging here. Conclusion: Hook: will recharge there until second order.”

Knowing very well this was not a reply to his question, Hook visually inspected the second berth, waiting for more instructions, as Soundwave’s monotone spoke.

“Soundwave: can’t reach feet.”

Turning at the standing figure, Hook suppressed a smirk at the almost amusing sight of Soundwave lifting one foot and uselessly trying to touch it, wriggling his fingertips in the air.

Visibly frustrated, Soundwave approached the berth back, moving his right leg up, and actually straining to bring the left leg into it.

“Bump: cumbersome.”

Holding his breath, Hook waited for the command: he wouldn't dare even try to help without being prompted.

Soundwave, the stubborn fool he was, insisted three times more before giving up and doing precisely that, to which Hook immediately sprung closer, closely watched by Ravage’s golden eyes, his silky black form sprawled occupying the whole couch.

Finally seated back on the berth, Soundwave breathed the most deeply he could.

“Feet: swollen.”

And stood rigidly there, waiting.

As soon as it was clear Hook was not going to do anything that had not been commanded, Soundwave picked the tablet, swiped through a few browser windows and turned its screen to the Decepticon medic.

Squinting as he watched the video, Hook pursed his lips at the sight of a pair of hands massaging one foot, the tablet’s sound turned off.

“Venous and lymphatic human circulatory system design: flawed. Brought up by natural evolution. Impossible to improve upon unless humans develop sufficient genetic engineering.”

Hook nodded, having superficially read about it, as Soundwave, unaccustomed to having to speak that much, continued.

“Carrying human forge at 35 weeks: excessive strain in pelvic floor, causing compression of lymphatic and venous system even when carrier not standing up. Consequence: insufficient return of blood from lower limbs. Final result: swollen feet.”

At the mention of a carrying womb, having for a split click recalled everything he read about human reproduction, traumatised enough for at least five cybertronian lifetimes, Hook stalled, staring at the pair of hands now working up from the foot to the ankle on the video.

“Lord Megatron: not around. Soundwave: sent Lord Megatron away after provocation. Will not call sire back, not before Lord Megatron apologises.”

Hook barely avoided groaning: unsurprised at the confirmation of his suspicions, knowing how bad these two fools were at admitting they were wrong, he decided upon not opening this can of rustworms, and simply dipped his head down in a very respectful nod.

“Hook: ordered to take care of Soundwave’s medical needs.”

At that Hook mentally sighed, relieved, fleeting a glance to the video, the pair of hands now deeply sliding from the foot up to the knee, then going back to the foot and repeating the action: obviously, it was a request to fulfil a medical need.

“Soundwave: requests lymphatic drainage.”

He slightly moved the tablet closer to Hook, to emphasize it without talking any further.

“Results in video: satisfactory.”

Turning the tablet off for now, Soundwave put it aside at the nightstand, pluging it into recharge, finally wriggling his right foot’s toes.

“Hook: expected to commence anytime.”

----------------

Nurse June Darby, currently sitting at the Medical Office organising Soundwave’s handwritten files, having previously tidied things up in case of an emergency, stalled as she heard a knock on the door.

Agent Fowler and Doctor Daniel had the keys, and neither had need to knock. Soldier Ferdinand also had the keys. Soldier Leonard didn’t have the keys, but he didn’t need them, since he and Daniel were practically attached at the hip, as Agent Fowler planned them to be.

Briefly recalling there were decepticons on site, unwilling to shoot and kill any of the Autobot’s charges unless expressly ordered to, she armed herself with a Littman cardiologic II stethoscope and stepped to the door, hiding behind it as she opened it just enough for a human head to come in.

As predicted, a human head did come in, and she immediately lunged the stethoscope at whoever was there, sliding it down the intruder’s neck and pulling..

Noisily pushing the now gagging man at the ground, she lodged one knee between his shoulderblades, keeping her choking grip on the stethoscope, the man trashing for air as a second one came inside and stared wide eyed.

“Keep away or I’ll break his neck!”

Stalling at the talking blur, Astrotrain fleeted a glance at the ground where the other blur known as Blitzwing’s choking self was, an instant of terror going through his mind.

He couldn't fight anyone in his currently helpless state of near-blindness: before turning human he had the advantage of his sheer size and mass, not to mention his many devices that combined, effectively replaced most of the need to actually see, temperature, pressure, electric charge reading instruments that would always grant him an advantage, as long as he made sure to bring the fight into the dark, or into Space.

So, raising both hands up, he took on the most logical course of action.

“We didn’t come here to fight. I just wanted to talk to the human doctor.”

June Darby then squinted, as Astrotrain now knelt down right before her and her victim, lowering his head almost to the ground in a very submissive way.

“Please. I beg you. Let my partner go.”

Squinting at the tall man kneeling down, June also lowered her face to the level of the one she attacked.

“Breathe wrong in my presence and I’ll make sure you no longer will have to breathe.”

Weakly nodding at the voice, Blitzwing dry heaved trying to breathe, as the woman stepped away from him and the former-shuttle crawled up to Astrotrain’s direction, getting immediately pulled to the other’s arms and slotting himself there.

Pursing her lips as she watched her victim get helped on his feet by his partner, finally resting his face at the crook of the other man’s neck, she briefly recalled Soundwave and her pets, no, creations.

Nope, she is not heading there, June mentally grimaced, making sure to sit back at the desk, finally speaking.

“Very well then. What is it you wanted to talk to the doctor?”

Chapter Text

23 – Steve’s Job

Just out of the shower, Daniel, a crimson-red towel in his head, dressed in a pair of equally scarlet pyjamas with black slippers, squinted at his own room as he took sight of the unbecoming cot by the door, instantly remembering.

Soldier Brock, no, Leo, was going to sleep here from now on while that decepticon threat remained in the base.

Finally climbing up his barely-better-than-a-cot bed, he picked his tablet from the desk and turned it on, groaning: he had an insistent message glowing in awful-green at the notification bar.

Scrolling it up and unlocking the tablet, it opened directly at the intranet’s chat system, no-one-less-than Nurse June Darby’s chat window popping up on his screen.

“Greetings, First-Lieutenant Dr. Pitanguy: Commander Fowler authorized me to schedule a couple of patients early in the morning for you. Make sure to be here 0600 pronto. Second-Lieutenant Nr. Darby out.”

Grimacing for a couple of seconds, Daniel finally groaned, counting to ten, then formally replied that he would be there with his bodyguard at the scheduled time, turning the tablet’s volume off and flipping its screen down on the night-stand, unwilling to have anything to do with such awful news until he must again.

There was a reason why he became an army surgeon, instead of an army clinician.

Surgery patients in army situations were often more dead than alive, usually in too much pain to do anything beyond screaming when not anaesthetised thus not exactly prone to idle chatter, which suited Daniel very well: he didn’t graduate in medicine due to the goodness of his heart, and he hated people.

Why medicine then?

Why, financial stability, obviously.

It was a bit too late to be born rich and not have to do any actual, hard, physical work for a living: despite being reasonably good looking for his current age (he absolutely did not look 43!), he had absolutely no intention to marry off any wrinkled, obnoxious, loud, old hag, much less any stinky, disgusting, bald old sod, no matter how moribund, to chance inheriting wealth: he had standards.

He needed a profession that paid better than average, in a field where preferably The Government would actually pay for him to study, and then keep paying for him to work afterwards.

Few professions beat Medicine in that regard.

Fortunately or unfortunately he found his calling in Surgery: he had always been praised for his manual skill and impeccable sense of aesthetics, added to his quick thinking and capability for improvisation.

Pay no mind, Daniel was a very good clinician, but clinical patients have a tendency to complain that they are in pain, they request refills for their medication, they want - perish the notion! - work leave, and they keep returning for further appointments and reviews.

He couldn’t be made to care about their little daily problems, not enough to see himself opening up a private clinical practice.

Now, a surgical business would be something else entirely, but there was a problem with that.

He needed to have money to make money.

How could he advertise himself when he had no way to pay for it without undergoing crippling debt?

Even considering Uncle Sam paid for his studies, even considering one day he would leave the Army debt free… he couldn’t fathom where he would go to practice surgery like he wished and deserved.

Who would pay him for doing plastic surgery when he had no practice beyond stitching up grunts? How was he getting into a fellowship without official letters of recommendation from prestigious Medical Schools?

Certainly, his curriculum as Army Surgeon would take him a few places.

Just not the places he wanted to be.

Which only left him working for The Government.

Ah well.

Taking a last glance at his silently sleeping bodyguard, nodding in appreciation at the loaded and hopefully safety-locked rifle resting against the wall, Daniel finally placed his favourite crimson sleeping-eye-mask, turning on his right side and reluctantly drifting to sleep.

---------------

Currently sitting at the foot of his patient’s assigned bed, Hook had managed to mmicry by spark the motions of the hands hypnotically massaging the feet depicted into the video Soundwave showed him with the datapad.

Place both thumbs at the dorsal surface of the foot, press and slide the skin into the shin until the knee, slowly going up.

Stop.

Lift thumbs, move down, now slightly to the right, sliiiiiiiide back up.

Thumbs back down, this time a bit to the left, sliiiiiide up.

Change foot.

Repeat.

Only the sound of the sliding fingers and Ravage’s own purring filled the room, until the sound of sliding came to a full stop.

Opening his golden eyes, Ravage squinted at the bed, actually raising a corner of his mouth in the closest approximation of a smirk he could muster as a panther at the sight.

Quite impressed, he stretched, briefly raked his claws on the ground, then rose his front paws at the bed, face coming level with the mattress.

Soundwave, famed to never recharge (he did, obviously, but it’s the sentiment that counts), was in fact silently so, right foot propped up Hook’s lap, the other foot and a hand both hanging out of the bed, right hand currently resting atop the huge pregnant belly, rising up and down with every breath.

Hook, famed for never leaving an unfinished job, was hopelessly slumped ahead, chin pressing against the base of his neck, both hands loosely gripping Soundwave’s right foot, eyes closed and mouth slack open, snoring.

Watching closely the constructicon’s face, Ravage tilted his head, coming close and actually sniffing him, opening his mouth in a Flehmen response, taking notice of the tiny thick hairs starting to show in the man’s chin, upper lips and sides of the face, puzzled.

Moving to Soundwave’s face, he slowly sniffed it, also opening his mouth to better analyse what he was taking in, finally getting to a worrying conclusion.

Summoning the mental image of blue and purple sparks to mind, he shook his head, mentally cursing the lack of access to an inner comm, silently walking to the door, testing the door handle once and quite glad to find it unlocked.

Stopping by the open door for about to five full clicks, undecided between going back inside or leaving, tail swishing back and forth, lashing right and left, Ravage finally left the room, turning to grab the handle with his fangs walking backwards until the door closed, wondering where he could find a computer terminal with a keyboard large enough for him to use his paws.

----------------------------

Soldier Steve hummed to himself as he cartwheeled dirty laundry from all around the base.

Initially worried for being chosen to stay behind as part of the skeleton crew, responsible for readying the MRE rations, filling the juicer, pre-cleaning and placing dirty silverware and cookware at the dishwasher, and supplying the laundry, he was quite glad to know he was allowed to do his work work during the graveyard shift without needing to keep any direct contact with the aliens.

All he had to do was to keep the wheels turning in the base. Once everything was over, Commander Fowler promised, he would get promoted.

Ha.

He knew very well what promotion meant. More work and more responsibilities for practically the same pay.

Stopping by the communal washracks to get the towels those decepticons used, he put on a pair of disposable nitrile gloves, a disposable TNT mask, a disposable TNT coat, and opened the door.

As far as he understood, those aliens had come from a planet called Cybertron: some were as huge as whole fucking planets, a size-scale so unfathomable to the layperson that even though Steve was graduated in philosophy and considered himself fairly open to new ideas and concepts, he could hardly digest the very notion of transforming sentient robots the size of Earth belonging to the same race of beings as the ones that could turn into assorted vehicles from cranes and freight trucks to jets and helicopters and tanks, going through static objects as tiny as a gun or a micro-cassette-recorder, and even others could be as tiny as a micro-cassette or a pendrive, not to mention those that can actually turn into animal simulacra, all of them rational like humans.

Cautiously stepping inside, taking care not to touch anything with ungloved hands, he made quick work of the towels, filling the cart up and getting a huge bottle of hydrochloric solution, walking by the walls and spraying every single surface he could with it.

As soon as the protocol interval of 10 minutes was over, he would fully hose the walls and surfaces with water, then proceed to the Mess Hall.

Once everything was finished, he would take his own shower at the maintenance crew’s personal facilities: he could barely wait to finally be able to go to sleep.