Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moon loomed high above the trees, glowing down onto the blacktop streets of a lonely highway. While most would be at home resting by now, two lone vehicles traversed the road: an armored truck and its escort, a red and gold muscle car. They were an odd pair, yet they traveled along the empty streets together. The soft clicking when that lever behind the wheel was pulled, Knock Out learned, indicated a right turn. He still found such indicators odd, but they obeyed them. The military vehicle slowed slightly, allowing the muscle car to pull ahead into the right lane. The fork in the road was quickly approaching, and the clicking started up again. Traffic laws, Knock Out thought. How barbaric.

“Why haven’t we been picked up yet?” Breakdown snarled over their comm link, “I’m getting sick of carrying this thing.”

Knock Out rolled his optics. “Easy, Breakdown. This barbaric planet has an atmosphere just as terrible as its inhabitants. Our communications are weak, but I will send another beacon to Soundwave.”

Breakdown simply huffed. If anyone could receive a message that far away, it was Soundwave. All the while, they would stall for time, scouting the surroundings. Looking at the odd structures that lined the roads almost made him queasy. Organics sickened him, and he was on a planet full of them. This little marble was so much smaller than home, and it was so unsafe as well. Breakdown sped up slightly, almost bumper-to-bumper with his escort.

“Watch the paint job.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m watchin’ it.”

The road grew shorter the longer they went until those awful trees surrounded them. It made him feel claustrophobic, like the long arms of those organics were trying to grab at him like the old streetlamps of Iacon.

“Nemesis, this is Knock Out. Do you read? Soundwave, the relic has been acquired. We need a groundbridge.” Silence. “Soundwave? Soundwave, do you read me?”

Breakdown huffed. “Scrap this. We’ll be out here all night. I’m putting it down.” The armored truck suddenly braked, the plating shifting out of place. It cracked, moving in practiced patterns until a figure was made of it. Breakdown settled where he was, simply lying in the road.

Knock Out followed suit, standing and crossing his arms over his chassis. “Well… having one set position can’t hurt. Soundwave should be able to lock onto our positions, I suppose.” It also certainly didn’t hurt to stretch his servos. Knock Out moved to look at whatever they were transporting. An odd box, glowing purple around the seams. He lifted it carefully, rolling it around in his servos. Indeed, it was as heavy as Breakdown described. Something so small had such incredible weight that it stumped Knock Out.

Settling beside his partner, Knock Out laid the box aside. “Well… it’s no Kaon, but it’s nearly as terrible as the Pits.” He noted about their new world, looking down at Breakdown. “We’ll have to live with it.”

Breakdown huffed, sitting up. “I still dunno what’s so important about this little rock. Sure, no ‘Bots from what we can tell, but…” He rubbed his helm, looking down at the box. That purple glow almost made him sick. Though, maybe that’s why it was in the box. “Why would Megatron want something so… gross?” He asked, speaking his mind, as he typically did.

Knock Out shrugged. He opened his intake to speak, but he was swiftly interrupted. Headlights. The two stood, Breakdown grabbing the box again in his massive servos. It was assumed to be Soundwave, or maybe one of his Cassetticons, coming to get them. But it most certainly was not. Knock Out took a quick few steps back, optic ridges furrowing at the new arrival. “So much for this planet not being infested with ‘Bots, hm?”

Jazz put his servos up, taking a few steps back. He was recognized as a very high-ranking officer, but two overpowered one. “‘Con’s already? Looks like I lost that bet.” He chuckled dryly, glaring at the two of them through his visor. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble right about now. Just wanna… pass on by.”

Breakdown stepped between Jazz and Knockout, a heavy puff of steam leaving his vents. “Don’t get your gears in a bunch. Earth is our new stomping ground.”

Jazz crossed his arms. “So, I’m supposed to kneel to a single Stunticon and his medic? Don’t feel so lucky. I’m not lookin’ to fight you.”

Knock Out huffed. He knew Jazz, or at least he used to. Shaking his helm, he grabbed Breakdown’s arm. “It’s not worth it, he’s alone. Make a note and move aside, this is for command to deal with.”

It didn’t take much for Breakdown to yield. He was carrying sensitive material, after all. A fight would risk it. Jazz did as he said he would, moving along down the road. When their long-awaited groundbridge arrived, Breakdown stretched, back struts straining slightly. Knock Out followed him in.

The Nemesis was as dark as usual, with red and purple accents that nearly matched the sick glow of the box's seams. The Bridge was as quiet as it usually was without Starscream, the only bots other than Knock Out and Breakdown being Soundwave, standing silently beside the groundbridge controls, and Megatron. He approached with heavy pedfalls, outstretching a servo.

“Excellent work, both of you.” He grumbled, lifting the box from Breakdown’s servos. Knock Out opened his intake to speak, but Megatron was already working, prying the metal apart to reveal what was inside—large, purple crystals. Aside from Megatron and his Third in Command, all in the room winced back. It emanated the worst energy, the kind of aura that emitted sickness, pain. It was kept in that box for a reason, but now it was free.

“Behold,” Megatron bellowed, “The Heart of Unicron, the darkest matter in all the universe, the antithesis of all good. This empty rock, this Earth, is home to Dark Energon.”

Something was wrong. Breakdown clapped his servos over his auditory receptors, crying out in pain as he fell back into a kneeling position. Knock Out fell to his side, trying to see what was wrong… and all the while, Megatron roared with laughter. “Soundwave, make a note for me. If this is the effect on one of our own… then imagine the impact on our enemies.”

Soundwave turned his helm up to Megatron, his red visor glinting in the new light. “Suggestion: Dark Energon: to be studied by Shockwave for long-term effects.” He droned, offering to take the mineral, which was promptly placed in his servo.

“As wise as always, Soundwave.” Megatron praised, turning back to the medic and Stunticon to wave them away. “To the medical ward with you. And once he is fixed, I want a full report on your scouting mission.”

Knock Out would’ve mentioned what happened on the mission now, but Breakdown was his top priority. It could wait.

When they were gone, Megatron returned to Soundwave, whose slender digits inspected the odd material. It seemed to burn his plating slightly, but nothing major. “Incredible, is it not? Such power, contained on such an insignificant planet. One must wonder what Unicron thought of when I extinguished his spark…”

Soundwave tilted his helm upwards. “Dark Energon: dangerous acidic property. Further suggestion: contain it once more, then send it to Shockwave’s Laboratory.”

And, of course, Megatron heeded his suggestion. Soundwave was kept close for a reason. Eternally loyal, and incredibly intelligent. The sensitive material was placed into its metallic casing once more, and the box bent shut around it. Who knew of the power this darkness contained?

Megatron gazed down at the casing as he walked. Such strength emanated from such a small source. He paused, lifting the container once more and prying the top off. The aura of those crystals was calling to him, he knew it. His spark spun in his chassis as he carefully snapped a small piece off the end of a stalk, lifting it to his optics. His processor swam with ideas, thoughts not ventured in millennia. His own spark pulsed in tandem with its powerful glow, and there was an odd sense of… connection. Unicron was calling.

Megatron was a slave to none. He made that clear in the Pits. Yet, something about this was different. This was not a fight, but rather an offering. That he understood. So, with that newfound connection in processor, Megatron opened his intake. The taste was horribly bitter, yet not far from the familiar embrace of high-grade.

Understanding. It was a hot commodity nowadays, which made it all the sweeter now. Quietly closing the box again, Megatron lifted his helm, ensuring no one had seen him before continuing. Unicron’s Heart thrummed in tandem with his spark, bringing familiarity into the situation. Nothing was happening, but he wouldn’t risk further damage to his internals. It was up to Shockwave now.

Chapter Text

The darkness was nearly blinding. Small blinking lights worked to illuminate the path around the laboratory. Those overhead lights burned Shockwave’s optic, so they remained off so he could focus.

A large, dark figure moved about the room, followed by a smaller, younger figure. A dark box was placed on the workbench, carefully pulled open with cold, sterilized clamps. Shockwave reared back at the glow the crystals produced, the shutter around his optic tightening to limit the light it could take in. The smaller figure climbed onto the counter, and Shockwave observed his hesitance.

“It smells spoiled.” Ratbat decided, his elongated auditory receptors flattening against his helm. “Nasty.” He added, looking back up at his former colleague with big, red optics.

“You are not required to remain here.” Shockwave clarified, looking down at his small assistant. Ratbat was the only bot that could handle the dark lights he preferred for extended periods, so he followed him everywhere.

Ratbat had to think momentarily, looking back and forth between his sire and the crystals before eventually deciding to relent. He perched up on Shockwave’s shoulder plates, watching him work. The clamps were held firmly in his only servo, cannon arm hanging uselessly at his side. That’s why he preferred to sit on that shoulder. The clamps carefully grasped one of the long stalks, ripping it from the cluster.

The light grew unbearable for a moment, but only a moment, before dying down again. A horrible stench was created, but only Ratbat reacted, putting his little servos over his olfactory receptor and whimpering pathetically. Shockwave was lucky, in some regard—a scientist without the ability to smell anything, from the nastiest chemicals to the most overwhelming rot.

“Ratbat, take notes for me,” Shockwave commanded, not looking up as the cassetticon fluttered across the room to the monitors on the wall: a new file, Dark Energon. The experimentation continued.

Turning the stalk upside down, a coarse fluid dripped down into the awaiting beaker below. It boiled against the glass, an odd reaction, and a notable one as well. Carrying the beaker carefully to an average Energon purifier and placing it inside, Shockwave stepped back. It would no doubt have some sort of terrible reaction… yet nothing happened when the machine was turned on.

Ratbat’s long ears slowly swiveled forward, and he crawled to the end of the desk. Curiosity was his greatest trait, truly. “Terrible.” He murmured, watching Shockwave slowly open the machine. The area around him was flooded with deep purple mist, the stench making Ratbat wrinkle his olfactory receptor. He took off, fluttering to Shockwave’s shoulder plate to perch, covering his lower faceplate with his tiny servos.

When the substance was lifted from its container, it looked like any normal Energon, just purple, more concentrated. Shockwave’s optic tightened slightly as he lifted it to view, studying the swirling mass inside the cube. “Fascinating,” He decided, “It seems stable. Ratbat, you are aware of our looming problem, yes?”

The cassetticon lifted his helm briefly, having to think for a moment before nodding. “Low fuel.” He declared.

Since the Great Evacuation of Cybertron, the Decepticons had been burning through their spoils far faster than predicted. The space colonies were beginning to run dry, and every drilling effort on Earth had proven fruitless. If this proved a substantial substitution to everyday Energon, they were saved.

Shockwave lifted his helm, shutter tightening further when the door suddenly opened. However, he settled at the sight of the one waiting for him. “Greetings, Soundwave. Your stalking tendencies continue to impress me.”

Soundwave hardly made a sound. Maybe a soft huff? Though, that was most likely just a cycle of his vents. “Stench: Noticed three halls down. Concern: Something died.”

“Negative. I have been studying the sample provided for the past joor,” He paused, “You have come to collect me for my refueling.”

“Affirmative.”

Shockwave looked down at the cube in his servo, taking a few more notes before placing it back into the protective chamber it had arrived in. He then turned back to Soundwave, pedes clunking across the room to him. The laboratory doors shut easily behind them, Soundwave moving out of the way for his much larger partner.

They showed no outward affection for one another, despite their status as conjunx endura. They simply had the same refueling joor, and returned to the same habsuite at night.

Soundwave didn’t look up at Shockwave, instead opting to keep his optics on the hall ahead as he spoke. “New experiment: Going well?” He asked, as monotone as ever.

Shockwave nodded. “If able to be properly refined, Dark Energon may prove a valuable asset to our cause.”

No more needed to be said. They seemed to understand one another perfectly without the need of fluffy conversation. That would just clog their processors, after all, and they needed that memory space for far more important things.

Soundwave paused halfway down the hall to the canteen, a sudden pulse hitting his spark. He trembled momentarily before it stopped, having to hold Shockwave’s arm until it went away.

“Explain stimulus.” Shockwave commanded.

“Sudden dizziness. Clarity.” Soundwave answered, shaking his helm and pulling away.

“Fascinating.”

Ratbat slowly climbed back onto the counter, sneering at the door where the two mechs had left. His audio receptors flattened with dislike, a sneer on his features. While he behaved fine when they were around, he remembered what Soundwave had done to him, how he ended up in that useless frame.

He padded across the countertop, dropping down onto all fours as he approached the Dark Energon, sitting unceremoniously in its purification cube. The purple liquid glowed slightly, casting an eerie light onto Ratbat’s small frame.

His long, spindly digits curled around the cube, which he lifted from its place. The smell was terrible from this proximity, but he persisted, as he tended to do.

Ratbat was no fool. He could sense the properties within the swirling mass, olfactory sensor wrinkling as he studied it. A stimulant, one that would power his frame far more effectively than regular purified Energon.

But was it worth it? He hadn’t watched Shockwave test it on any real metal yet. It could boil him from the inside out. Yet the curiosity was overwhelming. The mysterious liquid called out to him, wrapping him in its eerie, yet welcoming glow.

So Ratbat stopped hesitating. He used his sharp claws to puncture the thin lining of the cube before draining the fluid from within.

It settled like a stone in his tanks, but swirled like something spoiled. Ratbat stumbled back, nearly falling off the counter as his frame trembled. The effects were powerful, even from such a small dosage. He blinked rapidly, the laboratory spinning around him as he tried to regain his bearings.

Then all was clear.

Ratbat stood, his wings feeling much more powerful now. He propelled himself through the air, landing on the perch beside Shockwave’s datapads. His talons dug in as he grabbed one from the back, wiping whatever useless study was previously on it and starting a new file.

Ratbat would need to document the effects. Especially if he wanted more of it.

Chapter Text

The rumbles of his now Earth-based engines were starting to annoy Starscream. No, not starting, they did annoy him. Earth jets were so clunky. He was cramped in his own body, yet he continued his search.

While it was a disgusting organic planet full of even more disgusting organics, there was some strange beauty in the peaks that jutted for the clouds, for the rain that pelted on his back. He knew why—it was like Vos, the place where he was truly home.

Unable to take the rain anymore, Starscream paused his pursuit, tilting to land on one of those tall peaks. Folding out of that inefficient form, his legs landed smoothly on the wet rock, talons gripping into the grooves.

Starscream shook himself off, groaning when more water replaced that which he already removed. He sat pathetically against the mountain, legs dangling off as he looked around. He knew this planet better than any other Decepticon. After all, he’d scoured its surface in search of his mate thousands of times.

Pressing a servo to his chassis, Starscream’s fans clicked on. Despite the cold rain running down his back, his frame was heating beyond what was comfortable. His spark was aching again, as it typically did at this time during his searches. The time when he realized it was pointless.

An endless cycle. He comes to Earth, optimistic that his bond will lead him to the one he misses most. Then, after a few laps around the continents… he loses hope.

Jetfire was dead. Dead as a doornail. Yet, hanging outside of Starscream’s habsuite on the Nemesis was a placard depicting both of their names. He’d not gotten around to changing it, he’d tell other bots. But in truth, he was still holding out a sliver of hope.

The rain stopped after a few joors, which was plenty of time for Starscream to think. He stood shakily, flexing his massive wings. Water poured down the back of his legs, but he didn’t seem to notice. With a heavy cycle of his vents, his fans clicked off.

There really was no point in searching anymore.

Either Jetfire would return to him, or he was certainly gone.

Fine.

Starscream leaped from the ledge, not opting to transform this time. His engines roared, and he was gone into the clouds once more.

Returning to the Nemesis, Starscream stood tall, unwilling to let anyone see the anguish in his optics. They’d all come to that conclusion long ago, after all. He just needed some time to wallow in it.

He made swift work of walking through those long, dark halls, avoiding every bot he possibly could. He arrived in the Seeker’s Hall after not even three breems, and escaped to the wash racks.

Starscream sank into the hot oil bath, washing that cruel Earth rain away. Oil was a much more comfortable sensation, a familiar one. The baths in Vos weren’t so dissimilar. He simply laid there for a while, soaking in the warmth as his plating filled with oil.

“I don’t need him anyways,” He thought, scooping a servo-ful of soap out of the dish beside the tub. “I’ve survived for millennia without him.”

“I mean, honestly. If he were still here he would’ve found me by now.” He huffed, now speaking aloud to no one in particular. The soap suds slowly trailed down his plating, the room beginning to stink of whatever scent Thundercracker had last used. Starscream wrinkled his olfactory receptor.

He grabbed the scent jug beside the soap, quickly reading it over. “What in Primus’ name is ‘pine’?” Starscream grunted, tossing it aside. The bottle rattled and fell silent.

This was no way for the King of Vos to be treated. Especially after such a terrible conclusion. Though, he remained where he was; either unwilling or unable to leave the warmth of the oil.

He remained there for several joors.

Starscream was absent from the next command meeting. According to Skywarp, who attended for him, he simply refused to leave his nest.

This wouldn’t do. Megatron needed his second in command, especially at a time like this. He knocked before entering to alert Starscream to his presence, then he entered.

He was a sorry sight, really. Empty cubes of energon were scattered around his recharge slab, piling up beside him. He’d built himself a nest of a sleeping arrangement, with enough padding and blankets to warm an army. And there, buried beneath at least three of those blankets, was Starscream.

Megatron had little sympathy for his finicky second in command, but he was in quite a state. Pushing aside the empty cubes with his pedes, Megatron came to his side, carefully peeling back the blankets to look at Starscream.

He was curled up like a sparkling, looking almost dazed. He’d certainly done nothing but recharge for the past few cycles. Megatron blinked at him. “You’re in quite the condition.” He commented quietly.

Starscream didn’t answer, aside from stuffing his faceplate into the padding beneath his helm. With a low sigh, Megatron sat beside him, keeping the wall of padding between them as a buffer. “An embarrassing sight for a king, but I don’t blame you,” He started, “I’ve lost things as well. In fact, I’ve lost more than you’ve ever known, seeker.”

Starscream really wasn’t in the mood to listen to this speech again, but he simply let Megatron speak. After all, he also wasn’t in the mood for consequences.

Oh, Vos. How he longed for home. Those tall mountains, the safe valleys. The humming of engines as seekers flew by his window. His people. His land. His kingdom.

The arms of someone warm. The touch of a bot so much bigger than him. The love that flowed so tangibly between their sparks, he swore he could touch it. His servo was so small in comparison, but they held one another just fine.

He must’ve started to doze off, but he quickly awoke as he felt himself being moved. Starscream groaned as he was sat on his pedes, held up by the former gladiator beside him. “It will pass in time, like any illness. You must return to your duties. Our cause relies on you and I to remain strong, no matter the loss. Do you understand?”

Starscream blinked, his optics zoning out for a moment before he shook his helm. “Yes, Lord Megatron. I understand.”

Megatron grinned, patting him hard on the back. “Now clean your habsuite. I cannot have you living in an organic sty, yes?”

“No, master… I will fix this… then I will return to my post.”

“Very well then. I will see you there.”

The moment he was gone, Starscream crumpled to the floor again. Relief flooded him. That could’ve gone much worse.

He looked around himself. What a mess he’d become, all over some stupid mech that probably didn’t like him in the first place. After all, who would up and disappear like that? Only a bot that didn’t truly love him.

Starscream gathered himself, standing once more. Though, he didn’t bother to clean before heading for his post.

Chapter Text

When something was off aboard the Nemesis, Soundwave knew. He was acutely aware of everything around him at all times, and though it was exhausting, he found comfort in control; in being able to know where and when he was needed.

Stability was not a thing Soundwave found familiar, especially not stability in control. His memory never failed him, he knew the gladiatorial days like no other bot. How he’d fall onto his servos and pedes, cowering and raising his hackles at the same time. The scars of conflict long passed still lingered on his frail frame.

And though he now spent most of his time cooped up onboard the ship, it kept him comfortable, and it kept him around his creations.

Soundwave stood in his habsuite. It was the dead of night, where not a noise was made by anything. Where all soundlessly slumbered. All but him. He was the greatest guard, after all. The one that saw and heard everything that needed to be saw and heard.

Being so intimately intertwined with the ship’s HUD was a sensation he knew well, and often became lost in. So, slowly, Soundwave raised his servos. He looked down at them, at his long, sharp digits. They, as with the rest of his plating, shined in the dim lights he and Shockwave preferred.

He then moved downward. His boxy chassis, which had carried at least a dozen creations, and continued to do so. A large docking cavity, fitting all six living at once. Living, what a strange thing to do.

Behind that docking cavity was the most sensitive part of himself, the reason he and so many others lived. That pulsing spark, nestled gently in its chamber. It glowed absently, like it was still somewhere else, but in physicality, it was there inside of him.

Yes, he was himself. He was Soundwave, not a security drone, not the humming of the ship around him, he was Soundwave.

Slowly, he began to move. His pedes returned into their familiar march, a light stride. Slowly, he pulled back the curtains separating one chamber from the main one. He stood there in the doorway, staring inward.

Rumble and Frenzy had two separate recharge slabs, on opposite walls of the room. They were connected like no other of his creations, in a curious manner that left them nearly bound to one another. Rumble, the bigger of the two, had his upper half dangling off, and Frenzy mirrored him. Soundwave quietly entered, readjusting them to lay their helms on the pillows. Frenzy snorted, but didn’t wake.

The next room over contained two of his odd-framed young ones. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were settled comfortably in their respective nests, nests that nearly mimicked the ones seekers usually slept in. Soundwave knew not to move them, they were far lighter sleepers than his twins. Perhaps it was their difference in frames? Or, perhaps because they took more after him than Shockwave?

The last room contained his youngest. Soundwave felt little for him when it came to affection, but was that not cruel? To feel a certain way for his sparkling, simply because they looked and sounded like someone he used to know? He slowly crept into the room, kneeling beside Ratbat’s sleeping form.

He looked almost peaceful. Almost. He buzzed with an odd energy, one that confused Soundwave. He reached out, nearly touching him before pausing. Maybe… maybe it was best to leave him be. His sixth cassette would be waiting for him by now anyways.

Ravage was laid comfortably on the couch. She never received a recharge slab, she never wanted one anyways. She either slept there on the couch, or on top of Soundwave. He reached down, rubbing her behind her auditory receptors and prompting her engine to purr gently. “You’re not very sneaky.” Ravage commented.

“Status: Attempting not to wake Cassetticons. Sneaky: Not in my intentions.”

Ravage just snorted, rolling onto her side. She was the only one that Soundwave didn’t create himself. She had almost raised the bigger mech. Back in the pits… the beasts of Kaon…

In his earliest memories, Soundwave was gripped by his scruff, in the maw of a massive creature. He was laid in a poorly constructed pile of whatever softness the beast could find, then she’d curl around him. His little servos would cling to her, and she would simply purr at him. A simple sound, a sound that most all bots could make, but it meant survival to him.

Ravage stretched, her claws unsheathing briefly. “You should go to recharge. Shockwave already pulled back the curtains to search for you.”

Soundwave looked up at that comment, and indeed, there was his sparkmate. He stood almost awkwardly in the doorway, yellow optic focused in on Soundwave.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave noted, looking back down at her. He pet Ravage’s flank for a few moments longer before pulling back. “Sleep well.”

Ravage smiled lazily, laying her helm back down. “You know I will.”

Soundwave turned to Shockwave, who was still standing there watching him. They sat in silence for perhaps too long, studying one another before Soundwave relented and returned to him.

Their own room was not grand in any sense, but it was theirs. A recharge slab for two, a second entrance to their en suite washracks, and a small window with a chair settled beside it.

As usual, Soundwave settled easily onto their berth, while Shockwave clambered unceremoniously onto the other side. Of course, now was the time they typically slipped into recharge, but neither did. Staring lazily at the ceiling was an illogical activity, but somehow they both ended up in that situation.

“I’ve been feeling strange recently,” Shockwave suddenly spoke, filling the silence with his tenor tones. “Ill, but not ill. By all diagnostic, I can find nothing wrong, and yet I feel strange.”

Soundwave turned his helm, looking at his partner. He knew Shockwave’s history better than Shockwave himself did. “Feeling: Positive or negative?”

Shockwave went stiff. “You are aware of my inability to ‘feel’ much of anything, Soundwave. That line of question is illogical.”

Silence settled between them for a while as Soundwave attempted to generate more questions. Slowly, he reached over and grabbed Shockwave’s blaster arm. It dwarfed his servo, but he didn’t mind. “Ill feeling: Generated by long-term exposure to Dark Energon? Similar: Effect of radiation on organic matter?”

Now that made sense. Shockwave slowly turned his helm, prompting them to look at each other in silence once more. They didn’t need to talk all the time, after all. “Perhaps,” Shockwave started, “I will further my studies. Do not worry for me.”

Recharge was quick and comfortable, and Soundwave woke first to the sound of a squabble starting outside. He stood carefully, stretching lazily as he moved to the curtain separating them from the main chamber.

All argument stopped when Soundwave appeared, and the cassettes returned to their morning duties, though Rumble was fuming. Soundwave observed him closer, watching Frenzy pat his back and blabber about something or another. That usually calmed him, after all.

Shockwave came to his side not long after he’d stood, his finials flicking gently. His optic shrank at the light the cassettes filled the space with, and he winced gently, prompting Soundwave to pat his back.

It didn’t take long for everyone to disappear. Rumble and Frenzy went out to explore the surrounding Earth-territory, with Laserbeak accompanying them, Buzzsaw began his patrol around the Nemesis, and Ratbat left for the laboratory with Shockwave.

Soundwave sat beside Ravage, who promptly curled up against his leg. “Shockwave: Behavior somewhat altered.” He noted to her, his greatest confidante. “Concern: Growing.”

Ravage’s engine rumbled gently, and she stretched. “Shockwave’s always been odd, even before the, you know…” She pressed her face into his leg, letting out a soft puff of steam from her nostrils. “Don’t stress yourself out.”

Soundwave cycled his vents, laying back against the couch. He didn’t often lounge, but this felt like a reasonable scenario. He rubbed Ravage’s back, her warm plating against his servo soothing him. “Shockwave: Concerned as well.”

Ravage’s auditory sensors flicked. “Well, what’s wrong with him that wasn’t wrong already?”

“Exhibiting signs of illness, with no illness.”

“No known illness, or no illness in general?”

“Unknown.”

Ravage snorted, “Continue.”

Soundwave could feel his spark boiling inside of him, burning like he’d been dunked into alcohol. “Strange dreams.”

Now that intrigued Ravage. To her knowledge, Shockwave didn’t dream at all. That was why he was so, well, odd. His processor just stopped working at night. “Clarify that for me.”

“Dreams of, what I can gleam being, his life as a senator.”

Ravage raised her helm. “But he doesn’t remember it?”

“Affirmative.”

“That… that is odd.” She admitted, laying her helm on his thigh. She was aware of what had happened to Shockwave, as were most bots.

A handsome, slightly quirky senator with a love for the bots of the working class. He wanted to make their lives better, while the rest of the senate was intent on keeping their slaves. He’d tried to reason with them, he had, but in the end he was given the worst punishment imaginable. He was unrecognizable by the end.

“Just… keep an optic on him.” Ravage suggested, standing and stretching. She jumped down from the couch, padding off to wherever she goes during the day.

Soundwave nodded. “Soundwave: Always does.”

Chapter Text

The laboratory was never occupied outside of Shockwave and Ratbat. But this was a rare occasion. Megatron pushed his heavy shoulders through the doors, his optics adjusting to the dim light within the chamber. Oh, Shockwave. He once loved the light. Once.

Megatron moved quietly around the laboratory, looking for something. His pedfalls were smooth and practiced, he’d been here before after all. He oversaw the construction of the Nemesis, ensured every wall was where he wanted it. The countertops were level with his abdominal plates, perfect to drag his servos across as he walked.

Finding the Energon purifier, Megatron took a moment to cycle his vents. Energon flowed faster through his veins in anticipation, but he needed to be patient. He couldn’t rush anything.

Slowly, he opened the purifier, sharp digits slipping inward to clasp what was contained within. He closed his optics, unwilling to let it overtake him yet. He was not a slave to his desires, nor to anyone. He was in control. Crisp, calm, complete control.

The cube of Dark Energon sat plainly in his palm, whatever evil others might felt melted off of Megatron’s silver plating. He was far more powerful than the ones that trembled at its might, a might he wielded.

Yes, he’d been here before. Simply looking at the small stack of cubes, occasionally drinking down their scent or holding one over his spark. But that wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

Megatron shuffled through Shockwave’s datapads, ensuring that they’d end up in their rightful place once more when he was finished. Upon finding the log of his Dark Energon discoveries, Megatron smiled. He swiftly began to scroll through the files, pouring over every pristinely-written word or phrase.

“Dark Energon. Alias: The Blood of Unicron.”

Shockwave wrote every word just perfectly, in the practiced manner which Megatron taught him. Learning how to use one’s servos was a difficult task, especially when one remembered nothing of their life before… well… he carried on.

“Dark purple in color, seems to swirl around its core, similar to typical liquid Energon. It emanates a glow that irritates my optic, and a foul odor that Ratbat took note of.”

Foul? Now that was a stretch. In all the times that Megatron had come in quiet, he’d smelled nothing but regular Energon, if not a bit sweeter. Sweetness was not foul, far from it.

“It can be consumed as regular Energon, but will power a bot for approximately twelve joors longer. Its odd properties act as a stimulant, making one feel as though they are stronger, or rather superior, as well as heighten their senses for some time.”

Powering bots for that long? The average recharge cycle was six joors. A bot instead could simply… remain active through that? With heightened senses?

Megatron put the datapad down, looking back at the cube in his opposite palm. It was so unassuming, so inconspicuous. If it weren’t purple, one would think nothing of it. A stimulant, a sense enhancer.

Megatron wasn’t unfamiliar with stimulants. Being a former gladiator, they were just another level of entertainment. How high can a bot really jump? How long can they really run before they collapse? How long will their spark really resist outside of its chamber, in the claws of another?

He did not fear it. Fear was an emotion he did feel, yes, but Dark Energon was familiar. So, as easy as any other Energon cube, Megatron slipped it easily down his intake. Just one.

His frame began to tremble, his tanks boiling with some kind of odd power. Then it struck his processor. Megatron stumbled, grabbing onto those perfect height countertops to remain steady. He was worried for a moment, but only a moment, as right after? There was bliss.

Indeed. Bliss in its truest form. Megatron stood from his place on the floor, though he didn’t remember falling there. Did it matter now? He was up and moving already, of course not.

Megatron crossed the floor, aware of every small chip his pedes stepped upon, of every noise he made. The room was brighter, his frame warm and relaxed. He paused by the workbench opposite the door, his digits wrapping firmly around a mirror placed there. He didn’t remember it being there, he didn’t know how he knew it was there… but it didn’t matter.

Looking at himself, nothing had changed. The wound from Optimus remained, the ugly scar that tore his face in twain. No medic could fix such a wound, no surgeon could mend such a break. Ah, but his optics. They glowed with authority, in the same purple hue as the Energon he’d consumed.

He wasn’t sure when he started laughing. He wasn’t sure when he gathered up the other cubes. He wasn’t sure when he left the laboratory. Pits, he wasn’t sure how he ended up in the belly of the ship. But there he was.

Megatron looked down from the tall platform he stood on, gazing down into that pool of bright blue, pure Energon. It was running low, no other way to put it. They would starve before the next decavorn was over. This would bring new life to the pool, a new fight to his soldiers.

Megatron reached his arms out and dropped all nine cubes into the vat.

It wasn’t long until the tainted Energon began to effect his soldiers.

Knock Out gently placed a cold compress on yet another vehicon’s helm. His battle mask muffled his voice, but until he could find his proper masks, it was the best he had. “I know it hurts, the other fifteen of you have told me so. I’ll get a scan started, m’kay?” Noting their weak nod, Knock Out turned to leave the small room.

He rubbed his helm. It had been aching since earlier in the decacycle, and hadn’t let up in a long while. Fragging cafeteria fuel… he never ate there. The prepared meals were simply nasty compared to sweet Medical-Grade Energon. He should’ve never been tempted by those Energex noodles.

The medbay was growing fuller by the cycle, the count of mysteriously ill vehicons having grown to sixteen since his last patient. They all showed the same symptoms; dizziness, nausea, tank purging, and overheating.

Knock Out moved to the long cabinets alongside his supply wall, beginning to look through them again. Vorns of neglect left them hardly organized, which seriously embarrassed Knock Out, especially at a time like this.

Grabbing two jugs of coolant from the top shelf, he began to fill a drip bag. He cycled his vents quietly, making sure not to spill a drop. His steady servo was his greatest trait. Aside from his looks, obviously.

Both had won him the most handsome of the Stunticons… of course they were his best traits.

Hanging the bag, he returned to his newest patient. They were too subdued with exhaustion to do much fighting, which made the application process much easier. He placed a soothing servo on the vehicon’s chassis. “You’ll be taken care of. I assure you, you will recover.”

They nodded lazily, prompting Knock Out to leave. They needed to rest now. That was the first step to any major virus recovery.

He plopped down, exhausted in his chair. At least the waiting lounge was empty. He leaned over, pressing his forehelm into his servos, trying to will the ache away. He groaned in frustration. Would this be his life now? A permanent processor-ache?

It wasn’t long before Knock Out noticed two large servos on his back, and he relaxed easily into their grip. He leaned back into his partner, his battle mask slipping away to reveal a content smile. “You don’t know how badly I missed you…”

“I’m sure I do.” Breakdown insisted, placing a servo on Knock Out’s chassis, right over his spark.

The medic purred at his touch, his engine rumbling gently under Breakdown’s servo. “Still stalking our sparkbond? I’m beginning to think you’re desperate for my attention…”

“Is it so bad for me to want to see you?”

“That’s a question you can answer yourself, heavy duty.”

Breakdown lit up at the nickname, leaning down to press the crest of his helm into Knock Out’s. They remained like that for a while, comfortable in the hold they shared. For a moment, Knock Out was home on Velocitron, laid in the apartment they shared, paid for by Breakdown’s stunting career. The only real way to make cash on Velocitron was racing, after all.

“Are you feeling sick too?”

The question was a cold shock to his spark. Knock Out sighed, pulling away from his conjunx. He put his servos on his hips. “Is this your way of asking for a check up?”

Breakdown looked away the moment he was questioned, his optics turning to his pedes. “Maybe…”

Unable to resist him, Knock Out just shook his helm and guided him down to the remaining few medbay rooms. Breakdown sat politely on the slab, placing his huge servos on top of his equally large thighs. He smiled stupidly at Knock Out, who just shook his helm and got to work.

“Symptoms?”

“Uh… purged my tanks during training… tripped Menasor… I thought Motormaster was gunna kill me.” He chuckled.

Knock Out didn’t find it too funny, though. Primus, he hated Motormaster. He just shook his helm. “Anything else?”

Breakdown was quiet for a little while. “I, um, have a tankache…”

Knock Out pressed his palms into his optics. For the conjunx of a medic, Breakdown was definitely vague when it came to his check ups. Then it clicked. “Overheating? Nausea? Any dizziness when standing abruptly?”

Breakdown’s optic widened. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, actually.”

All the same symptoms of the vehicons. Knock Out turned to his partner, who now looked a little more concerned. This must be an early stage, that or Breakdown was just… too tough for it to take effect fully.

Knock Out pushed him to lay down, tilting Breakdown’s helm away as he applied the coolant drip. “This’ll cool your frame. Same stuff you drank after competitions, nothing too terrible.”

He looked so… sad. Just laying there now like any other vehicon. But it was best to catch it early… just like any other virus. Knock Out placed a servo on Breakdown’s middle, leaning forward. He wasn’t sure how the virus was transmitted, so he paused his pursuit of a kiss. Instead, he tapped his crest against Breakdown’s. “I’ll be back, dear. I just need to get some more Energon for you all…”