Chapter Text
Unicron did it. That was the joke amongst Decepticons, whenever something couldn’t be found, or alternatively, ended up in the strangest place.
Ammunition box missing? Unicron did it.
A tool set somehow ended up shoved into a crawlspace, where no sane mech would put it? Unicron did it.
Megatron is missing, Starscream is the new leader of the Decepticons? Unicron-well, Shockwave had his own theories about who did that , but that was neither here nor there. Logic dictated he serve the cause as a whole, even if Starscream was far less ideal a leader than Megatron.
Of course, that corrected itself. Which was how he had found himself battling the Autobots in some organic city, blinded by some scrap of organic fiber-
-and then in an absolute world of pain, as shots tore through his chest, his face, his limbs-just like that, the tide of battle had turned against them. Shockwave fell, not noticing the fact that pavement and rubble was replaced in a nanoklik with fields of wheat.
Unicron did it.
-----
As a rule, GLaDOS didn’t give the world outside her domain too much attention. There was science to do, and the surrounding area was apparently desolate enough to keep the entrance from being given much attention by nosy humans.
(Some days, she wondered if a certain test subject hadn’t come back and put up ‘keep out’ signs where she couldn’t see them.)
And so, her check ups on the outside were generally brief. Check here, check there, throw out a useless chunk of metal over there…
But speaking of useless chunks of metal... that was new. An enormous purplish-grey, smoking hulk, flopped across the ground like an injured test subject, except it wasn’t making an incredible amount of noise. It just lay there, occasionally letting out a quiet groan. At one point, after a few moments, it tried to rise, before falling back down again.
It didn’t look human. It didn’t look Combine, either-it lacked that distinctive, flesh-meets-metal hybrid approach. It was some kind of new, unknown robot. Interesting. Very interesting. And it had appeared near a sinkhole area, where part of the ground had given way to Aperture’s skeleton underneath. Very near, in fact. She actually hadn’t touched that area much, out of concern of disturbing more dirt and inviting more wildlife in. There was enough of a bird problem as it was, her little killers aside.
But. This was a very strange circumstance, and strange circumstances called for investigation. For study. Where had the robot come from? Why was it so damaged? Was it repairable? These were all important questions. Questions that demanded answers.
GLaDOS forced the long-stuck wallplates free, causing the already shaky ground around the sinkhole to give way, and with it, the robot began to drop as well. She would make sure she caught it and took it to a more secure area before it had a chance of reaching the incinerators. After all, she had much investigating to do.
For science.
-----
Her new find was so intriguing that it almost shoved the Itch away entirely for an hour. Of course, then the Itch returned with a vengeance, so testing called. But GLaDOS’ mind remained elsewhere, even as the latest subject performed surprisingly well...up until they slipped on a hardlight bridge and went directly into the acid below.
Disappointing, but overall not terribly surprising. She had the cooperative testing initiative for when she wanted to do something truly challenging, but testing humans had a certain random element to it that was hard to match.
But with the Itch satisfied, she could turn her attention back to her find, now that it seemed relatively stable thanks to some work on the areas that had been spewing the most...fluid. (It wasn’t blood. She knew blood, she knew blood very well, and this wasn’t blood. It wasn’t the sort of coolant used in Aperture systems, either.) The design was...crude, if she was going to be brutally honest about it. (And honesty was the best policy, that was how the saying went, wasn’t it?) Fascinating, but crude in how the heavy metal pieces overlapped and jutted out sharply from each other. Even if it hadn’t apparently been shot repeatedly (and judging by how the optic was dangling by a thread, with great prejudice), it lacked the smooth, clean lines she was used to in the Aperture line of robotics.
But that was fixable. Probably. It was worth an attempt. If nothing else, even if it died in the process (well, she was ninety percent sure it was still alive, judging on the readings she was getting), she was sure to learn something. Even if that something was ‘in fact, mystery robots do poorly when they have Aperture parts grafted to their frames’.
There was a flutter of wings from above and Memory landed on its shoulder, cawing and pecking at the thin cable barely keeping the optic in place. GLaDOS nodded approvingly. She was probably the cleverest of the bunch, although they were all surprisingly brilliant. “That has to go,” she said, swinging closer to get a better look at the wreck before her. “A lot of this has to go. We’ll see what we can make work. Do some testing.”
-----
It was vaguely disappointing, after that much pain, to wake up and find that he wasn’t dead. Not being dead meant that he could still be in pain. And at the moment, his whole body was still wracked with it. Not the the intense, searing pain of having entry and exit wounds through half his major systems, but a dull, throbbing ache.
There was one other thing he noticed besides the pain as he came to, though, and the realization was enough to send a cold jolt of alarm through his circuits.
He could see. He could see-not as well as before, perhaps less definition, without the overlay that had been ever-present before, but he could actually see things, rather than only getting the staticking black of a severed connection. He’d been repaired, but by who? They had suddenly been losing badly, badly enough that Megatron was likely call a retreat with little focus on dragging those who had gone down along. And the Autobots had no reason to repair him, unless they had decided at the last moment to save him for interrogation, rather than kill him. But that wasn’t the sort of thing that called for repairing a broken optic.
Shockwave turned his head to try and get a better look at his surroundings. Metal, all smooth metal and terminals and-some sort of construct. A robot, but distinctly non-Cybertronian. The plate holding its optic in place flicked up and down quickly, and Shockwave couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being judged. Or possibly sized up.
He felt something on the sides of his head twitch slightly at the thought. It was a strange sensation-while he’d had the crests on either side of his head for ages, and they were capable of a very small amount of movement, this was new. He wasn’t sure he liked it, and he felt them twitch again at that line of thought.
Apparently, movement of the new appendages didn’t only catch his attention. “Oh, they work. Good. After you had two thirds of your head hanging out, I needed something to do with all those cables and wires. So I improvised.”
So this was his...Shockwave paused, trying to move, and found himself at the moment rather firmly restrained. So, his captor. His repairs-minded captor, for a given value of ‘repairs’. His optic flicked downwards and he felt the perk of the new...what was the word? Ears. He supposed that was the best word to use at the moment; they were too flexible, too reactive to be considered ornamentation like crests or horns. His body was now something of a mishmash-there were parts that looked right, the heavily armored bands of that wrapped around and crossed each other like an organic’s skeletal system, but there were new additions as well, covering the areas that still sent signals of dull pain to his receptors. There were now mostly smooth, tightly connected white panels covering the better part of his chest, his arms-and replacing his cannon arm entirely was some...white, bulbous thing, with three prongs, like impossibly thin talons, jutting out the end. He tried to flex the claws, and only got the slightest twitch in return.
Shockwave tried to grind his mandibles in a brief fit of frustration, but found he couldn’t even do that . The hardware simply wasn’t there. It felt like not much was there, aside from the optic and the ears, but he couldn’t even check that. Apparently, his captor didn’t bother to bring anything reflective to show off her handiwork.
“What did you-” Shockwave didn’t need his captor to cut him off; he did it to himself, stopping short as the sound of his voice hit his audios. He didn’t even sound like himself. His voice was-had been-like most Decepticon’s-low-pitched, growling, better suited to various Cybertronian languages than to high-pitched organic squeaking. The pitch was off, the rumble was gone-he sounded like an Autobot .
“I had to improvise with that , too,” his captor said, sounding smug. “I’m going to assume the scrap metal hanging out of your neck was part of your original voicebox. I went digging for replacements. You’re lucky you don’t sound like a turret.”
Shockwave wasn’t sure what she meant by a turret in this case, but decided that not knowing was maybe for the best. “ Why ?” he finally settled on, opting for the moment to not force himself to speak in his strange new voice more than he had to.
“Because I wanted to see if I could keep you alive, even if you did bleed whatever passes for your blood all over my laboratory. The experiment worked-you survived. Good job.”
From somewhere above, there was a brief, almost celebratory note. It felt...sarcastic.
-----
The experiment had worked out even better than she had hoped. Not only had the robot survived the attempt at repair, but speech and cognition didn’t seem to have been impaired. ...Well, probably. She would need to do more testing to be sure. The thought filled her with a sense of cheer she hadn’t felt since the cooperative testing pair had found all those humans. A new form of testing, a new way to scratch the Itch.
Her subject didn’t seem as thrilled, but that was normal. To be expected, really. Subject cooperation and enthusiasm was always questionable, even on a good day.
“Let’s continue testing. Maybe you can impress me more now that you’re awake than your construction did. Is it normal, to look like you’ve been partially dismantled for scrap?”
That earned an angry scoffing noise in return, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was still fairly firmly restrained, just in case he decided to go on a rampage as soon as he was loose. ...Not that he would get anywhere, being as far underground as they were, but it limited the amount of mess she had to clean up.
“You passed the auditory test, and the vocal. You have no idea how glad I am you passed the vocal test. It’s much more interesting when testing subjects can give feedback.” GLaDOS moved in closer, her own optic flicking as she watched her subject’s track her in return. “...And visual. You’re really running on all cylinders today, aren’t you? Cylinders that I tore out and replaced, of course.”
“My systems are all functional,” he growled back, the ears moving forward in an aggressive sort of tilt. “You can cease your testing and let me go. I have no interest in your laboratory.”
The tilt of the ears reminded her of something she’d been wanting to see. A panel in the ceiling opened up, and a grabbing claw attached to a cable dropped down. GLaDOS experimentally snapped the claw a few times, then grabbed hold of the largest ear on his left side. She had thought the components she had worked into them had to be at least somewhat sensitive, but she hadn’t expected being rewarded with a sharp, startled noise and an attempt at twisting away that made her test subject freeze.
A very interesting case of stimulus-response.
-----
Shockwave hadn’t really expected the easy, ‘let me go and I’ll be on my way’ approach to work, but it had been worth trying. Incidents that could be dealt with that didn’t involve heavy ordinance tended to be rare these days, but given how sore he felt, he’d been willing to test his luck. As silly as the concept of luck was.
Luck once again failed to be of any help, further cementing it as completely worthless.
And then his captor had grabbed onto one of his ears, and he had made the mistake of trying wrench his head away. The sensation was intense-pain mixed with a strange sense of pleasure. What had she mis-wired? Had she found sensors she could make sense of and decided to increase the sensitivity on a whim?
Why did she have to do it on a location that was so vulnerable?
He felt the grip on the ear loosen slightly and he tried to duck his head to slide the appendage free. It didn’t work; she grabbed hold tightly again and forcibly pulled it back. He barked out a noise despite himself again, and before he could get a proper protest out, there were more of the clawed cables dropping down, pulling all the smaller ears and taking hold of his right side as well. Shockwave felt his head being pulled back, and felt something twist in his internals as he vented heavily. It was not the response he should’ve been having at the moment.
His captor, meanwhile, cocked her head to the side. “A very strong reaction to stimuli. But you know what the most important part of testing is, don’t you? Repeatable results.”
There was a brief moment of respite as she let go, although that made the feeling in his internals worse. It was a traitorous feeling of wanting the touch to continue, and unfortunately, it was rewarded as she seized his ears again. This time, she began toying with them, forcing them to move back and forth and pinching sharply with the claws. The sensation was just as intense as it had been the first time, with the added sharp edge from his internals. Another few nanokliks of freedom, and then his head was yanked up sharply as he tried to duck away. His captor had raised herself above him now, and the tug of the cables forced him to look up at her.
Shockwave was familiar enough with the expressions made by only one optic, even in a non-Cybertronian, to be able to tell she was exuding smug satisfaction. She tugged sharply again, and he had the distinct feeling that if he hadn’t been restrained, his knees would have buckled. Despite himself, a low whine escaped his vocal processor. It was a shamefully non-Decepticon thing to produce, that begging noise, but this was a unique form of torture.
“Oh,” she said, her tone just as satisfied as her expression, “You like that, don’t you?”
He refused to give her a response. Giving her more ammunition at this point was unwise.
...Of course, if he was going over unwise actions, the first and very worst mistake he had made had, apparently, been not looking out for scraps of organic fibers . The ears tried to flick at the thought, only to be stopped by the cables, which tightened further.
“You know, I can see readouts from your systems,” she said, conversationally. “The ones I could make sense of, anyway. It seemed like a good idea while I was repairing things. So I could be sure if you were still trying to die or not. And right now, those systems are very interesting.” Another cable dropped from the ceiling, curling up and snapping the claws at the end sharply. He was reminded of the drillers as he watched it snake and dart in front of him, the movement making it difficult to discern where the actual point of attack would be. Then it lunged forward, lifting a layer of plating up and tunneling in search of….
...ah. A connection port. If the feeling of having a stranger’s appendage rooting through his internals hadn’t been alarming enough, having it link to him certainly would have been. And it made the feeling that had been welling up inside worse; the linkage wasn’t painful , but it did seem like a promise of something to come.
What that something was, he wasn’t entirely sure.
It didn’t take long for his captor to answer that question. She began playing with his ears again, alternating between sharp tugs and lighter prods and tweaks, and Shockwave felt the urge to make a noise again welling up in his vocal processor, venting heavily again. The toying with him was frustrating ; that itch for more, for some kind of relief to feeling kept rising up, with no end in sight.
Until she began using the connection port to begin tweaking at his systems, at least. The first jolt he felt earned a sharp intake and a flick of his ears that was painful, given how tightly they were being held. But- “Yes. You found the correct system.”
Partly, it was to keep her from rooting further and disrupting something vital. And partly, it was because he found himself wanting her to do it again. It wasn’t a logical response, although he had to admit what she was doing, from her side of things, was perfectly logical-if the situation had been reversed, he would’ve been just as eager to investigate a strange and obviously sentient robot. The fact that she was most curious about the systems that gave a pleasure response was something that was in his favor. She could’ve been interested in pain response, instead.
“Test subject feedback is normally disregarded during testing, due to its interrupting the scientific process.” She tilted her head to the side, her optic moving lazily up and down. “But in this case, will be taken into consideration for further study.”
Thankfully, she kept at it, and grew bolder-the tweaks became more powerful, beginning to threaten to overload that particular system. The attention focused on his ears became a counterpoint to it at first, and then she began to do both together, until-
...well, he was going to count himself lucky that she didn’t entirely short out the system and the rest around it. The feeling was intense, and while the act itself hadn’t been what a fellow Cybertronian would have done, the feeling and aftereffect were...similar. Shockwave vented heavily, sagging as much as he could against the restraints. His captor let go of his ears, and they sagged as well, gratefully. The relief was pleasant, and much-needed, but now he was exhausted from the overstimulation.
The cables withdrew, heading back into the ceiling, and she rose up higher, looking down him with a posture that looked thoughtful. “I think that’s enough testing for now. We’ll see about doing more data collection later.” Her optic flicked, looking him up and down again. “I need your name, for record keeping. Assuming whoever built you bothered to give you one.”
“Shockwave.” He was too tired at this point to bother with a lie.
“Shockwave,” she repeated. “Well, Shockwave. I think you and I have a lot of testing to explore together. For science.”