Chapter Text
It had been obvious, in retrospect, that Megatron’s uncharacteristic behaviour would trickle down- or rather up- from vehicons and insecticons who dared to get in his way.
Dark energon, one found, was like a parasite: twisting and deforming the mind until all that is left is anger, with no regards as to who it is directed at.
Many a Decepticon had returned from a failed mission and were met with flying fists and unmistakeable violence, vocalised rage booming down the ship’s halls and complicitly ignored by all those lucky enough to not be in the line of fire.
It had begun with Starscream. A few punches here and there, mocking insults and disregard of ability. The seeker had long grown used to the occasional consequence for his traitorous actions, yet the blows had gotten that bit harder, that bit more uncalled for, since his Lord discovered the putrid purple crystals.
It was only once the dark energon had truly entered Megatron’s systems that the medbay began to fill. Vehicons, more often than not, who had failed to protect mines. They came with dented plating, shattered bio lights.
“Lord Megatron is simply tightening his leadership as the autobots continue to grow in power.” They would mutter as they sat waiting in the medbay, more to themselves than any other Cybertronian. They all wanted to believe that was the only reason for their misshaped plating.
Knockout worked diligently, silently seething. His domain was being flooded with minor injuries; it used up far more supplies than he was gaining. He spent more time in the medbay than anywhere else in the Nemesis combined, cooped up in the small two room lab with nothing but anxious soldiers for company.
He was next on Megatron’s hitlist.
It was the day after Starscream’s most recent punishment- the mech had been oddly uninjured- and many of the Decepticons had lowered their guards, a blanket of safety resting on their shoulders as it always did when Megatron had recently let his anger fly.
Knockout had made the mistake of taking an extra ration, no intentions other than to offer it to Soundwave, who had scarcely stopped typing for the best part of two cycles. It wasn’t a common occurrence; Knockout hardly took it upon himself to ensure the ranks were eating. But with the resources on the Nemesis decreasing with every blow of Megatron’s fist, it wouldn’t do for their Communications Officer to be incapacitated by something as trivial as hunger.
Megatron had not seen it that way. He had not even thought twice when the medic stepped out of the mess hall with twice the officer’s ration.
Knockout slunk back to his quarters with empty tanks, mind whirling and jaw throbbing. The blow hadn’t caused any damage to his finish, but the way Knockout staggered down the hallways like a drunken madman told the story of what had happened for him.
“Stupid, stupid.” He muttered aloud as he walked, dragging one servo along the wall as if to keep him on track. The vehicons gave the doctor a wide berth, eyeing his dizziness with caution. The word spread quickly of what had occurred in the mess hall, if the sight of two spilled cubes trickling along the floor wasn’t enough.
Then there was Shockwave.
Precious, precious Shockwave.
Nobody had seen it. Nobody had witnessed the blows or the mistake. Surely for Shockwave to be slagged, something must have happened.
Predaking did not protect his father, did not prevent what had happened.
Surely it was Shockwave’s fault. Surely Megatron hadn’t stooped so low.
The empty space where Shockwave had once stood spoke volumes, and the fleeting glances of the large mech as he stalked from room to room did nothing to confirm the rumours.
Some said he had undermined Megatron, become complicit in his dangerous work. Some said he, too, messed up a mission and faced the consequences. Some said he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Nobody could know for sure.
That was why Soundwave wasn’t entirely surprised when it too was his turn in the order. He had been anticipating it since the first instance of punishment given by his master. The blank glass of his visor reflected scenes that most fled the control room from, collecting evidence, collecting information.
That was what he was built for, after all.
He documented each blow, how Megatron slowly began to work his way through the list of his closest officers. He documented how each Decepticon had made mistakes, had met their consequence with quivering optics and trembling servos. He watched through the cameras as Knockout was thrown to the floor by a single punch, cubes of precious energon wasted in Megatron’s rage. He watched as Shockwave rapidly began to cease his interactions with the leader, shortening his reports and sending them primarily through Soundwave himself. He documented how the vehicons began to flock towards Soundwave for permission, asking their questions to the stone mech rather than to the warlord who should have the answer.
Soundwave wasn’t surprised when Megatron began watching him closely, inspecting his every move. He wasn’t surprised when his workload increased from suffocating to impossible. He wasn’t surprised when his solar cycle shifts at the computer terminal turned into a blur of constant work. He wasn’t surprised when the praise he usually was showered with spluttered to a stop, replaced with silent spectating.
Soundwave knew he was next, but he also knew he could do better than the others filling the Decepticon ranks.
He was Soundwave, one of the greatest gladiators Cybertron had ever seen, the most formidable Decepticon, the mech that kept the entire faction from crumbling within breems.
Soundwave did not make mistakes. He did not mess up.
That was what every Decepticon had been so sure of.
How wrong they were.
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“Soundwave, oversee the mining operation in B-394.” Megatron’s voice barked through the comm, a snarl punctuating his words.
Soundwave sighed silently, shoulders shifting downwards, helm tilting the tiniest fraction towards the band of vehicons standing in formation at the door.
Soundwave glanced back to the computer terminal, optics running over the lines of text flashing across the screen. He still had seventeen reports, five diagnostic checks, eleven unexplored coordinates, and one system-wide search left to do that solar-cycle, a drowning volume of work even without the disruption of in person surveillance.
Soundwave knew better than to refuse, he knew better than to give Megatron an opening to strike.
Soundwave stepped away from the computer and stalked towards the vehicons, glancing over each of their anxious faceplates.
It was obvious, the change between the Nemesis and the dusty desert of Earth.
The Nemesis was cold, compressing, thickly blanketed with toeing the line and fear. In contrast, the desert was warm but open, sticky but free. Megatron couldn’t see them here, couldn’t touch them here. Not unless Soundwave told him, which would never happen.
The mine was large, one of their main supplies of energon. A few vehicons milled around outside the entrance, but it only took one look at Soundwave for them to straighten up and pick their mining tools back up.
Soundwave stared in indifference, following the marching beat of vehicons deep into the mine.
It was odd, really, how the cramped, stuffy air of the mines, thick with the smell of death and mold, was preferable to the clean air of the Nemesis.
Soundwave had to stoop to continue walking through the mine, only stopping once the Vehicons began to bend in two to pass the low ceilings.
For being their largest mine, it was thin and winding, following one strain of Energon right to its source.
Soundwave watched the vehicons disappear from sight, only travelling a few meters further before beginning their drilling, before turning and retreating to the mouth of the mine, trying to pretend he couldn’t feel the weight of the earth above him pressing down on the pitiful supports of the mine.
The Autobots, predictable as ever, showed up rather quickly with disappointingly low numbers, guns ablaze and swords drawn. Three fools against a hundred vehicons. They had not expected to see Soundwave there, rather than Starscream or some other fool who would rather take their chances with Megatron.
Tentacles slithered from Soundwave’s frame, and Laserbeak circled overhead, ready to strike.
Game on.
The scout, Bumblebee, decided to attack him first, meeting the Deception officer at the first intersection of the mine. They backed down one corridor, Soundwave prolonging the fight with spins and unneeded blocks until he grew bored of their dance.
Bumblebee laid down a blow, the blade deflecting from Soundwave’s arm without leaving so much as a scratch.
Swearing, the scout swung again, leaving his chassis completely open for attack, arms stretching up to drive the sword into Soundwave’s cables. The silent mech didn’t bother to take the opening, all too aware of the Prime shooting vehicons only ten meters down another corridor. Soundwave swiped the sword out of momentum, sending it stabbing into the dirt wall of the mine.
Bumblebee swore once again.
With a flick of his tentacle, the Autobot Scout was left crawling back to the mouth of the mine, crashing into the walls with enough force to knock loose energon shards from their homes.
The yells of vehicons drew him to the second shaft, meeting the Prime himself head on.
Optimus turned to spot the silent mech, narrowing his eyes in anger at the sight of spilt energon trickling from a splatter on Soundwave’s faceplate. It should have been a foreboding sight, had the Prime not been stooped on account of the mine ceiling.
“Soundwave, surrender now and your forces will live.” Optimus boomed, commanding and sincere.
He seemed to genuinely believe that there would be no consequence for sacrificing the mine, as if Megatron would brush it off as something insignificant.
Soundwave held firm, herding the Prime back towards the mouth of the mine like a sheepdog, vigilant and snapping.
Optimus, unlike his young scout, understood the fighting style Soundwave had adopted. He did his best to weave and dance in response to Soundwave’s attacks, but mine was much too small, and the prime much too inexperienced.
It was over far too quickly, both Autobots backing away from the mouth of the mine.
They were beaten and retreating, shying away from the growing number of vehicons amassing between them and the mine.
But despite their defeat, a grim smile settled on their faceplates.
“Ratchet, we require a groundbridge.”
Optimus slowed to a stop, watching Soundwave almost carefully. His face was unreadable, completely guarded from any outside optics.
He nodded once, optics flicking to the mines entrance, just as the sound of an engine began to reverberate from the belly of the earth.
Soundwave knew it was over. He knew that he had stupidly missed the reason for the Autobots attack. He knew he was about to pay the price of a mistake tenfold the mistakes his fellow Decepticons had made.
The energon crystals began to vibrate as the hum grew in volume, clinking together, throwing sunlight in all directions.
Soundwave ducked away from the mouth of the mine, avoiding the collision of a fair few vehicons with an infuriatingly familiar paint job.
The wrecker Wheeljack transformed before he hit the ground, sliding the rest of the way to the other Autobots, a sick grin on his faceplates that put the other two’s to shame.
“Time to go.” He loudly remarked, saluting Soundwave as the green swirls of a groundbridge shot into existence behind them.
It had occurred to Soundwave what was about to happen as soon as he heard the hum of that engine.
He watched the groundbridge close, pinging a message of evacuation to any vehicon in the area, ignoring the confused glances he received from those already stood outside the mine.
He saved a few. Not enough.
It was only a few clicks later that the explosives strapped throughout the mine detonated, swallowing the Decepticons largest mine in its fiery embrace.
BOOOOOOOM!!
The mine collapsed behind the fleeing Vehicons, shooting out dust and rocks at their retreating backs.
The tell-tale blue glow of energon flattened and shorted out altogether as boulders tumbled their way down from the cave, crushing any object in its way.
The noise was deafening, shaking the ground, sending vehicons to their knees, clutching their audials.
Soundwave stood, silently observing the mess, silently observing just how badly he had fragged up.
Smoke poured up into the sky, shading the world a deep black.
The vehicons- most of the number that had been mining, but not enough of it- crouched in huddles, shaking and panicking.
How long would that energon have lasted the Decepticon ranks?
How much of that mine had even been discovered yet?
Soundwave turned to stare at the ruins of the cave, holding his back straight despite the dropping of his tanks.
Nothing was left but rubble.