Chapter Text
Shockwave had outdone himself this time. Soundwave was that close to marching through the space bridge, taking the Guardian of Cybertron, and beating him until he learned the difference between what could be done for science and what should be done for the sake of their collective sanity.
He would never entertain the idea of doing the same with Megatron, because he was loyal to their great leader, not like some Seekers he could mention. Said Seeker was currently staring at the warlord with a conflicted, yet still calculating expression.
“I'm sorry, I don't think I heard that right. Could you repeat the plan, please?” Starscream asked, slowly.
Megatron scoffed and waved at the large monitor behind him.
“I already explained it, you idiot. I asked Shockwave to create a weapon that would solve our Autobot problem once and for all, and he delivered, unlike everyone else here.”
That stung a little when Soundwave had just pulled a quadruple shift to organize what little resources they had, and while still recovering from the last battle. But he reminded himself that it would be worth it, once the war was over and they had won.
“And the weapon is now an overpowered interface aid,” Starscream continued.
“It is a finely tuned processor virus that can be transmitted through comm frequencies. It will infect every single Autobot before they even notice it's there, and make them submit to us. We can do anything we want with them then.”
“And by submit to us, you mean craving our cables in their ports. No, seriously, you took Shockwave's perfectly normal mind control weapon and twisted the coding to make it all about sexual submission. I know it was you because: one, Shockwave thinks interface is an annoying waste of time and energy and advocates for just re-wiring interface systems into extra weapon power all the time; and two, there is a special version for Optimus targeted on you specifically,” Starscream pointed out, waving a servo towards the monitor.
“Well, of course I should be the one to control my nemesis! The Prime is too powerful and tricky to trust any of you buffoons with keeping him in check. You lot can barely do anything without me.”
Soundwave tried very hard to ignore that one too, even if when he had approached Megatron with the latest shift schedule the data-pad had been thrown back at his helm with a grunted fine, whatever, just make it work.
Starscream was going to say something else, but then he stopped. The calculating expression was back, even worse than before.
“Mmmm. So you are just keeping the Prime, right? And every other Autobot is fair game.”
Soundwave considered banging his helm against the table, because of course their Air Commander was already just thinking about his own personal benefit. Being a telepath was a powerful boon, but also a curse, so he usually tried his best to keep his powers controlled. Even just the background feedback from Starscream's surface thoughts was enough to know that there was no hope at stopping that ridiculous farce on that side.
And Megatron's thoughts were not any better. Soundwave respected his leader too much to scan his processor, but the lust was so heavy that he would probably still feel it outside the room.
There was no hope. He steeled himself and tried anyway.
“New weapon: experimental. Untested. Risk of complications: very high,” he stated.
“Nonsense! There will be no complications. Our previous attempts at controlling them targeted the enemies' processors or their morality cores, all elements that can be checked and re-written very quickly. Nobody has advanced firewalls for their interface drive functions, and yet those systems are so enmeshed with our very sparks that they will by-pass every other fail-safe, and over-ride everything else. It's a perfect plan,” Megatron explained.
“Soundwave: suggests a test run -”
“And give them time to come up with a counter-measure? No way! Soundwave, prepare your Cassettes for an infiltration mission. They will install this virus in the Ark, then we will wait until it replicates in all of them, and then I can frag – I mean, then we can claim our victory!”
Soundwave made one last, desperate attempt.
“Other Decepticons: might disagree with this plan.”
That was the closest he could get to outright lying to Megatron, but he said might so it was not a lie. The sheer amount of Autobot pictures that kept circulating between the Decepticons suggested otherwise. There was a carefully updated list of Most fraggable Autobots in the wash-racks that he was not supposed to know about and that he fervently wished he did not know about. His only small consolation was that, according to the Cassettes' reports, there was also a Most fraggable Decepticons list in the Autobots wash-racks so it was at least a common problem.
“They will agree or face my fusion cannon! And there is plenty of Autobots to go around. I'm sure everyone will find some enjoyment out of them,” Megatron cackled.
Soundwave had a very bad feeling about that plan.
**
The Cassettes stared at him. Soundwave stared back, once again grateful that his frame had a face-mask and a visor. As long as he could keep the urge to bang his helm against the nearest table under control, he could pretend he was not holding onto his sanity by a thread, and maintain decor.
His team had no such compulsions, obviously.
“Wow. Megatron has gone full creep. Like, we all knew he was obsessed, but this is just sad,” Frenzy announced.
“Frenzy: will respect our leader,” Soundwave scolded him out of habit, but his spark was not in it.
“No, no, he has a point,” Buzzsaw scoffed from his perch. “And the saddest part is, we know Optimus would be in for it if Megatron asked nicely. We have seen them fighting, if it's one-sided I'll eat my guns.”
“And maybe, you know, stopped trying to squish Optimus' pet humans and blow up the planet we're on,” Laserbeak contributed. “Pretty sure that's a deal-breaker.”
“Right, also the speeches have to go. For both of them,” Rumble added, nodding sagely. “Gag them both so they can't get lost in philosophy differences and they might have a chance at getting it out of their systems, is what I say.”
“And we know for sure that the Autobots have no problem sharing, don't we?” Ratbat chuckled, hanging upside down from a cabinet.
They knew. Soundwave wished they didn't. Infiltrating the Ark for espionage, sabotage and tactical reasons was an important part of the job, and psychological warfare and knowing their enemies was too. He just wished he could get one report back without a mention of which Autobots were interfacing in a closet this time. Or in an office. Or in a hangar. Or on the roof. Or in the vent systems. Or -
And hacking into their comm channels was not much safer, since they were terrible gossip and very much not shy about their experience. The sheer amount of details he had to scrub from his processor was enough to fill a heavy-use data-pad.
“Yeah, are we sure we even need that virus?” Rumble agreed. “Maybe we could just put out a sign that says peace through fragging and see how fast they comm us for details.”
“Cassettes: will follow Megatron's plan,” Soundwave sighed.
“So, just in case this plan works, who are you getting?” Ratbat asked.
“Let me guess, let me guess!” Buzzsaw cackled. “Black and white? Two for one deal?”
Soundwave slumped on his chair and sighed again. He could do it, in the privacy of their own quarters. And he could ignore anything that the Cassette had just said. A Mech could have fantasies, in private, but keeping them private with a bunch of professional snoopers in the same quarters was a lost challenge.
“Megatron: will focus on breaking the Prime. Decepticons: will be too busy with the prisoners to get anything done. Autobots: will be useless as -” he hesitated.
“Interface-addicted sluts?” Frenzy suggested. “I mean, it's not that different than usual for some of them -”
Soundwave ignored him.
“Soundwave: will keep working and ensure our victory lasts.”
“What?!”
“Boss!”
“You can't be serious!”
There were shouts and squeaks of protest from everyone in the room.
Ravage, who had been silent until that moment, even if her frame was shaken by silent laughs, jumped down from the table she had been resting on.
“Soundwave. You know we support you and would – and did - follow you everywhere. You know we all love you,” she started, stalking forward to put a paw on his knees. She stared at him, red optics bearing into his very spark, the oldest and wisest of his troopers. Soundwave nodded, grateful for the support.
“But you are an idiot.”
Soundwave took back everything he had just thought and slumped even further in the chair, with a weary groan.
Fine, the Cassettes did not approve of his part in the plan, but what else was there to do? It was not like any of them could do anything about that.
**
“This will be the final battle! Our monitoring scans confirms that all the Autobots have been infected with Shockwave's virus. I just have to fully activate it, and then they will fall on their knees begging for their true masters,” Megatron bragged, waving the remote he was holding.
There was a lot of cheering, and laughs, and dirty leering. Soundwave's hunch had been right – none of the Decepticons had complained about the plan, when Megatron had announced it. There had been a lot of excited chatting, and at least a dozen betting pools, and they were already trading favors on who would get which Autobot. Soundwave had resorted to keeping a playlist of ambient sounds looping in his audio sensors at all times, to drown out the intrusive thoughts that he was trying very hard not to pick up on. He had also switched most monitor duties to the Cassettes, so he could at least avoid hearing and seeing just how eager his fellow soldiers were to get started.
He understood the allure of interface. He had interfaced in the past, and in the recent past too, he had no hang-ups about it. He just really did not see the point of doing it with someone who did not really care for him at all and just wanted a warm frame to satisfy their instincts. He had enough of that when Megatron went in a mood about the Prime and could not just hate-frag Starscream as he usually did for some reason (reasons varied from “Starscream had just tried to kill him” to “Starscream was in the infirmary getting repaired”). It was not even bad interface, he had to admit, Megatron made a point of never stopping before Soundwave had overloaded at least once. It was just not his preference to have a frag for the sake of it.
He refused to consider the intel the Cassettes had gathered about the Autobots. Suffice to say, if their enemies' interfacing habits were baffling before the virus, they had only gone worse. Weirdly enough, instead of getting worried and desperate about being constantly charged and unable to find satisfaction any more, it looked like they had taken it as a fun challenge. The Cassettes had been cackling a lot more than usual when reporting in. The word edging had been used a disturbing amount of times. At least if Wheeljack was busy creating new interface toys there were less chances of something exploding in their next battle.
Which was the final part of Megatron's plan. Pretend that the Decepticons were building a new super-weapon in a desert, with no humans around, and when the Autobots' forces came to stop them, activate the trigger. The virus, that had been just quietly tweaking their enemies' system, would then activate its full potential. And the Autobots' systems would lock once and for all onto the Decepticons as the answer to all their recent charge problems, and compel them to do anything their enemies asked.
Soundwave could not deny that the idea was vaguely intriguing, but it also sounded too exhausting. He had enough trouble thinking and planning for everyone else in his daily work, when he opened his ports and let his cables loose he just wanted to stop thinking for once. Megatron and Starscream were good for that – his conscious input was not really requited, just making enough happy noises. He had given up on most of the other soldiers, they expected him to be cool and commandeering even in berth, and he ended up with a worse processor-ache than when he started.
He wondered if -
He wondered nothing, because he was going to make sure the plan was working and then go back to coordinating logistics. They had to secure the Ark while the Autobots were distracted, inform Shockwave that the plan had worked and to send in reinforcements, strike the humans with a coordinated attack on their infrastructures and communication lines before they realized they had lost their protectors, gather resources. There was just so much to do, he could feel the stress seeping in his joints already.
The excitement and lust in the air were so heavy that he could feel them even with his powers as locked down as possible. Soundwave squinted, steeling himself. If the plan worked, there would not even be a battle, and while he should be glad for that, his spark was heavy. His pragmatic side recognized that it would be better for everyone – no casualties, no chaos, no risks. He had given up on the concept of honor a long time ago, wars were not won that way. And it was not even the first time they had used mind control against their enemies.
He decided, for the sake of his sanity, that he was disappointed about the sheer waste of talent and potential. The Autobots, annoying as they were, had proven again and again that they were powerful enemies. If the Decepticons could take control of them, they should be brilliant tools for the new empire, not – not pleasure drones. It was almost insulting.
Without even running a specific program, Soundwave could think of a hundred ways Jazz and Prowl's abilities, just to make an example, could be integrated into his workflow. He had seen the way the Ark worked, he knew more than anyone in the Decepticon army how it was run, and he could appreciate the finest points of it. The amount of time Soundwave could save on organizing shifts and resources if he had Prowl's processor available for the job. The resources he could get – materials and information – if he could use Jazz's talents for infiltration and espionage. But no, those amazing processors were going to waste, leaving only two frames. Mind you, two very pretty frames, Soundwave had a working visual feed, thank you.
“Here they come!” a voice shouted, distracting him from his thoughts.
It was too late to do anything now. With a cloud of dust and sand behind them, their plating shining in the red light of a majestic sunset, the Autobot army was arriving.
Soundwave adjusted his visor, suddenly worried. He had been expecting many more Autobots, all the Decepticons were out there, waiting for them. Their enemies had to know the size of the force they were going up against, there was no reason to not answer with just as many of them.
He wished he could send Laserbeak and Buzzsaw up in the air, to scout the area, but Megatron had ordered everyone to stay. He wanted them all to witness his triumph. Frenzy had called it an exhibition kink. Soundwave had refused to listen any further.
“Lord Megatron. Most Autobots: missing,” he noted, stepping closer to their leader. “Suggestion: caution.”
“Nonsense! Prime is right here, isn't he? The other ones are probably too caught up in their interface systems to make it out of the Ark,” Megatron cackled. “Don't worry about them, we'll send a strike force to take care of them later. They'll throw the doors open for us just for a chance to get some relief. Now get ready for the fun, my Mechs!”
Soundwave was not persuaded, but the Autobots were already transforming in front of them, guns out. They looked very much in control of themselves, but their fields betrayed feelings that had no place in a battle. Lust, and excitement, and a needy craving that reflected in their optics.
He unlocked his telepathy just the tiniest bit, aimed it at their advancing foes, and was flooded with need-desire-fill me-inside me – he slammed his fields shut again, and lowered his sensors just to be sure. Right. He had confirmed the virus was working. That was a good thing.
Prowl was there at Optimus' side, looking very dignified as always. Only a slight tremor in his doorwings suggested otherwise. Jazz was nowhere to be seen, which was worrying – there was simply no way the virus had overwhelmed him, Soundwave had seen enough to know what kind of interface the saboteur got up too. Not that he had paid attention or anything.
“Megatron, you have one last chance to renounce your plans,” Optimus started, his voice deeper than usual and his optics staring at the Decepticon leader. There was a faint line of smoke coming up from his smoke-stacks, and his engines were rumbling in something resembling a purr.
Soundwave had functioning sensors, and he could definitely see the appeal, as could everyone else around him if the sudden engine throttling was any sign.
Megatron had functioning sensors too, demonstrated by how he just stared with his mouth open for a few moments, then he straightened himself up and grinned.
“Renounce my plans, Prime? And why would I?”
There was some angry muttering from one of Optimus' soldiers, probably Cliffjumper. Soundwave could have sworn it was something like stop giving him chances and let's get to the point, come on. He felt a bit bad for them, they still thought it was going to be a battle.
“Because this is not going to go the way you think,” Optimus warned.
And then Megatron pressed the activation button on the remote, fully activating the virus. A wave of radio signals passed over them, the range covering the Autobot army and a large part of the desert around them.
Soundwave squinted. The feedback was – not right. Signals got slightly re-directed when they met their target, and he could feel it happening, but not just in front of them where the Autobots were, there were faint pings coming back from all sides.
“Situation: a trap! Autobots: surrounding us -”
Megatron predictably ignored him and stomped forward, grinning like a maniac. Well, more than usual. His optics were locked on the Prime, who had taken a few steps in front of his Mechs, as if to shield them. A noble, but ultimate futile, gesture, since Soundwave could see the way his entire frame was shaking now, and his optics were flicking, the light blue switching to a pink hue before coming back.
“Now, Prime. Show me what you really want,” Megatron leered, and he moved his servos to his rival's shoulders.
Optimus nodded and muttered.
“I want – you. Your frame.”
Megatron's grin went larger.
“Well, then -”
And then Optimus shoved Megatron to the ground and leaped forward, landing on top of him, legs wrapped around the warlord's chest. The heavy gray frame rattled on the ground, and before anyone could react a servo wrapped around the fusion cannon on his shoulder.
“This is in the way,” the Prime announced with a growl, and then he pulled out his ax. One single, swift movement, almost a blur, and the cannon was gone, rolling on the sand.
Megatron screamed, but the scream was interrupted by Optimus' mouth slamming onto his, face-mask retracted, and then the ax was gone and Prime's servos were digging into his rival's seams, everywhere he could reach, pulling and poking and mapping his enemy's frame. He shuffled his position, rubbing against the trapped frame, and Megatron's muffled protests morphed into something resembling a moan.
Behind them, Prowl face-palmed.
“Worse self-control that a newbuild, I swear,” he muttered, and then he raised his voice. “Autobots, commence the operation, but remember -”
The entire Autobot army ignored him and threw themselves at the Decepticons. Invisible shields shimmered for a moment and dropped down, revealing that Soundwave had been once again right and the rest of the Autobot army had taken the time to surround them. They were now charging forward from all sides. None of them were shooting or drawing weapons, but with the way the Decepticons were still too stunned to react, they did not need to.
He took a step back, his processor barely able to analyze what he was seeing. Flashes passed through – Starscream shrieking when Skyfire lifted him up in his arms and just started nuzzling his helm, completely ignoring his protests – his trine-mates hesitating to intervene, until it was a moot point because Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had dragged them to the ground, servos and pedes and wings all tangling in a four-way scuffle that left nothing to imagination – everywhere he looked, Decepticons dropping their weapons and getting manhandled and dragged into the most suggestive positions -
Soundwave pivoted on his pedes and ran. He had no idea what had just happened, but that had not been the plan. He tried to call his Cassettes, but something was blocking and disrupting all communication. He could not see them anywhere, he could only hope that they were smart enough to run away.
Who was he kidding, he could only hope that Frenzy and Rumble were smart enough to stick to someone in their general size area for once, like another Cassette or a Minibot. There had been accidents that he did not want a repeat of any time soon. He had a slightly higher amount of trust in the other ones, but only slightly.
Retire. Regroup with whoever had kept their processor cool enough to escape. Figure out a plan. Shockwave probably had a counter-agent for that virus, if he went back to their ship and contacted him they could just upload it and rescue their comrades while the Autobots were too mortified by what had happened. Yes, they could still save this. Maybe even come out on top, if they played the morality card – not that any of the Decepticons he could see was currently on top of anything.
He was out of the chaos now, and he sprinted for a rock formation. There were a lot of those, he could see now how the Autobots had used them as cover while they surrounded them, but since all their enemies were now very much busy – the noises behind him were a sure sign of that – he could use them to cover his escape. Which would be much easier if he had a flight capable alt-mode, or even just a vehicle - unless the Autobots had planned for that too, which he would not put past them. They had obviously planned everything else, it was too coordinated.
He skirted the corner and threw himself in the shadow of the closest rocks, and stopped.
“Soundwave. I was expecting you.”
Prowl was there. Soundwave had lost sight of the enemy SIC when chaos had erupted, but now the black and white Mech was just waiting for him. Prowl did not even have his gun out – not that Soundwave wanted to get pelted with acid pellets, those things stung like scraplets' bites, but it would be less disturbing. Less disturbing than noticing the pink flickering in the other Mech's optics.
Soundwave raised his gun, wary, and took a step back.
The Autobot raised his servos in a placating gesture, door-wings moving behind his back in an elegant flutter.
“There is no need for that. We do not want to hurt you.”
We?
There was a shift behind him, and then a small prick in his neck cables. A cold feeling started spreading inside his frame immediately, irradiating with impossible speed. A stasis-inducer, and a strong one, calibrated on his frame-type exactly.
He wobbled forward and turned around, gun raised in a shaking arm. Black dots were dancing in his visual feed, but he could still see perfectly well a blue visor glinting in the light and a brilliant grin.
“Yeah, like my dear Prowler said, we don't want to hurt you, sweetspark. But we can't let you hurt yourself, right?” Jazz asked, still grinning.
Soundwave made a desperate attempt at pressing the trigger. The other Mech was on him before he could, a servo wrenching the gun from him and throwing it away without even looking. The other servo was around Soundwave's waist, dragging him down, and his frame was too sapped to resist it. He dropped on his knees, heavy and dizzy.
“Sssssssh, now don't worry your pretty helm, babe,” Jazz's voice whispered in front of him. The visor was glinting again – the most brilliant blue, but with flickers of a pink hue swirling inside it.
Jazz lowered Soundwave to the ground, on his back. It was delicate and careful, servos brushing against his plating like promises, so much attention focused on him. It should have been terrifying, and yet Soundwave could feel a small corner of his spark relishing into it. How pathetic.
Above them, the sky was getting darker, stars appearing one by one in the advancing night. Soundwave could feel his frame shut down, and his processor slowing. He made one last attempt at using him comms, but there was only static.
He could barely collect the energy to keep his visual feed active for a few more seconds. Just enough to see Prowl closing in too. Both Autobots were leaning above him now, their helms close together. They were smiling.
“Don't worry, Sounders, darling. We got you,” Jazz repeated, servos around Soundwave's helm. He leaned forward, visor flashing, and -
Soundwave's systems shut down.