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Act I, Stayin' Alive
Soundwave felt hollow. His processor already had a malfunctioning emotional component, and he'd never had the time to get repairs. He never wanted anyone near his processor ever again. He was fine. His cassettes liked him just the way he was. He would always protect them, and they would always be there for him. There was nothing wrong with Soundwave.
There was something Soundwave couldn't get out of his mind. He couldn't pull himself from his thoughts, even as he commandeered a ship to leave Cybertron following the disappearance of his Master. Soundwave was supposed to await Lord Megatron's return, Soundwave was supposed to take command since Starscream was walking incompetence. Soundwave was not supposed to defy direct orders, it wasn't in his coding. There was something wrong with Soundwave.
His spark stuttered in his chest, every ex-vent was shakier than the last. Soundwave was leaving, with a hole in his chassis and his cassettes shaking in their root-modes behind him. The glass over his chest was cracked, the dull glow of his spark visible from the lack of his cassettes to cover the chamber. Soundwave knew Rumble was trying to speak to him, the poor mini-con was panicking over something. Soundwave would have panicked if his emotional chips worked properly. He could only look to the stars, look past the planet as they left the thin atmosphere.
Something changed in Soundwave that solar cycle. He remembered his Carrier, their smile when he had been appointed for the Senate. He remembered their last comms, before they passed. Soundwave remembered the joy on his Carrier's face when he first introduced them to his cassettes. Soundwave remembered those late nights, staring up at Luna 1 and Luna 2 when he was no more than a sparkling that came to their hip, listening to his Creator talk about the stars.
Soundwave wanted to reach for those stars again. Soundwave didn't want to waste more vorns fighting the Autobots, listening to the Decepticons that mocked his responses, the way he spoke. Soundwave didn't want to watch any more laser fire leave holes in his cassettes. Reformatted children he adopted, their bodies changed to work with his.
Soundwave removed his faceplate for the first time in millennia, his golden optics casting a glow on the cockpit of the spacecraft. The first time he'd seen himself in time nearly as long as his entire function. The scars over his cheeks, the discoloration of his derma. The dim glow of his left optic, the scar over his optic ridges.
Soundwave was beautiful, every scar, every blink of his optic shutters. He had almost forgotten he had been created in his Sire's image, he'd been created with love, something so foreign from the day his Creators departed for the Well. Soundwave saw the stars reflected in his eyes, and for the first time, his cassettes saw him, for who he was. Rumble and Frenzy had gone quiet.
Soundwave charted course for a distant planet, hoping there would be no Cybertronians there. He hoped he would never have to fight an Autobot ever again. He hoped he would never stand shoulder to shoulder with a Decepticon ever again. He looked at his cassettes from over his shoulder, and prayed to Primus they would see his true emotions reflected in his optics.
"…Boss?" Rumble was the first to try, his voice laced with uncertainty and static as he wrung his servos together.
"Soundwave: tired. This war: meaningless. Us: done." It was odd for the cassettes to hear Soundwave's voice without the static and echo of his vocoder. His voice was clearer without his mask. Frenzy lifted the protective covering for his optics, meeting Soundwave's golden optics with his lilac own.
"Done? Like… we're quittin' the Decepticons? Just like that?" Frenzy couldn't hide the excitement in his tone, daring to be hopeful for the first time since he'd been reformatted. Frenzy dared to be vulnerable.
"Decepticons: forgotten their original purpose, have forgotten the meaning to this war. Soundwave: leaving the Decepticons. Soundwave: should have left the first time you were injured." Soundwave held out a servo for Frenzy to take, the red and black mini-con rushing towards him. Frenzy held Soundwave's servo with both of his own, faceplate twisted into a grimace. Liquid pooled at the corners of his optics, but he didn't move to wipe them away.
Ravage stretched before walking over, his claws clicking on the metal floor. He took a seat next to Soundwave's left leg, headbutting him as the quietest purr began. Soundwave brushed Frenzy's tears away with his thumb, cupping the mini-con's faceplate in his servo. They were so small compared to him.
"Soundwave: should have said this sooner. Soundwave… is sorry. I… I am sorry. You shouldn't have… I shouldn't have put you through this. Failed. Soundwave… Sound- I… I have failed you." Soundwave struggled to speak through the rampant turmoil that his mind had sunk into. Soundwave struggled to remember himself in first person, but knew it would mean more to the cassettes if he tried. He would always try for them. They were his world, they were his everything. They were the only reason he kept trying.
"You had no choice, right? So… so it's okay. It's okay, b- boss… Sound…Soundwave. What do you want me to call you? I- I can- I can call you something else." Frenzy couldn't stop himself from nuzzling into Soundwave's palm, feeling the warmth emanating from the other mech. The warmth Frenzy himself didn't have, being a cold construct.
Soundwave would never forget. Holding his cassettes close to his chassis, Laserbeak cheeping next to his audials, Buzzsaw curled under his arm, Frenzy and Rumble plastered to his chest as they all seemed to melt into a puddle on the floor. Ravage curled into a ball on his thighs, pressing himself close to Soundwave's midriff. The cassettes seeking his warmth, his energy, the faintest magnetization between their bodies. Leeching his energy, their EM fields intertwined more than ever before.
Soundwave finally let them in. Soundwave finally let them feel him, a cold and unforgiving void that was laced with agony and fear. All the emotions he buried and hid away, hiding behind his loyalty and his rage. Wrapping them in a protective blanket that almost felt like love, something none of them had ever admitted before. They weren't supposed to love those they counted as siblings or Creators during war. They never had a chance to do so.
They drifted amidst the stars until the ship ran out of fuel. They couldn't care any less. Countless solar cycles had been spent filled with mindless chatter. High-pitched laughter echoed in Soundwave's audials. He had never seen Frenzy and Rumble so carefree. He had never seen Ravage run excitedly around a ship before. He'd given them what they deserved, freedom. While Laserbeak and Buzzsaw didn't have much space to fly around, they still made do with the space they had.
Frenzy and Rumble started playing games with the stolen cargo boxes. Hiding in different spaces in the ship, making a game to find one another. The others joined not too long after, and they would chase each other around. Soundwave didn't know where their seemingly endless energy came from, but he silently appreciated the sight, hiding a small smile behind a servo.
The Energon cubes they had would be their fuel, not the ship's. They had the light of their optics to light the way. They had Soundwave's body to stay warm, and they could recharge in their alt-modes, tucked away in silence in the protective casing of his chassis. Their fields still intertwined with his, even as they recharged.
Soundwave barely dared to breathe. Lost in the expanse of space, but still surviving. He wasn't the only one there, watching moons and planets as they drifted by. His used his internal chronometer to keep track of the date and the time. In the 'night' as the cassettes recharged, he used the silence to exit the ship, anchoring himself to the hull with a faint magnetizing pull of his pedes. He'd watch the stars, he'd stare into the void without a trace of doubt in his mind.
He believed there would be something out there for them. He believed they'd find a way home, wherever home could be. Soundwave knew his spark was brighter than ever, as hope had wriggled its way into his processor. He was bold, he was daring, pressing the broadcast button his chassis.
"I am Soundwave. I am an ex-Decepticon from the planet Cybertron. I am looking for a new home for my cassettes and I. We are willing to work for boarding, we only ask that you do not make us fight. We are tired of wars. We are drifting in a ship at the coordinates [1227.95642.1B97A3] I await a response to whoever may hear this." Soundwave ex-vented a breath he didn't know he had been holding. The signature beep coming from his body as his message was sent into the void of the universe. Distant worlds would hear his words, distant colonies, the lost Arks, alien civilizations would be hearing his plea.
They would be hearing his words for the first time in millennia, laced with hope. Laced with emotion. He was not begging, he was simply requesting aid. Soundwave shut his optics, feeling the warmth from a Blue Supergiant as the ship drifted by, far enough away they wouldn't be melted. Far enough away Soundwave could project past the static and interference of solar flares. The sun was in another solar system, but the light could be seen from where Soundwave stood.
He could feel the blazing heat tickling his body, drifting over him in waves. Something akin to his Carrier's embrace passed through his circuits. The blue was a dead ringer for their optics. Perhaps that was why their designation was named after the stars. He could feel the throes of exhaustion sinking into his frame, spurring him to return inside.
Soundwave opted for his alt-mode, awaiting a response at low power. He kept himself in the pilot's chair, drifting in and out of consciousness, just as their ship drifted through the galaxy.
Several deca-cycles passed before Soundwave received a response. He only knew how much time had passed from his internal chronometer. His spark skipped a tick in his chest as someone opened a communication channel, static filling his audials. He adjusted the channel, tuning himself in, with a weary greeting.
"Hello." Soundwave heard a gasp from the other end of the line, bordering on baffled, keeping the desperation from their voice as muttering and chatter filled the background of the call.
"Soundwave, tell me it's true, mech. You done, for real?" Soundwave wrecked his processor for the owner of the voice. Jazz, of the Autobots. How ironic.
"I defected shortly after Megatron's disappearance. Yes, it is true. I am no longer a Decepticon. There are no traps or stowaways on my ship aside from my cassettes. You can even do a scan before you approach if that will ease your mind." Soundwave struggled to keep the word Lord from his derma, his entire chassis creaking and groaning as he returned to his root-mode. He was low on energy, feeling cold sinking into his frame.
"Your scans already came up clear, mech. We did 'em before we called." Jazz sounded awfully confident with himself, and Soundwave could imagine the cocky grin gracing his silver faceplate. Soundwave could only hum in response, fighting his own optic lids to remain open. He fought his instinct to wear his mask. He fought the need to retract his body, pull in tight, transformation seams drawn so close together his entire chassis would ache. Soundwave forced himself to remain vulnerable, a servo brushing along the seams and cords of his neck.
"If you wont take me, at least take the cassettes. They don't require much energy. I don't… I don't care what happens to me. Spare them, please." Soundwave could barely believe himself. He could barely believe the faint static in his voice, the waves of electricity that danced along his emotional modules. He wasn't supposed to feel this strongly, but something twisted in his spark. Pain. He couldn't abandon them again. He didn't want them to leave.
"Hey, are you… cryin'? Okay, uh, sorry mech, yeah, I… we can take all of you. Don't want separate the cassette mommy from his kids, y'know? It feels wrong." If Jazz was trying to make a joke, it fell on deaf audials and was only responded with a half-sparked scoff.
♥
Soundwave didn't know how to feel. The Autobots had shown him and his cassettes mercy, their optics lingering over the scratched out Decepticon emblem on his chassis. How he'd torn away the traces of his past, how he'd bared his face and sharp denta without shame. Their optics never left his body, even as he held out his servos to be placed in magnetic cuffs.
Soundwave never struggled- not once, as they disarmed him, taking his laser rifle and his canon from his shoulder. He didn't struggle as they disconnected his sound-wave projection system, the speakers useless without the wires that connected him to them. He felt hollow, lacking an integral part of himself. He could still receive and send radio waves, but he didn't have the energy. Soundwave didn't want to.
Not when Jazz had greeted him with a soft, sad smile. The smaller mech had offered Soundwave a servo to take, leading him over the bridge off of his dead, depleted spacecraft. Onto an Autobot ship, in enemy territory, but Soundwave felt no hostility. He felt no fear.
They did something they never would have, cycles prior, they trusted him. Soundwave wouldn't want to betray their trust even if he could. He was disarmed, he was defenseless, and he had his cassettes to protect.
With enough energy in his system, the cassettes were able to refuel using him. They were silent as they were ejected and disarmed, looking to Soundwave with fear in his optics. He could only offer gentle reassurance, even as he was kept in the cargo hold of the spacecraft, chained to a pillar, bound by Energon chains.
Somehow, the cassettes had wormed their ways into the Autobots good graces. They were offered free reign of the ship, after the Autobot Medic- Ratchet- disconnected their weapons modules and systems. Frenzy and Rumble couldn't break the ship apart if they tried, but they had no intention to do so. They kept to their own, hovering around Soundwave, keeping him company.
Ravage never left his side, curled up on his lap and purring to offer some form of comfort. Soundwave wasn't sad, why did they treat him like he was? Soundwave didn't understand.
Soundwave certainly didn't understand the solar cycle Jazz released him, and showed him around the spacecraft. Spoke to him like they were friends, not like they had once been enemies. The smaller mech was offering the olive branch of peace, given that Soundwave had extended the invitation first. They did not have to respond to his desperate plea for survival, but they did.
Soundwave eventually came to appreciate Jazz's company, even if the intimidating mech known as Prowl seemed to stalk his every move. Prowl was Jazz's shadow, following Soundwave's every move with his optics. He was a quiet, reserved mech, that only seemed to smile when Jazz was speaking to him and he thought no one was looking.
Soundwave accidentally voiced his thoughts of them being cute, in front of the other Autobots, hiding his face with a servo as he snickered. The silence that followed felt like a crossed line, until Ratchet was the first to laugh. Soundwave had made someone laugh, that wasn't his cassettes.
The Autobots grew more comfortable with Soundwave as time went on. Eventually, Soundwave's ideology got into their processors, and soon they weren't even Autobots. They were simply fellow Cybertronians, without a faction like himself. Why would a Medic want to continue being part of a war? Why would an ex-Enforcer and assassin want to continue down a path of darkness? Why would a cultural investigator and covert specialist want to continue down a path of destroying culture and history?
Soundwave ironically, somehow segmented himself as a leader of sorts, able to exchange information freely. The ex-Autobots were careless, just like he was. Sitting at tables in the ship's cargo hold, that had become a social quarters of a sort, exchanging war stories and myths over High-Grade.
Somehow simply surviving had turned into living, with touches ghosting his frame and odd comments that made his spark skip a tick. His cassettes were happy, able to be useful and learning maintenance for the ship, getting into places the larger mechs couldn't due to their smaller sizes. Somehow they stopped being called mini-cons, and were simply Soundwave's cassettes, their history as Decepticons slowly being erased.
Blaster became a friend to Soundwave, as they both checked the galaxy for responses to the messages they sent. They would speak together, as would Jazz- sometimes Ratchet and Prowl would join the messages, sending out only positivity to space.
When Soundwave's systems were reconnected, he played music. When Blaster connected a wire between them, the two stereos playing together in static harmony, blaring music from Cybertron's golden era to the vastness to space, they said nothing.
When Jazz would connect a microphone to Soundwave and sing, his circuits fried from High-Grade and a smile on his faceplate, Soundwave couldn't say anything. He couldn't comment on the warmth emanating from his spark, he couldn't comment on the way the others cheered him on.
Primus below, Jazz had a beautiful voice. His energy was infectious, worse than Cosmic Rust, wriggling into Soundwave's audials and punching the air from his vents. Blaster loved to play songs that drowned them in bass, and once Frenzy found out how to connect the stereo-bots to the ship's intercom system, it was over for Ratchet's poor audials.
The ship was never without music, to the point after several deca-cycles even the grumpy old Medic started to hum along. Sometimes he'd tap a single pede along to the music while giving someone maintenance or a checkup, humming along as Wheeljack shook his helm.
♦
Soundwave nearly lost his mind when they received a response. Jazz's voice had been whispering sweet nothings next to his audial, a servo brushing over his shoulder as the smaller mech greeted him for the 'morning'. Soundwave didn't know what it meant, but he knew it made his entire frame run hot. He wanted to respond, until Blaster's voice came over the intercom, their constant music being put on pause.
"Hey gang, we got… we got a response. From the Nova Corps. We got a response from- from someone named Nova Prime. Prime, huh? Guess we Cybertronians ain't the only ones with them, funny- but- yeah, come to the bridge! Now, or, as fast as you can, and if you're still in your berth, get your aft up and get over here!" Soundwave immediately started wracking his processor for information on Nova Corps- the military force of Xandar, a part of the Spartax Empire, allied with several galactic forces. Forces Cybertronians hardly ever interacted with before.
They filled the bridge as Blaster regarded them with an uneasy, nerve-wracked grin, condensation dripping down his chassis as his cooling fans worked overtime. Soundwave had never seen the other mech so nervous before, and clearly neither had his fellow ex-Autobots. Chatter filled the bridge, a discussion along the lines-
"Someone should pretend to be a Captain, I mean, we ain't got no Captain!"
"We could just be honest with them. We're travelers."
"Should we take a vote?"
Soundwave listened to them intently, as they muttered among themselves. They didn't notice him reaching for the controls, hushing them as an image sputtered to life over the screen.
"Greetings, Nova Prime. I am Soundwave, and these are my companions. We would be delighted to discuss the agreements we've sent out, if you would have us." He wore his best smile, soft and inviting, half-lidded optics. The woman on the scream returned the gesture, a hand over her chest.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Soundwave. Xandar would gladly take in weary travelers and veterans alike."
Soundwave continued, as did Nova Prime. He learned that her name was simply a title, and she was only one, as there were many before her. They spoke like they were colleagues, idle chatter as he pulled information from her politely, learning the coordinates for a planet that might become their new home.
His companions were shocked into silence. Soundwave was a quiet, inquisitive mech, often only going on a tangent when his cassettes were the topic of a conversation. They were able to see the ghosts of his past, the speeches of one who used to be a Senator, the traces of an intelligence officer who had once spoken to civilizations of distant planets, not just Cybertron.
Soundwave had given them something they once had given him- hope.
♣
Somehow the Cybertronians integrated flawlessly on Xandar. Somehow, Soundwave had scored them all occupations. Somehow-
Ratchet found himself with an upgrade to his med-chip, learning about alien biology, downloading and learning information on the different species that called Xandar their home. It barely took Ratchet any time at all, passing exams and earning something called a 'degree' that allowed him to start work as a Doctor on their new home.
Wheeljack was able to invent in peace, scientists from other worlds all clamoring around him to learn about his creations. Students wanted to be taught by him, the people wanted to see what he could make. Wheeljack was overjoyed that he finally wouldn't be creating weapons of destruction for war, but devices to help people. For deep space, for everyday use. For stellar travelers, for himself, for his fellow Cybertronians. Even if everything he made did have a tendency to explode or do the exact opposite of what it was meant to do.
Blaster and Soundwave worked in communications, although Blaster preferred to run a radio station, and with tunes from all parts of the galaxy and beyond, his channel became a fan favorite.
Jazz did what he did best- party, sing, and bring the thunder when it came to lightening up someone's day. When he wasn't working for Nova Corps in convert operations, taking down smugglers and criminals with Prowl always in his shadow. Whether or not that shadow came with blaring sirens and a look that could kill was a tale for another day.
Soundwave continued. He did more than survive, he yearned to thrive, too invested in intergalactic communications from prior occupations to give it up, restrict himself to only one world. So he persisted, and soon found himself on a team- even if that team was mainly him and his cassettes.
He listened to every corner of the galaxy, beyond the borders of the Galaxy called the Milky Way. How far they've come, how far they've traveled from home. Andromeda was the galaxy Cybertronians could have called home, or the closest thing to it. Travelers from so far away, that Soundwave couldn't get out of his audials.
He listened for the ships that left during the Exodus. He listened for Decepticons, he listened for Autobots. Soundwave was always listening. He listened for the Kree Empire, he listened for commands that trickled down the grapevine to his communications room.
Soundwave listened for the S.O.S. calls in deep space. Soundwave responded to distress calls, Soundwave spoke to terrified shipmates that begged to be saved. He offered them peace, he offered them solace, as he had once been granted. The promotion came unexpectedly.
In the blink of an optic to him, in a mere stellar-cycle, in what some species called a year, Soundwave went from a communications officer for Xandar, to working for the Intergalactic-Communications Committee. Soundwave received calls and distress signals almost all day long, and somehow, he could barely recognize himself.
Wires plugged into ports he didn't know he had. Frenzy and Rumble bringing him Energon as he worked tirelessly, promoting peace and prosperity across the galaxy and beyond. Reaching out into space for their lost Cybertronian brethren, hoping someday that someone would respond.
Promotion after promotion, work only stacked on until he managed to upgrade the systems and receivers. Somehow Soundwave found himself training younger communications officers, organics and biomechanical alike, from different planets, some from a neighboring galaxy. Bright-eyed, viewing him with awe. Hanging on to his every word, and soon Soundwave found himself with colleagues he could trust. No longer overworked to find the lost children of the stars, sharing his profession with others.
Listening and guiding the lost souls home. Relief flooding his lines as a weary, desperate voice reached his audials, crying as someone finally heard them. Someone finally found them. Every life that Soundwave saved, every being that Soundwave sent rescue teams after, made his spark feel warm. Every time Jazz and the others praised him, his spark skipped a tick.
Every time Soundwave reached for the stars, the travelers and the misguided souls responding to him, he felt something. Every time he convinced a Decepticon to lay down their arms, he wondered if he would break down. Every time he convinced an Autobot to consider mercy, the closer they came to laying down their arms, the closer they came to ending the war, Soundwave could feel it. This- all along- was what he was meant to do. Put an end to the death, put an end to destruction, the mindless slaughter.
I am here. I am listening. You, who voyage in the stars, you are not alone. I hear you, I can help you if you need it. There is no need to fight any longer. You are safe. You will be welcomed home. You can do more than staying alive. You can do more than simply survive.
♠
Act II, Don't Stop Believin'
Soundwave was a tireless worker for over a century. Welcoming the new Nova Prime with open arms. A determined worker just like himself, who wished for peace to every corner of the universe just as he did. He was overdue a vacation, and hadn't listened to his friends begging him to take at least one solar-cycle off. Soundwave couldn't help it, he was a pessimistic dreamer once, drowning in optimism that came with his impeccable track record.
Soundwave did more than find and save the lost travelers, he cracked down on illegal operations faster than most organics could blink. Tracking the movements of the Ravagers, tracking the movements of Autobots and Decepticons. One year he let Wheeljack and Ratchet operate on him.
Soundwave's emotional module worked properly. His processing unit had been tweaked- just like so much of him had been. He almost opted for a complete visual makeover, but something about them liking his 'vibe' kept Soundwave from changing too much of himself. He was more exposed visually, but the metals from distant planets that had been used in his reconstruction were stronger than the Cybertronian metal that had been used in his creation within his Carrier's forge.
Within 2,480,602 years, the third Cybertronian Civil War had officially ended, and Soundwave had played a major role in promoting peace after his retrieval from deep space. If he understood, he knew his spark was leaping for joy, relief washing over him and his fellow Cybertronians that stayed on Xandar. He cried that night, as the current leaders of the Autobots and the Decepticons finally agreed to lay down their arms.
Soundwave and the others were present at the peace-signing agreement. Wearing a new insignia on his chassis- a sun orbited by several planets, and a ship, with a golden insignia on the left side of his breastplate. His connections to the intergalactic alliance, and his status as one of the highest ranking communications officers. Where Autobots and Decepticons had been ceaselessly fighting, Soundwave bettered himself, raised through the ranks, striving to do better, to be better.
The current Nova Prime was present at the peace-signing agreement. Several other factions were present, several galactic empires that had been swayed by Soundwave's voice being projected across the universe. Jazz called it an addiction, Ratchet said Soundwave needed therapy, but he didn't listen. He had to change their minds. He had to change all of their minds.
The ex-Decepticons were just as weary as the ex-Autobots, but upon seeing their once comrades together, talking among each other, bodies pressed close to Soundwave's chassis, his exposed faceplate, his smile, one unburdened by the horrors of war-
Everything began to change, in the blink of an optic. Reuniting Ratchet and Drift had been a bittersweet, melancholic thing, bringing a tear to the old medic's optics. Jazz, Blaster, and Wheeljack had been overjoyed to see their friends, the ones that had directly worked beneath the lost Optimus Prime, with Ironhide ready to combust on the spot from seeing Wheeljack and Ratchet addressing Soundwave so casually.
It would take the older ex-Autobots certainly more time than the younger ones to accept that it was Soundwave, who was known for being Megatron's Third-in-Command being the one that so heavily protested peace and to end the war.
It took the Seekers no time at all to accept the war was over. They were a dying breed, with Vos destroyed and the Well not producing new sparks, signaling the end of cold-construct Seekers. They were as tired of the war as anyone else had been, most wanting to return to a life of traveling the universe to research life on distant planets. Soundwave had all but forgotten, that like Starscream, most of them had been scientists and explorers.
Soundwave welcomed the Autobots with open arms, taking an immediate liking to B-127, wanting to take the barely of age mechling under his metaphorical wing. His spark had always protested in his chest when he saw children at war, a sentiment many of the older Cybertronians shared. While B-127 didn't stay long, it was nice to see him- even if he was part of the Ravagers faction, and had been for apparently some time.
Soundwave took mental note of how many were missing, how many they had lost- both sides. Contacting Cybertron and getting into Shockwave's processor was an arduous process, the unfeeling, painfully loyal mech difficult to sway. With Autobots and Decepticons alike losing their titles and their status, it became easier to gently pummel into Shockwave that the war was over.
They had their chances to return home. They had their chances to reach out to the stars, and Soundwave's voice cracked with static as he sent out signals into deep space for the Arks to return. It was over, it was finally over, you can come home now.
So many that the ships had picked up, Autobots and Decepticons alike, returning to Cybertron with hope making their sparks burn brighter. Shockwave had surprisingly kept the planet in good condition, even if Energon continued to be painfully scarce. Their species might continue to struggle for survival, as many thought, as many dreaded to think of-
Soundwave delivered with the help of his allies. From across several galaxies, governments of intergalactic empires, travelers that Soundwave had found- they contributed. In the blink of an optic, in only a few deca-cycles, Cybertron had more Energon than it knew what to do with.
Shockwave was so overjoyed, he almost sounded like there was a lilt to his voice. His optic wasn't as void as it usually was- Soundwave knew the maniac scientist was relieved. He was relieved of duty, no longer forced to sit and await the call of a Master that will likely never return. While his mind and body might never be what they once were, there was a glimmer in that singular golden optic, reflecting something they both held onto for dear life- hope.
Rebuilding their planet would take time, but finding assistance from other worlds was Soundwave's forte. He took time out of his days, listening for those calls from deep space, to request supplies, to make deals, to sign and seal contracts. The Cybertronians barely had to lift a finger for help, Soundwave was already several steps ahead. Soundwave was always listening, Soundwave always wanted to help, Soundwave could be useful, he could do what others couldn't, he could-
Soundwave's vacation became something that was forced upon him. He'd already found so many lost travelers, he'd sent assistance and rescue teams to so many planets, different corners of the galaxy, he barely had time for his friends. He barely had time for his cassettes, and it was beginning to grate on their systems, with Soundwave almost blissfully unaware as he tried to work himself to death. He was excited, with the prospect of peace and to return home, even if he was always welcomed to stay and live on Xandar. He had his home away from home.
Soundwave was embarrassed, simply over the fact they had to quite literally drag him out of his own office, disconnect the wires that him plugged into over a dozen sensors and communicators. He tried to put up a fight, but he was too tired, his processor overworked and his body begging for recharge, something he hadn't done in three deca-cycles. He swore he only lost track of time, and conveniently swore he didn't even know he could stay active that long.
Being put to bed by Jazz was probably the most mortifying moment in Soundwave's entire function. He was pouting, he tried to complain, that he had work to do- only to be shut down, the others would have it handled, he wasn't the only galactic communications officer out there, and he had trained more than a handful of elite agents worth their own grain of Cybertonium that Soundwave could get the rest he so desperately needed.
He was swaddled in blankets, struggling to keep his optics open. The berth was comfortable, almost nest-like in nature, with a copious amount of pillows and blankets. Whoever made the nest clearly had experience- and it made Soundwave's emotional module ripple with shame upon coming to the realization it was more than likely a certain Praxian that made the nest- for him.
His own motors purred as derma graced his own- the sensation muddled and featherlight to his over-tired processor. Soundwave let recharge claim him, dreaming of-
Wait, what?
Soundwave recharged for three solar cycles straight. His body was relieved to finally rest, yet upon awakening he was low on energy and ready to chew someone's faceplate off if he didn't get some Energon. His mind was conflicted, had his processor not been wired in place, he swore it would be doing flips, as his emotional and imaginative modules worked overtime. Someone had kissed him as recharge claimed him like an unruly pet.
The traces of someone's EM field intertwined with his own told Soundwave all that he needed to know- whoever did it, wanted to, and liked it. He left the berthchamber of his habsuite ready to throw servos, cranky with his tanks rumbling for sustenance. There were too many people in his habsuite, and they kept coming and going like they owned the place.
Frenzy was the first one to notice Soundwave was finally awake, handing him a cube of Energon, copious amounts of rust flakes and cadmium to make it sweet and a little spicy, just like how Soundwave liked it. He muttered his thanks to his cassette- his son in another life- as he glared at the mech sprawled across his couch.
Jazz. The little ground unit, the little saboteur that made his body run hot and his spark skip a tick, sprawled on his couch like he belonged there. Soundwave didn't mind his company usually, but something about the early morning hours and all the noise was grating on his audials. Everything was too loud, there were too many in his personal space- and Soundwave was ready to crack.
And then Jazz flashed him a grin so bright, Soundwave saw stars.
"Heya, sweetspark. Feelin' any better after that long power nap of yours?" Soundwave opened his intake and then closed it multiple times, his vocalizer refusing to make any sound other than static. The grates on his helm flickered to life, glowing a faint blue- bio-lights that hadn't activated in eons suddenly deciding now was the perfect time to turn on. His faceplate was beginning to tint pink, Energon rushing to his cheeks as he stuttered and spewed static.
The optics of too many in the room finally landed on Soundwave, as he struggled through repetitive thread errors and ran a quick defrag on his own systems. Resetting his vocalizer more than once, wringing his servos together, as his cooling system spurred to life with roaring fans and a loud click.
"I… yes. I slept fine. Thank… thank you." Words were being difficult for Soundwave, just like thinking was. Surely, his audials had malfunctioned, and Jazz did not call him that little nickname. A little pet name for one's partner. Soundwave wasn't Jazz's partner, that was Prowl. Soundwave didn't have partners. Some organics called him a 'single mother', whatever that meant.
Soundwave didn't notice Jazz moving from the couch, seemingly able to meld wordlessly into the crowd, dodging bodies that had Energon with snickers and apologies. Soundwave stared at the floor, optics tracing the grooves in the worn metal, jolting when Jazz's faceplate filled his field of vision. Primus, he had to look down to view the little mech-
"Mm? Cybercat got your glossa?" Jazz's grin was infectious, and all Soundwave could focus on was the barely parted derma. The other mechs in his habsuite were ignored, as Jazz's EM field intertwined with his own, forceful, invading, so inviting. That invitation had Soundwave leaning down, his breath stuttering with every ex-vent.
Jazz's servos were at Soundwave's hips, and the distance between their derma was closed by the smaller mech within a nanosecond. Jazz's derma were familiar to Soundwave, as his processor all but melted upon contact. His motors purred so loud, it filled the silence that had overtaken the room, so many optics on them- so many mechs stunned into silence.
"Well, good morning to you too kitty." Soundwave wanted to argue, to defend his status as a clearly not Predacon status, yet proving Jazz's nickname true as his purrs only grew louder as he tilted his helm. If Soundwave's faceplate had been off in color before, he was completely pink by the time Jazz pulled away.
"Good… morning. Morning. Morning is good. Is it morning?" Soundwave fought his processor and his vocalizer for words and not pure static. Fighting his own body to stop purring, or at least quieter. Jazz's laughter was music to his audials, and the people in his habsuite seemed to finally recover to react to Jazz and Soundwave.
Soundwave tried to use logic- that Jazz's kiss might have been only a greeting he learned on a distant planet. It meant nothing. It certainly didn't mean anything when Jazz's derma graced the back of Soundwave's servo, the soft protomesh grazing over his scuffed knuckles. Charge danced between them, and just when Soundwave thought the worst melting of his processor and overheating of his circuits was over, someone else came into his peripheral, engines quietly purring as another body plastered to his own.
Soundwave was ready to combust as Prowl nuzzled his cheek with fluttering door wings.
♥
Relationships were new to Soundwave, especially being pulled into an already established relationship between two others. He couldn't recall the last time others were into him, even before the war. How he managed to garner the interest of not one, but two mechs was beyond his processing capabilities, but somehow, the ex-Autobots still weren't done with Soundwave.
Blaster liked playing music with Soundwave, sure, he also liked the grinding of chassis against chassis at late night parties with music so loud Soundwave couldn't think. Jazz already seemed to enjoy dancing, but once that bridge had burned, something felt seductive of the way he moved.
Soundwave found himself sandwiched between warm, colorful bodies more often. Blaster's bright colors, the stark white and blues of Jazz, and Prowl's obnoxious, brightly colored chevron glinting in the light. Who decided Cybertron needed night clubs was clearly correct, given the uprise in popularity within only a few months.
Cybertron was changing throughout repairs. Defense systems that wouldn't be turned on their own, and embassies being built for their galactic visitors. Cybertron had neighbors, and the organics knew how to party. Soundwave didn't need a functioning translator to enjoy the thrum of music, the dim lighting, the High-Grade, the bass that he could feel in his frame.
Cybertron got to learn what freedom tasted like, and her people were getting greedy. Cybertron got to learn what popularity tasted like, with music and entertainment from multiple corners of the universe. Arcades were becoming popular, just as night clubs and oil houses became popular.
Bartenders serving more than just High-Grade specifically for their organic patrons. Tables and chairs of different sizes, the planet slowly becoming more inclusive. Cybertronians having to watch their step, as the planet's population wasn't just Transformers any longer. The integration had been so seamless, Soundwave almost missed it, given his… preoccupation.
Between his job as an intergalactic communications officer, and a newly, in effect schedule, he had nights to enjoy, dancing away, pressed between different mechs and femmes, wearing a cocky grin he might have learned from Jazz. The smaller mech had a charm that Soundwave didn't have, but some appreciated Soundwave's quiet demeanor. Any who complained were quickly shut down by- as Soundwave had mentally dubbed them- his shadows. They were stalkers, at best.
Jazz was always servos-on, Jazz liked to grind, Jazz liked to flirt and get Soundwave so flustered he couldn't form a response. Teasing Soundwave until he couldn't think, pulling him into a kiss that left Soundwave breathless. Sharing Energon with a kiss, bringing him little trinkets…
Blaster liked physical contact, whether it was their servos, gentle brushing as they passed one another. Blaster liked music, Blaster liked it loud, and every club he dragged Soundwave to was always blaring loud music. Blaster would never be too far behind, unless he was grabbing a drink from the bar. Returning to put a servo on Soundwave's spinal strut, right above his aft. Blaster's servos would always be wandering, following every sharp angle of Soundwave's body.
Prowl wasn't as intimidating as Soundwave's first impression had been. No, he was quiet, possessive, of both Jazz and Soundwave, and when they'd been out partying together, pressing Jazz between their bodies, glossa halfway down Soundwave's intake as the smaller mech between them whined and complained from lack of attention. Blaster behind Soundwave, servos on his hips, effectively drowning out the other stereo in attention. Prowl might have had an inferiority complex hidden beneath his rough exterior from the war, but he more than made up for it in being the most demanding of them all- from the entire group. Despite this…
The Autobots knew how to share. Shockwave barely understood, but somehow still crept in, like an unpredictable storm, bringing Soundwave gifts he didn't know what to do with. His morning Energon exactly how he liked it, plushies, new pillows and blankets, sometimes odd little contraptions the scientist had made for no purpose other than entertainment.
Soundwave took longer than he'd like to admit to realize, perhaps, it wasn't a friends with benefits situation, rather, he was being courted- by four different mechs at once. And they all seemed fine with sharing him and passing him around like a cy-gar.
♦
Soundwave, after accepting he might have accidentally been dragged into a polycule, returned to try to keep a work-life balance that didn't drive him insane. He moved, much to his disdain, leaving behind his cramped, one-berthroom habsuite that he maximized usable space by having the cassettes recharge in their alt-modes.
The building he was going to be moving into was a new construction, a tower that came with multipurpose functionality. The lower floors could be seen as a corporate building, with Shockwave's laboratory in one of the sub-surface levels. The top ten levels were all for personal use, with living quarters, common areas, and one floor with a back-lit, built in personal bar. As for how the building was being made with such specific parameters to entice every member of the group, Soundwave stopped questioning after seeing Prowl with the Constructicons once. They owed him a debt, or something, and Soundwave wasn't willing to pry.
Soundwave wondered when his luck would run out, when they'd tire of him, praying to Primus below that the good days wouldn't end. Something in his spark spurred him to keep going, don't stop believing in the mercy he had finally been granted.
While his cassettes preferred to sleep in their alt-modes, safely tucked away in his chest, they finally had the proper room to roam, and got along perfectly fine with Blaster's cassettes. Rumble was the one to make the joke their family had just doubled in size, baffling Soundwave one morning over Energon.
Jazz convinced Shockwave to start going to therapy, as Blaster made an off-handed comment about how Shockwave would make the therapist need therapy. He wasn't wrong. Shockwave had seen and done some scrap that would make the Kree Empire crumble. While he had been understandably offended at first, he had been talked into it- that relearning his mind and body following Shadowplay and Empurata isn't something he should be doing alone.
Life in the tower was chaotic. Life in the tower was warm, inviting, something Soundwave could only dream of. He had made his dreams a reality, letting that tiny voice in his helm that begged for domestication take the reigns. Waking up to be smothered in kisses, sharing Energon in the mornings with others.
Intertwined EM fields, emotions so heavy Soundwave could drown in and thank them. Someone always coming to collect him when he worked too much overtime- others caring about the state of his body, of his physical and mental health. Knowing others cared filled the void, the empty, encompassing hole that had once been in his spark.
Soundwave was loved, and they made sure he wouldn't forget it. Life in a time of peace had somehow become so easy, he found himself falling for it flawlessly. He didn't pick favorites, he didn't have to. Soundwave was the favorite. He liked being the center of attention.
He liked that he could finally be proud of himself, knowing if Megatron saw him now, the once 'glorious' Decepticon leader would probably have him terminated on the spot for going soft. Soundwave liked the changes. Soundwave liked spreading hope to the corners of the universe, Soundwave finally enjoyed being able to feel without worrying whether or not someone will use his emotions to blackmail him, not hiding away behind dampeners and a damaged module. Certainly, Soundwave wasn't biased, knowing damn well he enjoyed the company of his lovers the most.
Act III, Super Freak
War, inactivity, drifting through space, saved and redeemed. That was Soundwave's story. A story spanning millions of years, with tangled threads of indecisiveness and pain, followed by eventual redemption, the blinding light of hope. Encompassed by warmth, a struggle for survival, the struggle to do more than survive. Soundwave had been through more than most short-lived organic species, and somehow found himself becoming an inspiration to many.
Cybertron looked more beautiful than it had during the Golden Age. Shining cities with tall towers, spiraling infrastructure, with Seekers in the skies, Grounders on the roads, organics and civilian frames alike on the sidewalks in their root-modes. Integration had been seamless, integration had beautiful.
With architects from across the universe finding a way to combat the brutalism aesthetic of Cybertron, plants from different planets covering the landscape in raised beds atop the towers. Parks and exhibits that gave the metallic planet a bright color, and terra-forming that thickened the nearly non-existent atmosphere. The weight in the air felt warm comforting, as weather returned to Cybertron for the first time since before the first civil war, weather beyond simply acid rain pelting them from the skies.
Luna 1 and Luna 2 functioned as embassies, and Soundwave would frequent them to 'check in'. While his schedule had become more lax, finding himself with more free time and ushered out of stations for intergalactic communication, he couldn't help himself. The drive that made him want to call out to the stars had never faded.
Soundwave began to wonder who exactly he was looking for, and dreaded the answer that resided in the depths of his spark. He kept it a secret, buried deep and never spoke of it. Always deflecting, that deep space was dangerous, that he had to keep an audial out for lost travelers, that he had to keep tabs on a particularly aggravating Celestial, called Ego. Cybertron was just fine without a Prime.
Soundwave would gladly work himself to death if it meant keeping Cybertron and the colonies safe. He wouldn't survive the spark-break if something happened to the others. Jazz's smile never failed to make his day brighter, Prowl's quiet and almost indifferent lingering was a comfort, Blaster's obnoxiously positive energy was infectious, and Shockwave's brilliance always brought something interesting to the table.
He wanted to give them something in return, clearing his schedule for an entire deca-cycle without notifying his polycule. He'd be home, and after cleaning several floors in a tizzy, Soundwave decided to prepare for when they eventually started trickling in and coming home. The tower had indubitably become their home, but with so many scurrying through the upper levels it could get messy and chaotic at times.
If Soundwave had an apron, he'd probably wear it just to save his vents from some of the dust. Someone had even left the dishes to pile up in the sink- specs of rust and cadmium caked on the bottoms of glasses since it seemed they were all allergic to rinsing out their own cups.
Soundwave dusted, he mopped, he did the dishes, leaving the empty cubes and cylindrical glasses in the drying rack. He tidied up one of the living rooms, fluffing the pillows on the couch, folding blankets and leaving them on the armrests. The windows looked smudged enough from tiny fingerprints- likely the cassettes- which meant they had to be cleaned too.
By the time Soundwave was done, several floors smelled heavily of solvent and different cleaning chemicals. He opened a few windows to air out the different habsuites, and if he did and folded laundry and changed bedsheets, he doubted any of them would notice. Mostly everything was clean, Soundwave even scrubbed the wash-racks for Primus' sake!
The couch had never looked so inviting, practically begging Soundwave to rest and relax after a few cycles of non-stop cleaning as he played music from a distant planet that Blaster had gotten him interested in. Upbeat, with most songs vaguely revolutionary in nature. Something echoing in his audials as he had worked. Love songs, how ironic. Yearning for a brighter future, as he once had.
Soundwave tapped his pedes to the music as he sank into the plush cushions of the couch, hanging half off the armrest and looking at the floor upside down. One leg hanging off the couch with the other recently dusted off and on the cushions as he stretched. Soundwave decided to take a little nap as he waited, wondering who would be the first to take the bait he had so graciously left out for them. His current position didn't last long as it put a crick in his neck, so he scooted back down before promptly falling into recharge.
♣
Soundwave awoke to the sounds of someone in the kitchen, likely pouring themselves some Energon using the clean dishes he had so nicely done. He checked his internal chronometer, seeing that it was well into the late hours of the afternoon. Soundwave stretched, feeling the tension in his spinal strut and the rest of his frame as he did so. He met Jazz's lazy grin as he tilted his helm, the smaller mech pulling the glass of Energon away from his derma.
"Hey there, sweetspark. Ya do all this?" Jazz all but purred his words, discarding the empty glass on the coffee table, standing only an arm's length away from Soundwave, who regarded him with half-lidded optics.
"Maybe, maybe not. Has anyone else come home?" Soundwave didn't bother with pulling his transformation seams tight as Jazz's fingers began working out tension over his hips, applying pressure to the strained protomesh beneath.
"Nah, just us." Soundwave was ready to become molten slag the longer Jazz's servos roamed over his body, especially once the smaller mech's hand supported the back of his joint and began to stretch his leg out. Heaven, Soundwave was in heaven, especially once a satisfying click was heard from his hip.
"Oh… thanks…" Soundwave's optics wanted to roll to the back of his helm, but he forced himself to focus through the haze, ex-venting shakily as Jazz climbed onto the couch, his thighs spread far apart to sit on Soundwave's thighs. The smaller mech reached for Soundwave's waist, forcing the stereo to lift his lower body, bending at the knees.
Kibble and his chassis shifted as Jazz worked out the tension in Soundwave's lower back, seemingly pleased with himself with every 'accidental' moan he was able to draw from Soundwave from satisfaction and relief. Primus, he was tense.
Jazz, always the traveler, finding his way onto Soundwave's lap properly, servos laid flat over the taller mech's chest. Feeling the warmth emanated from his spark, the common room quiet enough he could swore he heard every skipping tick of Soundwave's spark.
"…Hi," Soundwave ex-vented shakily, reaching for Jazz's hips as he tried to steady them both- there wasn't enough room on the couch for them both to relax comfortably. Jazz hummed in response, pressing their arrays close together as he leaned forward, effectively laying down on top of Soundwave.
"Heya. Today anythin' special?" Soundwave ignored the charge that already danced between them, his cooling system clicking on as his fans whirred to life. Jazz only wriggled to make himself more comfortable, as Soundwave trapped him with his legs. When such close physical contact had become Soundwave's norm, he couldn't recall. He only wanted it to never end. Touch him, bite him, crush him, break him.
"Not really, I just took some days off. Someone had to clean around here." He laid a servo over Jazz's aft, applying the faintest pressure, like he was trying to have the smaller mech become one by contact alone.
"Finally, thought you'd never take a break if it wasn't one of us draggin' you out kickin' and screamin'." Jazz seemed to be moving from music bouncing around in his imagination module, a pede tapping against Soundwave's leg in a vaguely familiar rhythm. Soundwave stared into that bright blue visor, humming as small lines flashed across it.
He forced a servo between them to turn on his own stereo system, music beginning to play and fill the silence once more. Jazz was bouncy and humming along to the music from those distant alien planets, seemingly satiated from the noise.
Primus, he didn't realize what he was doing to Soundwave, driving the larger mech mad. Soundwave couldn't remember the last time he'd interfaced, probably before the war, but he could certainly remember the tension and the irritability in his frame that came with frustration. He could feel Jazz's array pressed to his own, courtesy panels and transformation seams pressed together flawlessly.
Soundwave covered his mouth with a servo as he stifled a whine that died on the tip of his glossa. The lines and colors kept dancing across Jazz's visor, and he saw the tiny bubbles from his own whine, that exploded into a fractal rainbow. Fireworks, which meant Jazz liked that sound.
Jazz shifted, servos at both sides of Soundwave's helm as he tugged himself upwards, still humming and wiggling to the music. He might not have been as oblivious as Soundwave initially believed, rolling his hips once, grinding right over Soundwave's spike cover. Jazz still swayed to the music, as content as a purring Cybercat, flashing Soundwave a cocky grin that bordered on teasing.
Soundwave tapped his fingers on Jazz's hips, silently begging for permission. The condensation and charge between them was driving Soundwave mad, if he was going to die, being teased by Jazz was certainly the way to go. He could feel the tiny drops of transfluid that escaped from the seams of Jazz's paneling, growling low in his chest as he heard the panels open.
"Easy, kitty. I'm not goin' anywhere." Jazz spoke softly, lights dancing on his visor and lighting Soundwave's vision with a myriad of colors. Soundwave's audials were hard-focused beyond the quiet music, the steady dripping of light blue transfluid hitting his array stealing his attention. His codpiece was pressed to Jazz's exposed array, as the smaller mech let out a satisfied sigh. Jazz could quite literally push his buttons with his anterior node, and Soundwave would thank him for it.
Soundwave had shut off the functions to the play, skip, forward, back, and rewind buttons on his chassis just in time for Jazz to shift and drag his node right over them. The smaller mech did a full body shudder at the varying textures and height, desperately trying and failing to continue wearing his signature grin.
Soundwave's panels snapped open with such a force that Jazz lurched forward, grabbing Soundwave by the shoulders as a startled half-gasp, half-moan left his derma.
"Frag! That… Ya… opened pretty quick…" Soundwave's spike pressurized nearly the instant it was freed from its confines, the head already slick from leaking transfluid, able to glide from the lubricant that Jazz's valve provided, the drenched folds and biolights all Soundwave could focus on. He should take it slow, he hasn't done it in so long, and if the racket late at night meant anything, Jazz was certainly more experienced, and Soundwave didn't want to be a disappointment, not now-
Jazz silenced Soundwave's thoughts by sinking down on his spike in one fluid motion, the larger mech's spinal strut arching as he covered his intake with one servo, desperate to stifle the whine that had left him in that single moment. Preparation be damned, Jazz had no patience unless it came to his job.
"Mhm… yeah, ya… feel… damn good, kitty." Jazz was a deviant, prying Soundwave's servo from his faceplate to force their derma together in a sloppy attempt of a kiss, and Soundwave realized quickly he was not the one in control, he likely never had been. Jazz saw an opportunity, and took it. His calipers cycled around Soundwave's spike, the cassette-carrier already dangerously close to an edge, his EM field bleeding embarrassment. "Don' even hafta do nothin'… I got'chu… Lemme do the work, 'kay?"
Jazz's accent became thicker the more comfortable he was, and given Soundwave's fried processor lagged trying to decipher his words, the agent of chaos was clearly comfortable right where he was. Soundwave could only respond with a nod, trying to keep his optics from rolling to the back of his helm as Jazz shifted experimentally. Fast, that's how the little dancer liked it, Soundwave barely noticing as his own servos were pinned above his helm.
Jazz didn't give Soundwave a chance to process before he rolled his hips, and Soundwave could taste victory and smug on Jazz's glossa as their derma met again. He could easily break himself free from Jazz's hold if he wanted to, but Soundwave was more than fine with being used. Pits, he forgot how good it could feel, regardless of position.
Jazz smacked Soundwave's hip with his free servo, causing the larger mech's hips to lift, meeting Jazz's and almost knocking the air from Jazz's vents. His cooling fans kicked on with a gentle whir. Soundwave wanted to free himself so he could grab Jazz by the hips and frag him senseless, but he'd keep it together, for Jazz's sake.
They kissed and rolled their hips mindlessly for several kliks, the softest sensations drifting between them and a building charge from slow and sensual rolls. Jazz was testing Soundwave's self-control, his restraint to an unholy level.
The door leading into the common area opened with a hiss, and the sound of clattering data-pads soon followed. Soundwave barely paid any mind, not even cracking open an optic to check who it was. The colorful cursing already let him know it was Prowl, who through the bond before he reeled himself in had clearly been surprised.
Jazz taunted Prowl from across the room, where him and Soundwave were occupying the couch, lifting his aft and swaying side to side, before he abruptly dropped himself back down that had moans frying Soundwave's vocalizer loud enough the enforcer heard it.
"Frag- what are you- Jazz, I swear, who-" Prowl's optics opened and closed loud enough he could hear it, and wondered if he needed maintenance, perhaps check his processor, or his imagination module, because he could see Jazz with Blaster, Jazz with himself, but not with… Soundwave. "Oh?"
Soundwave had been driven insane by the little special ops agent, his processor blanking as he opened his legs in invitation for Prowl. Jazz stopped kissing him stupid long enough to darkly chuckle next to his audial, entirely too smug. Prowl came alive with frantic scurrying and collecting his data-pads, setting them aside on a counter for later. His reports could wait.
Prowl was at Jazz's back in a flash, Soundwave's overworked processor barely registering the other mech crossing the distance between them and crawling on the couch. Soundwave could feel the added weight on his legs, his own frame not even protesting, the two smaller mechs were lighter-weight models. It didn't help considering he knew they were there.
Jazz released Soundwave's servos so he could steady himself on Soundwave's chassis, fingers spread apart as he lifted himself just enough so Prowl could see. Primus, it was embarrassing, but Soundwave's logic had left him before he could blink. Prowl was entranced, tilting his helm for a better look, barely ghosting Soundwave's anterior node with a single digit. The reaction was instant as Soundwave's hips bucked, and any stability Jazz had was immediately lost as he fell, his faceplate colliding with Soundwave's chassis as he groaned.
Prowl had a resting glitch-face the majority of the time, softness reflected in his optics around the ones he was bonded with. Soundwave never saw much else from Prowl in terms of expression, until now, the enforcer's optics half-lidded and a hungry glow in them. His glossa swiped across his upper derma, leaving Soundwave shuddering.
"Sounders… sweetspark… move up a little for me." Soundwave could do as he was told, shimmying his way further up the couch, servos at Jazz's hips as the poor smaller mech was jostled and twitching unceremoniously. Prowl was an excellent guide, readjusting them so Soundwave's hips were higher in the air, Jazz having to grab the armrest of the couch to prevent himself from falling over the edge. The angle was odd and left an ache in Soundwave's spinal struts, but he didn't complain.
Soundwave couldn't complain when two of Prowl's digits disappeared into his cycling valve, unused for millennia, and suddenly so curious and desperate for attention. Soundwave's hips jerked which had Jazz hissing next to his audial, gritting his denta together so hard Soundwave barely registered grinding metal.
"Pretty, you're so pretty, Sounders…" Prowl sounded like a mech starved, and Soundwave could only formulate a static-laced whimper in response. Soundwave was many things, pretty was not one of them. Prowl's thumb brushed his anterior node just as his forefinger and index lightly scissored and applied pressure to the mesh and cycling calipers. Soundwave saw stars, his body unsure if he should move away from the intrusion or chase the feeling left by Prowl's digits.
"Oh, so pretty… Mmph…" Jazz's words slurred as he nodded in agreement, feeling straight to his core the way Soundwave began to rock to the lazy rhythm Prowl had set with pistoning his fingers in and out of Soundwave's valve. Jazz's visor was alight in colors, muddled and mixed together in blues and reds, spots turning purple as the slick noises coming from both his and Soundwave's valves met his audials. Soundwave wanted to commit the sounds and sensation to memory, but his processor felt very distant from him.
"Sounders… can I? Please?" Prowl's words almost fell on deaf audials, as Soundwave's hum was the only response that Prowl had been heard. Prowl asked again, softer, barely brushing over Soundwave's interior node as he loomed closer, his ex-vent fanning against Soundwave's exposed valve causing him to twitch. Soundwave hummed in agreement, trying to shift closer, a whine leaving his intake before Jazz had the chance to kiss it out of him.
Prowl gripped Jazz's hip, close to denting the metal as he straightened himself, inflicting enough pain to break Jazz from his muddled, lustful thoughts. Jazz seemed to melt against Soundwave's chassis, just so Prowl could regard Soundwave, look him in those dazzling golden optics that were close to leaking from his frustration.
"With your words, Soundwave." Prowl's suddenly commanding tone, the way the two digits crooked in Soundwave's valve had the barely restrained overload he was holding onto wash over his system. Charge crackled between him and Jazz, the smaller mech almost lifting off him entirely from the sudden influx of warm transfluid filling his valve and almost his forge. Jazz was greedy, a whining mess and muttering against Soundwave's chassis, trying to not bite him just so he would move again.
"Yes. Yes, yes, please… please…" Prowl hummed in satisfaction, releasing Jazz and scooting back down the couch. Jazz seemed to be relieved, no longer having the enforcer hover over him so he couldn't continue wringing every last shred of sanity from Soundwave's processor. No, Prowl was going to do it himself. He bullied his way back between Soundwave's legs, gripping the taller mech by the hips and lifting him. The cold draft between his aft and the warmth of the couch gave Soundwave's system the tiniest shock, and his legs shook in protest as he tried to keep balance.
Prowl adjusted him accordingly, throwing those gloriously deep blue and white legs over his shoulders, nasal ridge pressed to Soundwave's anterior node as he lapped up the spilled lubricant. His glossa swiped through damp folds, the biolights blinking in exhaustion and anticipation. Soundwave let Prowl rock him, feeling that warm faceplate so close to his valve, twitching every time his glossa circled his anterior node. Every twitch and movement Soundwave made from Prowl's ministrations had Jazz muttering against the cords of his neck.
Jazz and Prowl seemed to be on similar wavelengths, coordinating, just as Prowl's derma closed around Soundwave's anterior node, sucking like his life depending on it, Soundwave's entire frame would shudder as Jazz lifts himself from Soundwave's spike, to drop down again with more force. The intervals between Jazz lifting himself were becoming shorter, more frantic, the smaller mech ex-venting heavily as Soundwave tried to match his pace, and failed.
Soundwave's next overload was going to fry the poor old mech's systems without a doubt. Prowl licked him clean, his engines growling low and loud. Jazz's fans sounded like a dying jet engine, high-pitched like the squeaking of his joints. The strain on their frames went as unnoticed as the sound of the door opening and being quietly shut. Soundwave's spinal strut went taut as he arched off the couch, Prowl's assault on his valve never seemed to end, dragging the moment into eternity as Soundwave's systems threatened to blow several circuits. Jazz bit at the cords of his neck, blunt denta somehow managing to draw sluggish, precious Energon from him.
Jazz went to kiss Soundwave even more senseless than they both already were, forcing a servo between them as he gripped his own spike and stroke slowly and languidly, unlike the pace he had set for riding Soundwave like a crazed Cybercat. Jazz's visor was a practical rainbow by then, beginning to short out as his own overload rapidly approached, a sharp ex-vent through his intake as the tip of Soundwave's spike brushed against his interior nodes, threatening to breach his forge if he slammed down any harder.
Prowl bit at Soundwave's thigh to ground himself, rutting against the couch cushions before he returned to devouring Soundwave alive. He didn't even have to do any work any longer, letting his poor glossa rest- and yet Prowl persisted. Soundwave began moving again, grinding himself against Prowl's faceplate, the chevron on his helm just barely out of reach. Jazz became sloppier, derma parted in a seemingly never-ending string of moans and curses, his voice falling on deaf audials as he approached the edge.
Soundwave's chassis snapped open as his internals rearranged just to expose his spark, as his bond with the others fully opened, enveloping them in lust and charge. Prowl whimpered from between his legs, his own thighs clamping shut as his empty valve cycled on emptiness. Jazz responded in kind with the tiniest whimper, practically trying to crawl inside Soundwave's body as their sparks reached out to meet one another, beautiful and blue, crystallized, just like the moment in Soundwave's memory.
Soundwave's intake opened in a low, drawn-out moan as ecstasy washed over him. His second overload hit him worse than any plasma canon ever did, electricity crackling on his frame as he bit down on his derma to muffle himself. It was violent, it was explosive, leaving his sensors tingling. Several HUD errors popped up in the corner of his vision, as Soundwave struggled to dismiss every warning for overheating. Prowl didn't leave a single drop wasted, lapping everything up as Soundwave bordered on overstimulation.
Jazz shuddered from his place on Soundwave's lap, recently trimmed claws still sharp enough to tear holes in the couch's upholstery. His own overload was voiced with a pleasant sigh, his vocalizer struggling to make a sound other than static. His transfluid was smeared between them both as his servo struggled to keep up with drawing everything from his system, as the final shock to Soundwave's system had his spike breach Jazz's forge, leaving Jazz to bask from warmth from the inside out.
"Frag, mech. That was a show." Blaster reset his vocalizer several times as three sets of optics all landed on him, shivering in front of the closed door. He was rubbing his thighs together, like an Insecticon about to leap, the faintest glimmer of pink smeared on his bright red finish. His own fans were struggling to keep his body cool- he had been privy to feeling such an intense overload through their bond, thankful he had already been inside one of their habsuites by the time Soundwave had opened up and bared his spark. Bonus points on the Energon cake, he got to witness it.
"Nuh," was all Prowl managed to articulate, lifting his hips and swaying them once as invitation. Blaster was across the floor faster than Soundwave could blink, and certainly faster than his processor could run through the visual feed.
"Insatiable, y'know that? Ya a Cybercat in heat now mech? We doin' this, here?" Blaster didn't have to wait for Prowl's panels to snap open, squinting his optics as a mess of transfluid and lubricant splattered onto the cushion. The enforcer was silently begging, an invitation to Blaster that he'd never given any other than Jazz before, entirely entrancing the other cassette-carrier as Soundwave twitched helplessly. Blaster smacked Prowl's aft, silently forcing the smaller mech to move. His optics kept flickering to those twitching, sensitive door wings, practically begging to be touched.
Prowl flattened Jazz on Soundwave's chassis, spike dangerously close to Soundwave's valve as Blaster mounted him. Blaster hand seen more than enough times what Prowl liked to do, denta closing on the back of Prowl's neck with his servos braced on Soundwave's thighs. Soundwave had to physically and mentally brace himself, as Blaster slammed into Prowl's valve with a single thrust, and by proxy, Prowl's spike into Soundwave's valve.
He overloaded a third time from the intrusion alone, leaving the other three shaking for several nanokliks. Soundwave may, or may not, just realized, he would be completely fine with being a space whore. This was it, this was the life, and frag, it felt good.
Prowl was given a klik or two to recover from Soundwave's valve cycling on his spike, locking him in place, while his own adjusted to Blaster sheathed within him. Blaster was around Soundwave's height, weight, size, and could set the pace for all four of them if he wanted. The honor was instead, given to Jazz.
Jazz propped himself up barely, Prowl's weight still pressed down upon him. His servos grabbed onto Soundwave's shoulders, as Soundwave gripped his hips hard enough to leave dents in the metal where Prowl already had done so. His visor flickered as did his senses and the power in his system, feeling raw and exposed, but almost whole. There was one missing, Jazz knew that, but he could just join later, couldn't he?
Soundwave's systems were leveling out and coming back to life just as Jazz began to slowly move, Blaster matching his movement, which had Prowl moving as well. Hot, it was scorching, Soundwave's sensor-nets scrambling to differentiate between pleasure and painful overstimulation. The bond was wide open, sharing sensations between the four of them, while their intertwined EM fields left Soundwave's processor in repeated thread errors.
Blaster was a beast. No better than a mechanimal in heat, rutting against Prowl as the smaller mech's engines growled and stuttered along with his cooling system. Jazz's energy had been renewed, his fervor for wringing every drop of transfluid out of Soundwave his only goal. Where they had started off slow and sweet was nowhere to be found, replaced by an animalistic code taking over with one goal in mind.
Jazz rode Soundwave like his life depending on it, trading paint and scratching him to the Pits and back every time Blaster pounded into Prowl ruthlessly and relentlessly. Every move was mirrored, every move was matched, as Jazz, Prowl, and Soundwave were reduced to breathless messes. Jazz wanted to chase that high for the umpteenth time in a row, processor too far gone to remember how many times he'd already overloaded. Soundwave could only meet him so many times with his entire frame shaking how it was, fighting the urge to simply let Jazz and Blaster guide the entire encounter. Their poor couch.
Prowl was reduced to a muttering mess in Jazz's audials, scrambling for stability on any metal he could grab, which was Soundwave's wrists, feeling the heated metal against his servos. His legs had almost gone completely numb, his once un-used valve alight in protest and expectation. Pressed against Soundwave's array, trapped between the two cassette-carriers, his anterior node lacked attention, but didn't need it.
Their shared overload was like a ripple washing over them in a wave, starting with Soundwave, ending with Blaster. Their EM fields were indistinguishable from one another, and for awhile, so too were their minds, their senses. Jazz and Soundwave were still sparkmerged, and sharing the feeling with the other bonded.
Transfluid dripped down Soundwave's chassis, leaking from Jazz's overstuffed valve, his forge long having closed off at maximum capacity. Jazz all but melted against him, sighing, somehow still not spent, but acquiescing for now.
Prowl's vents heaved with exhaustion, just as Blaster began humming, finally noticing that Soundwave had been playing quiet music the entire time. Soundwave awaited the day he opened his optics and he'd have rejoined the Well of All Sparks, feeling like he'd just died. Nothing was responding. He was floating on a cloud of overstimulation and bliss, once soft, sweet bonds now thrumming with a lewd satisfaction he didn't know he'd needed.
"My goodness, look at this mess." Shockwave had emerged from the berthroom, holding a data-pad in his one servo, single optic squinted as his processor ran a dozen calculations upon seeing the pile of frames becoming nothing more than molten slag on the couch. Blaster had the most functioning processor out of the four of them, regarding the taller purple mech with a tired, questioning hum. "Interfacing with multiple partners in a place such as this. Illogical, the berth has more room. Your frames will be the least of your complaints come the next solar cycle." Shockwave had gestured to the liquid dripping from the couch cushions, giving up on them entirely with a drawn-out sigh.
None of them had anything beyond static and scrambled processors to respond to Shockwave, who simply put his servo on his hip after placing the data-pad in his subspace. It was unclear whether or not Shockwave was judging them, in their post-coital bliss, entirely high and likely all running low on energy.
Shockwave separated them manually, they were all putty in his arms, and placed them each on the large, comfortable berth, with blankets and pillows aplenty. To Soundwave's exhausted processor, he somewhat could discern that a nest had been made for them, alleviating pressure from any aching struts that screamed with every movement. Shockwave was being uncharacteristically nice. He would be feeling embarrassed later, to realize Shockwave had been home the entire time, or had snuck in while Soundwave was cleaning, and he never noticed-
Shockwave's mercy did not last, nor did their inactivity. With the door shut and locked, Shockwave showed them a true monster in the berthroom, much to Jazz's elation, and somehow once again, endless energy. Shockwave found a method that made Soundwave scream. Their interfacing went well into the late hours of the lunar cycle.
♠
Soundwave's little 'introduction' into the polycule properly went about as well as expected- it wasn't as if they didn't already love each other. He simply hadn't been previously privy to Jazz and Prowl's interfacing sessions, or Jazz and Blaster's. Shockwave had shown no previous interest, just as Soundwave had. Once integrated, however, Soundwave certainly slept better most lunar cycles, after being rawed into oblivion until his entire frame begging for recharge. Jazz, as small and unassuming as he was, had as much stamina as Shockwave did, if not more.
Prowl was more suited to servicing others, but once he was the target, the enforcer fell apart in their servos so easily, Soundwave wanted to laugh. He didn't, because that would be rude, and the only mech he was rude to nowadays was Jazz, in good nature. Jazz bickered with everyone. Jazz was also, an absolute slut, much to Soundwave's disdain. Focus on work one day, and suddenly there's a smaller mech between his legs as he's trying to do said work, keeping the breathy moans from his voice as he responds to correspondence.
Prowl became more open with his advances, which luckily for Soundwave, meant a lot more massages to ease the pain from his aching frame. If the massages led to more, he wasn't going to complain, it was simply another way they showed their love, as unsteady as it had once been, in the beginning. A relationship built on mercy, built on trust, and holding steady from those foundations. The mind-blowing interface was simply an additive. And the ways Prowl's door wings would twitch, how sensitive they were, and how easily it was to make Prowl melt with a well-timed pet… it was amusing.
Act IV, Here Comes Trouble
Soundwave was stressed out, minutely, of course, given he had so many 'hobbies' for easing tension the past millennia he could scoff at. Reading, writing, mind-blowing interface, cuddling, spending time with their cassettes- his list could go on, and still wouldn't end. With so many outlets, Soundwave wasn't entirely certain where the stress had come from. His EM field would ripple on the daily, conflicting emotions even off work-hours. His bonded were beginning to worry, as was Soundwave himself.
It took him over a deca-cycle to realize he felt something from a mostly uncategorized planet in the galaxy, not a signal from deep space. He hadn't found Megatron, or Optimus Prime. No, Soundwave wondered if he found something worse, a telepath capable of projecting and connecting to him from across the sea of stars. Their conversations started off nothing more than small talk, checking in on one another every few days. Soundwave had the suspicion they were a short-lived species, and so he did research on the planet- whatever could be found in the galactic database, he was going to have his servos on.
His curiosity is how he found himself on Knowhere, a data-pad on one of the metal tables, Jazz sprawled in his lap, the smaller mech nursing a cup of medgrade as per Ratchet's orders. Soundwave had come to Knowhere in hopes of information, using his and Jazz's connections to make a meeting with a group of interstellar smugglers, the Ravagers. He also had to convince Ravage that he was not named after the space pirates, which only served to give Soundwave an irritable helmache.
Rumble and Frenzy were somewhere, not too far, as Soundwave could feel them in proximity. Ratbat was perched on his shoulder, dead asleep, having snuck Engex when they thought Soundwave wasn't watching. Soundwave was always watching, they should know this by now. It's his entire purpose, for the most part, aside from-
"Excuse me, Soundwave? I hope I'm not bothering you, but… I need to speak with you." Soundwave had to resist the urge to hum in response, realizing quickly it was the other telepath speaking to him from across the stars. He gently set the data-pad down, shifting Jazz in his lap, to the other mech's disdain. Jazz hadn't wanted to move, his door-wings fluttering irritably, even if he was easily placated with a kiss.
"You're fine, Charles. What troubles you, my friend?" Soundwave could only hope his annoyance wasn't felt by the other, as he peppered Jazz's faceplate and visor in kisses. A long time ago, he wouldn't have been public with his affections like this, but with High-Grade in his system and one of his bonded in his lap, he was as content as a purring Cybercat.
"There is an issue, here on Earth. One that I may not be able to fix without assistance- and before you get started, I know you're not supposed to intervene with… primitive planets and our problems. But this has the potential to go beyond the Solar System's borders, the… It's hard to say. There's a power here that could endanger the galaxy if it goes unchecked." Charles sounded strained, his stress bleeding into Soundwave's processor. He balanced the influx of negativity by nuzzling Jazz's throat cables, lightly nipping at them.
"Have mutants grown powerful enough to no longer be contained by human means?" His optics were hard focused on Jazz's chassis, the way his protomesh would scrunch with every wiggle under emergency cuddle assault times.
"This one was born long before I was. While our history and time may still seem short to you, it is proof that human evolution was already on a higher path far earlier than we expected. Mutants had been wiped out in the past, and although this danger was once sealed, there is a high chance they… it's not even a chance anymore, it's already happened. Genocide is going to happen again, he's going to get in their heads, and… there's nothing I can do, even with my current strength." Soundwave fought the grief and empathy from flashing in his optics, servos placed precariously on Jazz's midsection as he in-vented calmly. The notion did not bother him. He was lying to himself.
"I cannot directly intervene, you know this, Charles." Jazz felt softer beneath Soundwave's servos. He was entirely amused by it, but somehow still keeping his voice even.
"I am not asking you to come here and deal with a telepathic, telekinetic, and overcompensating ancient mutant. I wanted to ask if you could help me with designing a device to amplify my own abilities. If I can keep that… self-proclaimed god out of the minds of my fellow mutants, we may stand a chance." Soundwave knew his optics narrowed in contemplation, over Charles' words and the sudden newfound pliability of Jazz's protoform.
"An amplification device? I could help with that." Soundwave wondered if his entire servo could enclose over Jazz's waist, even if the mech wasn't as small as his mind liked to actually imply he was. The Spec-Ops agents wriggled in his hold, which had Soundwave release him so Jazz could get comfortable again. Poking and prodding had made the grounder irritable as of late.
"Thank you. I should be able to send you my rough draft of the device. Perhaps you can perfect and refine the blueprints, and I can begin on construction." Jazz huffed from the distance reflected in Soundwave's optics, the cassette-carrier already saving the information he had been sent. Once Soundwave had finally properly returned to him, Jazz turned and snuck a quick kiss, servo on Soundwave's faceplate, thumb brushing right beneath his left optic. The moment was sweet but short-lasted, as Jazz flopped back to his original position.
Soundwave didn't have to say anything as he connected himself to his data-pad, the wire in his wrist plugged into the blue data-pad's ports as the hastily made schematics came to life on the screen. He could scroll with his thumb need be, as Jazz had decided his other servo could have better use for warming.
Soundwave half expected public interface, on Knowhere, of all places, and realized too quickly Jazz had certainly gotten into his processor as of late. The smaller mech was going to drown him in thoughts of the disco and something sensual and sticky.
Jazz held Soundwave's servo over his midsection, deflating in his arms with a tired, yet satisfied yawn. Soundwave was warm, for a mech who's frame used to be so cold. Soundwave tried to not think about Jazz's lack of enthusiasm and mingling with Knowhere's patrons, rather opting for keeping Soundwave company as he did business, even when on another 'planet'.
"Whut're those?" Jazz's speech slurred with his exhaustion, as his visor barely flickered the acknowledgment of the schematics on Soundwave's screen.
"The rough draft. A blueprint for a device meant to amplify telepathic abilities." Soundwave put it simply, in terms Jazz would understand in his current state, body begging for recharge even unprotected in the open. Had the visor not been in the way, he could imagine Jazz raising an optic ridge, as he idly drew circles on the back of Soundwave's servo with his digits.
"Ain't'cha scary enough, kitty?" Soundwave barely huffed, rolling his optics.
"Not for me. This has to be specialized for a different species, so they can project their mind further, to more people, and to protect them." Jazz shrugged noncommittally, and Soundwave wasn't sure if he had actually absorbed Soundwave's explanation, or if the cunning little agent was already thinking of ways such a device could be misused.
"Sounds pretty dangerous." Jazz was more present now, glaring at Soundwave's data-pad from behind his visor. The rectangle had personally offended him, taking up Soundwave's time and attention. Although Soundwave couldn't find a rebuttal to give him- Jazz was correct, a device of such power and design could be used as a weapon in anyone's grasp, no matter how pure and good-willed they originally seemed.
"It is dangerous, which is exactly why it has to be given to the right person." Soundwave didn't have to look to feel Jazz's apprehension, his processor running a mega-mile a minute about the schematics on Soundwave's screen.
"We hafta monitor somethin' like this, Sounders. Can't just give it to 'em freely." Soundwave hummed in agreement, thinking of ways to improve the device as he awaited their contacts to arrive. As they waited, he researched Charles' home planet, at least as much as could be found within the database.
Given what Charles had told him, it was clear the archives' knowledge of Earth had not been updated in at least four million years. If he looked back further, it was the planet that the scientist and space explorer Skyfire had gone missing, at one of the planet's magnetic poles.
Soundwave allowed himself to be consumed by the information, scrolling at his own pace and occasionally seeing the glyphs reflected on Jazz's visor. The spy was reading about this new planet just as Soundwave was, although with more interest. To think a short-lived species had advanced so far in such little time was frightening, it wouldn't be too much longer before they'd be able to reach the stars. Humans were fascinating.
After another servoful of kliks later, their contact arrived, baffled by Jazz's seemingly comfortable, unguarded body language. The contact had an interesting mechanical ridge in their helm, a deep red that glowed when he whistled. Soundwave unburied the terms and information from his days on Xandar, mentally cataloguing the Ravager before them. Yondu. Jazz had scored Soundwave a meeting with Yondu, of all people.
"Hello, Yondu. I apologize for the sudden summons, however I will compensate you for your time here today." Compensation meant credits and not handing Yondu over to the authorities, which was good enough for the Ravager, from the grin he wore.
"I ain't scared of two 'bots such as yaselves. Yer harmless, all cozyin' up like that. 'sides, you're the one payin' me, so I ain't got nothin' to lose here today." Yondu was confident, as his every right, he would be the only one winning in the gamble they had all taken. He could lie to their faceplates and Soundwave would still deposit the credits into his account without blinking.
"I suppose you don't. As I would prefer to not go overtime, I shall get to the point. Tell me about Earth." The flash in Yondu's eyes had Jazz's posture stiffening before he righted himself, sitting up and at attention. Perhaps he was intrigued by the notion of another planet, or perhaps it was the battle protocols they each had awaiting activation.
"What do ya wanna know about that blasted mud ball? Ain't nothin' good about it." Yondu's distaste was as clear as the moons in Cybertron's orbit, the tension in the air palpable and buzzing with electricity. Soundwave could almost taste victory on his glossa.
"You're aware how I work, hm? I listen, I learn, I guide. I am not here to guide, or meddle in Earth's personal affairs, however, I would like to know about it. A scan of your ship's navigation systems told me enough, that you have visited Earth before, and more than once." Soundwave left out the means of convenience, that Yondu's captain logs miraculously had nothing of the latest encounter on the planet. The Ravager leaned forward, his elbows on the table, fingers interlacing together as his chin rested on the back of his hands.
"Sure, I ain't gonna lie to ya, Soundwave. We was on a commission, gettin' a human boy for somebody. Picked him up, was supposed to deliver, but we didn't. Took him in as one of our own, been raisin' him. A real brat in my opinion. That's why we were there. As for the wretched mud ball itself, it's populated by Terrans. Yeah, their planet is named Dirt. Short-lived, fleshy species, lots of internal conflict, they like fightin' each other more than they like advancin' to reach the stars and the galactic market. Nothin' remarkable about 'em, no special abilities, barely can live to a century. They got good booze, though." Yondu wasn't the source of information that Soundwave needed, and he would have to overlook that the Ravager had essentially captured an endangered, primitive species and kept it as a pet. Jazz placed his servos on the table, restraining himself from asking a barrage of questions, hoping the Ravager would continue, give them more.
"I beg to differ, Yondu. There are mutants among them, with powers coalescing and condensing over the course of centuries, growing stronger. While their internal conflicts will keep them from reaching the stars likely for millennia, they're not to be ignored any longer. The humans have intelligence and the capability for growth, and are exceeding expectations." Information for information, a trade system Soundwave was familiar with he could do it with his optics shut and his servos bound behind him. Yondu's head tilted a fraction, interest shining in his eyes.
"I don't think they got it in 'em. Brutal, uncivilized, and that's sayin' a lot comin' from a Ravager such as myself." Contrary to the words he spoke, Soundwave could recognition pride when he saw it- Yondu had a soft spot for the humans, and it reflected in his body.
"They're about to face genocide. I want to catalogue and preserve their history in case of… the unfortunate end to their already short lives." Soundwave didn't have enough from Charles about the threat the humans supposedly had, although he believed the tone of the other telepath, the frantic desperation in his voice.
"Maybe ya should go check it out then, man. See for yaself when I say it ain't anythin' worth rememberin'." Yondu was too biased, trying to wipe Earth from his memory. The tears in Peter's eyes, the child crying out for his mother. There was nothing good on Earth if the poorly designed species' bodies tried killing themselves.
"Perhaps we will. I want to speak to this… Terran of yours." Jazz awaited in silence as Soundwave and Yondu held optic and eye-contact, neither willing to bend or break to the sudden new terms. The conditions in fine print clearly hadn't been read.
"Ya can talk to Peter, but I get to hold one of ya cassettes captive until he's returned." They were willing to trade one offspring's safety for the others, to hold on to their leverage. Soundwave hummed, pressing the eject button on his chassis. Laserbeak was confused, landing on the table with a mechanic chirp as he looked between his carrier and the Ravager. "Well I'll be damned. Ya got me, Soundwave. I'll call 'im over."
Yondu spoke into the comms device in his right ear, his voice low and gruff, leaving no room for argument for the small human. It wasn't a request, but a command, coming from higher in the chain, one Peter would not be able to ignore without repercussions.
They waited for barely a full klik before a human appeared before them, smaller than Yondu himself. Soundwave looked the human from head to toe, taking in his appearance. The child had clearly been fed well, he wasn't malnourished and seemed to be thriving, aside from the dark circles beneath his eyes.
"Uh, hi." Peter somehow wasn't shocked to see giant alien robots, something Soundwave wanted to scan his mind for. The child's lack of fear was intriguing, but Soundwave had to focus.
"Hello. I am Soundwave, an intergalactic communications officer. Before you panic, no, you and the Ravagers upon Yondu's ship are not being arrested. I simply have some questions for you both." Peter looked ready to bolt, regarding Jazz with his eyes, half-lidded, upper lip curled in a sneer. Suspicion, good. Yondu raised him well.
"Well, what the fuck do you wanna know?" Yondu rubbed off on him too with a colorful vocabulary as well, it seemed. Peter was defensive, entire body stiffening as he was prepared to run. Putting himself first, his own safety his priority.
"Tell me about Earth. Mutants, humans, anything else of note. The archives for Earth have not been updated in millions of years, and I hope to amend that." The question was not personal, and Peter's guard dropped as his entire body sagged in relief. The child took a seat next to Yondu, keeping them an arm's length apart. Far enough away to avoid getting smacked upside the head, but close enough he could turn to the Ravager for support and comfort. Soundwave approved.
"I wasn't on Earth that long, really. Born there, was bein' raised there. It sucks. Wars, humans fightin' humans. My mom got sick, and… I left. Yondu got me. I had nowhere to go. Didn't wanna stay with my Auntie Maria. Her husband was scary. The tech on Earth ain't nothin' like what it is out here, but, it was improvin' pretty damn fast. We went from a stone age to an industrial revolution in a blink of your optics. Steam-powered, and unlockin' the secrets of electricity, barely a century ago. It was happenin' so quickly. They got atomic bombs, too, but they only serve to blow themselves up, not threaten other planets." Peter no longer referred to himself as an Earthling, something Soundwave had taken mental note of, pushing it into the back of his processor for later use.
The Terran continued with the quickest run-down of human history he could, given that he was taken off planet before completing his education. From only a few million years ago when caste systems were created, to social hierarchies, the rate of which technology changed and improved. How religion seemed to run the planet, how skin color separated their statuses and the treatment humans received.
Earth was another Cybertron, only on a smaller scale. Segregation and discrimination had Jazz's tanks turning, and the longer Peter spoke, the worse the humans' history became. Within only the past thirty years, certain laws had been abolished, yet hatred still ran strong on the planet. Mutants were supposedly 'discovered' barely seventy years before Peter left the planet. Soundwave corrected him that they had been around for a longer period of time, although they hid themselves and humans didn't have the technology to expose them.
The Terran's shock left as quickly as it had come, the boy's eyes widening only a fraction before he relaxed again. He was smarter than he looked, and clearly had suspicions about the planet before he even left it. Soon the conversation pivoted from Peter explaining Earth's history, to them both discussing mutants and human evolution, in physical and mental capacity.
Yondu was feeding Laserbeak an Energon cube, the cassette chirping happily. Soundwave peered at them from the corner of his optics, keeping his focus on Peter, as the small human had a commanding air about him, demanding Soundwave's full attention.
Things were running smoothly, until Peter mentioned Earth's music, which caught Jazz's full interest. The boy's Walkman and headset was given to him by his mother, and were well taken care of, repaired several times by the Ravagers. Primitive technology, but something sentimental had made the ancient relic priceless to the boy. He shared his music with Jazz, the Spec-Ops agent enthralled by the notion of new music. Jazz downloaded every song, his visor shining with bright colors as he played the music to himself and himself alone.
Once Soundwave had the information he wanted, Yondu released Laserbeak from his metaphorical prison- which was being hand-fed Energon cubes without a care in the galaxy. There wasn't a threat or need of leverage to begin with.
♥
Soundwave made refinements, perfections to the device Charles had dubbed Project X. X for extraordinary, or something, despite the device's official name being Cerebro. It did not matter how long Soundwave and Shockwave went over the schematics, adjusting them for both metals found on Earth and in the galaxy, there would always be a risk of using the device.
Charles first time using it could also be his last. To connect with millions of people at once was unheard of, even for a telepath of Soundwave's age. Still, he wanted to witness the moment that their creation succeeded. He had been holding onto hope for so long, Soundwave had almost forgotten what the fear of failure felt like. Shockwave did his best to reassure Soundwave that their creation would not fail.
Soundwave was in charge of only creating one half of Cerebro, the other, larger piece would have to be done on Earth by Charles and other humans. A spherical room for the amplifications of the waves Charles and Cerebro would emit. He would be able to connect with every Mutant on Earth, and perhaps even extend his abilities past the limits of their own world. Although Charles would never be able to reach past the Solar System, perhaps one day there would be a telepath capable of doing so with Cerebro's assistance and eventually without.
The main issue of Cerebro itself was delivery. Soundwave wasn't exactly preoccupied, but Charles wouldn't be able to meet him off-planet for the transaction. Cerebro would be a high-sought after product by multiple intergalactic civilizations, especially the Ravagers, the Kree, and the Quintessons. Soundwave couldn't allow such a creation to fall in the hands of those who would use it maliciously, which is how-
"I'm sorry, you want to do what?" Prowl's left optic twitched, as his processor threatened to short-circuit and offline him temporarily. Soundwave could only adjust his weight on his pedes, unable to look the enforcer in the optics, knowing that he had just presented the craziest thing to ever grace Prowl's audials.
"I want to deliver Cerebro in person. Take a small group with me, use an unassuming space-shuttle, so we look inconspicuous and not a threat. Something easily cloakable so the device can be delivered to the humans without intergalactic interference." Cerebro was in a case, hidden behind several locking mechanisms that cloaked the electromagnetic signals the device emitted. The case could fit on the tip of Soundwave's finger, the entire device Shockwave had so dutifully helped to create was so breakable in his servos.
Prowl took a deep in-vent through his intake, closing his optics as he hummed. It was one of those self-control exercises he had learned from Jazz, which meant Soundwave's proposition had rattled his kibble more than either of them would like to admit.
"If this 'Earth' is not in the expected modern era, I hope you understand you two will have to go undercover. Which means likely… different alt-modes. Do they have ground and air vehicles?" Soundwave wasn't expecting Prowl to crumble so easily, but through their bond he was able to feel the last shreds of Prowl's sanity clinging onto something as unshakeable as their trust for one another.
"They have vehicles, yes. Jazz has already agreed to take a different alt-mode so we can venture unhindered and in disguise." Jazz had done more than simply agree, he seemed excited. He loved studying different cultures and if an Earth-based alt mode allowed him more free-roam of the planet he desperately wanted to explore, then it meant one thing: Jazz was overly excited and there was nothing Prowl could say or do to stop him.
"Fine. You two can go. You better keep up with communications, I want you checking in at least once every solar cycle."
♦
Soundwave was riddled with anxiety by the time they had left Cybertron's atmosphere. The only mechs on the ship were himself, Jazz, Ratchet, and Wheeljack. Ratchet was to be expected, in case any injuries occurred during their time on Earth. Jazz was going to be Soundwave's disguise, as for Wheeljack… the scientist was disgruntled over the fact he had only been able to make adjustments to Cerebro's schematics and planning, not the actual construction. As for his grudge, that meant he wanted to see Earth and the installation of Cerebro for himself.
That was fine, by all means. Wheeljack understood it meant he would have to take a new alt-mode as well. As for what the old scientist picked, Soundwave didn't care much about. Wheeljack just had to make sure their shuttle didn't explode on the way to Earth, and that all cloaking technology was functioning properly. Which only served to make their nerves worse, given Wheeljack's… luck when it came to explosives.
The trip to Earth took an entire deca-cycle, and Soundwave made sure to communicate with Prowl and the others every morning and every evening. Blaster would blow a fuse if they didn't.
Earth was different, unlike what the planet's surface was supposed to look like, according to the Archives. Concrete cities, forests torn down for production. Humans were slowly killing their own planet, just as the Cybertronians once did. Regardless, a majority of the planet was still natural and organic, something Jazz was ecstatic over. Using Teletran I to scan the Earth's surface for vehicle alt-modes, Jazz found what he was looking for in no-time, and even managed to convince Wheeljack to take a race car as an alt-mode.
Jazz chose something called a Porsche, from the 1970's, according to the Earth Calendar. It fit him well, although in Soundwave's optics, anything could fit Jazz, even a garbage truck. A little retro, with all the colors and fun of his original alt-mode. Not wanting Ratchet to feel left out, the three of them pressured the CMO to take a new alt-mode. Something called an ambulance, an emergency vehicle that fit him perfectly to blending in with Earth.
The shuttle had been parked next to an inactive volcano, cloaking mechanisms readjusted so the ship looked like simply more rocky outcroppings. Ratchet would be left on the ship, in case any complications arose. The cassettes were recharging snugly within Soundwave's chassis, having slept most of the deca-cycle away from sheer boredom.
Soundwave's alt-mode fit inside of Jazz's alt-mode, albeit a bit snugly. With Wheeljack behind them, Jazz sped off to the coordinates that Soundwave had been provided with. For once, they could travel a planet without fear or suspicion of being attacked- the humans weren't evolved enough to even detect or notice them unless they paid close attention to the lack of human drivers. Even if they did notice, they were often too baffled and would think they were seeing things.
Soundwave probed their minds for confirmation, and they were able to proceed to their destination undisturbed as the humans kept brushing it off as hallucinations and tricks of the light. A large estate by human standards greeted them, and a quick scan of the environment suggested there was more beneath the building, twisting tunnels and hangars for stealth jets. Professor X's school for the gifted was more than meets the eye.
The metal gates had opened to them automatically, as if capable to read their signatures. Soundwave could feel Charles' hope and relief from afar, along with the curiosity of the children that were playing on the academy grounds stopped to stare at them. Soundwave swept over their minds with curiosity of his own, never delving too deep. He simply wanted to know their designations.
"Soundwave?" Jazz hit the brakes, panicking. Like Soundwave he had been distracted by the Terrans gawking at them, the older ones noticing the two vehicles had no drivers. Charles was not like Soundwave had expected- from his voice, he sounded like a wizened, older man, yet the one in front of him was no more than a tired young adult, bound to his wheelchair.
"Ah, nah, sorry mech, I'm Jazz. Nice to meet'cha. Sounders is inside, lemme just… throw him out for ya." Jazz opened the drivers' side door, revealing the large stereo that tumbled to the ground. Charles said nothing, only chasing away Soundwave's apprehension with a small smile and a nod. He transformed back to his root-mode, trying to ignore the way the children gasped at him.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Charles. Or rather, Professor Xavier?" Soundwave tilted his helm as the sign for the estate flickered in his processor, earning a chuckle as a response.
"Either are fine, Soundwave. Allow me to show you around, at least. This does not have to be all business." Soundwave could only nod, as Jazz and Wheeljack transformed back into their root-modes behind him. Jazz was bouncing on his pedes, looking to the bright and colorful spheres some of the children had been playing with. Jazz wanted to learn, he wanted to intermingle, to interact and acknowledge. A hum of approval from Soundwave was all Jazz needed before he went over to greet the children, Charles' eyes and Soundwave's optics following him.
"He won't harm them, I assure you." Soundwave knew he didn't have to defend Jazz's actions, he already knew the other telepath was scoping them with his mind, satisfied with what he had found. Jazz and Wheeljack were written off as potential threats, and the scientist found him overwhelmed with questions that he was hesitant to answer. The humans wanted to know about Cybertronians just as much as they wished to know about Earth and her culture.
"Earth isn't what you expected, is it?" Soundwave shook his helm as he kneeled, servo extended for Charles to take. They shook hand and servo in their first proper greeting, warmth washing over them both. Charles Xavier was someone Soundwave had grown to tolerate, and eventually consider a friend, despite the distance between them. Charles' mind had proved that he felt the same.
"No, it is not. The archives are outdated, and need to be adjusted accordingly. I hope to learn a lot from you, while I am here." Soundwave wanted to immerse himself in Earth's culture, as he once did to Xandar's. To enter the building he would have to be in his alt-mode, but that proved no issue. Rumble or Frenzy could carry him around, and the cassettes were beginning to grow restless, wanting out so they could explore.
Soundwave did not miss the way Charles' gaze softened when he exposed his own children to the human, Ravage ready to stretch his legs and run in the grass. Rumble and Frenzy would have to hold off on their cursing around the children, but it was nothing they couldn't handle. They knew better, sometimes. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw took to the skies, Ratbat soon following with excited chirps.
Frenzy was deemed the one to carry Soundwave around, which the minibot didn't have much complaint of, he was still able to stretch his struts and wander about, with the Professor as their guide.
They were shown classrooms, supply rooms, and places where the children could test and learn their mutant abilities in a safe environment. Underneath the grounds was the extra additives Soundwave had scanned prior, twisting hallways of reinforced metal with tall ceilings and large rooms for teaching self-defense. Cerebro was beneath the surface, awaiting to be properly delivered so the two devices could connect and become one.
Soundwave made sure to record the entire visual for Wheeljack to view at a later date. After confirmation that Cerebro worked, and didn't kill Charles, the original purpose of their visit had concluded. Soundwave couldn't simply just up and leave. Jazz enjoyed listening to the human music, playing it and his lights as entertainment for the children. Wheeljack mostly spoke to the other Professors, discussing technology and biochemistry. They were having a good enough time, Soundwave decided to extend the visit a few more days for those two.
♣
Soundwave had belief that the humans could handle the threat of an Omega-level mutant that called himself a god. The party had returned to Cybertron, with a few souvenirs at Jazz's insistence. New mix tapes and cassettes to play, along with the primitive Earth devices that could play music. Jazz was kindly reminded that both Blaster and Soundwave could play the tapes for him if he'd like.
Correspondence between Soundwave and Charles had larger gaps between each communication, despite Soundwave leaving the Professor with a device that made them able to send comms instead of having to strain their own abilities to speak into one another's mind.
Soundwave tried to busy himself with updating the Archives, on both Cybertron and on an intergalactic level, submitting reports and personal observations to update the universe's understanding of Earth. Charles had sent him several digital versions of history textbooks, from other countries as well, so Soundwave could get the largest, unbiased version of Earth's history to catalogue. Of course different texts had been altered to make their own nations shine in a brighter light, but with enough cross-referencing, Soundwave was able to discern the truth. And so the archives shined brighter with new knowledge.
The war to ensure the mutants survival took several Earth-months, and they were all weary from the aftermaths. Soundwave would find pride that the revolution that surmounted the guarantee of their survival was a success, unlike the many wars Cybertron had undergone. The threat had been defeated, although at a great cost to the humans. Peace had once again returned to Earth, as strained as it was.
Everything was fine, everything was going 'great' on both ends, if Soundwave wanted to be sarcastic. While the humans had to focus on rebuilding after an apocalypse, while Soundwave kept himself busy with the archives and his bonded. He still functioned as an intergalactic communications officer, even keeping occasional contact with Yondu. A trading network of information, things for the Ravagers to snag, in turn updates on the other members and factions of the Ravagers for Soundwave to track.
Soundwave found himself lazing about one day, Jazz sprawled on top of him, the smaller mech deep in recharge. Soundwave was plugged into his communications office, tracking the signals of different cargo vessels, the movements of the Kree Empire, and embarrassing as it was… Earth. Strange signals had been coming from Earth after the mutant's war, stranger than the radio waves humans projected into deep space with the hopes alien lifeforms would respond. The government had unknowingly given many different species an invitation and access, although most were too busy to actually investigate. Soundwave was glad he hadn't been too shy to interact with a supposedly primitive species.
Soundwave was ready to pass out as his systems ran diagnostic scans on the new signal. Somehow the supposedly primitive wavelength was heavily encrypted and worth more trouble than satisfaction for Soundwave to decrypt. He did so anyways, for if he didn't, no one would.
He traced Jazz's hip with one servo, running over the white plates as the smaller mech sighed. His visor was dim, but still lit. Jazz would wake soon, which meant Soundwave would have more troubles to deal with. He was already sending coordinates for different cargo vessels, managing a peace committee from afar, mentally and physically exhausted.
The transmission had finally been decoded, Soundwave's processor able to crack through firewalls half-assed. He cracked a single optic open, just as Jazz shifted, visor flickering as he tried to shake off the last dregs of recharge from his frame.
"Whad'did'ya find?" So Jazz knew he was looking for something, then. Perhaps it echoed in Soundwave's EM field, the sudden excitement and satisfaction from triumphing over heavily encrypted firewalls that he knew only he could have been able to decipher. Cipher.
"I'm… not sure, Jazz. I just decoded subconsciously, but… I think this is… No, I don't even think. This is Decepticon encryption. This is… my encryption. From the war." Soundwave leaned forward, forcing the message to appear on-screen, allowing Jazz full view of the several firewalls and layers of encryption that Soundwave had torn down. The Cybertronian language, in beautiful glyphs, written the way the Decepticons main regional accent had interpreted it. Jazz was fluent in both, he had to be to be a functioning spy, and yet…
"What in the Pits is this, mech." Jazz muttered mostly to himself as he traced the glyphs with his optics, Soundwave doing the same. A message had been embedded in the coding itself, before the contents of the transmission could even be accessed. An audio file. "Play it."
Soundwave was working against his better judgment here. The information in the audio file could be anything, it could be Cybertron on the brink of civil war once more, it could be a desperate plea for help, it could be a stranded mech or femme trying to call out to the stars for evac. Soundwave didn't know what he was expecting, everything and nothing at once. It could simply be an old prank of Skywarp's before his passing, finally given to the stars.
"Soundwave… you have… listened." The voice coming through the screen was disembodied and echoing, their tone laced with agony. The gritting of their denta could be heard, along with scraping metal. Hammers in the background, the wet sluice of flowing Energon, saws cutting into delicate protoform. It was a horrifying mental image.
"Cut… off their… heads, quickly. One… die. Two will… take… place. Not limited… Earth. The galaxy… infected. They could be… among any… of us." The voice coming through the monitor groaned, just as the sounds of the saw grew louder, and Soundwave could imagine the sparks flying as the mech was disassembled. They did not beg for mercy, or for the humans to stop. They took the abuse without so much as a pained yell, sounding more exhausted than anything. Their vocalizer laced with static, words difficult to form, as their processor struggled to see beyond their own agony.
Soundwave wrapped his arms around Jazz, feeling a tremor rip its way up his spinal strut. Soundwave recognized the voice, one that haunted him long ago, and continued until this very day. Jazz tried to offer support, letting himself be held, helm tilted up in Soundwave's direction.
Soundwave donned his face mask for the first time in centuries.
"I will no longer… function… soon. It is… up to… you. Save… them." The audio transmission was cut off, leaving nothing but several nanokliks of static in-between the mech's warnings and the encryption process, before the message was sent to space. Dread seeped into Soundwave's fuel lines. Had he not been hearing someone for so long because he was biased to the previously believed primitive planet? How many messages had he overlooked? Perhaps he was still a monster, then. A hypocrite, promoting peace and that any could benefit from redemption, something he had been gifted by the Autobots, and here he was, taking back his word all on discrimination. The voice from the recording had turned his fuel lines to ice within his chassis, wringing the breath from his vents as his spark hammered in his chassis, begging for release.
"Sounders, sweetspark… come back to me." The thread of disillusion snapped as Jazz opened their bond, washing away Soundwave's panic and negativity with warmth and love, laced with concern. The smaller mech would not hide behind false promises and adoration, nor would he hide his dissatisfaction from Soundwave trying to hide from him, from all of them.
"I'm… I'm here. I'm fine." Soundwave focused on the feeling of Jazz's servo on his faceplate, thumb brushing over the ruby visor that reflected the dulling gray of Jazz's own. Whatever earlier vibe Jazz had rolled with had been replaced by concern, reflecting on his visor his own soured mood. Soundwave hated that he was the cause of the light dimming from Jazz's visor.
"Ya don't look fine to me. Stop lyin'." Give it to a spy to pry Soundwave apart, especially when said spy is bonded to him.
"That was a transmission from Earth. It wasn't a distress call, it was a warning. From… Megatron."