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Shockwave prided himself on his efficiency, determination, and the unshakable logicality of his actions. It had been many millions of mega-cycles since he felt anything, and yet the sight before him... the data did not add up. There was no reason for it not to, and yet it did. Optimus Prime laid before him, subdued with the sedative he himself had refined, mask retracted and smiling.
“You will not be rescued.” he informed Prime again. The mech’s smile didn’t waver, EM field pulsing with disjointed scraps of emotion Shockwave couldn’t parse. The smiling and lack of comprehension could be attributed to the sedative, he was sure, but what he could not find a logic to was how easily Optimus Prime’s disrupted field slotted together with his own flat one. It was illogical, it should be impossible, and yet.
“Hiiiiiii.” Prime slurred, optics crinkling as he let his helm fall fully sideways on the medical slab. “Hi Shocky.”
It took Shockwave a moment to parse that Prime was attempting to address him, the glyphs of his name truncated and mangled with subglyphs of affection, of all things. “Hello.” he said, picking up the saw which would let him cut open Optimus Prime’s chestplates and get at the Matrix. Megatron was back on him about wanting a combiner, and it had been easy enough to convince him that he needed to look into the Matrix because of some old stories regarding the origins of the inscription which dominated the floor of the Acroplex’s grand atrium.
‘Til All Are One. A trite bit of rhetoric trotted out by religious leaders to assure empty-helmed congregations that somehow everything was the Will of Primus and He would solve all their problems. Ridiculous, illogical. Enough to convince Megatron, apparently, which was equally illogical but it got Prime on his table so he wasn’t exactly going to file a complaint.
“I’m going to open your chestplates now.” he told Prime. “Do not resist.”
“Silly Se- Sn-” Prime’s face screwed up in frustration. A detached, easily ignored part of his processor catalogued the expression as cute. The Prime did have a face which met the broad standards of aesthetic beauty, as accepted by pre-war Cybertronians. “Silly Shocky.” he settled for after clearly failing to retrieve the word he meant to use. He mangled Shockwave’s name differently this time, using subglyphs which denoted not only affection but possession. Shockwave tilted his helm slightly, then looked over at the medical monitor hooked up to Prime’s helm. Hmm, he would have to run some more in-depth scans if Prime kept this up. If the sedative could cause an Autobot as vital as Optimus Prime himself to misplace his loyalties, then there were any number of uses for it.
The sound of a transformation sequence drew his attention back to Prime, and he felt his optic cycle wider at the sight which greeted him. Optimus had parted his own chestplates, baring the Matrix to Shockwave willingly. Yes, yes he was going to make sure this sedative received extensive testing on their captured Autobots. If even a fraction of this trust and easy submission remained after the dose wore off, it would be invaluable.
“Jus’ had to ask.” Prime slurred, field warm and incongruously affectionate. Shockwave’s optic narrowed as the Matrix began to move, but didn’t lift out of Prime’s chest. Instead, the whole solid plate it was embedded in began to fold, tucking the Matrix away in a parcel of sturdy metal and baring Prime’s spark. Hmm, perhaps all he had to do was ask? It was a logical thing to attempt, at any rate.
“Optimus, disengage the Matrix from your frame.” he ordered, and received a blank stare.
“Bu’ you gave it t’me.” he slurred, looking utterly lost and confused. Shockwave’s spark did a strange twist in its casing at the expression, or perhaps it was the jumbled mess of incomprehensible emotions which played across his field where it meshed with Prime’s. The latter was most likely, he concluded after a moment of consideration. An automatic sympathetic response beyond conscious control.
“And I will take it back.” Shockwave stated. “I require it for my experiments.”
Shockwave couldn’t tell if Optimus was frowning or trying to pout. If it was the latter, it wasn’t going to be very effective, no matter how it made his spark ached with that strange autonomic reaction again. Hmm, perhaps he should back off, let Optimus burn off a little more of the drug and see if that achieved the desired effect. If worst came to worst, Shockwave could always just knock him out with a conventional sedative and go back to his original plan. Yes, that was a sound strategy. See how long it took the new sedative to work its way out of Prime’s systems, then knock him out and get to work.
It would require some patience, but if there was one thing Shockwave had in abundance, it was patience.