Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pain.

It’s the first thing he feels.

His entire chassis screaming in agony. It drills into his servos, takes in every microchip in his processor.

Where is he?

Remember.

What does he remember?

There was a battle.

Autobots?

No.

He remembers.

Megatron died. Slain by an alternate version of him, even more ruthless and power-hungry than he had been.

The wall came down

A peace treaty was signed.

Not Autobots then.

What happened after?

Images flicker through his mind, like a defective holovid. Images and sounds.

“My name is Tarn. I’m not like them anymore.”

“We must stop their conflict!”

“They can stop it themselves.”

“How easily you obey! Like a good pet.”

“I serve Tarn. As I served Shockwave before him.”

“Betrayal, Soundwave?”

“Deception.”

“You will pay for this.”

“You chose the wrong side, Soundwave.”

“You think so?”

“Soundwave superior. Tarn most inferior.”

The pain is too much.

He feels himself slipping again.

The pain is still there the next time he regains a form of consciousness.

But this time it doesn’t come out of left field.

Because he remembers.

He remembers dying to save his planet.

And one irritating Autobot in particular.

Except this doesn’t feel like the AllSpark.

At all.

He attempts to get his visor back online. The first thing he sees on his HUD are a plethora of error messages. Warnings. Orders to seek out the closest repair facility.

And through all the small red windows, sunlight.

Harsh and white and glistening. Enough to almost overload his optical sensors.

He attempts to move his helm to escape it. Predictably, even this slight movement brings yet more pain. He can barely bite back a groan.

But he’s had his fair share of pain. It’s been a constant in all the wars he’s fought. If he’d let it stop him then, he wouldn’t be where he is today.

...Well, perhaps not exactly where he is today.

Wherever that may be.

He manages to turn his helm, at least a little, and get at least a rudimentary idea of his surroundings.

Cracked, burned out earth, all around him. Sand, too. As far as the optical sensors can see. A few mountains in the distance.

Ignoring the dozens of warning still popping up on his HUD, he turns his helm the other way. Pretty much the same. Well, almost.

There’s a single crystalline tree, jutting up from the dead ground. Right into the sun-burned sky, as if in defiance. As if it simply refuses to accept that this environment has already spelled out its certain demise.

Soundwave can get behind that.

Moving his helm was difficult, but doable. Moving his servos, his body, proves to be a different beast altogether. At several points, the pain threatens to overload his systems. He isn’t sure, but he thinks he shuts down several times mid-movement, as his battered chassis tries to keep itself online. But Soundwave is nothing if not persistent.

Getting up feels like tearing himself apart, but he does it anyway.

To call what he manages to do “standing” would be generous. His pedes barely support his weight. His balance- systems are so off-kilter even this feels like fighting a tough opponent in the gladiator pits. Soundwave stumbles. He almost falls, but somehow he brings up the will to move his right pede and support himself at the last moment.

The action is followed by a new burning stab of pain racing up said pede and almost driving him onto his knees. Soundwave grunts and just… stands still for a while. Waiting for at least some of the red flashing windows on his HUD to close.

Okay.

It’s obvious that his approach so far has been..subpar.

He needs to analyze.

What information does he have? What comes next? What can he do next?

First things first, he runs a diagnostics program. Another bot in the same situation would have thought that superfluous. But if Soundwave’s learned one thing in his cycles as Communications Officer and (unofficial) Spymaster, is that not being thorough in a dire situation is almost certain to get you off-line. It’s a lesson he has taught many an Autobot during the war.

Finding the damaged parts of his body is the easy part. It would honestly prove more of a challenge to find at least one function or servo that is still intact. About 80% of his cables are ruptured or torn. His stabilizers are at 55% function. His processor, luckily, has fared the best, with only 20% of internal damage.

Which brings up the next problem. According to the report, his repair programs are still online and ready for application. But doing so would take up energon. Much of it. And as the report tells him, he’s running dangerously low.

Soundwave thinks for a few clicks. He could repair his external damage, which would extend his freedom of movement and enable him to make his way to some sort of civilization. He could also repair what internal damage there was, to get back full capacity of his functions, try to contact Shadowstriker. Or even…

He eventually picks a third option. Soundwave watches some of the red windows disappear, as the repairs run themselves. His energon gauge keeps dropping. When it’s truly at a point that would leave him with less than enough to go on, he halts the repairs in progress. Runs a new diagnostics.

His arms are fully functional again.

Most of his fueling systems are too, except for the damage too extensive for a simple repair program to fix. The crack in his visor is regrettably among those things, but it’s better than going blind in unfamiliar terrain. His left leg is back to full function, but his right one still causes warnings to pop up whenever he moves it, along with the now all too familiar pain.

It’s the best he can manage for now.

He’ll be back to full function soon enough. As much as he dislikes lying on Flatline’s table, Soundwave has to admit that the medic is nothing short of a miracle worker. He can think of several faces that wouldn’t have been around anymore if it hadn’t been for him and his disturbing yet somewhat impressive array of sharp corrective tools.

Speaking of…

The memory of overloading his sound-blast is still fresh in Soundwave’s processor. The pressure of the energy building up inside his systems. The cold certainty that he wouldn’t be able to withstand the output. The exploding of frequencies.

And then darkness.

He should have been destroyed back then.

His survival, as Shockwave would put it, is completely, thoroughly illogical.

Yet here he stands. In a place he has no recollection of.

He’s traveled a lot, during his early cycles. Enjoyed the quiet sides of Cybertron. The wilderness, teeming with life and noises and music, a different kind than the one in the city clubs he frequents. Then the war had come and traveling had become a necessity. The movement of troops became the most prevalent rhythm in his life, along with the screeching or gunfire and the wails of fellow Decepticons wounded and going off-line all around him.

But he has absolutely no data on his surroundings now.

A quick scan confirms that he’s the only bot for miles. There are no Autobot or Decepticon energy signatures to be found anywhere around him. Not even the familiar pulse of turbofoxes.

Soundwave lifts a hand and activates his comm.

Nothing but static, breaking up the silence and a harsh reminder of just how utterly unfavorable his situation currently is.

He attempts to change frequencies, dips into the waves in the air for something, any sign of life.

The hesitance to establish an open channel is a leftover from the war. One of many. Breaking through it feels as foreign and wrong as everything else around him currently does. But it’s his only option, his last option, to get out a distress signal to someone who might hear.

It takes effort. His comm is as busted as most of him. Soundwave curls his hand into a tight fist. He punches through, wills his connection to stabilize. His processor starts to ache, but he ignores it. He rides on the frequencies until, like a lead curtain, the interference parts before him.

But he can already feel it: the connection won’t last. And establishing it has already cost him more energon than he’d have liked. The message has to get out now and it has to be short.

Soundwave activates his voice box, tries to speak.

What comes out is garbled static, shrill noises that sound more like metal filing being poured into a melting pot. The words he formed in his processor are grounded up and sped out as nonsense.

Soundwave stiffens.

His voice box. It’s damaged.

He can’t speak. He can’t call for help.

His grip on the open frequency loosens. Then slips entirely.

White noise takes over his comm.

He missed his chance.

Soundwave lowers his hand, slowly.

He runs diagnostics again, focusing on a certain array of systems.

It’s not only his voice box. Over half of his speakers are torn apart. Unusable.

The irony at play is almost too cruel for words.

He’s always preferred to let his actions speak for themselves. Using his sound systems and the tunes he crafted with their help to get the point across. He was a Decepticon of few words.

And now he has none.

It makes sense.

He’s pushed his systems to the brink to create the sound explosion. He’s felt the pain, the agony, of them overloading.

And still, here he is.

Dumbfounded by the fact that they’re not just damaged. But completely gone.

Sound has been part of his life ever since he left the factory. It’s been his weapon, his ally. It's part of his name, for Primus’ sake!

And now he’s lost it.

Perhaps even for good.

A few nanokliks. That’s how long Soundwave allows the grief, anger and loss to flood his thoughts, overwhelm him.

Then he ex-vents. Pushes them down, into the far reaches of his processor. There will be time for mourning once he’s found his way back to civilization. For now, he has to focus on survival.

He has to find materials for repairs. Energon.

He takes a step forward. A crackle and a shot of pain reminds him that only one of his legs is currently at full function. Moving around anyway would be possible, but troublesome and slow. Transforming would waste valuable energon.

Soundwave’s visor turns toward the tree. Settles on one of the jagged branches. He limps over to the structure, grabs the branch. It takes a fair bit of pulling, but eventually the branch breaks. Soundwave turns it. It just about matches him in length. The spikes at the far end almost resemble a bident. Soundwave gives an approving nod.

Crude, but acceptable for now. Both as a mobility aid and a weapon.

He presses the flat end where he’s broken it off onto the ground, leans on it. It neither creaks, nor bends. It will hold.

Soundwave turns to the tree. If he were an Autobot, full of pointless sentimentality, perhaps now would be the part where he’d lay a servo on its trunk and thank it for providing him the means to go on. As it stands, he merely look at it for a few nanokliks more, before he turns to take in his surroundings.

The mountains in the distance to the south seem to be his best bet. At the very least they’ll provide cover in the form of caves. Of course, the chance to encounter hostiles would also be higher. Soundwave grip around his makeshift staff tightens. Going in blind has never suited him well.

On instinct, he tries to eject Laserbeak for recon.

But Laserbeak, he remembers, isn’t here. Soundwave hasn’t felt the pulses and hums that make up the mind of his symbiote since he’s come back online.

Laserbeak is back in the capital, probably thinking Soundwave dead.

The thought makes Soundwave halt.

Yes, that’s right.

To everyone who witnessed the battle of the arena, he’s dead. They saw him explode, all of them. Optimus Prime. Shadowstriker. Hot Rod.

It’s a strange realization. Soundwave can’t say that he likes it. At all.

All the more reason to get back as soon as possible and set the record straight.

Leaning on his staff, he starts to walk.

The white-hot sun shines upon a wide desert, broken up by a small blue form, moving slowly but steadily toward the mountains.

Chapter Text

“Figured you’d be here.”

Soundwave doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t need to, to know who spoke. That particular voice has had a designated place in his memory banks ever since the Quintesson invasion.

One might think Hot Rod’s faceplate would break if he didn’t wear that irritatingly confident smirk on it all the time, the way he never drops it. Soundwave opts to not give him the satisfaction of looking at it and instead focuses on the shattered glass doors of Maccaddam’s.

It’s not the first time his pedes have led him here. Soundwave has never known Maccaddam personally, but the old Autobot knew him in turn. Him and every other Cybertronian who ever ambled through those automatic doors. Decepticons, Autobots, neutrals. To Maccaddam they were all just ‘bots, looking for a good cube of Energon and catchy tunes to get down on the dance-floor to.

Some of which, Soundwave himself has contributed.

It feels so completely wrong to see not Maccadam, but Perceptor stand behind the counter. Not, Soundwave admits begrudgingly, that the blind Autobot is doing a bad job at keeping Cybertron’s favorite Energon hole running.

It still isn’t the same.

Which might be why he hasn’t been able to find it in himself to enter since they kicked the Quintessons off their planet.

“Feels kinda odd, don’t it?”

Hot Rod walks up to stand beside him, smiling up at the sign of Maccadam’s cheerful mugshot. Perceptor still hasn’t taken it down. Soundwave has a feeling he never will.

“But you gotta admit, Percy’s not doing a bad job running the place. Never thought he’d have it up and functional this quick.”

“Agreed,” Soundwave concedes, tone neutral enough that no fondness can be detected within it.

It’s… unexpected how in-synch Hot Rod and him are nowadays. Despite not having been able to meet up all that much. After the Quintessons, there was the wall. Then the Other One.

Then Tripticon. And Soundblaster.

Building a new government in-between has been challenging, to say the least. Shadowstriker, him and a few other Decepticons have managed to bring back at least some semblance of stability to the Decepticons. Many still have to adjust to the fact that Megatron is well and truly gone. That he won’t be rising from the very earth beneath their pedes or come sailing through an interdimensional portal to quickly and violently re-assert his dominance, as he’s done so often in the past.

For Soundwave himself, the process has been difficult, but, surprisingly, easier than he’d thought overall. For him, the Megatron he’d followed, the revolutionary, the leader who brought him and so many others dreams and visions about equality and a Cybertron free of functionism, has been off-line for a very long time.

During the times of the wall, it hasn’t so much been loyalty that’s kept Soundwave in line, but a sense of begrudging duty. A twisted sunk-cost-fallacy. He’s done, seen and said many things during the war. None of which he will ever allow himself to regret. He’s built his berth and damn it to the pit, he’s gonna continue lying in it.

Hot Rod turns to give him a grin. “Wanna check out what sorta playlists he’s put into the jukebox?”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon, ‘Wave! I’ve been aching to show you some new moves of mine!”

Soundwave makes a huff that could not be more derisive if he had facial expressions to accompany it.

Hot Rod tilts his helm, though the grin doesn’t falter. “Oh? You got something to say?”

Soundwave looks at him. “Hot Rod’s dancing skills: Most inferior.”

“So why not show me how it’s done?”

Silence. For a good klik or so.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Hot Rod walks up to the door. Turns back to smile at Soundwave.

That smile. Soundwave can’t look away from it. He hasn’t seen it that often during the Quintesson occupation and if he has, he hasn’t been paying much attention to it. Maybe that’s why he’s so surprised by its sheer… radiance.

It’s nonsensical. No one should be able to smile like that. So full of hope and optimism. At least not if they’ve seen half the things Hot Rod has. It’s something Soundwave has been puzzling over more times than he’d care to admit.

And then Hot Rod extends a servo toward him.

“One round. If you think I’m a lost cause then, you can soundblast me across the bar for wasting your time. Deal?”

Soundwave looks at Hot Rod’s outstretched servo, then up at Hot Rod. Hot Rod doesn’t back down and the determination in that smile makes Soundwave chuckle despite himself. He reaches for Hot Rod’s servo with his own.

“Deal.”

His optics reactivate to blazing sun-light.

The ever-present pain isn’t gone, but he feels strong enough to handle it again.

When the sun had set a cycle ago, Soundwave had debated with himself whether to just keep trudging onward or take the risk of a stasis nap out in the open. Exhaustion and his left leg finally giving out had answered the question for him.

And despite knowing it’s baseless, he can’t stop thinking about how, if a Wrecker or an Autobot scout were to come across him at this moment, he’d be easy pickings. He’s more or less curled in on himself in the middle of the wide-open desert. His only weapon is the crystal branch he’s clutching in his servo. His grip hasn’t slacked, even while in stasis. Another lesson taught by kilocycles of conflict: Never let go of your weapon. Weld it to your arm, if you have to.

Except he was lucky enough to live to see peaceful times. And he’s alone. No hostile life-forms anywhere.

He could let go.

He could, but he won’t.

Soundwave presses his self-made staff/bident into the ground and uses it to pull himself up. The effort it takes is alarming. His Energon levels are even lower than yesterday. When he tries to put weight on his injured leg, it gives way and only his reflexes save him from falling back down.

It hasn’t reactivated during the stasis nap.

Soundwave tries to curse under his vent, only to be reminded of his other damages by the ensuing garbled static coming out of his vocalizer. Body-parts shutting down is a natural outcome of Energon deficiency, he knows that much. But he’d thought he’d have a little more time until then. Either he’s miscalculated his current Energon usage, or he’s leaking. Neither option is particularly appealing.

Either way, he needs to find fuel. Fast.

He turns back toward the mountains and starts walking, ignoring how his pace is even slower now. Trying to not calculate how little time is left before he’ll be nothing but a deactivated husk, lying on the ground and slowly getting covered by the sand.

He notices the wind picking up as he moves. The desert moves around him, sand particles whizzing past his chassis and scratching over his plates. He decides he greatly dislikes deserts.

Predictably, the small wind grows into a full-blown sandstorm, long before Soundwave reaches the mountains.

The visibility drops down to zero after about a megacycle. Soundwave uses his stick more than his visor to navigate at this point. If Laserbeak were still with him, he could send him into the sky and above the storm to find their way.

But there is no one in this Primus-forsaken wasteland. No one but him.

He suddenly thinks about how Hot Rod would probably make some kind of irritating bad joke to lift the mood right now. Something about sand getting into systems it shouldn’t be or something. And then he’d give Soundwave one of his expectant grins, despite knowing that even if he by some miracle had found a joke that actually managed to amuse Soundwave, Soundwave would never admit it. Let alone laugh.

And Hot Rod would take it with grace and continue on with the next quip or wordplay.

It’s probably the thought of Hot Rod telling jokes that puts back some strength into his remaining functional leg. The concept of having to escape his irritating sense of humor. It’s definitely that.

He feels his staff hit solid rock, just as the storm intensifies. Using both his staff and a servo, Soundwave guides himself along what he presumes is the mountainside. If he makes it in-between the mountains, he’ll be at least semi-safer from the storm still raging around him.

The wind does indeed lose some of its harshness, but the swirling sand still makes it nigh impossible to see. Soundwave lowers his helm and keeps going. His servos are aching even worse than before. He doesn’t need to run a diagnostic to know he has sand in his hydraulics. It makes moving even more of a test of will than it has been so far.

What rudimentary repairs he’s managed to make become undone one by one. His cuts re-open as small rocks dig into the metal. A warning pop-up on his HUD tells him he’s leaking from several points. Not much, most of the cuts are shallow, but even one lost drop can end up being fatal in his situation.

His hand scrapes along rock, getting caught in creases, digits getting scratched open by sharp, loose pebbles. It should burn, getting all this tainted material pressed into barely healed scratches. The fact that it doesn’t would be worrying. If he was online enough to care. As it is, he just keeps closing down the flashing windows on his HUD, setting one pede in front of the other. He can’t stop. Stopping means going offline. That’s the one thing that stays at the forefront of his processor.

The cave is disguised by a holographic cover. He would have missed it completely, if his staff hadn’t suddenly slid through what should be more solid rock. Soundwave raises his helm. Even through the static-filled haze it’s becoming, his mind immediately connects the dots.

If there is an opening, there must be a cave. A cave means safety from the storm. Using both staff and servo, he manages to locate the entrance behind the flickering simulacra of the mountainside. The cave’s entrance is just about his height, a bit higher. No telling how wide it is inside. No time to scan and find out. Not enough Energon left either.

He stumbles forward, half preparing his optics to switch to night vision. But when he enters it’s anything but dark.

The first thing Soundwave notices once he looks up is a glow. Light blue and everywhere. The second is structures. Crystalline, not unlike his branch. Dozens of them. And all of them only going up to his waist.

Soundwave allows himself a nanoklik to look around, even performs a rudimentary scan. No energy signatures, of course not. On a second viewing, he notices the structures are dusty. Some have cracks or holes in their walls and roofs. This place, this secret village – no, it’s too big to be called that. Soundwave’ visors detect structures even at the far, far ends of the cave. This secret city is abandoned. Probably has been for vorns.

And then his scan picks up something else. Something that makes Soundwave move again, faster than he knew he still could. The chemical composition. The energy readings. There’s not mistaking it. There’s Energon here. A lot of it.

His scanners are too low on power to pin down its exact location, but it’s somewhere in the center of the cave. The rapid tac-tac-tac of Soundwave’s staff on the ground, accompanied by the thunking of his one, functional leg, are the only sounds in the cave as he keeps hurrying forward. They echo loudly through the silence, disturbing the somewhat peaceful aura of this lost, dead civilization.

Soundwave notices that the glow is getting stronger, the deeper into the city he goes. It reflects off the small crystal houses around him. More than once he almost activates his shoulder-mounted canon, mistaking the movement of his reflection in their surfaces for the movement of a potential hostile. The pain flares up again from all the hectic movement, but he keeps going.

And finally, finally, the small houses part before him. He stumbles into a sort of open plaza, surrounded by statues, depicting Cybertronians he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t care to recognize right now. Because there, right in the middle of the plaza, is an Energon spring. Bright and blue and more beautiful than anything Soundwave has set optics upon in the last few megacycles.

His staff falls to the floor with a loud ‘clang’ as Soundwave drops to his knees in front of the small, circular body of fuel. It is about as wide as he is tall, meaning there are no spacial issues when he plunges his helm into it, mask already parting to allow his intake access to the Energon.

Time loses all meaning as he kneels there, drinking and drinking, long after a diagram of his fuel gauge on his HUD informs him that he is at full capacity. When he finally lifts his helm out of the well, light blue droplets running down his mask, he takes a nanoklik to vent deeply.

That’s when he hears pede-steps.

Quiet, unusually so, but undeniably there.

Soundwave thinks quickly. His scan has shown him no energy signatures, but when in default mode, it would only search for either Decepticons or Autobots. Meaning the new arrivals are neither. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, he’s about to find out. In any case, Soundwave reaches for his set aside staff.

“Ey! You there!”

Soundwave whips around, all systems working at maximum efficiency, as much as they’re able. At first, all he sees are the structures. But then he tilts his helm downward a bit. And freezes mid-movement.

In front of him stand two Cybertronians. So small, if he was standing, they wouldn’t even reach his hips. They look almost identical. Blocky, quadrangular helms with visors not unlike his covering their optics. Stocky frames with strong arms and wide pedes. The only thing that tells them apart is their respective paint-job. One is light-blue, with dark purple chest-, shoulder- and servo-plates. The other is dark red and his shoulder-, chest- and servo-plates are black.

Both of them are currently glaring at him, in an obvious attempt to be intimidating. It would be funny, if it weren’t so sad.

The blue and purple one lifts a servo to point an accusing digit at Soundwave.

“You dare intrude upon the sacred grounds of Casssette City? And to defile our sacred Energon Well?”

“He is, Frenzy,” the red and black one says, digits twitching in anticipation. “I saw him doin’ it.”

The blue one, Frenzy, gives a slightly annoyed vent, servo lowering. “Yeah, Rumble, I know. I was tryin’ to set the mood.”

His companion – Rumble – makes an understanding noise.

“Oooh, got it, got it. Sorry, keep goin’.”

“Thank you.” Frenzy resets his vocalizer. “So, as I was sayin’, as the last Cassetticons it is our sacred duty” (is there anything here that isn’t sacred?, Soundwave thinks) “To evict you from this here place, so it can once again be, uh… not be intruded upon by you!”

“Whoa, you really laid it out to him, Frenzy!”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah, check it out, I’m gettin’ flitters in my servos.”

“Well, I did practice that speech a whole bunch!”

“Really shows!”

Soundwave watches the back and forth silently, wondering if perhaps he should have checked the Energon for processor dissolving acids. It would be one explanation for whatever these two are. But their voices, Frenzy’s shrill, Rumble’s scratchy, are real enough. Real and already immensely grating.

He realizes the pair has stopped talking and a re now back to staring at him, an air of expectation around them. Soundwave just stares back.

“Hey,” Frenzy squawks eventually, “Ain’t ya gonna say anythin’?”

“Yeah, he laid out a whole speech for you’n stuff! Least ya’ could do is be a decent bad guy and give a speech back!” Rumble makes an expression Soundwave supposes is meant to be an intimidating glare, but comes across more as the pout of a freshly-forged who’s just been told he can’t have high-grade just yet.

Frenzy suddenly leans forward a bit, face-plate scrunching up in a frown.

“Hang on a nanoklik, Rumble. I think… I think he can’t talk.”

Both Rumble’s and Soundwave’s helms turn to give him a confused look.

“What? How do you know?” Rumble asks what Soundwave is thinking.

The damage to his voice box isn’t visible from the outside. And he highly doubts either Frenzy or Rumble are capable of performing an under the radar medical scan. Even trained medibots like Flatline struggle with those.

Frenzy shrugs.

“I dunno. His frequencies’re pretty off, is all.”

Soundwave feels the tension go out of his joints. So it was more or less a lucky guess. Figures.

Rumble groans, shoulderplates slumping. “You know I ain’t good with all this frequency-stuff, Frenzy!”

The following discussion about how useful (or existent) frequencies are is as loud as it is meaningless. Soundwave finds himself spacing out as soon as Rumble raises his voice. He gets the feeling this is how conversations between these two usually end.

In any case, he has what he wanted from here. There’s really no reason to stick around any further. He can engage his self-repair programs once he’s out of hearing range from these two. Using his staff, Soundwave gets back to his pedes and starts walking toward the street the two mini-Cybertronians are currently blocking.

The sudden movement gets Frenzy’s and Rumble’s attention back.

“Hey! Who sat you could leave, intruder?” Frenzy cries indignantly.

Rumble slams his fists together, scowling. “Yeah, don’t think you’re gettin’ away with-”

Before either of them can react, Soundwave sweeps his staff in front of him in a wide arc, catching both of them roughly at chest-level. Rumble and Frenzy yelp as they get thrown aside like a couple of unruly turbofoxes, landing on top of each other in a struggling, screeching heap of flailing limbs.

Soundwave’s small chuckle at the sight comes out no less garbled than any of the words he’ tried to speak. But just this once, he doesn’t mind. He walks past the still struggling Rumble and Frenzy. Two small hands jut out from the pile and grab his pede. Soundwave looks down at them, visor glowing a deeper red. Both of them start to spew ineffectual threats at him, while still trying to struggle back to their pedes.

They’re persistent, he’ll give them that. Persistent and annoying.

Just as Soundwave moves to shake them off, he feels something.

He doesn’t know how to describe it. He’s no poet like Skybyte (though to call what Skybyte does poetry would be an insult to the great artists of the Golden Age). But it’s... familiar. And yet completely foreign. Like new song he’s always known. Getting stronger by the nanoklik.

The sounds of two voices ex-venting at the same time pulls him out of the thrall of this new sensation. Soundwave glares down at Frenzy and Rumble. Whatever these two are trying to do right now, it’s probably best if he stops it. He doesn’t care for having his processor messed with.

With a quick, decisive movement, he shakes both their hands off his pede. The two make a strangled noise, as if they themselves were just shaken out of something. Well, whatever it is, they can sort it out themselves.

Not sparing them another glance, Soundwave makes his way back through the small city’s streets and to the cave’s entrance.

“Rumble?”

“Yeah?”

“You felt that too just now, right?”

“Sure did.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

Rumble’s faceplate scrunches up in thought.

After a few nanokliks of silence, Frenzy gives an ex-vent and struggles to his pedes. It’s significantly easier, now that him and his brother aren’t trying to get up at the same time. Frenzy stands and pats the dust of his chestplate. The familiar feeling of guilt settles in his spark upon being reminded of just how neglected Cassette City’s streets have become. Him and Rumble have been doing their best over the stellar cycles, but in the end, they’re only two mini-cons. And Cassette City is huge and empty.

There were others here, in the beginning. There must have been. All the writings that neither he nor Rumble can read had to have been left by somebody. All the statues of other mini-cons they can’t recognize must have been someone once. Someone important. But whoever they were, like everyone else they were long gone by the time him and Rumble crawled their way out of the well in the town square the intruder has so nonchalantly refueled from.

Leaving them nothing but paintings on the wall and writing that didn’t show up in their memory-banks. At least the paintings gave them something to go off of. They’ve helped Frenzy to decipher at least parts of the writing by association. It’s thanks to the paintings that they know the name of their home. What they are. Who they are. And…

Frenzy turns to Rumble, who is still lying on his back and pondering his earlier question.

With another ex-vent, Frenzy decides to relieve him.

“It means, it finally happened! What the pictures on the walls said!”

Rumble’s face-plate lights up like a crystal in the sun. “Oooh, s’that what it feels like? I kinda like it!”

Frenzy grins. “Yeah, same here. And you know what’s even better?”

“Wait, don’t tell me, I got it!” To his credit, this time Rumble’s face-plate goes from frowning in thought to grinning in realization. “It happened when we touched that intruder! That means he’s-”

“A Carrier,” Frenzy excitedly finishes his brother’s train of thought. “We found one, Rumble! We can leave! We can finally leave!”

The utter relief and joy on Rumble’s faceplate mirrors Frenzy’s own. Both of them start cheering and laughing at the same time, Rumble finally jumping back to his pedes to join Frenzy in jumping in place and throwing his arms up in the air.

“I told you it’d happen,” Frenzy calls, “I told you!”

Rumble gives an eager nod in response. Then he pauses for a nanoklik. “Uh, shouldn’t we goin’ after him, though?”

Frenzy freezes. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, we probably should.”

He ex-vents and shutters his optics. He doesn’t need to look to know Rumble is doing the same.

“Okay, just like the wall picture said: Focus!”

It has to have been a few groons since he’s left the cave and the hidden city behind him.

Soundwave looks up, shielding his visor from the sun. His internal chronometer is still busted (the repair programs can only do so much), so the flaming ball of light in the sky is the closest he’s got for a replacement.

After stepping out of the cave’s entrance, he’s taken to walking deeper into the mountains. The trek hasn’t been easy, but significantly less hard than it would have been if his leg was still deactivated. The short detour was good for that at least.

Admittedly, just walking in one direction and hoping for the best is not the most solid of plans. But it is a plan and currently the only one that’s doable. He’s already found one sign of civilization. If he keeps going, he might find another. One occupied by intelligent life.

His processor still aches, thinking about the two walking, talking noisemakers he’s met down there. He wishes he still had his speakers. His sound systems. Then he could drown out the memory by playing a track or two. It’s helped in the past. It’s also done a nice job of keeping bots of his back he felt no particular desire to talk to. That and his, as Soundblaster had so eloquently put it, “mouth full of scrap”. There’s only a few bots he hasn’t been able to deter with either.

Thinking of said bots is about as upsetting as the one-sided conversation down in the cave was. But it’s better than the silence that has started to engulf him as he’s continuing to walk with no particular goal. Soundwave has never liked silence. It’s… unproductive. Suffocating. A reminder of a time he’d do almost everything to erase from his memory banks.

There’s been plenty of situations where he hasn’t been able to stave the silence off with his music. Stealth missions. Medical examinations. But even then, he had Lazerbeak’s constant stream of thoughts and feelings on everything around them. A conversation between only the two of them. Now the only thoughts he can hear are his own.

He refocuses on the rocky cliffs around him, keeps taking step after step. He scans for other life-forms again. Ignores the incoming result a few nanokliks later that tells him he’s still completely and utterly alone. At one point, he finds himself thankful for the occasional flare of pain in his still damaged leg. It’s some form of distraction, at least.

He keeps walking.

His processor must be damaged heavier than he’d thought, because he keeps replaying specific data from his memory banks. Memories of the Quintesson occupation. Of a certain bar, where he’s sitting across an Autobot with a ridiculous flame-paintjob. It makes no sense for him to think of Hot Rod in this situation. And yet he does.

There’s another thing

It’s been there since he’s left the cave.

A sort of… tugging in the back of his helm. Like he’s been tethered to something. He can’t pin it down, but it’s there. A side effect of all the other malfunctions and glitches he’s probably accumulated in there over the past two solar cycles, most likely.

He lifts his helm again, trying to make out if there’s some sort of path he can follow. That’s when he notices his environment has changed.

High stone walls have been gradually replaced by fiberglass. Crystal branches and roots. And a bit in the distance, he can see trees. Soundwave thinks for a nanoklik. If by some crazy miracle, he’d manage to get at least his comm back online, staying in an open area would be preferable. Easier to establish connections with possible nearby towns.

But avoiding the woods would mean he’d have to climb the mountainside to circumvent them. His leg is already sparking and glitching something fierce. He shouldn’t have put off the repairs for so long. A climb would undoubtedly end in more damage, since he can’t rely on both his legs and both of his arms still carry minor damage. Just staying in place is decidedly not an option.

The woods it is, then. Ignoring the sparks starting to accumulate around his bad leg, Soundwave starts to walk again.

Several kliks later, the environment around him has changed into something much more colorful. Red and orange fiberglass-leaves rustle in the wind. Metallic blue grass of the same material brushes his servos. Even the dreary silence is somewhat gone, replaced by the occasional chirping and whispering of wildlife.

It’s preferable to the claustrophobic isolation of the mountains or the oppressive dead air in the cave. For the first time in a while, Soundwave allows himself to relax a bit. The untouched idyll brings back memories of his travels. Private moments of peaceful bliss where there was nothing but him and nature. And a bit later on, Lazerbeak.

While he hasn’t missed that lifestyle as much as he thought he would (there weren’t exactly many good clubs out in the wild), it is a nice call-back. Even if thinking of Lazerbeak inevitably makes him more aware of the yawning emptiness in his compartment and the lack of a secondary stream of thoughts and feelings at the edge of his processor.

Twilight begins to settle over the forest, coloring reddish fiberglass golden and Soundwave decides to take that as the cue to take a break. There’s some repairs left to be done anyway and he’s not keen on adding further damage by stumbling around in the dark with a cracked visor. As luck would have it, he’s able to find a small clearing only a few steps further.

Finding kindling for a campfire proves to be just as surprisingly easy. Perhaps Primus or whatever higher being, if any, rests in the AllSpark has finally decided to give him a break. A few kliks later, Soundwave finds himself sitting beside crackling white flames, damaged leg stretched out comfortably. The pain has gotten worse over the course of the evening, from a light stinging to a constant burning sensation Soundwave finds increasingly hard to ignore.

Evidently the damage is too extensive for his in-built repair-programs. He’ll have to take a closer look at it. Soundwave’s no medic, but he’s downloaded basic procedures into his processor. Knowing at least the first steps has come in handy more than once on the battlefield, when proper medics were either not available or busy tending to bots who needed them more.

Hissing in pain, he opens a panel on the lower leg-strut, taking a look at the cables. They’re leaking. Not good. If that isn’t taken care of, he may well lose a good chunk of the Energon he managed to refuel with in the cave. Some of the stabilizers also sport fissures and cracks, too severe for a mere mending-coagulant to fix on the spot. No wonder the pain hasn’t stopped.

Soundwave lets out a glitched sigh. The cables he may well be able to patch up using some of the raw materials around him. The struts and stabilizers are another thing entirely. The crystal around him is to brittle to be either braces or substitutes. He can stop the fuel leaking, but the pain he’ll have to endure until he can acquire proper medical help.

His examinations are interrupted by a loud ‘crack’.

Old programming kicks in and Soundwave jumps to his pedes, bident-staff in his servos and leveled at the direction the noise came from.

Facing the pointy end of his weapon are the two Mini-cons he’s left behind in the cave, at the place they called “Cassette City”. Frenzy and Rumble, though why he saved their names to his memory banks, he doesn’t know. Soundwave doesn’t lower his weapon. Those two were hostile toward him the last time they met. And with how their meeting’s ended, he has no reason to believe their attitudes have changed.

Which is why it surprises him all the more to see them flash wide grins at him, almost as if they’re ecstatic to find him here.

“Carrier,” Frenzy starts, voice even more shrill than when Soundwave heard it the first time, “we found ya!”

“And we got some good news for ya too,” Rumble adds, sounding just as, if not more, eager as Frenzy.

“As the ancient traditions of Cassette City dictates, we, my brother and I, have forged a sacred bond! You and we are now tied together by spark!”

“We’re yer goons now! Awesome, right?”

For a while, no one speaks.

Soundwave just stares at the mini-cons. His visor glows a slightly deeper red.

Frenzy’s grin turns nervous and he tilts his helm slightly in Rumble’s direction.

“Psst! Yo, Rumble? Think he heard us, orrr…?”

“Beats me. Mech’s mute, so maybe he’s deaf, too?”

“But he heard us comin’, didn’t he?”

“Oh, oh, Frenzy, he’s standin’ up! I think he’s comin’ this way!”

“Hey, ye’re right! Whoa, he’s even taller up close…”

“Ha, see? Told ya he wouldn’t be able to resist! Everybody needs goons!”

“Whoa, Rumble, look, he’s pickin’ me up! Are you seein’ it?”

“Sure am! Hey, that’s no fair! I wanna get picked up!”

“Rumble, I think he likes meeeeeeeee-”

Soundwave follows the mini-cons trajectory as he flies back into the woods. He feels his arm sparking a bit from the force he used to throw Frenzy, but it seems to have paid off, at least. He turns back to Rumble.

The smaller bot is excitedly hopping in place, face-plate showing a grin so wide, Soundwave wonders if it might split his helm.

“Me next! Me next!” Rumble cheers.

Soundwave is happy to oblige. He grabs the mini-con off the ground, pulls back his arm and then launches him roughly into the direction he threw Frenzy. Rumble’s whooping and hollering fades as he disappears into the distance. Soundwave watches him go until his small form gets swallowed up by the trees.

If he’s lucky, the fall alone will take care of the little vermin. Even if it doesn’t, him and his brother should have landed several miles away. The possibility of them finding him again is less than zero. Either way, this marks the last time he’ll be forced to hear their voices. Thank Primus for that.

He won’t even pretend he’s understood their ravings about ‘carriers’ and ‘bonds’. There’s only one being he’d admit to having a bond with and he’s significantly less aggravating. The lengthy isolation in that cave must have caused the Mini-cons’ processors to malfunction. Badly malfunction.

A stab of pain reminds him that he’s been standing on a heavily damaged servo. Cursing inwardly, Soundwave plops back down, letting the staff fall to the ground. Great. With his current luck, the cracks have expanded. All because of two delusional Mini-cons. At the very least, with them gone there’s one less processor-ache he’ll have to deal with.

“Whoo! He’s got a strong throwing arm!” Frenzy pats off the dust and crystal shards, then looks up at the tree he’s just climbed down from, smiling widely. “Ya think all Carriers’re that strong?”

His brother doesn’t answer. Frenzy frowns and turns, searching his surroundings for his twin.

“Rumble?”

“Up here!”

Frenzy jumps and looks up. Above him, Rumble is struggling to dislodge his leg from the crutch its gotten stuck in, leaving him dangling upside down.

“Lil’ help?”

“Whoops! Hold on, Rumble!”

Frenzy shields his visor, giving the tree, the branches and his captive sibling a calculating look. He takes a few steps to position himself slightly below Rumble, visual sensors zooming in on the branch. Once he’s satisfied with his positioning, Frenzy plants his pedes into the ground and looks up again. He opens his intake.

“Alright, shut off your audials for a nano-klik!”

Chapter Text

As expected by now, it’s pain that jolts Soundwave out of recharge.

His leg seems to have gotten worse overnight; it’s gone back to not reacting to his commands at all. It’s a good thing his staff is as sturdy as it is. He wouldn’t be able to get up without it. Soundwave drags himself over to the Energon river and refuels.

There’s no sign of the mini-cons, thankfully. Their overly enthusiastic babble is the last thing he needs right now. He has enough in his cube trying to navigate unknown terrain. Cybertron has many hereto unknown areas. They’ve only been able to map out so much and after the war started there were other things to worry about.

If, and that is a thought Soundwave isn’t too fond of, he even is still on Cybertron. Maybe whatever got him out of the explosion just put him on a random, long abandoned colony. With the only remnants of Cybertron being the ruined city and the cave. And the minicons.

He decides to shelf that thought for now. Abandoned or not, if this is a colony planet, he should at least be able to find some old communication equipment. Once he does, he could either cannibalize it to repair at least some of his own sound systems or try and establish a connection to the city.

With that new plan in mind, Soundwave turns in the direction he supposes is north and starts walking.

His leg is sparking worse and worse with every step.

If he had denta, Soundwave would grit them against the pain. As it is, all he can do is grip his staff more tightly, which is about as effective. He’s already tried to set his repair program on the damage, but it’s either too specific or too severe to be fixed that fast. It makes the journey even more taxing. All it takes now is for him to start leaking.

To add insult to injury, the forest has been going in a steady uphill slope for a while now. No doubt he could scale it easier in vehicle mode, but the damage to his leg is too extensive to transform. Worst case scenario, he’d try and get stuck somewhere in-between robot-mode and alt-mode, completely unable to move.

So an agonizing, slow climb it is. On ground that is getting more and more unstable as he’s walking.

Soundwave notices some pebbles rolling by as he labors upwards. The roots of the crystal trees must have shaken up the ground. He should tread carefully and stay quiet. Not that the latter part is going to be a problem. Though in the previous night-cycle, there has been a weird shrill noise coming from deeper in the woods. Soundwave hopes whatever animal made it isn’t close at this moment. He’s neither in the mood nor the shape for a tussle with wildlife.

As he struggles up the slope, Soundwave can’t help but think of Shadow Striker. In the first few solar cycles after her implants, she’d been noticeably slower. Especially when climbing or traversing uneven terrain. Back then, Soundwave didn’t think to check up on her. While united by a common goal, the Decepticons’ general attitude toward compassion was, and for some still is, that it’s something Autobots use to manipulate you and Decepticons should only show when there’s something to be gained from it.

Soundwave doubts Shadow Striker would have appreciated it if he’d shown any signs of pity or made concessions toward her at the time, not that he’d even thought about doing either. Still, if this is what she’s gone through then – the constant need to adjust one’s step, the near chronic pain and the frustration of your body not functioning like you know it used to – perhaps he should have looked out for her more than he did. Unlike a lot of other ‘Cons, Shadow Striker survived the war, but they both know by now that that is not a matter of course. She could’ve gone off-line the solar cycle Bumblebee left her in that tunnel and she would have if it hadn’t been for Shockwave.

It’s kind of a sore point still.

Soundwave wonders how she’s getting along, now that she thinks he’s died. Most likely just fine. Shadow Striker has always been efficient, with or without him. Which made their relationship all the more noteworthy. Genuine friendships, if any, were hard to come by in the Decepticons and were usually based on mutually assured parasitism. You were only friendly as long as you could get something out of each other. That hadn’t been the case with them.

They’d just sort of… clicked and never questioned that fact. It had probably helped that they hadn’t really gotten along with anyone else. Both of them had personalities Starscream had once described to be “as pleasant as a bath in toxic Energon”, which tended to put even the most hardened fellow Decepticons off.

The most hardened Decepticons except for the two of them.

Soundwave’s thoughts are interrupted by a sudden jerk on his staff. Looking down, he sees the last thing he wanted to see. His staff has slipped into one of the many cracks in the ground. Soundwave’s first and second attempt to pull it out does nothing. It’s well and truly stuck. And by extension, so is he now.

Great.

Soundwave gives a distorted growl. He’s just about had it with the wasteland throwing stones in his path. Ignoring the sparks that start to flare up again, Soundwave grips the staff with both hands and tries to dislodge it by force. He only notices the small pebbles raining down on him from above when it’s too late.

A loud rumbling sound comes from above him and Soundwave looks up just in time to see a gaggle of significantly larger rocks and boulders tumbling down toward him. He manages to take one step backwards before getting buried.

Dust and dirt flies through the air around him. The noise drowns out everything else. When it dies down, warnings pop up on his HUD by the dozens, but Soundwave is too busy being distracted by the literally crushing pain of having tons of stone pressing down on his body. He makes a noise that could have been an attempted and futile call for help or just a pained groan. He’s not sure.

Static takes over his HUD alongside the warnings.

And then everything goes dark.

Before his consciousness fully slips away, Soundwave thinks he hears a shrill voice shouting: “Rumble! Over here!”

Soundwave looks out on a wide asteroid field. In the distance, Cybertron’s sun is illuminating the scenery, making it seem like the very space before them is glowing. If Sky-Byte were here, he’d most likely start one of his insufferable impromptu haikus. Soundwave has yet to successfully campaign for the abdication of the Sharkticon’s weekly and mandatory poetry readings.

He turns to look at the beaming Autobot behind him, currently holding up a hoverboard in every hand.

“Hot Rod’s message: Deceptive. There’s no sign of lingering Quintesson ships.”

“Yeah, but you probably wouldn’t have come if I told you I just wanted to hang out.” Hot Rod shrugs, utterly remorseless. “Gotta keep up your mysterious loner-act and all. Plus, you can’t seriously tell me you didn’t at least suspect something was up. I mean, how many times do you get a message from an Autobot asking to meet alone at the closest asteroid belt?”

“I was expecting an ambush.”

Hot Rod tilts his helm. “...Wave, sometimes I honestly can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not. Anyway, a little birdie told me you’ve never gone solar wave boarding. Now, as the resident solar wave boarding champion, I always aim to bring this noble sport to the attention of more bots. Aaand, Teletraan-X told me about some pretty strong upcoming solar winds in this area. Sooo…?”

Soundwave looks at the board offered to him, then back at Hot Rod.

“Query: Hot Rod, experiencing major processor glitch?”

The insult, like most of Soundwave’s insults these solar cycles, seems to bounce right off of Hot Rod’s shiny red finish. It’s another sign of how much the other Autobot has changed ever since the Quintessons. A remark like this would have had him spewing flames at Soundwave before. Now all it causes is an easy laugh.

“Oh, I gotta remember that one!” He gives Soundwave a mischievous smile. “Hey, mech, I get it if you’re too scared. Solar wave surfing ain’t really for the faint of spark.”

The attempt at manipulation is so overt it’s embarrassing. They both know Soundwave has been through worse than solar storms. It’s not so much the implied insult as it is the challenge within it, that there’s something an Autobot can do that he can’t, and could hypothetically do better, that makes Soundwave snatch the board out of Hot Rod’s servo.

Within his chest compartment, he feels Laserbeak’s amused squawk at his master’s pride. Soundwave ignores it. He’s never pretended to not be prideful. Or competitive. He’s just better at backing it up with actual competence than some other ‘Cons.

“That’s the spirit!” Hot Rod gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Pura Vida!”

“What?”

“It’s a human saying I picked up. Did you know they surf too? It’s even sort of a life style for them!”

“Hot Rod’s obsession with human culture: Inferior.”

Hot Rod huffs good-naturedly. “Mech, whatever. I know you saved like a billion Earth-songs to your library.”

“Case studies on what not to do when mixing sound.”

“Uh-huh.” Hot Rod grins and circulates his optics. “Jerk.”

He leads Soundwave away from their shuttles and to a certain spot deeper within the belt. Once they’ve stopped, Hot Rod shields his optics to look toward the sun. Soundwave is tempted to blast him off the edge of the asteroid he’s so precariously balancing on. He decides against it. Not because it wouldn’t be funny, but because Hot Rod would probably use the incident as an excuse for his inevitable loss to come.

As if he’s been privy to Soundwave’s thoughts, Hot Rod turns around to give Soundwave a confident smirk. “Ready to eat my space-dust?”

“Hot Rod: About to eat those words.”

They both position themselves on their boards (Soundwave admits it gives him a not small feeling of satisfaction that he manages to stay balanced right away, while Hot Rod actually stumbles a bit) and push off.

Despite his little starting blunder, Hot Rod starts to gain distance fairly early. His triumphant whooping sounds over Soundwave’s comm. Soundwave’s visor glows as he focuses on his opponent’s steadily smaller back. How is he doing it? Their stances are pretty much identical, yet Hot Rod is getting farther and farther away.

So far it’s starting to look like the blazing light of the sun they’re both surfing towards is engulfing him. Soon he’s just a small spot in the distance. Soundwave can barely make out his form.

Soundwave prepares to send Laserbeak out to scout ahead, see if Hot Rod is even still there, but when he opens his intake, there’s only static.

Soundwave jolts awake.

The heavy weight of the rocks is gone. So are the rocks. He’s leaning against the mountain wall. Above him there’s nothing but starry night-sky. All around him rubble and debris. Before him a small, amateurishly put together campfire. And the mini-cons.

Rumble is rustling around with some crystalline branches, attempting to stoke the pitiful flames, while Frenzy’s sitting next to him, providing less than helpful commentary.

Soundwave’s visor flickers. How in the Pit did these two find him? Much less get him out of that rock slide? He assumes it was them who did it, anyway. There’s no one else around.

He must have made some sort of noise, because Frenzy jolts slightly and whirls around and Rumble looks up at about the same time.

“Boss! You’re awake!” Frenzy hurries over to him, that same wide grin Soundwave remembers from their last meeting still on his face-plate. “Took us a bit to find ya! Gotta say, causin’ a rock-slide for a good hidin’ spot? That’s another level of hardcore!”

Soundwave stares at him.

Frenzy’s gins turns smug. “You’re prolly wonderin’ how we spotted you so quick anyway, huh? Well, it takes more than a buncha stones to block out a carrier-bond! Plus, Rumble’s piledrivers were achin’ for some action. And ‘cause we’re basically connected for life now, we had a real easy time findin’ ya!”

Frenzy beams at Soundwave, denta gleaming in the light of the flames. Soundwave didn’t think anyone but Hot Rod could be that ridiculously enthusiastic and positive. On instinct, he tries to make a snide remark, only for nothing but garbled static to come out of his intake once again.

Frenzy flinches in sympathy. “Yeowch! I actually felt that this time.”

“Me too,” Rumble pipes up.

Frenzy turns to look at him, visor hopeful. “Can’t ya’ fix him up more, Rumble?”

“No, I told ya: The leg was one thing, but this kinda mechanism wasn’t in the wall pictures.”

Soundwave freezes. They messed with his leg while he was in stasis? He scrambles to pull the limb closer, fearing the worst. That mini-con probably got the cracks to expand again. If being trapped under those rocks didn’t completely put his leg out of function, being poked at by someone completely unfamiliar with the term ‘malpractice’ certainly did.

Soundwave’s visor scans over his leg. It still looks scratched. The dents are still there. But no worse than before. Soundwave doesn’t allow himself to hesitate. He pops open the panel. And stops to stare. The cracks are patched. All of them. Not fully repaired, but tended to enough that he’ll be able to walk just fine with his staff.

That’s also when he realizes the pain has dulled significantly. He’s been so busy taking stock of himself he hasn’t even noticed. Slowly, he looks back up at the mini-cons.

They’re both grinning at him expectantly. Soundwave thinks for a few nanokliks. Then he gives a glitched sigh. As much as he hates to admit it, they’ve proven useful today. More than that. And it won’t hurt to have at least someone watching his back out here. Even someone as irritating as these mini-cons.

But he’ll have to find a way to communicate first. That’s easy enough. Soundwave sits up and reaches for his staff. Frenzy sees him move and immediately zips forward, grabbing the bident and carrying it over to Soundwave with an eagerness Soundwave can’t decide whether to find endearing or pathetic. Perhaps both.

Soundwave gives a thankful nod to Frenzy, then takes the staff from his small hands and starts to write his own name in the soft earth in front of him with the tip. Rumble and Frenzy step closer, bending over the letters curiously. Curiosity is soon replaced by confusion.

“Uh… whatcha drawin’, boss?” Rumble asks, giving Soundwave a strained smile.

Soundwave stops. Stares at Rumble for a nanoklik. Trying to determine if the mini-con is actually serious or just has a very warped sense of humor. He’s writing in basic cybex. Any newly forged is programmed with those letters. But then Frenzy speaks up too.

“This doesn’t look like the wall-pictures. Is that one supposed to be a bot?”

They can’t read. Either of them. A broken, distorted huff of laughter escapes Soundwave’s intake. Of course they can’t. That would have made this actually easy. Soundwave takes a deep vent and thinks. So talking is obviously out of the question. Writing won’t work either. How else can he communicate with them? He’s never been much of an artist, so drawing pictures is a gamble at best. Besides, if he knows Frenzy and Rumble by now, they’d probably misunderstand every single thing he might ‘say’ to them like that.

No, he’ll need something more straight-forward. Before he got here, he used music or recorded sounds to bring his point across more often than not. But his sound-banks have been wiped all but clean when he blew himself up. Making his replay abilities entirely useless.

Or does it…?

Soundwave reboots his records and flips through the more recent files. It’s not much, since all that’s on it are his one-sided conversations with Rumble and Frenzy. But it should be enough for now. If he cuts and re-cuts it. That’s easy. He has years of experience with this kind of thing. He turns back to the mini-cons. Frenzy and Rumble are bickering among themselves over the meaning of his “pictures”.

“No, I’m tellin’ ya, that’s an Energon well!”

“Looks more like just a circle to me.”

“What? No, see the lines?”

“I think that’s just dirt, Rumble.”

“-Frenzy-”

“Don’t use that tone with me!”

“I didn’t say nothing!”

“Yeah you did, just now-”

“- Rumble-”

The mini-cons stop and slowly turn around. Their astounded visors meet Soundwave’s neutral one.

“ - Frenzy – Rumble - “ Soundwave replays their voices again. A bit louder this time. It sounds a bit tinny, coming from his damaged speakers.

“Whoa,” Rumble marvels, intake agape. “How’d you do that? That’s us!”

“Is that how you talk, boss?” Frenzy asks. He looks even more excited than Rumble.

“-not – supposed – to.”

Frenzy nods. “Oooh, okay. Is it cause you’re damaged? And ya actually can talk normal when ya aren’t?”

“-yeah-”

“That’s sooo cool!” Frenzy’s visor is positively glowing with adoration. When Soundwave says nothing in response, he flinches and shrinks in on himself a bit. “Er, I mean, it’s not cool that you’re injured, boss, just the whole imitating voices thing.”

“Can ya teach us how to do that?” Rumble asks, bouncing in place eagerly.

“ - No - “

Rumble droops a little. “Aww.”

Soundwave doesn’t know why, but for a nanoklik there’s a sort of... pulse in his processor. It feels foreign, but not intrusive. A small blip of… disappointment? Soundwave turns his helm to look at Rumble directly. The pulse gets stronger.

Soundwave tilts his helm. Huh. This warrants further investigation.

“– Frenzy – Rumble – “

“Yeah, boss?” the mini-cons answer at the same time. Soundwave waits for a bit, but they don’t seem to mind talking in stereo.

“ – carrier – connection – bond – How – “

Frenzy and Rumble look confused for a moment, before Frenzy perks up a bit. “Oh! You’re askin’ how our bond works?”

Soundwave nods.

Frenzy’s faceplate scrunches up in thought. He scratches his temple, humming. “Um, to be honest, we don’t really know either.”

“The wall pictures just said cassetticons connect when they meet a carrier,” Rumble shrugged. “And then they form a bond and stay with the carrier for good. There was more, but we got bored after decipherin’ the first part.”

Soundwave can feel a processor-ache coming. Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point. So this is all he has to work with for now. He vents and leans back against the rock wall, tilting his helm up to the sky.

Dozens of stars look back above him, twinkling and shining without a care in the world. Soundwave wonders if somewhere up there is an asteroid belt that he can’t see. And if somewhere in that asteroid belt, a certain Autobot is recklessly riding a hoverboard.

“So, where to now, boss?”

Soundwave continues walking, but turns a little so his speakers face the two mini-cons following behind him. He’s gotten a good amount of rest thanks to them and he’s able to move a lot faster and smoother, too. His leg is still damaged but thanks to whatever Rumble did, it’s almost back to being functional. Taking steps doesn’t hurt nearly as much anymore. And when he went back into recharge, both Frenzy and Rumble watched over him. They were still there when his visor reactivated the next solar-cycle. And if they found him once against all odds using this carrier-bond, they’ll probably find him again. Like it or not, for the time being he’s stuck with them. It’s only logical to give them a vague idea of what he wants to do.

“-frequencies-”

They both frown, confused.

“Yeah? What about ‘em?”, Frenzy inquires.

“-find-frequencies-find-life-”

There’s a sudden wave of confusion in his processor that Soundwave now knows isn’t his. Frenzy’s and Rumble’s dumbfounded expressions confirm it. It’s not the first spark of foreign emotion he’s received from them. Ever since the first transmission a solar cycle ago, the emotions he feels from them have become stronger. More regular, too.

It’s… disconcerting. Soundwave has heard of bots who are able to share their processor with others, but he’s never particularly felt the need to do so himself. Even his bond with Laserbeak wasn’t this intimate. He wonders whether Frenzy and Rumble even realize they’re connected in that way. But if they did, they probably could have foreseen what he was planning to do when he stalked towards them a few nights ago and threw them into the jungle.

And right now, it seems they don’t understand what he’s vocally trying to communicate either. Soundwave’s visor darkens a bit with frustration. Their conversations so far don’t contain any words or phrases he could use to elaborate. Sure he knows what a beacon or a mobile communication hub look like, but he’s pretty sure Frenzy and Rumble don’t. They’ve been living their entire life-cycles up until now in the remnants of a long forgotten city, with rudimentary technology at best. And sadly, he can’t just share that knowledge with them non-verbally.

...Can he?

Cocking his helm a bit, Soundwave probes the flow of emotions he knows originate from the two mini-cons in front of him. Now that he’s actually acknowledging it, he can see it: A sort of blurry connection between him and them. It’s that tug in the back of his helm he’s felt before as well. It’s a steady flow of data from Frenzy and Rumble to him, unhampered by any restrictions or blocks. Soundwave guesses they don’t even know how to set those up. They haven’t spent their existence hacking into enemy databases, so how would they? There’s no data from him, at least none he can make out.

He can feel a sort of wall there when he attempts to use the connection himself. But it’s on his end, not Frenzy and Rumble’s. If he just keeps pressing on, it should give way. That’s when Soundwave finds himself hesitating. Does he want it to give way? He’ll need it to in this case, if he doesn’t want to just lead them along like sparklings with no idea where to. But once that floodgate is open, will it close?

All worrying questions. Worrying questions that he doesn’t have time for. He’ll need to make a decision. After another nano-klik of hesitation, Soundwave pushes. The barrier practically dissipates and for a while Soundwave is part of an extremely busy two-way-street of thoughts, feelings and emotions.

When he retreats into his own processor, he’s swaying a bit. So are Frenzy and Rumble. Apparently his taking down his mental firewall didn’t only affect him.

“Ugggh,” Rumble groans, putting a hand to his helm. “I feel like I just got squashed by a boulder.”

“You ‘n me both,” Frenzy adds, leaning heavy on his fellow mini-con for support.

Soundwave looks at them. In his processor he picks his clearest memory of a Cybertronian beacon and a portable comm-station. Then he sends both over the bond. Frenzy and Rumble both perk up, as if they heard something.

“Hey, I can see somethin!” Rumble purses his lip-plates. “Looks kinda weird.”

Frenzy’s brow furrows a bit. “Yeah, it’s… hang on.” He looks back up at Soundwave, visor bright with realization. “Boss, is that what we’re searchin’ for? The things that got somethin’ to do with frequencies?”

Soundwave nods. “-yeah-”

Rumble and Frenzy both give eager grins and straighten themselves.

“Alright! You can count on us, boss,” Frenzy proclaims.

Rumble gives an enthusiastic nod. “We’ll keep our visors peeled as a fresh Energon cube!”

They proceed to run ahead of Soundwave, looking this way and that with an amount of zeal Soundwave didn’t think was possible for anyone other than Sky-Byte or Jetfire. Their bond is positively alight with it.

Making a mental note to find a way to, if not permanently close, then at least limit the flow of data, Soundwave goes after them.

They don’t find either a beacon or a portable comm-station that solar cycle. But honestly, Soundwave didn’t expect them to. They’re still way too far off from civilization to reasonably expect that kind of technology to just lie around.

Frenzy’s and Rumble’s disappointment on the other hand is palpable. It probably would be even if he wasn’t mentally linked to them. During their trek through the mountainside that has replaced the jungle, Soundwave has discovered that he can, indeed, cut his own emotions off from Frenzy and Rumble entirely. Seeing how they reacted to him sharing memories, they definitely would have mentioned it if they felt something he felt.

Instead the two mini-cons have spend the solar cycles running around and keeping watch for the things he’s shown them and pouting when they didn’t find anything. Soundwave admits it’s amusing to see how keen they are. Maybe even endearing. If he was the type of bot to describe anything as endearing.

In the present, Soundwave is currently showing Rumble how to make a proper campfire with what little material they’ve managed to scavenge. Rumble watches Soundwave’s every movement like a cyber-hawk. If he had a datapad and knew how to write, Soundwave is certain he’d be taking notes.

Speaking of…

Once the fire is burning brightly enough, Soundwave makes his way over to a patch of flat, sandy ground and sits down. Sharing memories and communicating via soundbites are both passable options, but they’re limited. It would be easier if he had a more sure-fire way to get his point across.

Over their bond, he locates Frenzy a few mechanometers away, scouting out the area. Soundwave imitates the tug he’s felt to signal Frenzy to return. It takes about two kliks for Frenzy’s pede-steps to become audible. When Frenzy rounds the corner he’s visibly excited.

“Whoa, was that you boss?”

Rumble looks up from where he’s been observing the campfire. “What? What’d he do?”

“He called me! Kinda. I had a weird feelin’ in my processor that told me to come back!”

Rumble’s visor widens a bit. “He can do that?”

“I know, right?”

“-Frenzy – Rumble -”

Frenzy and Rumble’s intakes slam shut as they stare at him in anticipation. Soundwave can’t help but chuckle a bit at that. He motions for them to sit across from him, then takes his bident. Once both of them are seated, Soundwave draws a few basic cybex glyphs into the sand.

“It’s those drawings again,” Frenzy exclaims.

Soundwave shakes his helm. “ - no – drawings - “

Rumble tilts his helm. “They’re not drawings?”

Soundwave nods.

“-teach-you-”

He points his bident at the first glyph.

“-a-”

Frenzy and Rumble frown. Soundwave repeats the motion and the sound, until he feels a surge of recognition over their bond.

“Oooh! That picture is that sound?” Frenzy asks.

Soundwave nods.

“Now that you say it, they do kinda look like parts of the wall-pictures in Cassette City,” Rumble adds, leaning forward a bit to get a better look.

Soundwave points to another glyph and isolates the sound it makes. The mini-cons listen eagerly, Frenzy even shuffling a bit closer. After a few more glyphs, Soundwave reaches for two smaller sticks and hands them to the twins. With a few gestures and soundbites, he directs them to copy the glyphs he’s drawn.

They don’t get very far that night-cycle, excited as both of them are, but at least a couple of glyphs seem to stick with them. It’s frankly more than Soundwave expected. When he tells them to recharge and that he’ll take first watch, he can still hear them drawing in the sand and give excited giggles long after they’ve laid down.

“Hey, boss? Who’s Hot Rod?”

Soundwave whirls around, making Rumble jump a little behind him. Frenzy has once again run ahead to scout, while Rumble and him are following at a slower pace.

“ - how – do – you – know -”

Rumble shrugs. “Last night, when yon ‘n Frenzy were rechargin’ I got some pictures again. In my processor. And there was that red bot who was smilin’ a lot and I kinda just knew that he was Hot Rod. And I felt somethin’ warm in my spark whenever he smiled at me. Or, I guess, you.” He looks up at Soundwave. “Is he your friend?”

Ah.

Apparently his mental firewall is less effective when he’s recharging. He did re-live a memory of himself and Hot Rod that night. That seems to happen often as of late.

Soundwave turns back around.

“ - Hot Rod – somethin’ – like – friend - “

He feels a spark of joy from Rumble after saying that. “Cool. He seems nice.”

Soundwave opts to say nothing and pick up his pace.

The next few solar cycles go much the same. During the day, him, Frenzy and Rumble search for any sign of civilization or technology to help them reach civilization. At sundown, Soundwave teaches them what basic cybex glyphs they can manage. Then they take turns recharging while one of them keeps watch.

It’s become a vaguely comforting rhythm. The only hiccup is the occasional sharing of memories or knowledge during Soundwave’s recharge. He still hasn’t found a way to stop that from happening and he never knows until the next solar cycle what exactly he unwillingly shared. Frenzy and Rumble are sure to ask questions about it sometime during their travels.

“Boss, who’s Shadow Striker?”

“What’s a Laserbeak?”

“Who’s Megatron? And why’s there two of him?”

Eventually, he just defaults to voluntarily sharing memories and knowledge of whatever they ask about. It doesn’t get the full story across, but it’s enough to satisfy their curiosity in most cases. On the bright side, their communication over the bond has gotten a lot easier as a direct result.

The bond holds over greater distances with each solar cycle. Soundwave has taken to practice by sending Frenzy and Rumble in different directions whenever they stop to rest and then have them send images to him over the bond. Both of them learn quick. Their emotions are still as uncontrolled as ever, but at least now there’s some direction in their part of the data-stream.

Soundwave thinks about asking them to share memories of the wall-pictures in Cassette City. Whatever was written there that Frenzy and Rumble couldn’t decipher might help him to learn more about this carrier-bond and what other uses it may have.

He also learns a lot about his small travel companions in those solar cycles. Like that Rumble’s pilderivers can shatter rocks almost five times his size. And that Frenzy’s intake can transform into a sonar gun.

Useful abilities to scare off turbofoxes that stray too close to their campfire when Soudnwave’s bident doesn’t prove persuasive enough.

With time, the mountainside slowly gives way to rocky desert plains. When the last of the mountains fades behind them, Soundwave can’t help but feel a tinge of unease. The desert brings memories from when he first woke up after his “death”. It’s not a moment in his life-cycle he has any desire to re-live. Frenzy and Rumble don’t leave him a lot of time to dwell on bad memories, however. Their excitement about leaving the small pocket that was Cassette City has been steadily growing and the further away from the mountains they get the more it heightens.

There’s a steady influx of youthful elation about the smallest things over their bond. Like particularly sparkly rocks. Or the way the hot sunlight makes the air shimmer around them at times. Or the occasional critter scurrying through the sands past them.

Soundwave supposes if you spent your entire existence in a cave, all those things would seem fascinating and new. Still, he wishes they’d find another way to express their wonder than screaming at the top of their vents.

A small highlight in their journey comes when they discover an old stranded Cybertronian solar-glider. It’s too rusted for use and the sail is torn in several places, but to Rumble and Frenzy it might as well be the Sphere of Dorado. They climb all over the toppled vehicle, poking at this and that and asking Soundwave a million questions at once. Soundwave merely sends whatever he remembers about old solar gliders over their bond in response.

He’s not an archivist or a historian, so it’s not much, but it’s more than enough for the two mini-cons. While not as visor-opening for him as it is for Frenzy and Rumble, Soundwave can’t deny he’s pleased about this discovery. It’s at least one sign of Cybertronian life aside from Cassette City.

They end up camping by the glider at Rumble’s and Frenzy’s urging. When Soundwave moves to take the first watch as always, both of them insist to go instead, sharing conspiratorial smirks.

The next morning, Soundwave is presented with a cape, made from the solar sail’s remains, held together by a makeshift clasp.

“We noticed the wind was kinda botherin’ ya boss,” Rumble beams proudly, “so we figured we’d do somethin’ about it.”

“Cool, right?” Frenzy asks, visor expectant.

Soundwave looks down at the cape. It’s a dirty shade of dark brown, with various oil-smears all over it. The clasp is so jagged and rusty it could probably cut a bot if used as a weapon. Soundwave looks back at Rumble and Frenzy’s anticipative grins.

After a few more nano-kliks, he plucks it out of their tiny servos and, under their enthused cheers, lays it around his shoulders.

Trouble finds them the next solar cycle.

It starts when Rumble stumbles across the half-eaten chassis of a turbofox. Soundwave kneels down next to it to take a closer look while Frenzy and Rumble debate on whether they could bite a turbofox in half like that. (The end result of said debate being: Probably.)

The body shows clear teeth marks. Soundwave glances around. He can see faint prints leading away, but the sand has covered up most of them. He gets back to his feet, thinking. Turbofoxes usually come in packs. Isolating one and hunting it down like the one him, Frenzy and Rumble found takes skill and experience. All of this points to a predator.

He turns to Frenzy and Rumble.

“ - Frenzy – Rumble – no – sound -”

The two mini-cons nod. Soundwave motions for them to follow him.

It turns out his quiet and Frenzy’s and Rumble’s quiet is a bit different. The mini-cons start whispering among themselves the nano-klik they move. Soundwave has to send them several angry emotional pulses over their bond before they get the message and pipe down. But by then, Soundwave can already hear something moving behind a nearby rocky hill.

He holds up a hand and Rumble and Frenzy stop. All three of them look up as a slick, dark figure comes into view. It’s shadow falls over them as it comes to a halt at the top. Sharp, red optics take in their appearance. Razor-sharp claws glint in the sunlight.

Soundwave doesn’t move.

It’s a turbopanther. A big one. When on even ground, it’d probably reach a bit above his hip-joint. The turbopanther slowly stalks down the hill, glossa flicking over its lip-plates.

Soundwave thinks quickly.

Running away is not an option. It’s already seen them and none of them can hope to outrun a turbopanther without a vehicle-mode at their disposal. So a fight it is then. Beside him, he hears Frenzy and Rumble activate their in-built weapons.

He turns to them.

“ - no - “

They both stare at him, surprised.

Rumble frowns.

“But, boss, you sure you-”

Soundwave’s visor glows a deeper red. He doesn’t need to replay anything this time. The change in Frenzy’s and Rumble’s expressions tells him they got the message. Rumble retreats his piledrivers, Frenzy’s intake transforms back to normal. They both take a step back.

Soundwave lifts his staff and re-directs his focus back at the turbopanther.

It still stands there, hackles up and dark red optics fixated on him. Evidently it understands that for now, it only needs to pay attention to him. Not taking his visor of the predator for a nanoklik, Soundwave undoes the nod securing his makeshift cape and lets it drop to the ground. He grips his staff with both servos and takes a step forward.

The turbopanther mimics his movement, setting a paw into the sand in front of it. They advance toward each other until they’re barely a mechanometer apart. That’s when they start to circle, each movement a response to something the opposite side does, optics primed for any sign of attack or advancement the opponent might make.

In the end its the turbopanther who breaks and strikes first. A mild lowering of its hindpaws is all Soundwave gets before it launches itself forward. He wrenches his staff up, just as the beast’s jaws close, the force of its attack throwing him onto his back with a grunt.

Instead of wasting his strength trying to overpower it, Soundwave uses the momentum to his advantage. As soon as he hits the ground he jerks the staff up and behind him, sending the turbopanther flying and slithering through the sand.

Soundwave is back on his pedes almost immediately, whirling around and setting his visor back on the ‘panther. The turbopanther has recovered as well. There is a calculating look in its eyes as it and Soundwave resume their game of circling and waiting. It now knows that brute force alone won’t be enough to take him down. Soundwave’s also done some analyzing of his own.

The turbopanther is strong, no doubt, but it’s first move tells Soundwave it has become very reliant on that strength. Little wonder, with only a few noisy cassette mini-cons and smaller, scattered wildlife around to challenge it. Launching and overpowering was probably all it needed to do until now. Nevertheless, it is smart enough to recognize that weakness and try to come up with a new strategy.

“Try” being the keyword.

It’s next attack is quicker, more cautious, but also very brute strength-reliant. This time, Soundwave opts to dodge to the side when the turbopanther tries to lurch at him. He can tell it hasn’t put so much force into it that he’ll be able to use it against the animal this time.

Now that he has a loose idea of its fighting style (less complex than that of a typical Autobot soldier, but not by much), a strategy begins to build in his processor. The turbopanther has gotten used to him being on the defensive. Soundwave can see it in the way its gait has become more taunting, more daring: It thinks he’s scared of it.

An assumption it is so confident in, that when he suddenly rushes forward, it freezes in surprise for a nanoklik. That slight bit of hesitation is all Soundwave needs. He jabs his staff at the turbopanther’s throat, ready to end this then and there.

But as it turns out, the ‘panther isn’t the only one who’s been underestimating it’s opponent. With speed that rivals a Velocitronian racer, the turbopanther jerks to the side and clamps it’s jaws around Soundwave’s staff. It doesn’t stop the movement fully. Soundwave manages to push it a few mechanometers before the beast recovers and digs its hindpaws into the sand.

Soundwave doesn’t give it time to take control of the fight. He wrenches the staff to the side and the turbopanther, still holding onto it, is thrown into the sand, him on top of it. But again, it adapts more quickly than Soundwave would have expected. In a nigh perfect mirror of Soundwave’s previous move, the turbopanther uses his momentum against him and throws its head backwards.

Soundwave is unable to let go in time and is sent flying to the ground as well, clouds of golden sand rising into the air as his chassis hits the ground. He recovers at roughly the same time the ‘panther does. With both of them on the ground in severely vulnerable positions, all pretenses of strategy go out the window. Now it’s a wild, undignified rolling through the dirt, trying to get the upper hand.

Every time Soundwave almost manages to drive his staff into some part of the turbopanther’s plating is followed by a moment where he has a split-nanoklik to react in order to keep the beast from burying it’s steel-fangs into his servos or neck cables.

Through the ‘panther’s growls and hissing and his own glitch-riddled grunting, he can hear Rumble and Frenzy cheering him on in the background, yelling helpful things like “Woo! Get ‘im, boss!” or “Go for the optics, boss! The optics!”

After a good while of rolling around, Soundwave finally manages to get the upper hand. As the ‘panther snaps for his neck again, Soundwave kicks out, hitting the animal right in its tanks. The ‘panther shrieks and jerks away. Leaving it unable to defend itself when Soundwave thrusts his staff against it, throwing it off of him for good.

Not giving it any time to recuperate, he lurches up and plunges his staff down on its neck, pinning it where it lays. The turbopanther’s first reaction is instinctive panic; it writhes, growls, snaps and kicks, but anything belonging to Soundwave is out of its reach and the staff firmly pressing down on its neck prevents it from moving away.

Soundwave expects it to keep thrashing until it tires itself out. The second it does, he’ll crush its vents, giving it a quick, merciful death. It’s earned as much, with how ferocious it fought him. If there’s one thing Decepticons respect, it’s fighting spirit. And cunning. Which, surprisingly, the ‘panther also displayed some of.

Soundwave tilts his helm, curiosity piqued despite himself. He’s had scuffles with cybertronian wild-life before. Animals weren’t usually capable of this level of strategic thinking. Even Laserbeak’s intelligence only started to increase once he’d stayed with Soundwave for a good while. This one is different.

Adding to his intrigue, instead of keeping on fighting, the ‘panther now lays perfectly still, its red optics meeting his own visor. There is no fear in them. Only a sense of dignity and acceptance. It angles its head, offering him better access at its throat.

“Yeah, that’s it! Way to go, boss,” he hears Rumble cheer behind him.

Soundwave feels Rumble’s and Frenzy’s elation at his victory. But it’s not the only foreign emotion mirrored in his processor. There’s also a sense of... respect? Admiration? It’s not coming from Frenzy or Rumble. He’s learned to discern the two mini-cons’ emotions over the last few solar cycles. When they feel, it’s intense and energetic, one might even say erratic.

This new influx of emotions feels more subdued, more mature. Definitely not Frenzy or Rumble. Soundwave stares down at the turbopanther, not moving an inch. Could it be…?

But if he’s wrong...

There’s really only one way to find out.

Slowly, Soundwave removes his bident from the turbopanther’s neck.

“Whoa, whoa, boss, what’re you doin’?” Frenzy yelps.

Soundwave sends a calming pulse over their bond, indicating that he hasn’t dropped his guard. He senses Frenzy and Rumble calm down a little, though nervousness is still the dominant emotion in their systems when he pulls back. His visor stays on the ‘panther as it lifts itself off the ground. It’s optics never leave him in turn as it turns to face him.

It doesn’t attack again, but Soundwave can tell from the tension it carries that it’s willing to, should he give incentive for it.

Soundwave goes down on one knee, putting the bident beside him on the ground. The ‘panther’s optics briefly snap over to the weapon before re-settling on him. Soundwave raises both of his servos to show it he has nothing else. It briefly tenses up a bit, but relaxes once it sees for itself that he has nothing to continue their fight with, apart from his bare hands.

Soundwave waits a bit to make sure it won’t lash out at him, then extends a hand toward it. He feels Frenzy’s and Rumble’s anxiety spike for a nanoklik when he does. He doesn’t send a calming pulse this time. The mini-cons won’t interfere unless there is actual danger to his being and they need to learn to trust him if whatever it is they have is to last.

The ‘panther doesn’t do anything at first. It’s optics circle between Soundwave’s visor and his outstretched hand. They remain like that for a few nanokliks. And then the turbopanther slowly, but surely presses its head into his palm. The reaction is instantaneous. Soundwave feels a surge of abstract thoughts and feelings enter his processor, all at the same time.

Images and sounds that aren’t his, but somehow familiar, enter his memory banks. It’s wildly different and yet almost the same as when it happened with Frenzy and Rumble. And just like back then, it’s over about as soon as it starts.

When Soundwave returns to his own body, the ‘panther is watching him. Soundwave retracts his hand and goes through his memory banks. When they formed the bond, he’s seen something in the data stream.

“Um, boss? Did you just do what I think you did?” he hears Frenzy ask, with a tone equally cautious and disbelieving.

“I think he did, Frenzy.” Rumble sounds a bit more excited than his brother. “So, we got a murderous desert-beast on our side now? Cool!”

Soundwave turns his helm to them. “R-A-V-A-G-E.” The static makes his individual picking of the letters sound even more unnatural. For a moment, Soundwave wonders whether the twins have even understood. He feels their confusion at what they just heard. Luckily, it’s immediately replaced by a surge of understanding.

“Ruh… Ravage?” Frenzy tilts his helm, eyeing the turbopanther. “That his name?”

“Yes”, a cool voice speaks up in Soundwave’s processor, “that is her name.”

From the way Frenzy and Rumble jump, Soundwave guesses they heard it as well. He looks back at Ravage. She’s already using their bond in a way neither him nor Frenzy and Rumble had even considered. Impressive.

“Hang on, ya talk?” Frenzy squeaks.

“Not in your language,” Ravage replies easily, “it is not a tongue I am familiar with.” She tilts her head and gives a panther-grin. “And I believe I could learn to like this new one.” She looks back up at Soundwave. Her optics glint. “To a fruitful partnership.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take long for Ravage to establish herself in their little group. If anything, Soundwave finds it’s easier to get used to sharing his mind with her than it was with Frenzy and Rumble. Ravage’s thoughts and feelings are wholly unlike the twins’. Where they are manic and chaotic, Ravage is subdued and controlled.

She also uses their bond differently than the mini-cons.

In about a solar cycle, she manages to learn the entire basic cybex alphabet by extracting the information from Soundwave’s memory all at once. Soundwave doesn’t even feel her do it. He only realizes she did when he catches her testing her newfound knowledge by writing words in the sand with her claws.

The bond is also the only way she communicates with him, Rumble and Frenzy. As a turbopanther, her voicebox is too different from theirs to speak verbally. But to her credit, she expresses herself no less competently than Frenzy and Rumble do, though the twins complain about having a voice in their heads at first.

“It’s creepy,” Frenzy whines after the first solar cycle. “I don’t like that kinda noise in my processor!”

Soundwave can feel a small surge of amusement from Ravage.

“Yes, you seem like one whose processor is usually quiet.”

“Exactly!” Frenzy’s grin falls with realization. “Wait a minute! Was that an insult?”

It isn’t the first spat between the three Soundwave is eventually forced to break up, whether through sending a wave of disapproval through the bond or through physically separating the twins and Ravage. For some reason, both Frenzy and Rumble seem to have taken a strong dislike to Ravage’s presence. Soundwave can feel their resentment whenever Ravage writes a word they themselves struggle with or when her specialized optics spot something in the distance their visors can’t. They’re also noticeably more reluctant to leave his side, where before they would run off in any direction whenever they spotted something mildly interesting-looking.

Soundwave guesses they’re scared of losing their position as his ‘goons’ with Ravage’s addition to their group. He’s not sure how to handle that situation in particular. Everyone in the Decepticon ranks can confirm that he’s not exactly the best at positive reinforcement. He’s always been more the ‘terrify into compliance’ type, but that would hardly help here. Not for the first time, Soundwave wonders whether Shadow Striker would handle this whole thing better. Or Hot Rod.

The Autobot might not be Optimus Prime, but he has his own way of inspiring. Though he’ll never admit as much out loud, Soundwave doubts he could have handled the Decepticon-Autobot alliance during the Quintesson war half as well if it weren’t for Hot Rod and his constant positive reinforcement to their troops. Where Soundwave would be cut and dry, Hot Rod would elaborate. Where Soundwave had often lost patience, Hot Rod had given leeway.

Then again, Soundwave doubts Hot Rod would know how to handle the onslaught of emotion in his processor every solar cycle. He’s already an easily distracted bot.

Soundwave eventually resolves to try and make Frenzy and Rumble feel just as needed and useful as Ravage, by giving them tasks Ravage logically wouldn’t be able to handle, like making fires. He feels their pride whenever he asks one of them, specifically, to do a thing or tell him something. Sometimes they not so subtly throw a smug grin in Ravage’s direction which the turbopanther never deigns with a response.

Soundwave can’t help but be amused by her demonstrative ambivalence to the twins’ opinion of her. It reminds him of Shadow Striker who never so much as considered reigning in her sharp glossa in the whole time he’s known her. As does her pretty brutal honesty.

Once, when the group settles down to rest for the night cycle, she ambles over to him.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” she starts, sitting down next to him and washing the sand of her paws, “your memories. They show admiration for one called Megatron. A pack leader, by the looks of it.”

Ravage looks up at him.

“Why is that? From what I’ve observed he seems utterly incompetent. His actions speak of a greater concern for himself than his pack.”

Soundwave stiffens. The old him would have soundblasted the plating off of everyone who dared speak about his ex-leader like that. The present him still feels the familiar sting of anger at Ravage’s words. But no desire to act on it. Or even argue.

Because Ravage is right.

And Soundwave knows it.

He can’t tell when exactly he’s come to the conclusion that the Megatron he once chose to follow, the founder of the Decepticon rebellion, the fighter for freedom, has been long gone or perhaps never existed at all. But it was long before he found himself in this wasteland. In no small part thanks to Megatron’s actions during the Quintesson occupation. Or lack thereof. Still, this is the first time he’s confronted with such a cut and dry summary of it. The perks of being an outside party to it all. Ravage sees what he, too, has seen but chosen not to comment or act on.

“He wasn’t always like this,” he tells Ravage over the bond. Part of him can’t help but wonder if that’s even true. “Once, he was hope. The only hope bots like me had.”

Soundwave’s found it’s far easier to communicate over the bond with Ravage like this. Where Frenzy and Rumble are far too easily distracted to focus on more than images or impulses, it never seems particularly hard for Ravage to concentrate on and receive full sentences.

Ravage tilts her head. “Like you?”

“Outliers.”

“That word means nothing to me.”

Soundwave is silent for a few moments. How does one explain the concept of caste systems, of oppression, of being made wrong according to arbitrary guidelines? How the thrill of tearing down old unjust structures, being seen and being heard by someone who has gone through everything you have and promised you a better future? The righteous anger and contempt towards a reactionary opposing faction seemingly only formed to protect what remained of the oppressors?

He doesn’t want to share his memories about the time before the war, of old Cybertron. It would mean partly re-living them himself. Re-living the pain and humiliation of being looked down on, kicked around and abused.

So Soundwave simply looks ahead into the fire, hand clutching tighter around his bident.

“It’s… complicated.”

Ravage waits for him to say more. He doesn’t. After realizing he’s basically declared this conversation over, she stands up and stretches.

“If you say so.”

She wanders off into the night to hunt. Soundwave keeps staring into the flames.

"Hey, boss?"

Soundwave looks up from sharpening his bident. Frenzy and Rumble are standing in front of him, both looking uncomfortable. Soundwave can feel their anxiety over the bond. It reminds him of a newly forged being nervous about confessing a mistake to their chosen guardian.

He decides to wait.

Frenzy and Rumble exchange a nervous look. Eventually, Rumble speaks up.

"We were thinkin'... We've been searchin' for that thing with the frequencies real long now. And I'm not sayin' we won't keep lookin'-"

"We won't," Frenzy reiterates quickly.

"But what if... what if somethin' like that just doesn't exist around here?" Rumble continues, voice unusually cautious.

Soundwave looks at them for a few clics. They're saying out loud what he's started to think over the last few solar cycles. Apart from the solar glider and Cassette City they've had no other run-ins with Cybertronian technology or signs of Cybertronian civilization. And solar gliders haven't been used in the modern age for quite some time. Though Soundwave hates to admit it, it's quite possible that even if this planet was an old Cybertronian colony, it could very well have been established before the invention of mobile comm stations.

But what alternatives are there? What else can he do to come into contact with Cybertron?

His thoughts are interrupted by a cool voice in his processor.

"It exists."

Both Soundwave and the twins turn to look at Ravage, casually lying on a sand hill.

Frenzy glares at her.

"Oh yeah? How would you know that?"

"I've seen it."

Soundwave stares at Ravage .

"You've... seen it."

"Yes."

"Here. On this planet."

"Yes."

Ravage rolls onto her back, purring contentedly as the sunlight hits her belly-plating.

"My territory spans far wider than this small patch of sand. I've seen the thing you want to find several times, when I was hunting. But I didn't care about it before, so I never approached it."

“And you didn’t think to mention this because...?”

Ravage stretches lazily, tail waving through the air. Soundwave swears he detects smugness on her feline faceplate. “You didn’t think to ask me. Besides, it was fun to watch you and the little ones run around in the sand.”

Rumble and Frenzy immediately start cussing Ravage out, using words Soundwave can't for the spark of him remember having taught them. Maybe they're more adept at looking into his memory files than he gave them credit for.

To his surprise, Soundwave doesn't feel any anger or irritation at Ravage himself. Only a strange kind of... fondness? Admiration? It isn't really like he has any right to judge. He's no stranger to withholding information for nothing more than personal amusement.

Frenzy and Rumble have finished screeching and are now venting for air, while Ravage looks down on them from her spot with an entertained glint in her red optics.

"Will you share the coordinates then?" he asks over the bond.

Ravage rolls back onto her paws, shaking some sand off. "I suppose I've had my fun."

Her optics glow faintly. The next moment, Soundwave sees a moving image in his processor. It takes him a few clics to realize that Ravage just sent him a memory. Her sense of orientation is different from his, but it doesn't take long to translate. Once he’s done he transmits the information to Rumble and Frenzy as well. They’ve gone back to grumbling in the meantime but immediately pipe down once they feel him contacting them over the bond.

Soundwave waits until he’s sure the new data has reached their processors (the usual surge of excitement, followed by confusion then even more excitement is a good indicator that it has). Then gets up from the rock he’s been perching on, readjusting his cloak.

“The sun is still up. If we hurry, we can make it a fourth of the way before dark.”

Ravage gives off a slightly resentful huff. “If I’d known I was going to be deprived of my well-earned sunbath I would have waited with giving you that information for longer.”

Nevertheless she rolls around and gets back up, strolling over to his side. Soundwave turns to the twins, who have taken to arguing who made sense of the new message sent to them first.

“Need – to go – now”

“Right away, boss!” Frenzy shouts. He throws a pointed glare at Ravage. “You can always count on us!”

Ravage ignores him, observing the distant horizon as she falls into a comfortable trot beside Soundwave.