Work Text:
The Decepticons have recently defected once more, following Starscream and his plan for ‘New Cybertron’.
A farfetched plan to be sure, but it's for the best. Autobots and Decepticons simply don't mix. Not for the long term, anyhow—chance team-ups and life and death situations notwithstanding. Soundwave is glad for their departure. He is not glad for the sudden competition for energon, but what is it if not a return to form? He'll survive.
Though the restrained energon supply does become slightly more irritating when he gets a ping on his HUD one day, cheerfully informing him that his cassette building program has engaged once more. It comes as a mild surprise; not that he'd forgotten about it, certainly not, but his docks had been full for so long that it hadn't needed to activate. That ping hasn't gone off in a millenia.
“Wait, boss, no,” Frenzy says, barely letting him finish telling his cassettes of the program's reactivation. She waves her arms wildly, then stomps her foot with a palpable petulance. “That's Rumble’s spot!”
“Rumble: is no longer with us.”
“Yeah, but—but—!” Her shoulders hike up to her audio receptors. “Turn it off!”
“Program: cannot be interrupted.” Honestly, considering the energon shortage, he wouldn't mind being able to turn it off as well, or at least put it on pause, but the program concerns his very spark.
Alt-modes such as his own—tape decks, CD players, juke boxes—are the only ones on Cybertron that can split their sparks into separate frames. Technically, it is a simple splitting of the self; many Cybertronians do not seem to understand this, due to how the smaller components will often seem very different from the host. Some have tried to proclaim that they are simply stealing and modifying protoforms, while other, more conspiracy-minded people have considered alt-modes like himself branches of the Allspark. He wants to call them all imbeciles, but truthfully, alt-modes like his are so rare that it's not fair to expect their innerworkings to be common knowledge.
Plus, Cybertron is probably dead, as are most of its citizens, so there isn't even anybody to direct this anger at.
The reality is that the spark sliver can only hold so much of the host's personality, so the components will often end up rather one-track minded in the beginning, with only one or two character traits that are taken from the host's core. Over time, the components will gain experience and memories that differ from the host, thus resulting in a more multifaceted personality. They both are and are not their own people; all of one spark, just not of one frame and processor.
Soundwave is glad that his cassettes have lived long enough to collect traits of their own. Personally, while the theories themselves are insulting, he does not actually mind the misunderstanding, as he would prefer to keep the more unruly aspects of his own personality under wraps. Nobody needs to know how much of Frenzy is derived from himself.
Since the program splits his very spark, though, once it is engaged, it cannot be stopped, otherwise his spark could suffer damage. Implosion, atrophy, a spin-stutter—too dangerous. The program must run its course.
Besides. Dwindling supply of energon aside, having another member of the team will be useful to the cause. He can't find it in himself to be too annoyed about the reactivation.
He is a bit annoyed that it had waited until after they'd defected, but. Well. It doesn't matter now.
Frenzy still looks upset, spark pulsing with misdirected fury and hurt, and he tries his best to send some Shockwave-brand soothing logic over their bond. “Program: would have engaged eventually,” he says. “Rumble: is here.” He lays a hand flat on his chassis. It's true—since Rumble had perished in contact with Soundwave, his body had been able to reclaim the spark sliver he had contained. This was a rather lucky event, as a host only has so many spark splits they can handle before their spark gives out. If a cassette dies too far from the host, that sliver of spark is gone for good, and the host's life expectancy is cut ever shorter.
His spark aches at the idea of Rumble's death having been lucky. He pushes this dutifully aside.
“You'll need larger energon rations,” Ravage points out. Her tail flicks in frustration. “Starscream may not allot them for you.”
“Starscream: understands the program,” Soundwave replies evenly. Ravage was the first cassette his program had ever produced, and as such, she is the most like himself. Her concern is something that he had already considered. “Starscream: was present for Rumble and Frenzy’s building.”
Occasionally, the program experiences a slight glitch, creating two cassettes at a time instead of one, if the space allocates for it. Rumble and Frenzy were the product of one such glitch; this resulted in the unfortunate requirement of even more energon than normally needed for the cassette program. Luckily, Megatron had granted him the increased ration portion, and while Starscream had been confused (and, though he would not admit it, jealous), he had understood well enough once Soundwave explained how host and component systems worked.
“Can I name ‘im?” Laserbeak squawks, then screeches when Frenzy pounds her fist on top of his head.
“Component: will name themself,” Soundwave replies. To Frenzy, he says, “Apologize.”
“He's acting like—like—like Rumble just doesn't matter anymore!”
“Did I say that?” Laserbeak spits out. “Hey, boss, play it back—when did I say that? Pretty sure the answer is never!”
“All excited to pick a new name—”
“Ever heard of a joke?”
“—like they'd ever want a name you picked out—”
“I'm great at names—”
“—can’t even name yourself good—”
Their petty argument devolves into a hands-on fight, leaving the two of them writhing in the dirt, attempting to choke each other and peck each other's optics out. Both Ravage and Soundwave sigh at the ridiculous display.
“Maybe this next one will be a calmer aspect of you,” Ravage comments idly.
“Soundwave: hopes so.”
-
He means to go to Starscream promptly afterwards, so as to put in his request for increased rations, but this course of action is forced to the side as two new shards of the Emberstone have been located at once.
One is in up high, atop a mountain—Starscream assigns himself and his trine to retrieve this one—while another is located beneath the ground, in a very small cave system.
“Your cassettes may very well be the only ones of us who can fit,” Starscream muses. “Go. Here are the coordinates.”
“Backup: requested,” Soundwave asks.
“Backup?” Naked surprise flashes across his face, before he corrects it into his more usual derisive smirk. “Why, Soundwave,” he purrs. “Do you not think yourself capable of taking on two measly humans? A couple protoforms?” He shrugs airily as he continues, “Really, it might even be one human, if they're already aware of the same two locations.”
Soundwave resists the urge to ball his hands into fists. Starscream is teasing him; this is simply one of his coping mechanisms after the ridicule he'd suffered as Megatron’s second in command (and oh, would Starscream hate it if he pointed this out). However, just because Soundwave recognizes it for what it is doesn't mean that it isn't annoying. One aspect of himself that has made home in all of his cassettes—pride. “Soundwave: will retrieve the shard.”
“Oh?” Starscream cocks a brow. “Confident now, aren't we?”
[Boss, don't] Ravage sends over their private commline. [Tell him about the program. We need to make sure that it's not disrupted. If you take any shots to the chassis, that could mean spark failure.]
She makes a very good point. A very, very good point.
Unfortunately, Rumble really is still here, because Soundwave’s next words are, “Soundwave: superior.”
-
It does end up being only one of the humans, which is a rarity nowadays. Not that the human is even a modicum of a threat—no amount of fancy armor, even that which is given from Quintus Prime himself, could make a mere Earth child match up to even a single finger of a Cybertronian. The protoforms she brings with her, however, could perhaps match up to an arm.
Her favorite little motorbike is her ride of choice—Thrash, the attention-deficit human at heart—and their muscle of today is the van, Hashtag, who would probably also wish to be human, were she not granted incredible technological skills as a mech.
Even during their brief time working together, he could never understand it. Why would any mech ever desire to inhabit such a weak form? It's not as if Earth’s society is any more desirable than Cybertron’s was, so the draw can't be that.
He has no time to ponder this question; no sooner has he sent Ravage into the caves than the Malto-bot group has arrived, and Mo is doing an unfortunately good job of evading both his own and his cassettes’ attacks in an attempt to enter the tunnels herself. She, too, is the smallest of their group, and thus the only one who can fit.
Trying to keep her out is mostly a distraction—while she may be fast, were she to enter, she’d simply encounter Ravage, who would handily immobilize her and retrieve the shard, but it's still something he'd like to avoid. He's quite certain that he would've managed to stop her by now were Thrash and Hashtag not raining a full-frontal assault down upon him.
He could kill them. He could kill them very, very easily. Unfortunately, however brief their time had been together, it had been enough to not entirely desire their deaths, so he tries to keep his attacks as non-lethal as he can. This has the side-effect of his attacks being grossly underpowered, and the Terrans are far sturdier than they'd once been. Hashtag, especially, is not an easy mech to knock down. He sees what Starscream likes about her; she's a natural.
Thrash is…not as impressive of a natural as she, but he does have the advantage of more training, so he, too, is not a simple step-and-squash. Behind his mask, Soundwave grinds his teeth. What he wouldn't give to not have this mercy residing in his spark for these protoforms.
“Why did Robby get Bee?” Mo cries, dodging a divebomb from Laserbeak, before attempting to drive her sword into his back. Frenzy comes to his aid with a well-timed strum of her guitar that sends Mo flying backwards.
“‘Cause Robby’s up with Starscream?” Hashtag replies. Soundwave can hear the uh, duh? that she does not voice.
Thrash cycles in a rapid spin, kicking up a cloud of dirt that momentarily blinds Soundwave. “Starscream shmarscream,” he whines. “Soundwave is way scarier!”
“Don't— ah!” Hashtag tries to reply, but Soundwave throws a punch through the cloud, guessing where she is and only missing by a hair. “Don't tell him that!”
“He knows!”
Soundwave does know. He lets a smug smile flicker across his face for a moment before it gets wiped clean off, a crushing punch landing right in his chassis that knocks the wind out of him.
For a moment, his optics short-circuit, and panic flares across his spark-bond. He's not sure whether the panic comes from him or one of the cassettes; the simple fact that it's there and this strong is debilitating enough.
“Stop!” Frenzy screeches, tearing herself away from Mo and aiming a blast of sound at Hashtag instead.
“Frenzy—the human—” Soundwave protests.
“Nuh-uh, boss, no can do,” she snarls. “That sliver’s in Rumble’s spot, and I'm making sure they live for me to punch them in the face.”
“Uh, what?” Hashtag says, taken completely off-guard. Actually, all the fighting seems to have stopped the moment that Frenzy intervened.
Mo, sword still pointed at Laserbeak, retracts her mask so that Soundwave can see the tiny furrow of her brow. “Rumble?” she asks. The furrow deepens as she frowns. “Why do I know that name…”
“Sliver?” Thrash echoes.
Mo snaps her fingers. “Rumble!” she cries triumphantly, pumping her unoccupied fist in the air. “He was one of your cassettes! He's come up sometimes in mom and dad's stories!”
“Sliver?” Thrash asks again, head bobbing between Mo and Soundwave.
Hashtag’s shoulders slump. “Uh, yeah, I'm lost.”
“Soundwave: engaged in cassette building program,” Soundwave says hesitantly, tracing his fingers along his chassis where the blow had been. It had certainly hurt, but there appears to be no permanent damage, and the program is still going steady. If he focuses and listens, he can hear the tiny whirs and clicks of mechanisms coming together.
“Boss,” Frenzy hisses.
“Boss!” Laserbeak squawks.
Yes, were Ravage not deep in the tunnels right now retrieving the shard, he's rather sure that she'd be disappointed in him too for revealing a possible weakness. However, he can tell that this confusion has stopped the Malto-bots in their tracks. If he can take advantage of this momentary pause and give her a bit more time…
“Building…?” Hashtag says, optics ping-ponging over Soundwave’s frame as he stands back up, Frenzy giving unnecessary support to his legs. “You make them?”
“Correct.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Thrash mutters, shaking his head and waving his hands quickly. “You mean like in a lab, right? Or at a workbench? You're—what, working on the schematics right now?”
“No.” Soundwave taps at his chassis twice. “Soundwave: is building new cassette in their dock.”
All three of them go slack-jawed.
“Wait,” Mo says, “wait. Soundwave—are you—are you pregnant?”
He frowns behind his mask. “Soundwave: is not organic,” he replies, suppressing a shiver at the very concept of such a thing. “Soundwave: is not pregnant.”
“Okay, but, you—they’re like, alive, right?”
“Right here,” Laserbeak snarls, and Frenzy sticks out her tongue at her.
Mo jumps, a touch guilty, but persists. “Sorry! I didn't mean—I just meant, yeah, obviously they're alive, so like—you’re… creating life?”
“No,” Soundwave says, a bit tired of this conversation. He thought he'd gotten away from this kind of talk, now that Cybertron was no more. It's part of why being quiet is so beneficial—nobody dared ask Megatron’s eyes and ears how his cassette building program worked, if he was stealing sparks or a holo-form of the Allspark. “Soundwave: is a tape deck. Cassettes: components to tape decks. Soundwave: host to components.”
“What’s ‘pregnant’? Thrash asks, and Mo squeaks in horror as Hashtag opens her mouth.
“No! Do not answer that!” she begs. Obligingly, Hashtag closes her mouth, but when she cocks her head, Mo continues with a shudder, “I do not want to know what you learned that from. Actually! I really hope that you were gonna give the wrong answer! Thrash,” her voice becomes very patient, near patronizing, as she turns to her brother. “Pregnant is when, um—it's when something, usually a mammal—” She whips back around to Soundwave and says, “I learned in school actually that there are very few things that aren't mammals that can get—or, wait. I think I might've gotten that backwards. A mammal that lays eggs.” She's silent for a few moments, then snaps her fingers, shouting, “Echidna!”
“Get to the point, squishy, before I make you go splat,” Frenzy yawns. She skims her fingers over her guitar threateningly, though no murderous intent actually flickers into his spark. She's clearly just bored.
“Squishy,” Mo huffs, but complies. “It's when a mammal is gonna have a baby.”
“Ohhh,” Thrash says, nodding. “I don't get it.”
“I'll explain it later!” Mo cries. “Or mom can! Geez! Actually, yeah, mom can! But, Soundwave, if you're pregnant—”
“Soundwave: not—”
“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be on, like, I dunno,” she shrugs helplessly, “maternity leave?”
What.
Before he can ask her to elaborate, Ravage shoots out of the tunnels, launching over Mo and straight towards Soundwave’s compartment. The distraction worked—he’s not sure if the Malto-bots even remembered that Ravage should have been here.
[Too easy,] Ravage preens over comms, dropping the shard into his hand just as she transforms. He snaps his compartment open to let her inside, careful not to leave it open for too long lest one of the enemies decide to not have the same mercy on him that he's given them through the entire ordeal.
[Shard: undamaged?]
[Of course. What about you? I felt pain—]
[Soundwave: unharmed,] he assures her.
The protoforms gasp, confusion, shock, then outrage rippling off of them in quick succession. “The shard!” Mo shrieks. “Ooh, you—you—!”
“I got this,” Thrash crows, swinging into his alt mode and driving off of a rock conveniently shaped like a ramp, aiming for Soundwave’s face before getting smacked promptly into the ground by Soundwave’s hand. He wheezes out, “I don't got this.”
They make their retreat quickly, Frenzy blowing them away with a quick blast of her guitar as Laserbeak retracts back into his compartment, and she follows, letting Soundwave land the last blow of a frequency that could leave their audials ringing for days.
Transforming into his flier mode, Soundwave departs, not wanting to waste any more time engaging with the Malto-bots when the mission has already succeeded. He considers leaving them with some kind of stinging last words, but that feels a bit too Starscream at the moment, so he settles on whipping up a dust cloud in his wake.
[Soundwave: successful,] he comms to Starscream as he rises.
The last thing he hears before taking off for good is, “Didn't he say he was a tape deck?”
Upon his return, Starscream nods, red optics seeming to absorb the glow that the shard emits between his fingertips. “There, now,” he says, fitting their two newest pieces into place. “Was that so hard?”
Soundwave bristles, shoulder plating shifting audibly as he tenses. Immature. Ridiculous. Starscream is riling him up on purpose, and he knows it. “Starscream: is not Megatron. Soundwave: is not Starscream,” Soundwave says sharply, perhaps against his better judgment.
Maybe not perhaps. If Soundwave had been tense, Starscream becomes stone, body locking up completely before he seems to manually reset it. “I beg your pardon?”
“Soundwave: completed mission,” he continues. Now that he's started, he can't just stop. Soundwave is not Starscream, and Starscream is not Megatron. Not only will Starscream not rip off one of his wings for this, physically, he is unable to. Not to say that Starscream isn't dangerous—he’s merely not capable of the same sorts of punishment as Megatron. “Soundwave: requested backup. Mission: nearly jeopardized.”
“Against the protoforms? You nearly lost to the protoforms?”
Ah. Soundwave still hasn't told him about the cassette program.
Starscream doesn't look particularly receptive to criticism right now though, optics bulging and frame practically quaking with barely-held rage, and Soundwave decides that he's rather tired of dealing with this. Understandable or not—Starscream is getting on his nerves.
“Soundwave: will require larger energon rations,” he bites out. “Missions will also be relegated to other members.”
“What? Are you—you’re shirking your work? Seriously?” He blinks, enraged snarl twisting into a slightly less enraged, slightly more confused grimace. “More energon?”
“No more missions,” Soundwave says, relishing in the helpless stupor simply saying no has rendered Starscream. “Soundwave: is on maternity leave.”
-
He decides to research human pregnancy.
As predicted, Mo was extremely far off in her assumption, and the more he finds, the more disturbed he gets as he wonders what exactly Mo had been picturing. For one thing, human pregnancy require two parties for procreation—who was she possibly imagining as being the…what was it humans called it. Father?
That's another thing, humans and their gender. Genders. Sexes. So many. Cybertronians are unisexual, entirely of the same sex, and reproduction occurs through the Allspark, not any one of their species. He supposes that Mo’s confusion makes sense, given her limited human experiences, but Cybertronian reproduction couldn't be any more different from the human method. Not to mention the ‘how’ of it…
Eugh. It was around that point in his research that he'd decided enough of that, and more of what Mo had been speaking of, some sort of implied benefits for the pregnant members of their workforce. He compiles a list of these, though admittedly, some of them are less useful than others, considering their purpose. No matter. Starscream certainly won't know the difference, and knowing how much he despises organics, he won't care to research it.
Speaking of Starscream.
“You can't be serious,” he groans, pacing back around to where Soundwave lays on a makeshift berth. This is about the seventh time he's said this in the past two days. “You're really just going to—to sit here? Do nothing?”
“Soundwave: on maternity leave,” he reminds him.
“Yes, yes, you've said that,” Starscream replies with a flippant wave of his hand. “I don't know what that means. You can't just say you're taking leave without explanation!”
“Soundwave: had empty dock. Cassette-building program: engaged.”
“I know that too!” Starscream bursts. Frustration rolls off him in waves, and Soundwave drinks it in, savors it. “But see, I remember Laserbeak, I remember Rumble and Frenzy—you never took leave those times! Is it another glitch? Are you concerned about—about energon deficiency again?”
“Only one dock,” Soundwave says. “No.”
Well. Yes. Starscream doesn't need to know that, though, and this isn't about that.
“The week you were building Laserbeak was one of the most productive weeks in the entire Decepticon siege,” Starscream grinds out.
Soundwave shrugs. Ravage, who is laying across his stomach, stretches her jaw into a wide yawn, before settling her chin atop his chest. They make for the perfect picture of relaxation, and Soundwave is almost giddy off of the way Starscream seethes.
Dragging his hands down his face, Starscream whispers, “I don't believe this,” then mutters louder, “I don't believe this. You—you’re acting ridiculous. Irrational. Insane! This has never happened during your other builds.” Dropping his hands to his sides, he begs, “What is wrong with you?”
Oh, it's too perfect. “Soundwave: experiencing hormonal fluctuations.”
An optic twitch.
“What?” Starscream says, voice faint.
“Soundwave: experiencing hormonal—”
“You don't,” Starscream shrieks, hands coming up as if to choke him, “have hormones!”
-
How has Soundwave never thought of taking leave before? This has been the most relaxing week of his life.
“So,” Breakdown says, sitting next to him awkwardly. They don't usually refuel together, but since Soundwave has staunchly refused to leave base, the mechs going in and out of patrols and missions have filtered over to his little ‘berth’ over the past couple of days.
Breakdown is easy company. A bit talkative, sometimes, but considering Soundwave is host to Frenzy and Laserbeak, this is nothing new. Plus, when Soundwave does not wish to participate in conversation, his two chattiest components pick up the slack, and Breakdown is happy enough to converse with them as well.
He's been able to feel it for a while, the affection that spins off of Breakdown’s frame when interacting with each and every Decepticon—even Starscream, which would surely render their leader speechless—but he hadn't gotten the chance to sit down with Breakdown long enough to understand where it came from.
He's toying with a cube of energon, glancing between Soundwave and it every couple of seconds.
“Breakdown: has an inquiry?” Soundwave poses.
His shoulders jump, embarrassment spiking off of him sharply. Sometimes Soundwave wishes that other Cybertronians could experience the emotional wavelengths that he senses, if only so that a being other than himself could understand the humor that can come from sensing someone's emotions before they lift a finger.
“Uh,” Breakdown says elegantly, “nope.”
“Breakdown: spoke first.”
He scratches at his helm. “I did do that, huh,” he says, then sighs. “Alright, I'll bite—why’re you staying at base? Really— I know it's not ‘cause of the cassette building thing.” A small frown flickers across his face as he continues, “Well, Frenzy did tell me you got socked in the spark, but you don't spook that easily, right?”
“Correct,” Soundwave replies easily. He retracts his mask so as to sip at his own energon cube.
“So why the vacation?”
“Soundwave: is…” He hesitates, suddenly remembering how immature his true reasoning is, before remembering that this is Breakdown, and he, of all the Decepticons here, would probably understand this best. “...Lightly reminding Starscream that he is not Megatron.”
Breakdown grins. “You're taking the piss.”
“Soundwave: is unfamiliar with that term.”
“Oh, Soundwave, buddy,” he says, clapping Soundwave on the shoulder as he sits right up atop the berth with him. “We have got to have a movie night. Swear, movies, TV? Only things worth saving ‘bout this planet.”
To be quite honest, Soundwave tries not to think about anything on this planet, for fear of taking mercy on it in the same way he's begrudgingly taking mercy on the Malto-bots, but he supposes that New Cybertron could have some sort of history museum in which pieces of Earth media are saved.
Also, he's not done anything for a week, and while it is relaxing, he. Well. He's finding himself a bit bored.
Not bored enough to give in, but bored.
“Soundwave: accepts,” he replies.
And they do have a movie night, a mere hour after Breakdown had suggested it. Breakdown, empathetic, attached mech that he is, kindly waits until everyone is back at base, then announces it as loud as he can, which is quite loud.
“I find this…” Shockwave starts, then stops as he sees Frenzy mouthing illogical at him mockingly. “...A strange course of action. Is the plan not to eliminate Earth and reform it in Cybertron’s image?”
“Duh,” Breakdown says. “Doesn't mean we can't keep some of their movies.”
Shockwave leans towards Soundwave's audio receptors. In a low voice, he asks, “Is this part of your rebellion against Starscream?”
“Soundwave: is not rebelling,” he corrects quickly, though honestly, he's not entirely sure what to call what he's doing. Pranking, maybe? “And no. Movie night: was Breakdown's suggestion.”
“To alleviate your boredom during your…maternity leave.”
“Affirmative.”
Shockwave is quiet for a few more moments before saying, “I did research that term, you know.”
Of course he would. “And?”
In a fluid motion, Shockwave sits down on the tarp that Breakdown has set out, an unnecessary and immature recreation of human ‘movie night’ settings. He lets out a small hum. “And I hope that you have a successful delivery.”
That startles a laugh out of Soundwave, one that, apparently, startles everyone else, because they all turn to look for the source of the sound, optics landing on him all at once. It makes sitting down a far less graceful endeavor than Shockwave's.
“Starscream’s plan is illogical anyhow,” Shockwave murmurs softly. “Perhaps a couple rounds of illogical inconsistencies will knock a modicum of sense back into him.”
“Matter: cannot be created or destroyed.”
They both laugh a little at that one, though the moment is broken by Breakdown, who had been searching through their database like a madman in the hopes of finding a good selection of Earth media for the night. His crow of victory wakes Ravage from her recharge, knocking her head into Soundwave's thigh with a lazy snarl.
“Al right!” Breakdown cries. “What're we starting with, Dragonball: Evolution, or the Hell House LLC trilogy?”
“The what?” Starscream's voice cuts through, apparently having finally realized that his entire team has congregated to a single spot in the base.
He stalks towards the tarp, wings bristling, and Breakdown shoots up into the least disrespectful stance he can manage. “Hey, boss,” he grins, nervousness practically leaking from his optics, “you, uh—wanna put in a vote?”
Starscream does not look like he wants to vote. “What is this,” he mutters. “No, really—what is this?”
“It's, uh, movie night,” Breakdown replies earnestly, then delivers the finishing blow of, “Soundwave's been bored on maternity leave.”
While Breakdown may not have meant for it, the scream that erupts from their leader’s mouth truly lives up to the name of it's maker.
(The movies were awful. Soundwave recalls reading of some of the superstitions of pregnant people, and questions whether or not the new cassette will like terrible movies due to this. He desperately hopes not—willing to give Earth media a chance he may be, Breakdown's taste is terrible.)
-
All good things must come to an end.
Cassette_build_05 Complete, flashes on his HUD, about a week and a half into his vacation from activity.
“Fast,” Ravage muses. “A smaller one?”
He shakes his head. He does not know their schematics yet.
“What're you waiting for?” Frenzy asks, hopping down from the berth and punching a fist into her palm. “Let’s meet the new guy!”
“Soundwave: is waiting for you to put down your fist.”
“But—”
“Frenzy: will not punch new cassette.”
Her fist drops. “Fine.”
He doesn't believe her, and from the looks on their faces alone, neither do Ravage and Laserbeak, but there's not really much he can do about that other than tell her no again. Ravage sidles a touch closer to her, and Soundwave sends a pulse of approval her way.
Looking at her, he thinks of Rumble, thinks of their first deployment out of his chest. How Frenzy had awoken with an ear-splitting scream, and Rumble had immediately slugged her in the face. Both still blocky and unadorned, he'd been hard-pressed to tell the twins apart, but he'd recognized himself in them intimately. Frenzy had formed from his desire to scream, to be heard, to let everyone know how much it hurt and how much he hated it. Rumble, from a similar place; his desire to make others hurt.
They'd loved each other fiercely, Rumble and Frenzy, and while Soundwave had been hesitant to admit that the two of them reflected any aspect of himself at all, they were him, one spark, and so he loved them just as much. Ravage had taken some time to acclimate to them, but eventually accepted their chaos and her place right next to Soundwave in the eye of the storm. Laserbeak had caught on with them quite well when he'd been built—though once again, Rumble had seen it fit to leave a bruise on their newest member.
“Boss?” Ravage asks. Her low voice breaks him out of his haze. Right.
If he knows one thing—one single thing—it’s that the part of Rumble that's returned to him absolutely loved the week of messing with Starscream.
“Deploy: Cassette 05.”
As soon as his chassis snaps open, the new cassette flies out, flies, on wings—an avian model, like Laserbeak—and he lets out a high, maniacal laugh.
“So much for a quiet one,” Ravage sighs.
The new cassette swoops through the air, twirling, preening, and laughing still, loud enough to be heard by the entire base. He's going fast, but not so fast that Soundwave can't get a look at him; yellow and black, with small white accents, nearly the same mold as Laserbeak but with a deadly sharpness to his wings and claws. Laserbeak has always preferred surveillance. Soundwave can immediately tell that this mech prefers a hands-on approach.
“What is that infernal racket—”
Starscream stalks into view in a spectacularly timed show of fate, for as soon as he makes it to their ring, the new cassette comes plowing through the air, dive bombing straight in the chest and knocking him into the ground. In fact, the cassette does such a good job of an accidental attack that the two of them go sliding in the dirt for a few moments before finally falling still.
Starscream groans. The cassette sits up, squawking in indignation.
“Hello,” Soundwave says, kneeling down next to Starscream’s chassis. “Query: designation?”
“Buzzsaw,” the cassette declares, flaring his wings. When he tilts his head, Soundwave can see the fanged edges of his beak catch in the light. “Primus, that was torture. I do not like small spaces.”
This is true for Soundwave as well. How unfortunate for one of his cassettes to have grafted this trait, as being confined to a small space is a large part of their existence.
“Soundwave: will keep docking to a minimum,” he promises. Buzzsaw chirps in appreciation.
“A bird!” Laserbeak cries, hopping up next to Soundwave. “Buzzsaw? I should take you for a fly around here, it’s great—”
“Shut up,” Frenzy snarls as she pushes past him. “New guy?”
“Buzzsaw,” he preens.
Soundwave really should have been faster. As it is, he wasn't, and Frenzy punches Buzzsaw in the face. Hard.
He gets catapulted off of Starscream's chest and into a tree, impacting with a heavy thunk, before sliding slowly, achingly, to the ground below.
Soundwave frowns down at Frenzy.
“What?” she huffs, crossing her arms. “I warned you.”
Well. She did do that.
Starscream groans again, though Soundwave is aware that he's not actually lost consciousness during this, and has instead been staring up at the sky, perhaps wondering what higher power led him to this point
“Cassette build: complete,” Soundwave reports.
“I can see that.” Starscream lays there for a few moments more before finally sitting up. “Is it an apology you wanted? Is that why you've removed yourself from duty?”
“Soundwave: requires nothing.”
He rolls his optics. “Yes, yes, you're above all this, we're all aware. I'm—” His face contorts into a deep grimace. “I apologize for not taking your concerns seriously.”
Damn. He hadn't actually expected Starscream to relent, much less say the word ‘apologize’. It is, he supposes, what he'd wanted in the first place, but it still feels strange to have actually gotten it.
Though, Starscream does look reluctant. Very, very reluctant.
“Soundwave: appreciates apology,” he replies, and Starscream’s grimace lessens into a frown. “It will be kept in mind once Soundwave returns to active duty.”
“Oh, sweet Primus, thank you,” Starscream sighs, dropping his helm into his hands. “You have no idea how annoying it is, working with them without your—wait.” His helm snaps back up, optics squinted. “When you return?”
It's too good. It's just too good to pass up. “Maternity leave: eight weeks.”
Starscream stares at him, unmoving.
“New parent: given time to bond with baby.”
It could have been a second. It could have been an hour. It could have been all the time in the world, and no time at all, between Soundwave's words and Starscream's next.
“For the last time,” Starscream says, his voice a deadly whisper. “You. Are. Not. Pregnant!”
From a distance, Soundwave is sure he can hear the base laughing.