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Bumblebee had been the first to notice that something didn’t sit right with Longarm.
At first, he brushed it off.
Longarm was an Elite Guard. High-ranked. Experienced.
Of course, he’d act differently.
Of course, he’d make choices Bee didn’t always understand. Bee told himself he was overthinking—he always did that.
And of course, Longarm was the only one who helped Bumblebee when no one else would.
So why should Bumblebee think differently about Longarm?
But the feeling didn’t go away.
It grew.
Tiny things.
Almost nothing.
Longarm would hesitate before responding to a joke.
He’d pause just a fraction too long before giving orders.
He’d look at teammates not like a bot—but like a calculation.
Things no one else noticed.
But Bumblebee did.
Bee noticed patterns. He always had.
Mistakes Longarm wouldn’t normally make.
The wrong kind of confidence.
The wrong kind of distance.
A smile that never quite reached his optics.
Bee didn’t accuse. Didn’t confront.
He just watched.
And watched.
And waited.
By the time the truth came out—by the time the evidence stacked too high to ignore—it was already too late for Longarm.
Because Longarm had never existed.
He was Shockwave.
And because Bumblebee had trusted his instincts instead of dismissing them, Shockwave was captured alive.
Imprisoned.
---
A few days later, Bumblebee stood outside a high-security holding wing, flanked by Elite Guard soldiers.
Shockwave had made a request.
He wanted to speak to Bumblebee.
Optimus argued against it. Ratchet hated it. Bulkhead nearly broke a wall. Sari yelled. Prowl went stiff.
Shockwave was a strategist.
Interrogation rules applied.
And Shockwave specifically wanted him.
So Bumblebee went, but under heavy surveillance.
While the rest of the team watched from another room, cameras trained on every angle of the cell because even in a cell, no one trusted Shockwave not to come up with some plan to escape, and they weren't risking Bumblebee's safety.
---
Bumblebee walked slowly toward the cell.
Shockwave stood inside it, perfectly still, hands folded behind his back like a patient instructor waiting for a student to arrive.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched.
Finally—
"You should take pride in your accomplishment,” he said evenly. “Your actions directly resulted in my capture.”
Bumblebee didn’t answer.
He stared at the barrier between them, optics steady, face unreadable.
Bee didn’t reply.
Shockwave tilted his head slightly. “A curious response. Most would seek acknowledgment.”
“Most aren’t me,” Bumblebee muttered.
“Indeed,” Shockwave said. “That distinction is… notable.”
Bee folded his arms. “You asked to see me. So talk.”
Shockwave’s optic brightened faintly. “I wished to observe you without deception,” he said. “A rare opportunity.”
Bee scoffed. “Yeah, well. Enjoy the view while it lasts.”
Shockwave paused. “You display no satisfaction. No anger. No triumph.”
“Should I?” Bee shot back. “You want me to yell? Punch the wall? Gloat?”
“Statistically,” Shockwave replied, “those reactions would be expected.”
“Well, congratulations,” Bee said flatly. “I’m disappointing.”
Shockwave studied him in silence.
“I misjudged you,” Shockwave finally said. “During my time as Longarm, I categorised you as impulsive. Emotionally driven. Insecure.”
A pause.
“What about Longarm?” Shockwave asked smoothly. “Did you like him?”
The team collectively stiffened behind the screens.
Bee’s hands curled at his sides.
“I’d be lying if I said no,” Bumblebee admitted. “Longarm cared. He cared about the team. About me.”
His voice hardened. "But clearly… that was all an act.”
Shockwave gave a small, satisfied nod. “I am very good at my work.”
Another long pause.
“Did any of it matter?” Bee asked. “Anything Longarm said. Anything he did. Or was it all just lines in a script?”
Shockwave did not hesitate. “Longarm was a fabrication,” he said. “However, effective fabrications require realism.”
Bee’s voice dropped. “That’s not an answer.”
Shockwave inclined his head. “You were… useful. Your trust allowed me deeper access.”
The team watching collectively tensed.
Bee’s hands curled into fists—but his voice stayed steady.
“I looked up to Longarm,” Bee said. “You encouraged me. Gave advice. Told me I was improving.”
“Yes,” Shockwave said. “Positive reinforcement increased compliance.”
Bee laughed once, sharp and humourless. “Wow. You really know how to make a bot feel special.”
“You experienced growth under my guidance,” Shockwave continued. “That growth is real.”
“Don’t,” Bee snapped. “Don’t you dare take credit for that.”
Shockwave paused. “An emotional boundary,” he observed. “Noted.”
“You hurt bots,” Bee continued. “You hurt my friends—”
Shockwave’s tone didn’t change. “Collateral outcomes were acceptable.”
Bee’s optics flared. “Acceptable to you.”
“Yes.”
The word landed like a blow.
“So what is this?” Shockwave asked calmly. “Closure? Condemnation? A desire for revenge?”
Bumblebee met his gaze.
“No.”
Shockwave blinked.
“Because you’re already here,” Bee said. “Sitting in that cell"
Shockwave stared now, fully focused.
“You want to know why you were caught?” Bumblebee went on. “It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t incompetence. Not because you weren’t smart. But because you underestimated something.”
Bee stepped closer to the barrier.
“You observe everything. You observed reactions. Behavior. Patterns.”
“Yes.”
“You got confident,” Bee said. “Too confident. You believed you were untouchable. So you slipped. Tiny mistakes. Your act started falling apart.”
Bee’s voice was calm. Dead calm.
“And I noticed.”
Shockwave’s optic narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Shockwave was silent for several seconds.
“Fascinating,” he finally said. “You are more perceptive than projected.”
“And you’re more arrogant than you thought,” Bee replied.
Shockwave shifted his stance.
“And the funniest part?” Bee added. “The Decepticons aren’t coming for you. Megatron doesn’t need you anymore. You served your purpose. Now you’re a liability. He won’t risk exposing himself to get you back.”
Shockwave’s silence was deafening as he processed this information.
“Isolation,” Shockwave murmured. “An inefficient end.”
Bee smiled faintly. “For you.”
“So you’ll rot in this cell,” Bumblebee finished. “And I’ll smile every day knowing that.”
Shockwave stared at him—truly stared—for the first time.
“You believe this is victory,” Shockwave said slowly.
Bee smiled faintly. “No. I believe this is a consequence.”
He turned to leave.
“And that,” Bee said over his shoulder, “is the best revenge I could ask for.”
Bumblebee continued heading for the exit.
“Bumblebee,” Shockwave said.
Bee paused but didn’t turn around.
“You have altered my calculations,” Shockwave said. “That is… rare.”
Bee looked back.
"Good,” he said. “Now you know how it feels.”
Bumblebee walked out.
The door sealed behind him.
For the first time since his capture—
Shockwave remained motionless.
For once, calculations yielded no response.
---
In the observation room, no one spoke for several seconds.
“That,” Ratchet muttered, “was terrifying.”
Optimus nodded slowly. “Bumblebee saw what others did not.”
Bulkhead crossed his arms, pride clear. “Yeah… and he didn’t even raise his voice.”
Prowl closed his optics. “True awareness requires stillness.”
On the screen, Shockwave stood alone.
And for the first time—
He was the one being observed.