Chapter Text
Shockwave had grown deaf to the chatter of laser fire. It was all part of the backdrop, now. Not a cycle since Cybertronians could walk the surface freely, and half of it seemed like craters already, he would muse to himself. Once he had fancied himself an archaeologist, going to those ancient cities, Vos, Stanix, in what free time an outcast bandit had, salvaging what was left of the Primes' reign from the rubble. Now, he only heard those names spoken of for the redoubts and advances and outposts.
One sound cut through all the skirmishing outside the facility, one that he would never be able to tune out: a fusion cannon. Three shots, four, in steady rhythm. Megatron's mood was easy to determine by his firing pattern. Rapid-fire meant short of temper; staggered shots like those betokened a deliberate mindset, thoughtfulness. But then again, if Megatron saw fit to personally drive off those Autobot raiders, it meant he was eager for results. Shockwave turned his attention back to the slab.
He was just lowering the last of the chest-plates into position, micro-tuned tracking laser following his lone optic's most minute twitches and interpreting them into movements of the nest of assembly arms over the slab, for a surgical touch a nanomachine couldn't match, as the doors opened. Megatron, of course. No other bot walked like that, but a fine quavering note in the air, a hum, an auditory shiver, betrayed another guest.
"Megatron. Soundwave. Only a moment, now-" the final plate was sealed in place, a laser tracing its edges, and he shut down the program, turning, with a bow. Gestures of loyalty had become in high esteem among the Decepticons. It was like that since the First Starscream Coup, the Construction Coup, the Second Starscream Coup, the Third- it wasn't enough to be loyal, not even with Soundwave's truth-scan itching your audio-receptors as you spoke; you had to act loyal.
Megatron stepped forward, looking over the surgical slab. Metal purple with deac-reac sickness, the color of a Cybertronian dredged up from the rusty clutches of death. Armaments slimmed down. A face like horror itself. Megatron turned to Shockwave, gesturing at the recumbent machine.
"Go ahead. What've you done for me here?"
"A miracle, if I may say so, Megatron."
"Lord Megatron," rasped Soundwave, arms folded. He had taken to fanaticism like an electroduck to oil.
"Lord Megatron, I meant to say," Shockwave repeated, flashing a dullest-glowing glare at Soundwave. "The commandos retrieved the body from nothing less than Autobot top secret storage. A few techniques scoured from intelligence on Ratchet's work-"
Megatron tilted his head, giving a blank look and a rumbling rev. Shockwave felt it was time to cut to the chase; the theatrical note dropped from his voice. Every time a project of his was important enough he felt he could gloat, it was always too urgent to take the time to do so. Rusty luck.
"He should be as alive as any of the rest of us, once the energon infusion is complete. You left him in poor condition- I quite approve of it -but I had to remove the wings altogether to get the rest of him functional. His flying days are over. The sonic weaponry suite has been tested to perfection. I would wear audio dampeners-"
Megatron turned his gaze once to the body, then back to Shockwave, the body, the scientist, back and forth, until fixing Shockwave with a look he would have preferred staring down a laser cannon to being face to face with.
"I notice, Shockwave, he isn't online. Can he be turned back on, or not?"
"Lord Megatron, the- that lever-" Shockwave gestured to it on the control panel at the foot of the slab, faltering with haste, "I only supposed that you would want to be the one to make it official, so to speak, my lord."
Megatron turned his gaze towards the lever, and Shockwave unfolded slightly from his defensive cringe. Then he turned back.
"The mask?"
"Designed to your exact specifics, Lord Megatron. To the micrometer." The scientist stepped aside to his workbench, under his wall-sized map of the surface, and pulled the armored case off of it from just below Kaon's outskirts, releasing the catches of the shockproof metal with the smoothest of clicks; Megatron cracked a rare grin as he brushed one servodigit against the cargo within. Shockwave bowed stiffly.
"You don't disappoint on this kind of work, Shockwave. Allow me." He took the mask from its metallite-foam cushioning, walking around the slab, fixing it in place over that face, still locked in a death-scream of horror. Magnetic locks hissed and clicked. Shoot the wearer point-blank in the face, run them over, drop them from orbit, this mask did not "fall off".
Megatron circled around the other half of the slab, coming full circle to Shockwave's control panel, one servo grasping the lever. Soundwave shot Shockwave as dubious a look as his visor could manage.
"Lord Megatron, pardon my impudence," Soundwave droned, "but to reassemble him when better 'bots have gone to the smelting fire..."
"I'm not doing this for what he will be, Soundwave." Megatron's digits locked around the lever, began to push; concentrated Energon suffused the empty core of the dead 'bot. Blank light began to pour from his optics.
"I'm doing this for what he was. He was a liar. A traitor!" Shockwave toned down his audio receptors as Megatron's voice rose to an outburst, nearly drowning out the rising surge of Energon and creaking of machinery forced back to life.
"He kept 'bots in line, he kept them where he could step on them all. Tortured! Disassembled! Murdered! I want worse for him than just being dead, I want him to live, Soundwave. Live for the Decepticon cause! Live despised by both sides of this war, chained up inside himself, locked behind that mask! All he did was die; I want him to suffer!"
The lever had gone all the way forward, the infusion complete; the bot was sitting up on the slab, which itself tilted slowly upwards, shunting him onto his feet. Were it not for the bracing brackets keeping the 'bot in place, he would have toppled to the ground.
"Excellent reasoning, Lord Megatron," Soundwave hummed. He scanned the 'bot, looking him over. "Welcome back. Welcome to the service of Lord Megatron, Sent-"
"Give him a new name," Megatron said. His voice was brusque; it had been a command, not a recommendation. Shockwave swiveled his torso, glancing at the surface map over the workbench, his gaze roving until it fixed on a point at random. He turned back to face the 'bot, whose optics roved wildly behind the mask, grating agonized moans as he got his bearings.
"Welcome to the service of Lord Megatron, Tarn. You will receive your first orders shortly."