"Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. "
-Plato
"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it."
-Mark Twain
xx
'Firefly, what are you doing you silly billy, starting another story with all your incomplete ones still to do?'
Because I've had this idea sitting in the proverbial mental closet for a while now, and like all lost objects it had to be pulled out of the darkness and into the cruel light at some point. Or just thrown in the trash. Hopefully I made the right decision on going with the former option. Mostly I'm 'testing the waters' for a fic like this, and seeing what people think of the first establishing chapter. 'Orchestra' will centre on the always-fun subject of Stockholm Syndrome, and my own conjured variety of psychological torture. More on that in later chapters, which will come sporadically due to my hectic writing schedule (or lack thereof...)
Now for the common questions, first off: why human-verse? Well, while browsing deviantArt I discovered an amazing artist by the name of Lecidre. Most of her TF fanart is humanised, and I love how she interprets each character. You could say it's given me a soft spot for 'human-formers'. Also, I think it'll be easier to imagine the Transformers as humans throughout this for other reasons that I'll keep hidden for now.
And the pairing? One thing I enjoy reading about is unlikely couples- or rather, couples that no-one has ever before explored or thought about in depth. Not crack-pairings, but serious ones that could genuinely happen in canon should the right circumstances come about. In this case, I'm going to try my hand at Soundwave and Elita One. Soundwave is always a tricky bot to work with, especially when you're smashing him together in a pairing, it's not a simple matter of making him hardly or never talk; Soundwave is mysterious and vague by nature and it's up to the fans to fill in the gaps with their own interpretations, and as such every writer's version of Soundwave is bound to be different. A hard character to pull off, but I've done my best to capture his stoic personality here. As for Elita, it seems the only options open to her are Megatron and- of course- Optimus. That's all fine and dandy for people who write those, but there's only so many times you can pound out a saucy scene between the two to get your rocks off. This fic is more about characterisation, a look at how Elita might be outside of her fan established two-mech comfort zone.
Anyway, this note has gone on far too long. Without further ado...
xx
Flawless victory. It was a rare event, in war more so than anywhere else. It was something all commanders would strive for every day, on every mission. No matter how slim the chances of accomplishing such a feat, it was a firm belief that every soldier would experience the privileged, so sought feeling of peaceful satisfaction that followed a clean conquest.
Some went their whole existence having never achieved that emotional state. Those poor souls were not Megatron.
The Decepticon leader never left his army idle. Even as he sat in the comfort of his Kaon fortress, countless units and drones died and fought at all corners of the planet. He paid no mind to those abstractions, small triumphs and simple details. Everyday the victories were relayed from those battlegrounds, increasing ever more as the Decepticons gained the high ground. The novelty of knowing victory had worn off quickly on Megatron. Vague commands from himself to his army generals meant that he never had to waste more energy than necessary on the minor targets. He gave them direction, they did the hard marching. And so he focused all his attention on his inner circle; the officers and servants, bootlickers and ambitious cretins. They were expected to take initiative in their actions for the Decepticons, and it was in the rare sudden strokes of enterprise that Megatron allowed himself to feel the contentment that accompanied success.
As it happened, today was a good day for strokes.
And Megatron was slightly disappointed.
He enjoyed challenges, revelled in chasing prey with a spark of fire within them. Slaughter wasn't fun if there was no-one to protest the barbarity or bear furious witness. There was something almost admirable in seeing great masses clinging desperately onto life- an empty promise of sanctuary and peace so ready to give itself up for the most meaningless of causes- and watching all that light of purity die in their pleading eyes. Of course the Autobots thought life as a privilege bestowed to all existence by Primus, a precious asset.
Yet despite that horrendously flawed logic of theirs, even in the midst of war, the Autobots wandered freely as if they wanted to be shot. It was a paradox in itself, and a mind spent too long lingering on such a matter would fry within hours.
There would always be the odd Decepticon who allowed himself to be detained by Autobots for the masochistic joys of torture and pain. It seemed that perversions of the mind were a standard requirement for every Decepticon- even Megatron was intimate with strange desires. But the Autobots were held as the harbingers of unity and refuge, fleeting safety and trust, a spreading stain of blinding goodness on the Universal tapestry.
And for all that those 'Bots had revered their holy leaders, they guarded them as well as they did their dead. Not a positive sign, considering how many corpses had been post-mortem desecrated by Megatron's hand. At least Optimus Prime, for all his insufferable naivete, took precautions with his personal safety; barricading himself within Iacon City, no windows or potential sniper targets, a permanent guard on continual rotation and energon hoarding for when the supply lines were hit. But his dear spark-bonded had no such luxuries. She strutted herself around the cities like she owned them. She probably did, simple trivial assets in her long list of unearned possessions. No sentries, not even weapons. She was the avatar of hope and compassion for the neutral masses of Cybertron, supposed proof that true love can thrive even through wars. Such an allegedly high power should have protected her enough. Obviously that power didn't extend to preventing a simple snatch off of the street. Clean and cut, no witness or worry. But dear Primus, did she have a mouth on her. First it was a reel of curses and threats. Then it was screams and curses and threats. Now it was just primal screaming.
Megatron let his wandering gaze slide down his prisoner's shape, sweeping across the arcs and curves of her body. Her rose pink hair flew in waves as she thrashed against her bonds, rolling and rocking in desperation. She paused her tirade of cries to glare at Megatron, a stare so intense it would have reduced anyone else faced with it to a shaking wreck. The Decepticon leader simply made a condescending sound and promptly went back to ignoring her. Layers of duct tape only barely muffled her, so in the end Megatron didn't bother. Let her scream. Let her call out for some false hope, let her believe that her hero Optimus will save her, the maiden of misfortune damsel in distress. And let her sing her sorrows when the truth finally smothers her. A sugar-sweet symphony to the ears.
Oh, how Megatron would have delighted in witnessing such a transformation, even causing it himself. He knew he was not the one for the job though. She was too precious a prize to be broken so quickly by his twisted hands. No, there was only one Decepticon worthy of breaking a symbol of love.
"Rumble, Frenzy," Megatron called through the east door. Two young and mischievous faces poked out from behind the frame. "Prepare our guest for travel. You shall be escorting her to her new home." As the two slinked out into the vast room, overlooking the rolling expanse of Kaon and beyond to the glimmering structure of Iacon City far in the distance, with dots of stars stabbing through the endless black of the sky above, they hauled Elita up and carelessly tore her various restraints away. At their touch, her struggle had lost its previous ferocity, but she still pulled against the ties bonding her hands together as her ankles were freed and she was marched by her guardians towards the exit. Whether to minimise the possibility of further damage, or the first sign of submission. Either way, Megatron couldn't help but smirk.
xx
A sudden series of beeps tearing through the usual silence roused Soundwave from his casual meditation. He glanced up from his computer terminal, the faint glowing inset lines of purple offering some illumination in the vast room that Soundwave occupied. Ceilings high enough to stay in darkness and far corners draped in perpetual shadow, though the black above shifted from time to time with the fleeting flight of Laserbeak and Ratbat. Ravage was out of sight, curled up in the Communications Officer's personal bedroom.
The sound had originated internally, from the angular earpiece embedded into Soundwave's left ear. It was a useful piece of equipment, a pre-emptive device that alerted him to incoming transmissions seconds before they reached his communication systems, as well as amplifying his own hearing range. Yet another marvel from the Decepticon scientists. Soundwave exhibited no surprise when a large screen flickered slightly before displaying Megatron's smirking visage.
"Prepare the cells and chamber, Soundwave. We are in possession of an Autobot prize that I'm sure you will enjoy breaking open." The camera panned slightly right to show Rumble and Frenzy at the sides of a female, not much younger than Soundwave himself, head bowed and hair partly shielding her face. An Autobot symbol glared back on her shoulder, blasphemous and mocking. "Designation: Elita One," he relayed as the capture-cameras on his tinted glasses matched up the appearance with the image data stored in the Decepticon's retrieved portion of the Autobot database. If the Decepticons had Elita One, then they effectively had full control over Optimus Prime. They could order the delivery of Iacon City straight into their hands and Optimus would have complied if it meant having his Elita safe again. The fool.
"Understood, Lord Megatron," Soundwave said as he logged off the line just before Elita's head lifted and the bob of hair shifted slightly, revealing an upturned Iacon-pedigree nose turned toward him and those blue eyes locking onto his. He couldn't distract himself from the horror that would certainly be present in the Autobot's eyes. He'd have plenty of opportunities to see it anew when she arrived.
xx
The sound of a snicker and the thump of a body being shoved to the ground alerted Soundwave of Rumble and Frenzy's return. He'd prepared a basic holding cell for Elita, nothing special. She wouldn't be spending much time inside it anyway. A hallway down from the cells is where her true home would be, and where he had taken care in readying for its new resident.
He allowed himself a final look at his regular tools, cleaned and polished, gleaming in the artificial light. This time though, he'd prefer not to use them. The officer had an entirely different ordeal in store for the Autobot.
Soundwave tore himself away from the familiar and almost calming sight of his tools and made for the entrance of his haven. Intruders were never a problem here; the only ones who knew of its location were his minions and Megatron himself. As he approached, he could sense a smirking Rumble and Frenzy, with a crumpled shadow in between them on the floor. Rumble had his piston weapon positioned at the shadow, ready to grind the head into a pulpy stain on the concrete should the need arise. But even the hostile gesture couldn't hide the lingering, instinctive lust that glazed his eyes over. Frenzy hid his emotions more effectively, though he chanced glances at those alluring dark curves.
"Bagged ourselves a real prize, huh Frenzy?" Rumble chuckled, still bearing his cocky smirk. His sibling returned it, his furtive flash loitering over the trembling frame for longer than usual. "Maybe if we're real good, Soundwave'll let us borrow her for a while, heh?" The twins cackled at their shared depraved thoughts as their prisoner let out a strangled sob, trying to choke down the rising wave of tears.
"Hey, shut it, boss is com-" Frenzy started to warn, but was cut off by a furiously offended Rumble.
"Don't ya tell me to shut it, scrap brain!"
"Better a scrap brain than a slag face!" It didn't take long for the two to start throwing punches at one another, forgetting their charge as they locked in a common battle of flinging insults and fists. The young woman didn't seem to notice the change in atmosphere, even with such a sudden shift from foreboding to violent. Soundwave rounded the corner and remained as impassive as ever as he waited for his drones to finish their squabble. Twenty seconds in Frenzy finally noticed his gleaming eyes in the dark and immediately leapt off of Rumble, who pushed himself up and brushed the dirt off of his clothes.
"Yeah, you better back off, ya fraggin' piece ah-" He was cut off at the sight of Soundwave's imposing form cutting through the shadows, scrambling backwards to stand in the standard uniform stance that Frenzy had already adopted.
"Uh, heya Soundwave," Frenzy began weakly, eyes darting to and fro nervously.
"We, uh, got the chick," Rumble said, pointing down to the still cowering female sprawled on the floor. "I mean, we just delivered her, Megatron's the one who got her- not in that way, I mean-" Again, Rumble was interrupted by the sudden jab of an elbow deep into his ribs. He yelped in combined surprise and pain, and responded with a backhand over Frenzy's head. Soundwave suppressed a rising sigh, resting his concealed eyes downwards on his scions. Their shared incompetence was only excelled by their loyalty, and Soundwave had to remind himself of that whenever he had fleeting thoughts of throwing them off the mountain that his home resided on, plummeting down the sheer sides to meet the Rust Sea. On that depressing image, he turned his attention to the other form laying discarded on the floor like a broken toy. Even in such prevailing darkness, the short waves of her hair still sustained that almost glowing shade of pink. That colour technically didn't exist in the visible spectrum, a blend of fiery red and neutral white. Add in blue, and she'd be a mirror image of her lover. The strands seemed more lifeless than it was portrayed in the Autobot propaganda. Perhaps it was just a reflection of her current mood.
"Quite a trophy, ain't she, Wave?" Frenzy smirked as he noticed the taller male gazing at the fallen prisoner, his quarrel with Frenzy over as soon as it had began. Soundwave barely glanced in his drone's direction in scarce acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the Autobot. Frenzy sneered in offence at such blatant dismissal, crossing his arms in juvenile defiance. Rumble appraised the shifting sides of the feminine form beneath him, grinning in obvious approval.
"Subject shall provide interesting interrogation," Soundwave stated in his trademark cold, monotone voice. It was as close to mechanical as one could get without the aid of a vocaliser. "Complete privacy required for duration of Elita One's imprisonment." Now both Rumble and Frenzy bared an angered look of protest.
"And just how long is that supposed to be?" Rumble asked incredulously, suddenly turning sour towards the object of his recent affection.
"Estimated time: Minimum of one week," Soundwave answered briskly as he waved an arm over Elita, his wrist-mounted scanner studying her vitals and showing them accordingly. Other than a few bruises and scratches, no external injuries. Her internals, however, told a different story. Elita's heart-rate was through the metaphorical roof and her core temperature was rising, despite the relative coldness of the open area. Soundwave chanced a graze of his hand across Elita's exposed arm, and even as she recoiled from his touch he could feel the beads of cold sweat that dotted her skin. If she had been transported here without rest or protection against the elements, still wearing those indulgent clothes of the wealthy that she had worn at the moment of her capture, then the onslaught of freezing temperature and a collapsing state of mind could render Elita useless. She would need time for her body to revert back to normal condition, but Soundwave was patient. With the waiting period, he could fully prepare his experiment for the Autobot. He ignored Rumble and Frenzy's background outcries as he organised his whirring thoughts back into neat piles of orders and plans. First order of business; getting Elita accommodated.
"Confine prisoner to designated holding cell," he commanded his still-sulking drones as they obediently hauled Elita up and unceremoniously dragged her to her new home. Laserbeak watched on from above with piercing eyes, Ratbat asleep and uncaring to the death sentence being carried out before him.