Hi! This originally started out as a oneshot, but I may or may not continue it. Depends on what feedback I get!
Transformers Prime does not belong to me!
This takes place post-Predacons Rising, and Soundwave and Knock Out are residing in the Autobots' new base.
Soundwave had a mild problem. A tendency to cause slight mayhem wherever he went.
At least, in a base full of Autobots. And Decepticon traitors. Perhaps not so slight.
It was embarrassing, to say in the least, to walk down a hallway with his hands cuffed, and a smirking Autobot pointing cannons at his helm the entire way. And all over a few Energon cubes. They did react rather strongly, didn't they?
He hadn't known he'd paused to process this before his back was prodded, "Move, Deceptiscum. Now."
Stamping his pede on the floor, he stepped forward again, helm turning slightly to eye his grinning teammate. Well, former teammate. Obnoxious aft-hat.
"Move," Ironhide grumbled, poking him again, "Stop laggin' and step on it, 'Con."
"You may recall, dear Autobot," Knock Out chimed in, "That Soundwave is now one of you. He doesn't like being called by the wrong designation." That earned a shutter of the spy's vents, and a low huff of amusement from Ironhide, "Kiddin' me, right? Megatron's most loyal would never turn." He shoved Soundwave forward, rather roughly, and jabbed between his shoulders, earning a mild squeak, "Now, you, cooperate, or I will drag you down this corridor by your collar plating."
Ratchet, standing by with his arms crossed, narrowed his optics, "Not so rough, Ironhide. He may have been a Decepticon, but he is one of us now. He will be treated respectfully. Moderately."
Sensing the slight distraction, Soundwave shuffled forward, tilted his helm, spun to the side and threw his arms over Knock Out's shoulders. His arm joint bent, effectively hooking around his neck. The red mech gave a shriek, and held up his hands in a sad display of surrender, "Wait, wait, Soundwave! We can talk about this!"
Ratchet had subspaced a wrench, and Ironhide had his cannons out, both pointing at the spy, but also at the former CMO, "Don't you move, 'Con."
Yelping in surprise, Knock Out froze as his frame was pulled close to Soundwave's, feeling the communication officer's plating flare in defense, "Autobot, don't provoke him, or I will have my spinal strut snapped in half."
"I'm already provokin' him. Ain't gonna change nothing."
"Look, Soundwave, I know this might be against your wishes, and all, but stealing will not be tolerated." Ratchet tried, servo clenching around his wrench. Soundwave held Knock Out tighter, ignoring his complaint, and played back a recording, "-traitors do not survive."
"Traitor?! Soundwave, we can-" He was cut off by the sharp edge of the spy's arm pressing against his throat, and a low growl, "-traitor-"
"S-S-Soundwave!" Oh, how to save his skin. Red optics frantically moving back and forth over the two Autobots in front of them, he drew in a sigh, and coughed, "You know, Sounds.."
:: I am going to stab them in the back when I get the chance! Just stop trying to choke me! ::
"Soundwave, please.."
"Soundwave," the medic's voice was stern, "Let him go, or you will spend more than a week in solitary. Entire isolation. Imagine that. It still isn't enough to pay for your crimes, and your thievery. You deserve a lifetime sentence of that."
Soundwave flared his plating, and hissed, slamming his arm upward into the underneath of Knock Out's chin. The red mech fell limp, out cold in his arms.
A chance was taken, and Ironhide fired, cannon blast partially finding its target as Soundwave ducked, and got hit in the shoulder. Arms clanking on Knock Out's plating, he pulled himself free, and darted a short way before an explosion hit his back, brief pain and then numbness hitting him before he righted himself, and ran.
He did not get far, of course, several more shots finding him again before his legs buckled, and fell out from under him. Frag, frag, frag..
The spymech was hefted up, and taken into Ratchet's arms, kicking his legs miserably before falling still in submission. Slag. Slag, slag, slag...
"Cells aren't good enough for him." He heard the medic grumble, sensitive mesh of his protoform twitching as his back was lightly touched, "Cuffed to a medberth seems better punishment. His back is entirely fried."
Soundwave only heard a grunt of acknowledgement in return before a sensor on his neck was prodded, and his system powered down into stasis.
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