A revised adaptation for my original fanfic of the same name, redone because it was terribly written and not up to par with my current writing standards. I wanted to focus more on Sideways as a character himself and give more of a socicultural background for X prior to its destruction too, but the first version of this fanfic did not do those factors much justice. For those of you who have read the first version of this story, it remains very similar in regards to plot. Just this time around, there just happens to be more information. Transformers Cybertron is not mine, but the plot is. There is also an existing sequel to this fanfic called "Confessions of a Survivor." Concrit is welcome as always.
X is the twenty-fourth letter in the modern Latin alphabet.
~Wikipedia
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The pain that awoke him from dismal oblivion was nearly unbearable.
Clawing his way out of the dark abyss, he managed a dull groan of pain as he was roused back to consciousness… followed very shortly by a loud hiss when hot pain suddenly surged up his back. Confusion momentarily struck him, but the ache that settled like a suffocating anvil in his skull kept him from trying to think too hard about it. Every node in his body was throbbing with a harsh ache. Attempting to focus on his memory to recall exactly what happened and how he ended up in pain was almost beyond him. There were flickering hints of recollection that teased him cruelly, although none came into light where he could properly see them. There was only the curious soreness that never went beyond his waistline. It finally occurred to him that he could not feel his legs, and that there was a very heavy weight pressing down on top of him. Cautiously and slightly disbelieving the endeavor would prevail, he activated his optical sights.
He was immediately met with inky blackness. There was an allusion of orange haze in his sights, but only because it was from the light of his amber optics reflecting off of the equally hued glass of his visor. Scratches marred the surface to slightly obscure his vision further, and there was also a large crack than ran down the entire length of the face mask like a jagged thunderbolt. The place surrounding him was submerged in total darkness with vague shadows of debris and rubble scattered in ruin all around him. At that same moment, his external intake program reanimated. His internal computer chimed with a dolorous chirp that he was at sixty percent power and that his systems had gone into stasis lock after being violently jarred. With another moan, he deactivated his optical sensors and tried to focus on anything other than his headache. He hoped that he might be able to remember something that would shed light on his current predicament too, but his onboard diagnosis center was of little help. The silly thing only insisted on telling him that he was injured, that the entire area he was trapped within was highly irritated - no problem there of course, he was immune to radiation - and that the explosion had knocked him out cold for several…
He snapped his optics back online almost immediately, flaring them in aghast and utterly pure horror.
Gigancion. The cannon. Planet X.
He remembered everything almost instantly, entirely regardless as to how much of a migraine it provoked. He winced at the mental impact, but at least he finally had light shed on his situation. He recalled being reassigned from his squad to serve with several other low class grunts at the main skyscraper where the cannon was stationed. The cannon itself was a project created and funded by X's head Council itself. Its purpose was to ultimately annihilate the Transformers of Gigancion so that they could take over the planet in their place. The cannon itself would wipe out the entire external level of the planet and kill every living thing on it, but the remainder of the levels would remain intact due to the massive planet's thickness. It was the perfect plan to win the war and leave Gigancion intact as their prize. The cannon - nicknamed "The Master Blaster" by civilians - had been built on a massive skyscraper not far from the Council's citadel. It was constructed specifically for the project due to the cannon's behemoth size and inability to be supported on any other building X had on its surface. Its design was inspired by the legend of the Hydra Cannon, where the three mythological Minicon weapons of Unicron - the Starsaber, Skyboom Shield, and Requiem Blaster - had their energy wavelengths combined to form the universe's ultimate weapon of destruction. Its power source came from X's core, and it was directly linked up to the cannon to increase its power tenfold once fired.
He had been working in the main control room as a staffer assigned to assess the energy reading equipment, mostly because he had absolutely no skills outside crude physical labor. When the scientists first tried to set the cannon off, there was a malfunction when the Tesla generator inexplicitly failed. The second time they tried to start the cannon up there was a second malfunction where the Gundamium energy modifier would not spark the beam. Three was the charm of course, because then they did finally get the damn thing to start up. There had been a tense unease building in the room among the workers, but a collective sigh of relief passed through all of them when the cannon's diagnostic computer gave the green light for becoming fully operational. The countdown began. He had taken his post to prepare for the moment where the cannon was fired at Gigancion to wipe out their enemies. He remembered holding his breath at that decisive moment of truth.
That was when all of the Pitt broke loose. It was almost as if the chaos god Unicron had willed it.
A huge wave of stinging pain raced through his aching head at just the memory of what next occurred. Warning sirens activated, the room was blanketed with red from the emergency lights, and the entire building jerked. Chaos ensured. People screamed for the computer aides to activate the failsafe to turn off the cannon because it became clear that something was very wrong, but their shrieks of only moderately controlled fear turned to those of unprofaned horror when it became clear that the deactivation codes given to them by the Council were fraud. He himself had been standing at the back of the room, watching horridly as the computers sparked and frizzled and something groaned with electrical menace over their heads. His squad mates always used to rip on and tease him for his cowardly and half witted nature, but he knew he was certainly no fool when it came to survival. Cover. He had to find cover. He dove behind the thickest pillar he could find and he threw his hands over his head to shield him from the inevitable explosion.
And that was all he remembered. There had been a blast of metallic thunder, a huge boom, and then a roar of light. Afterward, nothing.
He scanned his inky surroundings. If this was the same room he had been in before, it certainly did receive a massive blunt of devastation. There had been fluorescent lights and polished floors with rows and rows of computers on every wall, but any evidence of its existence had been entirely wiped out and thrown into the dark void that was now his prison. A prison, he slowly realized, because he found that he was unable to move. He tried to shift onto his back, but he was met with the sharpest pang of agony that he had ever felt in his entire life. Unable to resist himself, he arched and uttered a pained shriek that tore through his head like acid against sheet metal. Not only did he have some sort of back injury, but there was a massive weight pinning his legs as well. Trapped. He was momentarily glad he was not claustrophobic. Most X fliers like himself were, but he was an exception… instead of claustrophobia however, he had his paranoia to keep him busy. The whirling darkness swallowed his cry like a hungry predator and there was no echo, but it made him suddenly very fearful. In fact, after the pain finally settled, he realized it was very oddly… quiet. Too quiet, in fact. The skyscraper that sported the cannon would have undoubtedly been leveled but, despite its massive size in relevance to the size of X, he should have at least heard something by now. If he could survive, some few others who had been in the room with him would have undoubtedly survived too.
Primus, where was everyone?
The thought that the others had been killed briefly crossed his mind, but the young mech dismissed it immediately. If he, a stupid and weak little runt could somehow cling to life a blast as devastating as the one he had witnessed, the others would have unquestionably pulled through too. He was terrified of being alone as well - that particular phobia came along with his paranoid sense of thinking - and he outwardly refused to believe that he had managed to hang onto his life while the other's lost theirs. It was impossible.
"Hello?" He regretted saying anything at all a moment later when his head pounded furiously in pain. Obviously, as stupid as he was, he had not learned his lesson about his headache the first few times he set it off. Damn runt that he was, he thought. He could never do anything right, could he? His voice was hoarse and weak and he winced at how repulsive it sounded coming out of his own damaged vocalizer. His voice was hoarse and naturally had a drunken slurring tone to it, making his weak cry sound even worse. He sounded uneducated, as he was frequently told by his much more intelligent and eloquent squad mates and squadron leader. Still not ready to give up just yet, he called out again. "Hello?"
An abrupt, quick rustling sound filled his dark prison. Someone was coming. Someone had to have been coming. His savior would be another survivor and claw their way over in the darkness to help him and reassure that he was not alone. Maybe there would even be more than one. Yes, there had to be more than one survivor. They would all inevitably be rescued, take over the Gigancion, reignite Planet X's dying energy resources for old time's sake, and everything would be fine. Maybe he would even be hailed by the rest of his platoon for surviving the explosion.
Funny, he later recalled, how the mind will attempt to manipulate reality.
A metallic bird flittered overhead like a deathly shadow, and he jumped at the sight of the dark silhouette outlined in the obscurity. The figure moved almost silently, black as the darkness around him and ominous looking as its darkened shape moved across the dark. The only way he was able to make out its shape from the light of his own optics and the beast's red highlights and eyes… he knew after a moment of mental scrambling that it was one of X's bird drones. He had only seen a meager few of them in person during his lifetime, but this was certainly the closest he had ever been to one. They were commonly used as spies and scouts sometimes sent out for messaging and reconnaissance purposes. They were useful because their masters, higher ranking members of Planet X, would train them to sabotage enemy equipment, record conversations, and obey their every whim. They were obedient and respected creatures, sometimes fierce and protecting their handlers from other members of X that strayed too close. Because they belonged to those more royal officers though, it was considered otherwise blasphemous for lower class X members to even come marginally close to them.
But this one was somehow… different.
It fluttered in the air like some dreamy apparition before perching not too far away from him on a conspicuous looking rock. It immediately began to clean itself, rubbing its beak against its dye cast steel wings with little care for his presence. How incredibly odd it was, he thought, that the bird had not noticed him. They were usually incredibly alert and very keen on their surroundings, and the fact that the condor had not even taken heed to his presence was both out of character as well as slightly frightening. Why had it not seen him, yet? Why was it not doing anything? If it had been sent down into the rubble of the building to seek out survivors, the last thing it would ever do would be to take a break to clean its damn wings like it were some sort of feral.
That thought scared him very deeply. Not because of the fact that it meant help would come later, but it meant that the drone's master would have had to have been dead for it to go wild.
The idea finally crossed his mind, but he did not want to fathom the possibility at all solely because of how horrifying it was. What if the cannon's backfiring had been more serious than he had originally imagined? The cannon was hooked up to the core of the planet after all, so what if it the explosion had been more dire than what he was capable of imagining? Had the detonation reached outward away from the main tower, taking out other buildings and the people within it as well? Had a royal officer been killed, and had this hawk been his bird?
If the trainer could not survive… Primus, how many had been killed?
Carefully testing his hoarse voice, he spoke up quietly to avoid earning himself another headache. "Psst, bird. Birdie, c'mere, look." He strained to sit up a little. "C'mon, look over here, bird brain."
The condor finally did look over then, but not with as much attentiveness as he had hoped. The hawk glanced over in his direction with a low squawk, crimson optics ablaze with a laziness that looked unnatural. It cocked its head and cawed at him once before going back to scraping at its wings like it could have cared less… because, frankly, it did care less. Immediately, he recognized that the condor was, in fact, a feral.
The hawk cawed loudly, its sudden shriek piercing the shadow and making the unprepared mech jump in place. Pain flared up his back and dully into his legs… and least he was reassured that he was not entirely paralyzed. At that very same moment the bird took off into the air with a violent flap of its wings and hissing antigravity boosters to help it gain momentum. The "perch" it had been seated on made a strange grinding crunch as the condor left it, but he felt far too fixated on watching the bird take flight to pay it much heed. The drone bird flew up to the cavern ceiling and began clawing at it rapidly, its razor sharp talons ripping at the crumbling rock ceiling like a polished blade slashing through a weak layer of rust. He had to cover his head as some debris fell, but then he saw a flash of red orange light filter from above and he chanced looking up and getting his glass visor smashed from falling concrete and metal to chance a look. Sunlight filtered in from the hold the condor had made, and it momentarily blinded him. At that moment, the condor gave a wild screech and scuttled out of the exit it had created. After a moment, the sound of the bird scuffling, squawking, and flapping, it was gone. The cavern became silent.
The black mech dimmed the sensitivity of his optical lenses and looked up. He had to blink several times for his systems to adjust to the bright radiance, and looked up, having to nearly turn his optics off again in the process. It was clearly bright out, orange light beaming in and giving away the sun was most likely to the opposite side of Gigancion… this greatly bothered him, seeing as it had been night when he remembered the explosion taking place. That, and the UV shield that surrounded X made the light from the sun minimal so it was significantly less bright than it was now. The UV barrier had failed, most likely. Despite being as stupid as he was and not necessarily the most intelligent of grunts, he knew that it was possible for the UV barrier to have failed. The same generators that powered the shield came from their artificial planet's raw energon core and, because the failed cannon had also been rigged to that same energy source, it would have had a great chance of causing the other main functions of X to fail as well. The UV shield could have been one of them.
Except there was one thing that was still bothering him more than that, and that was the total lack of noise.
Planet X, with all due consideration, was a planet that never slept. X was always on the move, always bustling with life, and always noisy. The bustle of life on X was extreme, granted their high population on the border of overcrowding and the exponentially high volume of tasks that had to be done to keep the planet's processes working. X's culture knew nothing of the concept of rest, even in times of crisis. All things considered, granted the fact that the cannon had backfired, there should have been no excuse for anything to be quiet whatsoever… except it was. There was no noise. No sound of moving equipment or shifting rubble from worker crews. No wails of sirens or beepers to signal that a disaster had taken place. No sound of shouts or screams or anything to signify that a disastrous event of any kind had taken place.
Just silence.
He listened. He listened very carefully. Despite his headache, he raised the sensitivity of his audios to their highest setting and hopes desperately that he would head something. There was the low crackle of a fire perhaps a few feet away from the entrance of the hole and the low growl of the rubble around him, but otherwise there was nothing. Not at sound. Not at all. His spark clenched fearfully and he debated calling out again momentarily when he decided against it. Perhaps the area had been cleared out, he thought. Maybe the entire district had been evacuated after the explosion, and perhaps it would only just be a little while before rescue and retrieval teams were dispatched. He hoped that was the case, and he hoped that he would not be abandoned. They had to come back to look for survivors. They had to. If he of all runt mechs on the planet could make it, others would have undoubtedly survived as well.
His gaze wandered ever so slightly, but it was enough. With a start of realization, he came to the conclusion that the hawk's odd perch had not been a boulder or piece of debris.
In fact, it had been a mutilated corpse.
The deceased Transformer looked significantly older than him for the sole reason that his armor was duller and marred with ancient scars from countless battles, but that was the only defining distinction of the mech slain only several feet away. The battered and broken body was twisted in several directions that physically should not have been possible, legs twisted around, one arm missing, and back looking like it was snapped in two places. The mech's head was smashed in and covered in a dark congealed fluid that was still slowly oozing from the wound.
He screamed. He screamed loud. The burning threshold of pain that erupted in his head from hearing his own scream through maximized level of hearing did not deter him from shrieking in horror. All around him were those who had been with him in the main laboratory… or, at least, he presumed they had been the ones in the lab with him. Unlike him, under some strange fluke poised as a cruel joke dished out by whatever higher powers that existed, they had all perished. Many of the empty shells were burned, torn, broken like a smashed motherboard crushed under someone's foot, and were equally mutilated like the wild bird drone's perch. Once his vocal modulator's voice cracked from strain, he resorted to throwing his head into his arms and breaking down bawling. Although it was a strict sign of weakness, to break down and loose control in crying - and it was something he did frequently when he was younger, which allowed his colleagues and fellow squad mates to dismiss him as an impuissant weakling - he found very little reason to care for his behavior anymore. He was terrified. To think that he had come so close to loosing his life was so unbelieving that it was frightening. He had been in the control room for the cannon. He had been practically next to it. Now he was the only one left to tell the horrifying tale on how it went up in flames. He began to tremble violently, feeling harsh shakes force their way up and down his small frame at the thought of how he managed to survive. His back protested to the violent spasms but his body betrayed him and continued to shudder. The sound of his gears rattling almost completely drowned out the sound of his horrified howling.
Five cycles later, his bawling and screams ceased to soft mewling. Seventeen cycles later, he was reduced to a shaking, whimpering pile of steel. Twenty-four cycles passed and he lay there in his own pitiful silence.
It was then that he thought he heard something whisk someplace overhead. The sensitivity of his audios was still turned up and, had it not been, he may not have heard it at all. Although he was not inclined to willfully look up and meet what it was, his paranoia and general skittishness provoked him to jump in place and look up. Light assaulted his vision relentlessly once more, but he was momentarily glad for it. After all, it kept him from seeing the carnage of those slaughtered around him long enough to look up. The sky was a tidbit darker now having turned from a dark orange to a light scarlet, with… clouds? No, X did not have clouds. At least, not as far as he could remember. Before he could mull on the oddity further however, his optics registered a small black thing scuttling at the entrance of the hole. He could not immediately tell what it was right away, but then it stuck its head in and wobbled on its talons with a squawk. This hawk in particular was significantly smaller then the one from previously, scruffier looking around the edges and not as impressive to look at. Its red optics sharply scanned the ground below until, suddenly, it looked directly over at him.
His first thought was that it was another feral maybe looking for a scrap to eat - the thought bothered him immensely, as it meant that another royal officer had died from the blast as well - but then the condor cocked its head at him and cawed cautiously. It was such a shock to him to see the bird actually prying for a response from him that he unsure weather he was having delusions from shock. Could he be having a delusion? No one had come sooner, so why could anyone come now? It was baffling, and all he could immediately do was stare back in total disbelief.
The bird blinked once and, after several terse moments where the small hawk only sat there and stared at him, it slowly drooped its head and ruffled its metal wings dejectedly. The small beast turned away as if to take off someplace else but, as its claws moved gripping the crumbling edge of the entrance and making the hole fall apart further, a piece of small rock fell and hit the side of the his head particularly hard.
It hurt… and it was not any delusion, dream, or mirage.
His processor and CPU finally clinked to life and he did the only thing he could think of. "Help! Oh good Primus, help! Don't go! Help!"
The bird poked its head back in and cawed cheerly, wings flapping excitedly at having been acknowledged. Perhaps he had been wrong. Maybe they had set up a search party to look for survivors, and now he was going to be one of those fortunate enough to be rescued. His spark lifted triumphantly. Maybe he would be hailed somehow, acknowledged for his ability to survive when everyone else stronger than him had died. Perhaps his squadron leader and squad mates would regard him as something more than cannon fodder now, something far more akin to one of the pack rather than the runt of the litter. Honestly, just to feel accepted by his peers as something other than a weakling not worth anyone's time of day.
The hawk cawed at him once more and then turned its back on him, taking off into the air with several wobbly flaps and flying away.
He stopped his fruitless cries for help, dumbstruck. Then again, perhaps the bird had just only become recently feral. Maybe it only recently found its master dead, and was just in the process of becoming feral. It would explain its still tame behavior and also explain the reason for taking off. Another fake hope of being rescued gone, it felt as if the whole event never happened at all. In the place where the small bird had been, silence and empties ensured. The sky was darkening still, darkening to a deep red with orange clouds smeared across its ocean of crimson. The crackle of fire somewhere above him continued, driving his already frazzled senses and emotions over the edge.
Pitt, he wanted to die.
No one was coming. He was going to be left here. How far had the damage spread? How many people were dead from the blast? If royal guards had died, it meant that the explosion had reached further than the main city. The silence suggested not only the death of most everyone, but also how there was no hope for rescue. He was going to waste away if the wound on his back did not become infected and kill him before starvation did.
What if Planet X had been wiped out?
He was tempted to punch himself in the head for thinking something as stupid as that. No wonder why his squad mates always beat on him for how unintelligent he was. If he went around making such ignorant presumptions as that, he did not deserve to live. X destroyed? Impossible. Yes, the cannon was tied into the planet's dying core, but there was no way that the explosion could have decimated the entire planet. If that was the case, than he surely would have been killed. A planetary detonation would have turned him into atoms and he definitely would not be living to contemplate it.
A loud clang filtered through the hole abruptly, resonating downward into the cavern loud enough to garner his attention. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up sharply, listening intently. Part of him wondered if the cavern was finally going to cave in and put him out of his misery, but the walls did not groan to indicate it. The clang was abrupt too, light and fleeting. No, now he was sure he heard something else too. The crunching of metal and concrete. Footfalls.
The small hawk from previously suddenly poked its head into the hole and cawed at him, scaring him and making him jump. Agony shot up his back and he almost screamed. Meanwhile, the little condor was beaming at him with its red optics shining in satisfied joy. Once he recovered from his pain, he looked up and saw as the small bird looked over its shoulder and cawed again. A shadow cast itself over the bird and hole, making the darkness return to the cavern. The dark mech blinked at the change in lighting again.
"Hey! Someone kickin' on down there!" The newcomer's voice had a metallic sing-song, grinding static noise within its tone. It sounded as though two people were speaking at the same time, but they were so well melded together that it seemed unlikely under the circumstances.
It had been so long since he had heard another person's voice that he found himself unable to speak up right away. All his slow processor could manage was looking up at the hole entrance dumbly, spellbound from the shadow and sound of that voice.
There was a pause, followed by a disappointed sigh. "Come on, Laserbeak. 'Nother false alarm…" The shadow left and the light returned, the hawk looking down the hole still at the small mech. It blinked, dimmed its optics, and also turned to leave.
His processor clinked to life again. This had to have been real. Another survivor found him. He suddenly started yelling, ignoring the blasts of pain that ripped through his head. "Help! I'm a survivor of X! Please don't go! Help! Please!"
The hawk suddenly whipped around on its feet and stuck its head back into the hole. It looked at him, almost seemed to beam at him with the shrill squawk it utters, and it turned away only to caw and garner the attention of its master. The shadow returned a moment later, blotting out the light from the hole and momentarily submerging him back into darkness once more.
"Alright! I knew we weren't the only ones! Stand back!" It was the mech with the sing-song voice again.
The dark mech wiggled around instinctively recognizing the command, although he only found to regret the movement as a sharp pain raced up his back and forced a cry from his vocalizer.
The sing-song voice returned a moment later. "Are you okay! Heard some skips on that last track!"
The orange eyed mech had absolutely no idea what the slag the newcomer was talking about. Their manner of speaking was odd at best. Still, the voice seemed oddly familiar somehow. He shifted around again and ignored the pain but, when it became obvious he was hopelessly trapped, he gave up and slumped in defeat. "I can't move," he called back as loud as he could manage, sending another angry wave of pain through his sore head.
There was a brief moment of pause, but it seemed like forever to him. Desperate for an immediate reply to assure that he was going to be abandoned for some reason, he prepared to call out again in spite of his raging migraine. Finally however, a reply came. "Cover your head then! It's gonna get loud and I'm gonna bring down the house!"
The little black condor scrambled out of the hole's entrance and the shadow momentarily left. Before the black mech could even respond or even ask what the other even meant however, it was a split second later the ceiling above him shuddered and collapsed in a mass of rubble and… sound? No, not sound, music. He recognized the genre as techno, and it was so loud that the he mech was forced to keep his face planted in the ground both from the sound making lights flash across his vision and the debris falling haphazardly around him. The music was so loud, in fact, that he was fleetingly sure he was going to pass out. There was a very sudden and loud crash that resonated from overhead.
The music abruptly switched off and a hand landed on his shoulder. He snapped his head up - his vision momentarily spun from moving too quickly - and his orange optics were met with the sight of blue ones behind a blue visor. The newcomer was huge, much taller than him and now at the mercy of the newcomer. He supposed that was only his paranoia talking of course, but he certainly had a right to be intimidated by this new mech. His chest was broad with a latch and appeared as if it could open to be a sub-space pocket of sorts. His wings were massive, mesmerizing to look at and outstretched so they reached an impressive wingspan. His paintjob consisted of mostly blue and white along with shades of black, purple, and… and gold. His entire faceplate just below his wide visor was painted a gleaming gold, and it was an immediate indication to a low class runt like him that this mech was of royal caliber. Along with having a bird drone at his command, he obviously had a very, very, very high rank. Lower rankers were easy to identify by their occasionally white, black, and orange paintjobs… right where he was, of course. At the bottom.
He sure had hit rock bottom for sure.
"Are you okay?" The new mech was knelt beside him now, resting a hand on the dark mech's damaged shoulder. The black mech winced at the touch but soon found it a comforting gesture, wishing he could lean into it more had it not been for his inability to move, his nervousness with the new mech fading.
"I can't move," the black and orange X survivor said in his cracked voice weakly, feeling the other's touch on him become more welcoming as it moved to his upper back.
It suddenly hit him, and he immediately recognized who this mech was right away. It was Soundwave, head general of the northeast militia.
X's military was split into four sections, being based on the letter of their home world's title itself. There was the northeast militia, the northwest, and southeast, and the southwest. He himself had been stationed beneath the southwest militia beneath General Blaster. The northwest division was controlled by General Jazz and, finally, the southeast division was headed by a mech dubbed General Bumblebee. General Soundwave however, the mech in charge of the entire northeast section of the military, was the most respected. He was best known for having a strange mannerism of speaking - hence how he recognized and remembered the name of the mech - but in no way did it deter from how utterly brilliant he was. He was a tactician who valued the quality of his troops more than power, which was consequently why the northeast quadrant of Planet X's military was the most powerful. On a less war glorified note, he was also very musically inclined. Between managing the northeast militia, he also apparently ran a radio station and always helped throw the annual Planet X masquerade the Council threw every year for the higher military officials. His squadron leader never allowed him to listen to the radio or go with the rest of his platoon to the masquerade whenever it was held, so his information was based purely on what he had heard. Regardless, Soundwave was an incredibly renown person… and he, the dumb little runt that he was, was laying sprawled on the ground in an undignified heap right in front of him.
Soundwave was not a very judgmental character unlike the other generals, however. Almost casually, he began to rub circles on his back. To even think that Soundwave of all people was touching him made him wonder whether or not he was imagining things. "What's your name, soldier?"
He tensed significantly, both at the realization that this was Soundwave and that he had been asked a question by such a high ranked X general. He gulped suddenly feeling his vocalizer unintentionally freeze on him. He had to forcibly make the unit produce words, but it caused his voice to stutter horribly. "M-my name's S-Sideways, General Soundwave sir."
The other mech apparently took notice his stifling frame but, instead of reprimanding him - such as his squadron leader would have done, he dully noted - he chuckled goodheartedly and continued rubbing those delicious circles on his back. "Good to see that you recognize who I am. Goes to show that your track isn't too scratched. At ease, soldier. I survived too." He paused. "Well, I was a general. Not anymore, I guess."
He blinked. Soundwave… survived too? Where had he been when the cannon went off? "What?"
Soundwave did not answer. Instead, the general seemed to blink behind his visor at him. He felt very small all of a sudden. "Wait, you mean… you didn't hear the explosion and how the party frayed? Where were you when the cannon… no, never mind. We'll worry about that after we get this beat settled. Are you okay?"
No, he was not okay. He was not sure if he would ever be okay, all things considered. Still, he never had he had someone actually care about his wellbeing. Not only that, but it was one of the generals of the damn royal quartet. He momentarily forgot about his pain and tried to sit up, but then the unfriendly reminder to his injuries shot up his spine and he yelped in pain from the flash of burning that tore through his sensory net.
Instantly, Soundwave gripped his shoulders with a gentle firmness and held him down. His hands were very strong. "Easy, easy, take it on the downbeat and mute it. Looks like you messed up your tune pretty bad, Sideways. What hurts?"
"My back," he said with a wince. "I… I can barely feel my legs."
"At least you're not paralyzed if you feel them," Soundwave said. He started rubbing his talented fingers down the middle of his back. "You got a rank?"
He was momentarily afraid to tell him. Ranks for grunts went in the order of Omega, Delta, Beta, Meta, and Alpha. After the grunt class there was the officer class, followed by the squadron leader class, commander class, and then the general quartet class. One would need to be accepted into the head Council if they wanted to raise their rank as high as it could go however, and there were only seven Elders allowed to serve on the Council.
"Omega," he said feebly. In its own way of course, it was a lie. Most other Omega soldiers were much tougher than him both physically and mentally. Even while his squad mates all eventually rose to Alpha level, he remained at Omega. They said it was because he was too stupid of a runt to go any higher than what he already was.
Soundwave laughed, although it was not a mocking tone in the slightest. The general must have sensed his nervousness. "Relax, I don't care about that beat you're playing. I was just curious"
The little condor from earlier suddenly fluttered downward through the air and landed on Soundwave's shoulder. It ruffled its feathers and cooed affectionately, shuffling up the length of its master's shoulder and nuzzling its beat against the general's helm. Soundwave glanced casually over at the bird and reached his free hand up to idly scratch beneath the condor's chin. "This is Laserbeak. He's not the biggest hit on the soundtrack, but still a great hit all the same."
Laserbeak cawed at the last comment as if to acknowledge the general, nuzzling his master by rubbing its face to the bigger mech's helm. The bird was slightly bigger in person, although he was still considerably smaller in comparison to the others. He was much scrawnier too, and it dawned on him that the little bird was more than likely a runt. When squadron leaders were promoted to commander rank, they were allowed to choose from bird partners in an aviary especially made for creating the bird drones. Commanders usually chose more powerful birds to be their partners, and Laserbeak certainly looked like the kind of bird who did not belong in that category. Then again, all things considered, Soundwave was not necessarily the kind of mech who appeared to value power. Soundwave himself was very laid back, even when he admitted to the general that his rank was only at Omega level.
Soundwave's hand reached his lower back, minding his wounds already there before touching something.
His fingers suddenly dipped under whatever was pinning his legs. He shot his other arm out and gripped it with both hands. He screeched in pain as Soundwave abruptly got up and hoisted the heavy mass up from him, freeing his legs. It hurt, but it would have undoubtedly hurt more if Soundwave had not distracted him as he had. Soundwave grunted as he hoisted the mass over his head and hurled it across the room with all his strength, making the boulder smash into the wall and into several pieces of X members not lucky enough to have survived.
He panted heavily, staring at the huge mass of debris and still recovering from the sharp pain that ripped through his legs and back. He was both awed and momentarily terrified by the general's show of ridiculously impressive strength. Still, he was free. Soundwave kneeled beside him again. "You okay?"
He looked up at the mech. Soundwave's features were soft despite the visor and faceplate there and it was painfully obvious he was concerned about the smaller mech's well being. He had not even properly known this mech for more then three cycles… and yet here he was, a royal general of all people, gently caring for a low class runt like him. He would barely wrap his head around such a foreign concept. Slowly, he absently nodded and laid his head back on the ground. "Yeah… I think I'll be okay. I just need some time to rest. Maybe see a medic, too."
Soundwave made a clicking sound. It was sharp and garnered his attention once more. Glancing up, he saw that the general had a nervous look about him. "…Sideways, where were you hanging when the cannon hit a sour note?"
This question again. "My platoon ditched me and left me to work with the cannon maintenance team. I was in the tower when it went up."
"What?"
It was the sharpest question he had heard from the general. It lacked its friendliness from before, and all the warmth had been sucked violently out of his tone. He flinched and glanced nervously at the general. Part of him expected to receive some kind of blow from the general, but he was instead met with a look of shock scrawled on Soundwave's face.
Soundwave must have noticed his terrified look, because he shook his head and seemingly recovered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But… you survived that?"
"How bad was it?" Now was his chance to finally know how much devastation the cannon had actually caused.
Soundwave did not speak right away. Finally, after a long time, he spoke. "Very bad. I was looking for survivors when I found you. C'mon, we gotta skip to the next track and get out of this gig. If this place caves then we'll be off the air for good."
He was not sure why, but the general seemed to avoid his question altogether. Not tempted to try the general's patience however, he went along with it. "Yes sir."
"Call me Soundwave," the general reminded. The warmth to his voice had entirely returned. "Can you get up and fly?"
"Let me see," he said. Slowly, he tried to hoist himself onto his hands and knees. To no luck though, his joints squealed in protest and his engine sputtered with effort. Pain laced up his back piping again and, with a squeak, he collapsed. The sound of his body hitting the floor made the chamber echo with a prominent crash, and his head spun from the noise mercilessly. Out of embarrassment for making himself look inapt at dealing with his own injuries, he tried again.
Soundwave reached out and gently pressed him down by the shoulders. "Whoa, take it easy. You've been through enough. The last thing we want is for you to wear out the track. Lie down on your side."
He did as he was told, feeling foolish for not being able to stand up on his own. He honestly doubted he could fly even if Soundwave could help him stand on his own… except, getting him to stand on his own was apparently never part of Soundwave's plan. As soon as he got down on his left flank, the general abruptly hoisted him into his arms. He squeaked in surprise as to suddenly being picked up and brought flush against the general's gold plated chaises.
Soundwave glanced down at him. Their faces were extraordinarily close. "You okay, Sideways?"
"Yeah," he squeaked with another meek wince.
Soundwave must have mistaken his little pip of surprise to be pain. The general looked him over more critically. "It'll be alright soon, bud. I think I know where I can find a shelter and you can rest there. Better up in the open where nothing is going to fall on you than in here, though.
Primus, he could have cares less for shelter. Deactivating his optics and nodding, all he cared for was that he was not alone.
He could hear the antigravity gear inside Soundwave activate with a mechanical whir and lowly thrumming hum. Slowly but surely, he felt as they were lifted off the ground and undoubtedly out of the cavern. The heat of a nearby fire scorched his armor, indicating that there had been a fire burning very close to the entrance of the hole. Carefully, he chanced a quick glance downward, seeing the corpses of the X members he had shared his prison with for the last time. There were maybe a dozen of them, which momentarily disturbed him because there had been many, many more who were actually working in the lab at the time of the detonation. The entrance to the chasm was much bigger than it had previously been, allowing them to pass up out of the chamber with ease and a large amount of room to spare. As they rose up higher, he felt his sense of paranoia leaving him. He was safe and he was no longer alone. It was such a liberating feeling that he allowed his vision to wander up to look away from the place he had been trapped.
All things considered, his prison was a much prettier sight than what met his sight next.
He had been right when he originally presumed that help would not be coming for him. Soundwave had only found him out of sheer luck apparently, given the extreme circumstances. For miles and miles on end, all he could see was destruction. Massive fires stretched across the landscape like rising funeral pyres high enough to scorch the sky. If there had once been a city standing here - and he knew there once was - there was certainly none now. The buildings and highways and arching structures that made up the city were gone, replaced with a wasteland of crumbled pavement and twisted metal and fire. And bodies. Oh Primus, the bodies. Although none were actually intact corpses as far as he could see, he could still make out the shapes of mutilated body parts spotting the chaotic remains of his home.
He was so horror stricken that he could not immediately voice his terror. Soundwave, meanwhile, must have found the need to speak up. "The Cannon blew the planet sky high. Couldn't take the heat and went out with a bang. The remains crashed on Gigancion. At least we took out a few Gigancians with us. I don't know how I made it, and you're the only member of the X band that I've found still kicking." He saw, out of the corner of his vision, how the general turned his head down to look at him. "Sorry bud. X dished out her last tune. Looks like its going to be a garage band duet between you and I from now on."
It was too much. Too much. Without even caring for how weak he made himself look in front of the general, he sobbed and buried his head in the other mech's chest. Soundwave recoiled slightly but, to his surprise, the general's grip on him only tightened.
At least Sideways was not alone anymore.
"C'mon, it'll be alright," Soundwave coaxed, gently stroking his helm carefully. "Gigancion will pay. We'll make sure of it."
That day became known that the letter X was demoted from the alphabet.
Fin