Note: Thanks for the review! This chapter is kind of a double flashback, as in a flashback within a flashback, and Soundwave will definitely get to kill me by the end of this. I have now finished all my exams! Yay! Hopefully I can update next week, unless a certain 'Con is out to get me…

11. Soundwave

In a way, Soundwave's story was similar to Megatron's. But there was one astute difference: while Megatron had been brought up in the Prime's luxury quarters back on Cybertron, Soundwave had lived his life in squalor and poverty, but too, because of his blood-red optics, so similar to Megatronus's predicament, but both better and worse.

Soundwave was forced to work on the streets and in the factories for money, and if he did not bring enough home, he would be beaten by the mech he called his father, and thrown out of the house, or pathetic shelter which was his house, to beg for money. But being poor had its upsides. Soundwave's father had no money to afford any weaponry, and he certainly was not high-ranked or important enough to be entrusted with any. So, when he did hurt his sparkling, he used his servos, which could never compare with the blast from a cannon. The punishments never lasted long; his father tired out extremely quickly, but they still hurt. And what hurt the most was, being a mind-reader, Soundwave could hear how much his father hated him. The whispers overlapped each other, as he worked, and unable to control his abilities, he would often collapse in a spasm. And that brought on the most trouble at home.

His mother had been killed in an accident a long time ago, leaving them in poverty and alone together. His father worked, but it was not nearly enough to support the family, buying them food, or shelter or any provisions they needed, certainly not medical expertise when something went wrong at home. His father had also been left with depression, and he would often take it out on his sparkling, who he called a freak after being told of the whispers, and whose optics he plainly hated.

One day, after receiving almost no payment at the factory, due to one of the spasm attacks he got from reading too many minds, and unable to control it, Soundwave had found himself once again, a subject of his father's rage. And this was the worst it had ever been.

"You!" his father yelled, in a drunken rage (yes, most of the money they earned was spent on HighGrade), stabbing a digit at his cowering sparkling. "I heard that you got NOTHING at all from your work, because you blacked out for the entire shift!" Soundwave whimpered, cringing away from the furious mech. "You are an absolute disappointment to me; you earn a pittance, earn nothing, yet you eat, sleep, and live under a roof I am struggling to keep above your head!"

The purple mechling shied away from his father, optics wide and terrified. "And the reason WHY you black out is because you can't keep your so-called 'colours' and those 'whispers' out of your stupid helm! Little freak, you are," he continued, now panting and slurring his words. "Your mother, and I, we are normal bots, and you have these crazy things in your head, Primus knows where you got them from! They tell you all these things you're not supposed to know, and you go prying these secrets from everyone's helms. What are you? WHAT ARE YOU?! Freak!" he spat.

He wasn't finished. Soundwave's father continued to rant, screaming abuse at his son, telling him how useless, how stupid, how much of a freak he was. And it all hit home. It broke through his sparkchamber, imaginarily crushing his spark. Why? Because Soundwave decreed it was all true; that his father had a right to be this angry, that it was right for him to be treated this way. And it broke him. "Disgrace, you are, to me, and to everyone! Can't do a simple job. Can't get anything through that thick helm of yours! And those optics you 'ave! Red, blood-red, like 'em Decepticons! Bet my life you'd turn out to be one, one day, innit, it's wired to your processor! Decepti-freak, that's what you are, and let me tell you and put you in your rightful place! Down low, with 'em 'Cons, energon all over their servos, and they don't even care!"

"You want to be one of 'em?" Soundwave shook his head frantically at his father's words, but the older mech ploughed on. "Then go! Get out of my house, I don't need you or your stupid processor anymore! You don't get any money, you're a freak, and I waste what I earn on you! So get out of here, do you understand?" He grabbed Soundwave's helm and hit him hard with his free servo. "I'm disowning you, little freak, so get… out!" He wrenched the door open, with unnecessary violence, threw his sparkling out, and bolted the door with a rickety bolt that was still effective.

In more ways than one, this was similar to Sentinel's abuse of Megatronus, save for the fact that the former was a Prime; for the sake of his reputation, he had been forced to keep the sparkling he hated. And though Megatronus was given food and shelter, it was several more years of torture. Soundwave had been liberated. He was free. But he didn't want to be left alone.

He beat on the door until his servos were covered with energon. Then sobbing, pain coursing through his energon lines like fire, he slid down, and sat on the side of the street, earning no pitiful looks from passer-byes, just disgust and contempt. A mech skirted around him to avoid touching him, as though the very air around him was contaminated. He heard a mutter of 'Decepticon' run through the street, and fled it, running until he could run no more, before collapsing onto the filthy street, his sobs the only noise in the abandoned place, alone and friendless.

And as the night closed down on the place he knew, bathing the street in cold, harsh moonlight, in an isolated street corner, a hungry, tired, cold, lonely and frightened sparkling cried himself to recharge.

A/N: Did you like it? Please review, or Soundwave will be out to get you (he appreciates comments on how mean everyone was to him; I've spoken to him, and he promises that he won't kill me)!