"I admit, Shockwave may have gone too far."
Soundwave swiveled his visor-helm, his face-screen carefully blank as he looked upon Megatron atop his throne.
"Lord Megatron: Please clarify your meaning."
"Jetfire's fighting failed to impress me, even if he is a mechling. I instructed Shockwave to improve his capabilities, but I didn't expect his upgrades to turn him into a monster - did you see those mandibles of his? Absolutely disgusting." Megatron leaned further into his throne, servos clasped together in thought. "Soundwave, I made a mistake. What do I do?"
Soundwave stood, with servos clasped behind his back, mimicking his master. "It upsets me also, what happened to Jetfire..." Several beats of silence passed, as Soundwave spliced together his sentences.
"Regardless if he is an Autobot, we must correct and revert the harm to the child. My observation: Shockwave must've spliced insecticon CNA into Jetfire - his appearance resembles such a creature."
"And?" Megatron sneered impatiently.
"My suggestion: Keep a closer optic on Shockwave's activities. His four million year absence on Cybertron and from the Decepticon-cause, under your leadership ...calls into question his mental-stability. I will observe him for any flaws in his functioning, carefully."
"Very good, Soundwave. I'll leave the project of restoring the mechling to his former-self to you, for now - until new information comes to light."
Megatron wouldn't raise some sniveling monster as his heir - even he had standards.
He was far from desperate when it came to options - when it came, to replacing himself.
"Now Soundwave, where were we?"
Soundwave rolled his shoulders, moving his servo to point at a large hologram-projection, laid flat against a monitor screen which took up almost the entire room.
The two of them were dissecting Jetfire's debut performance in the New Kaon Arena and neither had been pleased by what they'd seen so far. Soundwave again pointed a fingertip at a specific detail of the presentation for emphasis, a paused videoclip of Jetfire bracing himself as the predacon began its first pouncing-movements, aiming to crush Jetfire's spark-chamber.
There, where Soundwave was pointing, was a distinct spot of green.
"Why is the mechling's spark pulsating green?" Megatron itched his chin and his denta tiredly clicked together.
He was exhausted.
It was hard to run a ship full of idiots.
Megatron did not envy Soundwave's job of having to keep track of said idiots, watching their every movement to the point of processor-fatigue.
He did not dare ask how Soundwave could stand to do his job - least the mech reconsidered if he really wanted to look at idiots all day.
Megatron certainly wouldn't blame him if he wanted to do something different.
"Regardless of the mechling's questionable upgrades, your performance in the arena was admirable like always, Soundwave. It reminds me of the time the first Decepticons formed their allegiances towards one another in those gladiator pits." Megatron paused, glancing at his own servo, his claws twitched across his palm as if something had caught his attention.
It didn't escape Soundwave's notice. Imperceptibly, Soundwave leaned closer to Megatron's throne, zooming in his optics to capture a glint of purple along his claws. It wasn't the purplish-teal of an energon cut - Megatron wasn't bleeding.
But the purple was unmistakable.
Soundwave felt his composure drop into a slouch as he looked Megatron over - scanning for any more signs of the purple color, but he found nothing else.
Still, it was enough.
Unicron's blood was casually swabbed across Megatron's palm and instinctively Soundwave wanted to flee the room, if only to ensure Laserbeak's safety, tucked away within his chassis.
Megatron glared dangerously, but it was directed inwards towards his comm-link, a small light along his helm signaled he was getting a call and he politely held up an apologetic servo in Soundwave's direction - in regards to the interruption.
Worried, yet curious - a bundle all wrapped up into one - Soundwave didn't hesitate to track who Megatron was speaking to. It was a private comm-link conversation, so he was limited with what he dared to do, and he wasn't about to hack into Megatron's helm, no matter how much Blood of Unicron he was consuming...even though the amount was concerning...
No matter the amount...
Soundwave laughed, a quiet strangled noise, when he found who was cluttering up Megatron's comm-line.
A tale as old as time.
It was Starscream.
The glitchy bastard was alive, and had come crawling back.
Like always.
Why was Soundwave surprised?
Because for once he'd dared to hope that things upon the Nemesis would change - that he could deliver reports to a mech that would actually appreciate how thorough a job he did, guarding Decepticon secrets.
Though Dreadwing's career as Second-In-Command had been comedically brief, during that tenure Dreadwing had complimented Soundwave's skill and flawless reporting.
That entire short ordeal of a change-in-command had spoiled him.
Showed Soundwave how good and peaceful things could be.
In contrast, Starscream never appreciated Soundwave's reports, and would nitpick the details in every single one - as if he'd been displeased "this or that" had been discovered for one reason or another.
But Soundwave knew all-to-well, that whatever Starscream was complaining about likely correlated to one of his schemes.
Soundwave was always careful to alter his security-protocols daily, giving whatever Starscream complained about special attention.
Suddenly, Megatron roared and stood up from his throne, smacking the side of his own helm - no doubt the comm-link displeased him; then to Soundwave's surprise, Megatron leaned down to whisper into his visor-optic.
"We aren't done here - wrap up the arena footage for a later date, but know I want Starscream kept far away from the Autobot-whelp, and tell Shockwave the same goes for him." Megatron glanced away, his denta almost cracking as he clenched his jaw. "Keep an eye on our prisoner, Soundwave. Else I suspect Starscream might use him to conspire against me. He expressed too much curiosity about our captive just now."
"Jetfire: Will be watched, Lord Megatron."
"Good." Megatron stomped unceremoniously out of the room, calling back, "Now, please do me the favor of welcoming our dear Air Commander back home. I need to have a conversation with Shockwave."
"You disappoint me, Starscream."
For once Starscream didn't hold back his laughter.
Megatron's clipped statements always brought out his suicidal tendencies, as if he'd been trained like Earth's Pavlov's dog.
He had lived over one billion years.
Sometimes he liked to daydream he'd wake up in Thundercracker's body after taking an ion-cannon to the head - finally reunited with his spark's desperately missed aspects of self-preservation.
"Don't do it again."
Fortunately in front of him stood Soundwave, shrouded in darkness, who could play a convincing Megatron when he wanted to. There would be no fist against his faceplates today, as Starscream couldn't risk another injury to the head.
Soundwave, thankfully, wasn't known for random acts of violence.
"Starscream: Was missing without notice, for cycles. Explanation is required."
Ever since the Decepticons had welcomed Shockwave back into their ranks, Starscream had been treated like some sort of wayward child with crossed-wires and marbles rattling within his processor - which was ridiculous. Why did Megatron hold Shockwave in any esteem when the mech had been presumed death for four million years?
Perhaps that was why.
Some part of Megatron must've been happily surprised to see one of his most powerful soldiers still alive.
Some part of Starscream desperately wanted to act as the catalyst to sour Shockwave's reputation within Megatron's optics - and finally, the respect he'd once held as Second-In-Command could be restored.
His instincts of "self-preservation," wouldn't stop screaming at him.
But he wasn't a creature completely without reason.
It was...a distracting, pointless scheme - it was stupid to plot against Shockwave - to wish bad luck upon an ally too lobotomized by apathy and twisted, paper-thin rationalizations to ever pursue a seat of power.
It was within Starscream's best interests to execute Shockwave's plans.
It was simply...logical.
He wasn't stupid - he was invested in Shockwave's continued functioning.
Yet, some parts of his coding just couldn't be reasoned with - his instincts frequently suggested destructive elements.
The mere idea of succeeding in a scheme gave Starscream immense satisfaction.
The mere idea.
Some taboo rectification.
Scheming - it was a divine respite from his background responsibilities - the continuous, grueling stress of his unwelcomed existence.
Everything was coming together.
It was a beautiful situation.
He wasn't hapless.
The Decepticons would soon be under his thumb...
The Nemesis - Trypticon - his long-lost, yet rightful servant - would pilot under his command once again.
As he daydreamed childishly, Starscream didn't feel the ache across the dent in his helm, as he thought of an elusive, eldritch-retirement.
Or perhaps it was Soundwave's shadow, leaning across his shoulder...
What would it be like to lay down in recharge, and to stay there, for as long as he wanted?
To retire - that is.
"Starscream: Explanation. Is. Required." Soundwave repeated his statement of a question, the tone more stilted and loud, as if an honest confession could be wrestled from Starscream's cold, jagged fangs.
'Fat-chance of that.' Starscream pointed at the dent in his helm, staring at Soundwave expectantly, as if it explained everything.
Perhaps if it was Megatron standing in front of him, he would've been more forthcoming with his words.
''What are the circumstances of the injury? How did it occur? No Autobot-altercations have been reported tied to your absence."
Starscream rolled his optics. Of course Soundwave would demand useless details, unable to put the pieces together himself.
'I might as well humor the imbecile.' He thought.
"It was Shockwave. I figured the purple paint-transfers atop my helm would've been clue enough." He sighed, his frame stiffened from genuine fatigue. "Now let me recharge before the cycle renews. Then I'll go see Knockout."
Soundwave was silent for a moment. He scanned Starscream thoroughly, and for once he found no hint of deception nor secret within his frame. The purple paint did indeed match the exact color hexicode of Shockwave's frame. Soundwave wordlessly began a report concerning Shockwave's mental-stability, as Megatron had earlier requested.
"Starscream: Is free to go."
Soundwave stood a little straighter as Starscream turned to leave, surprised the mech hadn't elaborated dramatically about how he'd received his injury - nor had Starscream insulted Soundwave before his departure.
It was unusual.
'His need for recharge is no bluff.' Concluded Soundwave.
He watched as Starscream entered the elevator which would head down into the belly of New Kaon's basement-level.
It was a suspicious place to recharge.
But investigation of Starscream's reclusive, hermit-like behavior would have to wait
Soundwave had other priorities, for once.