Bulkhead grumbled under his intakes, embarrassed as he limped into the medbay. He stepped around stacked supplies and storage trunks from the newly arrived refugee ship, and wonder if he was only in the way. He would have simply left and not bothered with seeking care to avoid getting in the way. But he knew from the pain he was in that he might really have hurt himself. And he knew well that no good ever came from waiting it out.
"Hello?" he called out over a decent stack of crates left close to the middle of the large open room. And he chuckled a little, cheerful despite the pain that shot through his right leg when he stepped down just a little too hard. "Anybody home?"
"Hello?" a voice called right back. But the voice was strangely unfamiliar. And it came from somewhere close to the back of the medbay.
There was a shuffling noise of some heavy crates being slid across the floor, and heavy footsteps, before a bot appeared, around the stack of supplies. He was red and white, and his paint similar to Ratchet's, with both Autobot and medical symbols on his armour. But this bot was clearly new. Bulkhead blinked in surprise, not expecting to meet a new arrival that day, despite building housing for a large number of them.
"What can I do for you?" the new arrival, clearly now part of the medical team, questioned plesently.
"I... uh... bit of a workplace accident," Bulk explained, somewhat hesitant, and more embarrassed now then ever. "Is Ratchet around?"
"He's been busy most of the morning with another patient," the new medic answered calmly. And he glanced around the medbay, so clearly still getting his bearings. "You could wait for him I suppose, if you want to... But I'd be happy to see you right away. That leg looks... painful."
"It is," Bulkhead admitted, still hesitant as he limped toward the repair table the new arrival gestured to – the one closest to him in order to save him much further walking.
"So, workplace accident you say?" the medic powered up his scanner, while he opened a tool kit, he'd placed neatly onto a workable beside him. "My name is Ambulon, by the way. You'll be seeing me around here a fair bit from now on. Could be you be a little more specific about this accident?"
"Fell off a scaffold," Bulk' lowered his head to look at the floor then, feeling quite perfectly ridiculous for being so clumsy. And though he knew it was dangerous to do so in the first place, he was thankful somehow that he'd been working alone that morning, because no one had seen him fall.
"How far up was the scaffold?" the medic questioned, his tone professional and showing not a hint of judgment. He carefully scanned Bulk's right leg, and winced just a little at whatever he'd seen on his scanner.
"About four floors or so..."
"That..." the new bot blinked his optics a moment, visibly shocked, "that is a long way to fall. You're lucky all that seems to hurt so far is your leg. And I'm shocked that you just walked on in here alone. I'd like to do full body scans on you just to be sure you didn't do anything else, because you well could have."
"You appear... uneasy..." the medic observed, calmly as ever after Bulkhead, following his directions, had lay down on the repair table.
"Nah... I just..." Bulkhead was about to let it go then and say nothing more. But something in the new medic's calm and friendly attitude made him want to explain, so he did. "I've never exactly liked anything to do with medics. Ratchet's the only doctor I've seen in half a century."
"I can see why," the new bot said, understanding. He gave a friendly little laugh as he scanned Bulk's frame slowly, starting at the head. "He's a wonderful medic. And a lot to live up to I must say. I'm nervous just being here, working under the infamous old bot. I was downright scared to learn he of any bot was the one I'd work for here. Because, well we all know he's got a reputation for anger... and throwing things."
"Nah. That's mostly just stories. Old doc bot is well liked around here. And he's a great bot to work if you just respect him."
"As I've learned already," the new arrival said, chattering on a bit, obviously nervous. "And clearly Ratchet thinks I've got some potential, because he's already offered me that open administration job."
"Oh?" That was news to Bulkhead, who'd only been aware of other plans. But he shook his head a little and said nothing else.
"Yes indeed," the new medic said, cheerful as ever. He turned off the scanner and set it down. "I told him I'd think it over a few days, but I'm leaned well toward accepting. It's a great opportunity for a bot like me... Well, it looks like you've escaped any serious damage in that fall. A couple of pulled wires in that right leg and that's it. Tell you what... I think I'm going to try lightly bracing it for you for a few days and we'll see how it does at self repairing. If nothing happens you'll need minor surgery on those wires, but let's try to avoid it shall we. You're off work for at least those few days, and I mean it. No training gym or any such thing either!"
#####
"Ratchet," Bulkhead called, quietly. And his voice was just barely above a whisper as he peeked around the door is the the special care room a short ways down the hall from the medbay. He hoped the quickly catch a moment of the old bot's time, if he wasn't busy. But mostly he simply wished to help him if he was. Bulk' was by no means a medic of course. And he was in fact perhaps even under trained when it come to his field first aid. But still he quite enjoyed the job of jumping in when needed and simply taking orders on completing simple tasks and fetching supplies.
"Bulk'" Ratchet answered back quietly from inside the dim lit room. He stood up from a chair in been dsitting in to work, beside the recharge station of a tiny green youngling bot. He held a small pile of balled up damp towels in his hands and held them out at once, sure enough welcoming the implied offer of some help. "Take these please, and toss them in the wash bin by the door."
"It's just CR fluid," he continued, still quietly, when Bulkhead immediately frowned at the stuff that soaked the white towels as soon as he'd grabbed them. "It's nothing dangerous, don't worry. She was covered in it because I just got her out a short while ago."
"So, this is the little bot that come in the other day?" Bulkhead said. He turned to throw the towels into the bin, and let the lid close quickly behind them. Ratchet nodded once, a little sadly, and Bulk' smiled for a second.
"She's so fragging cute," he observed, because she truly was, and this was the first time he'd actually seen her.
"She is," Ratchet agreed. And he smiled just a little himself now, looking from his patent to his teammate and back again. "Her name is Switchblade, but no one even seems to use her name anymore. Knockout nicknamed her 'Little bot' and somehow it just kind of caught on quick."
"I didn't realize she was quite that young."
"Indeed she is." And Ratchet shook his head, clearly sad at that. "A bit older than Cybershock obviously. Probably just a little older than Takeoff and Runway."
"Doctor Ratchet," the youngling mumbled quietly, and her voice was so calm and curious. Her optics were closed and while it looked like she was in recharge, she clearly was not entirely. "Who's that?"
"That's Bulkhead," the old bot answered, smiling a little, though of coruse the tiny bot couldn't see him do it with her optics closed. "He's a good friend of mine. Another Autobot. Why don't you say hello?"
"Hello," the small green painted youngling said slowly.
She was clearly tired, fighting just to say out of recharge for a couple moments longer. And her condition was obviously still far from perfect. Her right arm in particular was clearly almost no use at all. And it was been carefully wrapped against her body with thin metallic bindings quite obviously for the simple purpose of just keeping it out of her way, for her comfort and safety But still, from the tone of her voice in that simple greeting, she sounded so happy. Her optics finally opened then, just a second after she'd spoken. And Bulkhead blinked his own for a moment in amazement with just how bright blue they were.
"Hey there, Little bot," Bulk' said grinning. And he laughed a little, though he wasn't sure exactly what was funny. And at that, the tiny bot, laying still, exactly where she was, because she clearly had little ability or strength yet to move much at all, grinned the most impressive grin at him that he'd ever seen.
"Do you want me to pack you up in the bot-bag again?" Ratchet asked the youngling, and she appeared to consider for just a second before she slowly nodded a little.
Bulkhead just watched a moment, confused and curious, before he noticed that the tiny bot lay on top of an open metallic medical transport cover, which lay neatly over her recharge station. And he watched, chuckling just a little, as Ratchet carefully bundled her into it, pulling the sides up around her body, before closing snaps so it would stay put, and finally fastening together straps that closed over the front. The youngling was clearly in recharge before he he finished the process, and the old bot stepped away from her, shaking his head just a little, while, he chuckled with amusement.
"It's entirely silly," he said, heading for the door and leading bulkhead out with him as he went. The door half clsoed behind them as they left the room. "I know as well as any bot, it's absolute silliness to keep her wrapped up like that. But sometimes you just do what works... It certainly isn't hurting anything..."
"Yeah," Bulk' said, easily agreeing.
"What happened to your leg?" Ratchet questioned, concerned as they walked a short hallway that took then close to the outside of the medbay doors. It was clear he'd noticed then for the first time that his teammate was injured. And now that he had noticed he was quickly in medi-bot mode, looking him over, inspecting him with his optics and waiting for him to explain it all in detail.
"I just took a little fall at work," Bulkhead said, downplaying the whole event on purpose, because he just didn't feel like a second scolding by a second medi-bot. Besides, he still didn't feel any less ridiculous for having fallen to begin with, than he did when he'd first showed up for treatment. He shrugged then, and gave a nervous chuckle, brushing it off in hopes the old old bot would too. "That new medic, Ambulon fixed me up easily enough. Said it's just a couple of pulled wires, but I'll be in this brace and off work for a while... I was just looking for you because I wanted to talk to you a minute."
"Alright..." Ratchet muttered, clearly hesitant to let the matter drop so easily. But he did let it drop regardless, because clearly anything medical was already well under control.
"That new medic tells me you offered the administrator job to him," Bulk' said. He sat down carefuly on a bench close to him and against the wall, because his leg really began to hurt so much he could barely stay standing, even with the leg brace on. And he knew full well that any try at 'toughing it out' would only give the old bot cause for the scolding he was still desperate to avoid from him.
"Indeed I did," Ratchet answered. And he sounded oddly proud of his decision. "You're calling him the 'new medic.' And I guess that does make sense because he's new here. But Ambulon is obviously not brand new to medicine in general of course. Far from it. He's got centuries of experience behind him. He's well accomplished and he knows his stuff. Plus, he's got all the right passion for medicine, helping bots for the right reasons... I never had the honour of working with him before he got here, though I do wish I had. It's clear to me even after only a couple of days, he's a perfect choice."
"But... that was Knockout's job. Listen... it's prob'ly none of my business but I don't think you can just pass him over for the job you already offered him, all because someone else come along and that you feel that someone may be better. I'm just a construction bot now, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything. And I think that could be a slippery slope right back into the old functionalist ways of..."
"Bulkhead!" Ratchet said firmly. And Bulk' stopped talking at once, understanding quickly, had he;d been off strangely on a tangent with little clear reason for it. "I didn't pass Knockout over. Of course I wouldn't do that, because everything you said is completely right. I offered Knockout the job, informally last year and he said he'd take it. Of course you know that. But I offered it officially just the day before that ship arrived, and he turned it down. I offered him the same job twice more in two days. He turned it down twice more. Bulk', Knockout doesn't want to be in some office, seeing patients here and there between stacks of paperwork, because we're swamped. He's put in his application for a new position in the hospital..." Ratchet shrugged, then chuckled a little under his intakes, adding, "that's formality of course. We know full well the job is his."
"Sorry 'bout the whole jumping to conclusions thing," Bulkhead said serious. And he sat a second, frowning. "I guess I'm just a little edgy lately."
"I would say that's almost an understatement, Bulk'" Ratchet chuckled with a slight shake of his head. "It's not my place of course to tell anyone where Knockout is heading next. But surely he'd be more than excited to tell you himself next time you see him."
Painting the walls was certainly not a difficult job. But it was rather a tedious one. And if there was one thing Smokescreen truly disliked, it was tedious work. He stood, at present, roughly halfway up a step ladder, balancing a paint can in one hand and a roller in the other, painting the wall behind the hospital 'registration and info' desk, a cheerful light green. Ratchet had chosen the colour, well intended he'd said, to brighten the place up and to put patients at ease, because apparently the old dingy grey was just plain depressing. Smokescreen agreed of course. Every bot surely did. And he certainly thought the new colour was a wonderful choice. He simply did not like to be the bot with the job of applying it.
He grumbled a little to himself, bored with the work. And he nearly fell off the ladder when he reached a little to far, stretching out with the roller in hand to paint the top right corner. He grumbled a little more when he remembered he'd agreed to paint the waiting room after he was done with the info desk. And he groaned when he realized just how big that entire job actually was. He'd surely be at all afternoon.
"Ya got some green paint on your own paintjob there, kid," Wheeljack said, pausing in the small space near the front doors, as he wandered on inside. And instead Smokescreen groaned with dismay.
"What? Where?" he cried, alarmed as he struggled still on the ladder, to look over as much of his own body as he could, all without either falling or splattering anymore paint from the roller onto himself.
"Fragger," he mumbled, under his intakes a moment later, after it had become clearly just from the look on his teammate's face-plate, that the former wrecker was simply trying to wind him up a bit. And still standing on the step ladder, Smokescreen held out the roller to him, hopefully. Wheeljack only shook his head a little.
"Nah, I'm not here ta paint, Smoky. No time for that right now. Gotta grab some fuel before I head downtown to meet with Ultra Magnus. I'm heading over with him to look underneath that defunct electronics shop."
"Makes sense he'd ask you to help with that mess," Smokescreen said, after a second in which he'd thought about it, slightly confused. "He wants you on the case for your background in explosives?"
"Yep." Wheeljack nodded once, before he walked away again quickly, and clearly in a bit of a hurry to get off to where he was going.
"Well," Smokescreen mumbled to himself, speaking out loud into the empty space, because he simply could. "I guess I should be grateful we have building left to paint after centuries or war..." that thought made him smile then. And his his surprise he found himself humming, happily as he went on reaching up just as high as he could with the roller.
A strange sound caught his attention then. And on alert at once, years of warrior instincts kicking in quickly, Smokescreen crept almost silently down the steps of the ladder. Standing still at the bottom of it, he reached down to carefully set the paint can and roller on the floor, before he turned around slowly, listening more anymore noises.
The sound, he realized, listening closer, was the noise of a ground bridge, whirring away somewhere close by and out of sight. And his first thought was to simply be relieved because of course, an activated ground bridge inside the base was not, as a rule, a cause for alarm. But the noise of it came from behind a door behind him and slightly to his right. And Smokescreen shook his head a little, realizing the the noise had alarmed him at once because it came from the last place a bot might expect to hear such a sound at all. The room, just behind that simple pull-open door, was an overflow storage room for the medbay. And he shook his head again, realizing it was now filled with common first aid and medical supplies.
"What the... pit?" Smokescreen muttered under his intakes, as he walked over slowly and yanked open the storage room door.
"Soundwave?" He exclaimed shocked, just as soon as he'd opened the door to find the mentioned bot, on his knees on the storage room floor. The bot in question was scuffed from head to foot, and badly dented. He shook and trembled horribly, and long and terrible scratches across the entire front of him, amde it clear he might have at some point been dragged roughly across the ground.
"Scrap, what happened to you?" Smokescreen asked in alarm. And he looked the tall navy blue and purple bot over in shock He should not have been surprised to see Soundwave of any bot inside the tiny room. He was after all, the only bot he knew of anywhere, who would simply call up and drop ground bridges at will anywhere he wanted to. But to find the bot in such a state... he knew at once that's what had startled him the most.
"Where the frag did you go?" Smokescreen questioned when after a moment Soundwave, not surprisingly, said nothing at all. "It's been days you know? And a lot's happened in those days."
Soundwave's face-plate was hidden as always, behind the dark cover he wore. But suddenly his hands went toward it. And with a terrible gasping sound, making it clear he could barely catch his intakes, he pulled the cover off quickly. Smokescreen had known full well the defector's face-plate was all but destroyed. Still, it took some effort not to gasp out loud and stumble back against the door frame behind him, shocked by the state of it. And this, he was aware, after the start of repairs.
"Soundwave," Smokescreen said then. The tone was his voice was even only because he forced it to be so. "Close... close the ground bridge."
He'd realized himself only a second before, that the portal, behind where Soundwave kneeled on the floor, was still open and actively spinning. And Soundwave, still gasping badly with his intakes – seemingly in the midst of what was quite clearly fast becoming some sort of panic attack – closed the bridge at once.
"I think you need to go to medical?" Smokescreen told him. He didn't like the look of those bad scratches, and stepped forward a few steps, with a hand extended. But he was careful not to touch the bot's body armour, more than well aware of how much he disliked most any form of contact under any circumstances. "I'll comm Ratchet... let him know we are on our way in..."
Soundwave only waved off his offer at once, with an urgent motion of his hand – which shock with shocking violence as he did so. He struggled for a moment just to get himself onto his feet. And he stumbled just as soon as he'd managed it, falling back onto his knees again with a loud clanging thump against the metal floor.
"I'll comm for Firestorm then," Smokescreen decided quickly. And to his relief he saw Soundwave nod a little, agreeing to at least let her help him.
Firestorm appeared though right outside the door, less than a second after he'd first decided he would call for her, and of course before he'd even had a chance to. It was instantly clear that Laserbeak had lead her there, following some silent call herself, because the tiny flying bot sat on the handlebar of Firestorm's yellow painted walking frame, with her wings flapping urgently, while she practically screamed noise, clearly with something to say. The small bird finally leapt from the bars of the walking frame and flew toward Soundwave who despite his shaking and his terror at... something, allowed her to dock at once. Instantly she become, to any bot who knew no better, simply a part of his chest panel.
"Soundwave.." Firestorm said slowly, and she sat down on storage room floor, just as soon as she'd quickly nodded her thanks in Smokesceen's direction. "Are... are you alright. I think you've bridged yourself right into a store room..."
Soundwave slowly nodded, and Firestorm continued on, just as calmly as the shaking of her small voice would allow. "Did... something happen?"
Another nod in reply.
"I'm taking you to medical," Firestorm said firmly. She may have been young – still barely old enough to hold adult status on Cybertron. But the tone of her voice was, in that second, one that left no room for argument.
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!" Hotwire squealed, laughing happily while he was pushed, just as high as Bumblebee could push him, on a playground swing.
"Sorry Buddy," 'Bee said, laughing back. "I think that's as high as the swing will go."
"Oh – kay..." Hotwire said, sighing his obvious disappointment. And 'Bee gave the swing a nother light shove as it stared to slowly down all to quickly. The little bot laughed again, before he gave a cheer of joy and held on tight to the chains in his hands.
Bumblebee smiled, just watching his creation a moment. It surprised him, though not in a bad way of course, just how high Hotwire wanted to swing in the first place. The youngling was, in general, meek and skittish, both on the playground and in life overall. When he ran he took it slow, fearing a trip and fall. And when he climbed, on rare occasions he did so at all, he'd climb only past his own height, hanging on tight to anything he could and searching almost too carefully for his hand and footholds. For the longest time he'd disliked the playground slide, because it was 'too fast' for him to feel safe on.
He thought a second of his youngling's best playmate, Cybershock, who was of cruse, just as bold and reckless, as Hotwire was nervous and careful. Speedbreaker, he knew well, feared that child was rbound to break her neck one day – even if said youngling was impressively aware of her own surroundings and oddly careful with landing her death defying jumps. 'Bee chuckled to himself a second with a tiny shake of his head, sure as anything that it had clearly been Cybershock who had fianllly taught Hotwire to enjoy the swing for it's full potential.
He chuckled again, this time with relief, at knowing that at elast he would never likely need to worry about his own youngling jumping from the swing, as Cybershock did, on an apparently regular basis. Speedbreaker had relayed stories - while she shook her head and cringed – of how she'd seen the tiny bot leap from swings at twenty feet in the air, hitting the ground hard on her feet, and rolling across the ground laughing like it was simply the funniest thing ever just to do that.
"Where's Cybershock?" Hotwire asked then. Sure enough, he looked around for his best friend on the playground, because she was often there when he was. The swing slowed again, and 'Bee gave it another hard push.
"She's probably at home, with her own family," Speedbreaker answered their youngling. She smiled assurance, but the look of something clsoe to relief on her face-plate was unmistakable. 'Bee knew well of her growing worries when it came to letting the two little ones play together outdoors, as they both so loved too. She'd expressed her concerns more than once over easy it would be for Cybershock to get Hotwire injured – even though it would of course obviously be accidental.
"'Bee," Speedbearker said a brief second later. She sat, perched on the swing next to the one Hotwire was using, her hands holding the chains lightly, while she pushed on foot against the ground lightly, causing the swing to rock a little. "Be careful. Not so high..."
"Speedy, he's fine," 'Bee answered, laughing a little as his bondmate's fretting. "Watch. He's holding on. He loves it." With that, he pushed her too. Standing behind her swing, he grabbed her from behind and pulled her back toward him, before he promptly let go.
Speedbreaker had never swung when she was a youngling herself. Born and raised on a refugee ship, she'd never even seen a playground then. And for a second she squeaked with dismay when her mate let her go. But quickly, and with a tiny laugh, she simply pushed herself forward on the swing with a forward kick of her legs, and processed to swing with their child.
"I so understand why the younglings love that," she said, laughing as she let the swing stop again after many long moments. And she sat again, just rocking lightly on it with her feet on the ground. Slowly she shook her head and sighed. "At one point I might just have been worried you'd send me into spark separation by pushing me like that. But now I suppose it would actually be a good thing..."
"Yeah," 'Bee answered, smiling while he laughed.
"I can't believe I've carried past the newsparks' full maturation. I fully expected they'd be early since we've got two of them."
"It's certainly possible to over-carry with twins. It's sure not common, as far as I've read my text-pads. But it's not impossible. And they were still both clearly happy and healthy at our last check up yesterday."
"I know. I guess I'm just excited I can't wait to meet them both..."
"Getting nervous?" 'Bee guessed. He gave Hotwire another push on his swing before he stood behind his mate, smiling understanding at her.
"Maybe a little bit, yeah," Speedy said, thinking. "I mean, sure I have had a newspark before. So it won't all be entirely new this time around. But it's never the same every time. We've never had twins... and Ratchet was talking this morning about inducing separation in a day or two, if they don't hurry up and do this on their own."
"Jumping jacks," 'Bee exclaimed, grinning. And Speedy spun around on the swing, to look at him half sideways, until he explained. "It stands to reason... the jumping motion. It might just shake things up a bit, get them wanting out."
"Is this medically safe?" Speedbreaker questioned after getting up from the swing to make a half sparked effort at jumping up and down near it.
"Sure it is," 'Bee answered, assuring her. "Most things are much safer now, because spark separation is the desired outcome at this point, instead of a risk to be avoided."
"Mama," Hotwire said, hopping up from the swing just as soon as it had completely stopped moving. And he ran the few feet between them, to pull lightly in Speedbreaker's arm, urgently. "Mama, slide down the slide with me!"
The little bot, of course could not have known a thing of his creators' current situation, or understood why exactly his carrier had begun to jump and down like she as doing. But he saw her 'playing.' And in his little processor, it was clear it only made sense then that perhaps she ought to play with him.
"Sure!" Spedbreaker answered, laughing as she hurried behind him, climbing up to slide down the playground slide with Hotwire sitting on her lap. Bumblebee only laughed loudly at them both, knowing well it certainly could not hurt a thing.
"Am I gonna be a big browder soon?" Hotwire asked curious, sitting on his carrier's lap on the bottom of the slide, after she'd gone down with him a handful of times. The youngling smiled, reaching up with one small hand, to rest it gently on Speedy's spark chamber, beneath which he understood full well his two siblings happily spun around and around.
"You will," Speedbreaker said, smiling back at him. She pulled him closer to her, hugging him tight, until he giggled. "You excited, Hotwire?"
"Yeah!" the little bot exclaimed in answer, before promply turning so that his little silver face-plate rested close to Speedy's chest panel.
"Hewo in dare!" he called cheerfully, to the newsparks inside.
"Well, I think I've done about all I can at the moment," Ratchet said. His expression was serious, dismayed and sad. He stood in the middle of the medbay, still close to where he had been working, next to a repair table Soundwave recharged on. And slowly, he shook his head a little. "It's cosmetic damage for the most part... a lot of scuffs and scratches... a pile of dents."
"I... I..." Firestorm stammered, nervous and shaken, beside him. "Th... those images he showed us. I don't understand what it all meant..." She stood a second, just looked down at Soundwave, confused, before she sighed and just leaned against the raised side railing of the repair table, defeated. "Soundwave always said I wouldn't understand, when I tried to ask him about so many things..."
"You don't understand those things because you didn't see the war," Ratchet answered. He let his hand rest on the young bot's small shoulder panel, and offered a smile of assurance. "I'm glad everyday to think you didn't too. You and Speedy and so many others... you were spared, safe aboard your ships, thank Primus for that. Your lack of understanding, as I see it, is probably a good thing. And I know Soundwave would agree."
"I know," Firestorm sighed again. "But I can't help him if I don't even know what he was trying to tell us..."
Soundwave had gone to medical quite willingly enough. But still, even when only in the presence of Ratchet and Firestorm, had hadn't said a word. He'd only sat for long moments trembling hard from obvious shock, until, in response to begging from both of them to please explain... something, he'd displayed moving images, memories stored in his own processor, on the wall across the room. In the absence of his face covering he'd used the wall as a screen. That much was obvious – though that certainly was a trick no one had seen from him (or any bot) before. And there had been audio too, recordings of a voice screaming and angry, in some sub-dialect of Cybertronian that Firestorm was just barely familiar with at all. Nothing had matched up, at least not fully. And in his own shock it was clear that Soundwave had struggled just to piece it together that well at all. And he'd dropped unconscious only moments after that, nearly tumbling to the floor from his seated position, before Ratchet had quickly grabbed him.
"Ratchet..." Firestorm said, trembling just a little, remembering everything she'd seen projected onto the wall. She reached up a little, pulling half helplessly at the old medic's arm, just like a youngling may have done, and sure her optics were at nearly twice the size they should have been. "Who was that huge silver bot...?"
"Megatron. You surely know at least some of his story behind that one. Once leader of the 'cons... Once the greatest enemy of the Autobots. Now in willing exile somewhere on Cybertron..."
"That's him?" Firestorm cringed, while she went right on trembling. From what she had seen just a moment before, the bot in question had anger issues and so much worse. Of course she'd known that much. Every bot on Cybertron knew that. But she'd watched, in the imaged projected onto the medbay wall, as the horrible bot, raged, and ranted like a crazed and senseless maniac. The audio, that Soundwave had played back, allowed her to hear his voice perfectly. And even in the language in which he'd bellowed and yelled, it was clear he'd half lost his mind.
"It looked like..." Firestorm mumbled, horrified as she allowed herself to put together just as much as she could on her own, to make her own guess. "He tried to kill him..." she looked down again at Soundwave, helpless as tears threatened to fall from her optics. "He might just have done it too, if Soundwave hadn't managed to run..."
"That's exactly what happened," Ratchet said. And he nodded, firmly but still clearly saddened and disbelieving. "It's obvious he wanted to beat him to death... probably break his neck..."
"But Ratchet...?" Firestorm said. The tears in her optics fell then, and she didn't even try to stop then, because she knew too well she'd only fail to. Soundwave still lay, quite obviously in unintended recharge. And she watched him a moment, wondering if perhaps she ought to hope he would soon wake back up again, or hope he would not. "It makes no sense. Soundwave served as Megatron's most loyal officer, up until the end of the war. He was a commanding officer... he helped to build the most feared army the world ever saw... Now Megatron wants him dead?"
"Megatron has lost it, I fear," Ratchet answered, confirming Firestorm's thoughts and her fears. "The language he was speaking in – That language once common to Kaon. I don't speak it of course – The city I come from was well on the opposite side of the planet. But I can understand it well enough... He called Soundwave a broken spark. A mistake of his own making. He spoke about how he felt like he'd broken him in his efforts to rule the world – made a mindless and brutal killer of a bot that could have been good. He saw Soundwave as part of some terrible plague he'd left on Cybertron, and part of his ranting... it was all about his wish to rid the world of mistakes he'd made..."
"He thinks now that Soundwave is some terrible monster? A sparkless killing machine to be stopped in the name of some greater good?" Tears poured down Firestorm's face-plate now as she spoke. And though he was of course still recharging, she grabbed Soundwave's hands with ehr own, holding then tightly as she could, just as if she could somehow protect him. "He's not. He's so not. He can love! He can do good... use his skills to help other bots. He's got a seat on the council, and he's using his influence for positive changes..."
"It's like I said," Ratchet mumbled sadly. "Magatron is clearly losing his mind. That ranting was not the ranting of any sane bot. The Autobots fought against him for centuries and I can tell you at once, I've never seen him act anything quite like that."
"Wha... what do we do...?"
"I'll be honest here and say I haven't got a clue yet. I'll need to bring this matter to the rest of the Autobots obviously. If you're willing I'd like you to attend that meeting with me. It will be soon, I can tell you that much. Meanwhile, Soundwave will be protected... I can tell you that much too."
"Firestorm..." Soundwave mumbled, speaking almost under his intakes as his optics snapped open quickly.
"Hi," Firestorm said back at to him at once. And she smiled just a little. "You look a little better. You took a bit of a nap..."
"Firestorm, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Soundwave mumbled. His body began to shake again, and tears fell from his optics without any warning at all.
"It wasn't you fault," Firestorm answered quickly. Ratchet must have stepped away a second – though she didn't notice – because he suddenly stepped in close beside her again, with a container of energon, which he promptly gave her, while gesturing with his optics for her to coax Soundwave into drinking it. "You didn't know..."
"You'd never understand," was Soundwave's mumbled reply to that. And he lay, just shaking his head in suborn refusal as she tried to offer him the fuel container. Even when she carefully lifted the head of the repair table, forcing him into a decent mostly seated position again, he only continued to shake his head a another moment. Finally his hand wave away the fuel entirely. And he nearly caused her to drop it with his forceful motion.
"I do understand," Firestorm said firmly. "I may not have lived on a world at war, but I can learn. I can listen..." She held the container once again closer to his shaking hand, and looked at him, her optics begging. "Please?"
"Mistake..." Soundwave mumbled horribly. And his shaking only grew worse instead of any better. He did take the container though, or at least he tried to. His shaking was so bad he couldn't quite do it on his own.
"Judgment – poor. Myself – misguided. Understanding – new. As never before..." he continued, still mumbling so badly. And she helped him hold the container, so that he could drink from it. Even then he managed to spill a fair bit of it over himself in the process. "Firestorm... My fault. Everything. Myself - disgusting... vile... unredeemable... Megatron – correct. I need to die for everything ive ever done..."
"Soundwave, stop," Firestorm demanded firmly. She helped him take another small sip from the fuel container. This time none spilled. "Please don't say such things about yourself. None of it's true. I know it isn't. You don't deserve to die for anything. You don't. No more than any Autobot does for anything they did. War does things to bots... to society. The Autobots say it all the time."
"Can we... go home?" Soundwave questioned, still speaking slowly, his voice still shaky and mumbling, after a good moment in which he'd just sat staring at nothing at all, clear across the room. It was clear as he talked, that he was speaking to Firestorm. But she in turn looked up at the old medic, helpless.
"Shortly," Ratchet answered. His tone was direct, and serious, though not without compassion. He looked Soundwave in the optics for a second or two. "I want to be sure you're not going to lose consciousness again. Finish that fuel. I mean it! I know fragging well you badly needed it, because you would not have collapsed like you did in the first place, if you hadn't been dangerously depleted."
A door slid open at the back of the medbay. And Firestorm watched Knockout roll though on his cart. He carried a youngling bot – quite obviously one of his patients, and bundled strangely into a silvery metallic blanket – on his lap. He held her with one arm while he drove. And he paused, nodding a simple 'hello,' before he retrieved a data pad from his cart's little side basket, and handed it to Ratchet.
"Welcome back," he said, a second later, and looking right in Soundwave's direction. He had little idea at all of what had happened, obviously. He'd been busy with a patient of his own. But his so clearly understood at once, that it was all completely serious, based only on the look in his optics.
"You have my comm-code if you ever want to talk" he offered, understanding. "And you've got my home address..."
At first Soundwave only nodded once, and just slightly. Slowly though he looked him in the optics once again, and mumbled, "thank you."
"This one is certainly ready for the ward today." Knockout nodded toward the yongling in recharge on his lap. And he smiled, shifted her weight just a little. The little bot started to wake up, as soon as he did so. But he began to rock the cart back and forth a little, with his left hand back on the hand control, until she promptly settled again.
"I'm both impressed and amazed with just how good she looks already," Ratchet mused, nodding his approval.
The youngling, still of course in recharge, could not see her. And she was certainly not aware of much of anything at all. But Firestorm found herself smiling in her direction, regardless. Emotions came up then, and she barely understood what each of them was. She decided quickly however that she didn't want to know, didn't want to try or to think about them at all. So instead she looked away again, her attention back on Soundwave – because he'd started to speak again - as Knockout drove away with the little bot he was holding.
"Smokescreen said a lot has happened..." Soundwave said. And his tone was mostly questioning. He took another sip from the fuel container. And this time he managed it on his own.
"It has," Ratchet answered, his tone clearly somewhat hesitant. "Right now may not be the best time to discuss all this. But since you asked... The night you left, there was another explosion downtown This time it was inside a building, down in the basement. That youngling Knockout was transporting a moment ago – she was nearly killed that night. Her creator owns the building. He's locked up in the city cells now for crimes involving illegal explosives, among other things."
"The patrol-bots came to talk to me twice now," Firestorm added, continuing on where the old medic stopped speaking. "They don't the timing of you leaving. They're looking for a connection where there isn't one. You've got to contact Ultra Magnus. Explain your side. He's fair. He'll listen. He still wants to believe me when I say you had nothing to do with any of this..."
"A great idea, getting outside for a while," Arcee said. And she smiled brightly, looking around courtyard from her place on her favourite iron bench in the south-east corner. Cybershock sat in her lap, head tight against her chest panel, and her arms wrapped around on of her carrier's. The youngling was not unhappy. Not by any means. She'd been smiling and joyfully chattering away all afternoon. And it seemed she was simply in the mood for hugs at that moment because she wanted to.
"It's certainly nice enough out here for it," Knockout answered, smiling back. He sat on his mobility cart, holding Switchblade on his lap, chuckling a little as soon as the kid smiled along with them. And he gestured down toward her with his optics. "And it's good for this one here to finally get sunshine again. She was so unsettled on the ward... She's stronger now. Makes sense I suppose that she'd be lonely and bored."
"She obviously loves it out here" Arcee commented. "It'll be nice to see her running around one day soon."
The damaged youngling was no longer packed up in the transport cover – she'd asked Knockout all by herself if she could be taken out of there as soon as they'd come outside - and the cover now lay in a crumbled pile nearby on the ground. But her body was still weakened by the system shock her injuries had caused her. And her still somewhat present, though much lower level of pain, made it all the worse. She stayed, in that moment, partly sitting but mostly laying, across Knockout's bent knees, her head on his armrest and lifting it a bit now and then to look around and smile.
"We'll start a little physical therapy with her as early as tomorrow if she's up to it," Knockout explained, nodding agreement. "Ratchet's already starting work on a brand new arm for her..."
Cybershock lifted her head then from Arcee's chest panel. And quickly she sat up straight again before hopping off her lap and onto the ground. The youngling stood a moment, before she plopped herself down playfully on the ground close by. The little one opened her tiny storage compartment, something she'd only learned days before that she had at all, and pulled out the four toy cars she'd brought along, stored in there – Arcee carried two more in her compartment, because Cybershock's was full.
The red blue and purple youngling, sat a moment playing quietly on the smooth metal ground, pushing a couple of small toy earth-cars back and forth. And once she made a sound meant to be the honking of a horn, when she pushed one in front of the other, just as though it was driving recklessly in city traffic. The damaged youngling in Knockout's lap, lifted her head again, and she stayed that way a while, just watching Cybershock playing, smiling curiously over the little vehicles on the ground close by.
"Wanna play with one?" Cybershock asked the damaged youngling bot, smiling brighter than before. And she stood up again, in one fast motion, grabbing all four toys as she did, so that she could run them over to her.
Switchblade reached gently for a little yellow Mitsubishi lancer, with her one usable hand. And when she couldn't come close to reaching well enough to grab it, Cybershock simply handed it to her. Putting the toy right onto her hand, waiting until she had a firm hold of it, before letting it go.
"You should come to the youngling centre," Cybershock said to her fellow youngling. And so clearly she saw her simply as just another child, little different at all from herself. "My Mama teaches there, and we always have fun. Yes-ta-day we learned to build a-lectric circuit boards! And we made sweets!"
"I want to go to school," the damaged youngling said quietly. And the tone of desperate longing in her voice told anyone who listened, that it was not a brand new realization on her part.
"Well I'm excited to have in my classroom very soon," Arcee assured her, smiling along with the others.
"Hey, look who's up and out!" Bulkhead exclaimed, appearing in the courtyard before anyone even noticed anyone else had come outside. He gave the damaged youngling a big grin, before he nodded 'good mornings' to his teammates along with their daughter, and took a sip from the container of energon in his hand.
"Hello," the tiny green bot said. And she grinned for a second, while she clumsily turned the toy car around in her hand, inspecting its details. Cybershock, as always, looked up at the big Autobot, grinning, excited as ever to see him.
"Bad news from the police early this morning, Bulk'" Arcee said. She got up from the bench and stepped close to him, so that she could speak in hushed tones while the younglings were busy both playing.
"Oh?" Bulkhead looked around a second with an expression of sad concern on his face-plate.
"Ultra Magnus tells me he plans to bring the little one's creator down to the base today so he can see his creation. She's his youngling. He needs to see her, even if he is about to do a lot of time in the city jail for illegal explosives and his latest charge of youngling endangerment."
"But... wouldn't that be a good thing? Her seeing her creator, I mean."
"Well sure. Except he's fighting Ultra Magnus every step of the way on the issue of visiting at all. From what the patrol bots uncovered so far, he's far from a competent or a even loving creator. And now, with his youngling damaged and possibly slightly disabled for life, it seems he might not want her at all. He's one step away from formally abandoning her to the care of the Autobots."
"Sparkless, selfish fragging jerk. Someone outta knock him out. Where's her carrier? So far it doesn't sound like anyone's even heard mention of a carrier at all in this mess."
"Off-line," Arcee said. And she looked back behind her a second at both the damaged youngling and her own, tears threatening quickly as she forced herself to keep on speaking calmly. "Died on a refugee ship days after the youngling was born. The little one never even knew him."
"Poor kid just can't catch a break in life..." Bulkhead muttered, shaking his head. He turned a second to look back at the youngling in question. And she smiled shyly just as soon as he did, which made him laugh a little under his intakes.
"So it seems," Arcee mumbled right back, and now it was her turn to shake her head. She stared at the ground a moment. And slowly she admitted though feelings of defeat, "I'd barely started the process of finding someone who may take her on while her creator serves his time. To think now I might be looking for a permanent home instead... The world is still brand new. Society is still rebuilding and fast. So many bots are carrying now, or raising first frames. I just hope there's still someone out there someone with room in their sparks for one that already exists..."
"Meep... meep!" a little bot cried playfully. And Arcee turned around to look behind her, surprised when she realized quickly that it had been the damaged youngling, and not her own that had made the sound. The little green bot still held the yellow toy car in her one usable hand. And she pushed it slowly in the air, moving the little she could, clearly pretending there was a road beneath it somewhere. Cybershock stood close to her, laughing as she pushed the car she held in her own hand out in front gently, in order to 'cut her off' in 'traffic.'
"You'll find a place for her to go," Bulkhead said, his optics on the tiny green bot as he spoke, still in hushed tones. And he quickly added with confidence, "the hard job'll be choosing one from the stack of applications that come in. Besides, her creator may change his mind..."
"You're right, Bulk," Arcee said, agreeing because it stressed her to think much more on the matter right then, and before she truly needed to. She turned around again, wandered slowly to sit back down on the bench she'd started out on. And Bulkhead followed suit at once, limping a little on the leg she knew he'd hurt that morning while he worked building apartments.
"So," bulk' said, making friendly conversation while he looked now in Knockout's direction. "Ratchet says you've got a new job..."
"Ha. So he told you I turned down administrator, huh?" Knockout answered with a slight anxious laugh."
"Yeah," Bulkhead just shrugged. Then he smiled, nodding. "But he said you've got the position you really wanted."
"Yep," Knockout grinned in reply. The damaged youngling, tired out already just from her short while of lightly playing a little, was clearly falling into recharge, in his lap. And gently, he shifted her weight slightly, obviously trying hard not to let her fall or slide off.
"Daddy, Can I tell him about your new job?" Cybershock asked quickly, and her voice was almost too loud. Arcee cringed a second, glad to see she hadn't disturbed the damaged youngling near her. She yanked lightly on her creator's arm a second then, and it seemed that didn't disturb her either.
"Okay, Cybershock," Knockout smiled, his face-plate proud. "You tell him."
"He's going to be chief medic for the youngling ward!" Cybersock exclaimed. And she hopped up and down a little on the fronts of her feet, as she so liked to do, while she repeated exactly what she'd learned from him that morning.
Arcee chuckled a little under her intakes, watching as her teammate's face-plate turned up just slightly in an expression of surprise at the news. No doubt, she reflected chuckling again, many bots they knew would be shocked – and more so when they learned he only had the job because he'd truly wanted it more than any other.
"Little bot here may just be to thank," Arcee laughed, gesturing with her optics to the green youngling, while she lifted her own child into her lap to hug her again. She looked then toward her mate, still smiling. "He's always loved his tiny patients. But then this one came along and I'm convinced she showed him that they are really where his spark truly lies."
"Yep," Knockout said simply. And he grinned his agreement at once.
"Well, I'm happy for you," Bulkhead said seriously. He got up again from the bench, with some difficulty because of his injured leg. And carefully, so as not to disturb the recharging green youngling, he smacked his teammate's shoulder panel lightly.
"Your move I do believe, my friend," Ratchet said. His tone was cheerful as he studied the game board, clearly plotting more than one possible future move. He'd just moved three red pieces, and now lowered his hand to the table ending his turn.
Soundwave studied the board himself. He looked for a move he could make without further loss in a game he knew he was losing already. But he could barely focus on it at all. And when he moved his own blue piece, followed quickly by a second one, it still took him a moment to understand he'd only made his own losses worse.
He'd eagerly agreed, when Ratchet had asked him for a game, because ongoing anxiety had plagued him all evening, and some distraction from it seemed a welcome relief. But the game they played - an old Cybertronian game of war strategy, and one they had always both very much enjoyed – took a great deal of focus to play well. And focus that evening was far from Soundwave's strongest asset. He had not played the game in a very long time besides.
"Soundwave!" Ratchet said. He sounded suddenly urgent. And Soundwave shook his head a little, understanding quickly that the old bot had ben speaking to him for several second already and he had not heard a word of it. It was his turn again. Soundwave studied the board just as well as he could, trying to understand where the old medic had moved his own pieces to begin with, because of course he have not even watched him make the moves.
"I am... sorry..." Soundwave muttered, almost under his intakes as he shook his head harder, helpless to figure out even a simple thing like board game manoeuvres.
"You okay?" Firestorm asked him, urgent now herself. She leaned forward on the comfortable rec room sofa she sat on with Laserbeak, close to the table where Ratchet and Soundwave sat playing their game.
"I... am fine..." Soundwave answered, just as quickly as he could manag to speak – though even that was slow and hesitant and he knew it. Laserbeak was up at once, on her feet on Firestrom's shoulder. Her wings flapped with unease, until she finally leap off, flying over to perch instead, on Soundwave.
He felt the concern of the tiny bot at once, through their telepathic connection. She was panicked, because he was. And he slowly sent her calmness though the connection, sitting silently while she sent it right back again. The wing flapping stopped then, and the bird tilted her head, still in her place on his arm, to look into his optics with her own tiny ones. And she flashed concern across the connection now. He dismissed it as quickly as he could, but she only flashed back with annoyance at that. Annoyance at her own feelings so easily dismissed. Soundwave sent his own slight remorse to her then, and quickly he felt her forgiveness, followed quickly but her own uneasy laughter.
"Perhaps tonight is not the best time to play..." Ratchet mused. And his tone was certainly understanding.
"Possibly not," Soundwave found himself admitting slowly. He offered a look of apology, as his own uneasy flared again through his spark. And he leaned back in his chair, sighing hard, before he shook and shuddered for just a moment.
"It's... difficult to believe now that I'll ever be alright again," Soundwave muttered out loud, before hed even meant to. But Firestrom was, aside from Laserbeak of course, the one bot her trusted more than anyone. And Ratchet had never been anything but understanding, and entirely non-judgmental. And indeed, both simply looked on now, their optics patient, and waiting for him to go on speaking.
"I made some progress, since I came here. There were nightmares, yes. Still... I felt like I was... processing. It's always been horrifying, just to wake up morning after morning, screaming... processor in full on panic mode. A need to run, when there is no where to go... Still, through the dreams I faced the memories..."
"You feel like it's all for nothing now?" Ratchet asked, understanding as ever. "Like all that progress you made the horrors of getting there are wasted, because now you've been set back?" Soundwave only nodded mutely. Because the old bot was right entirely.
"You'll get all that progress back, and then some eventually," Ratchet said, assuring. He smiled just a little as he began to pack up the game and pieces. "Of course today it's impossible to believe and I get that completely. But you will be okay again..."
The old medic was interpreted at that second by a great deal of sudden noise and chaos, out in the hallway just outside the rec room where they had been taking. And he held up hand, to excise himself politely, before he stood quickly from his chair and hurried closer to the door, so obviously alarmed. The noise certainly was alarming. There was the sound of heavy stomping footsteps, amid several voices– one of which was very close to shouting.
"I don't think you'll regret going in there once you've gone," Soundwave recognized the voice of the Autobot Arcee, compassionate and calm – though still so clearly flustered in that moment. And Soundwave could easily imagine her biting back her anger at a bot who apparently refused to do exactly what she wanted him to.
Soundwave looked to see Firestrom, still on the sofa and gently patting the empty seat beside her, inviting him to sit down close to her. He stayed where he was instead, not even trying to refuse her offer, as he kept on listening, nervous and uncertain why.
"Keep. Walking." That voice belonged to the police captain, Ultra Magnus – who Soundwave had met only a few times in passing, but certainly respected all the same.
"I don't want to keep walking," a third bot replied. And this one was angry, defiant. "I don't want to be in here. I'll go right back to the cells, but I won't stay here. You push for my creator rights, but you refuse to hear me when I say I don't want them. Are your audio receptors broken? I won't see my youngling, because I don't fragging want her back! Ever! You thought I'd change my mind once I was dragged on in here? I won't!"
"I'll get a temporary surrender form for you to sign then," Arcee's voice, still right outside the door, sounded slightly more understanding now. Though it was clearly simply from her tone of voice along, that she lacked any true compassion or sympathy for the loud voiced bot she was speaking with, regardless. "Sign that for now and think over what you're doing very carefully. There are permanent placement options if you must... Still, see her for just a moment. Please. Whether you love her or not, whether or not you ever wanted her, or you do now or not, to her you're still the bot that made her!"
"No," the loud and angry bot answered firmly. And no one could have doubted for a second that his refusal was final.
Firestrom was quite visibly cringing sadly, at a situation she didn't need details in order to catch a good inkling of. And Soundwave saw her sad, spark broken look, out of the corner of an optic. Silently he was saddened to. But something far more had the better part of his attention. And he sat up straighter in his chair for just second, before he leapt out of it and right to his feet. The voice, yelling and carrying on, making a scene in the corridor... he recognized it at once, although he'd last heard it in the fighting pits of Kaon.
"Soundwave!" Firestorm cried, her panic and alarm obvious just as soon as he'd leapt to his feet. She followed after him, as quickly as she could with her slow and clumsy steps, but he waved her away with a motion of his hand, as he ran toward the door, his sudden fury tearing at his spark.
Ratchet, still standing close to the door and listening, concerned, turned at once and tried to grab him gently by the arm. But Soundwave pulled away quickly, still just aware enough of himself to not harm the medic in his rage, as he stomped right through the door the second it slid open for him.
"Scrapheap!" he growled under his intakes in still growing fury. His red optics, burned dark crimson, and he stared down the dull green brute of a bot, that stood, held by the police captain, in the corridor.
For a second the big bot just looked confused, then shocked and startled. Quickly though a smirk crossed his faceplate and he snarled with fury of his own.
"Well look at that," he mumbled, smirking horribly. "The mute freak lives. And he's... talking."
"Soundwave...?" Firestorm said behind him. And Soundwave heard her small feet as she crept up just as quickly as she could move.
"You're not so pretty now, are you, creepy silent one?" The bit green bot taunted. And Soundwave could only wave Firestrom away, hoping beyond all hope she would listen and go, while the brute went right on taunting. "Back in the pits were were were the pretty one once. That's what the spectators called you... I still remember their cries of shock and horror the day I finally destroyed their 'pretty little fighter'."
Scrapheap was held tightly, by the police-bot who stood behind him. But that didn't stop Soundwave, who rushed toward him in under a second, knocking him to the floor and free from the police-bot's grip, before anyone could even react.
"Great number of bots - offline in the war for Cybertron. Millions," Soundwave raged. His hands went to the neck of the large green bot he'd knocked to the floor. But he didnt press hard, resisting the urge to do exactly that, in favour of simply watching the panic that flashed across his bright blue optics instead. " Young bots with futures assured – gone. Ideas – never heard before they could change the world. Younglings – first frames, second frames – snuffed out before they experienced a true existance. Offline bot - lay miles on battle fields in poolsof their own spilled energon. Reason for the fighting – forgotten long before. Good bots dead. But somehow you survived!"
"Fightin' you again... this takes me back to the good old days..." Scrapheap said, laughing. He stopped laughing at once, the very second Soundwave caught him up tightly in his cables, squeezing him tightly, while his hands pressed him against the floor.
"Sparkless, disgusting excuse for a lifeform," Soundwave growled in the green bot's face-plate, while said bot now gasped and struggled in terror beneath him. He tightened his cables, making the choice not to send any current throuhg then... yet. He liked nervous terror of the bot just waiting to die. "How could you do the things you've done. Your own helpless youngling - dependent on you of anyone, to protect her – nearly blown apart because of your carelessness," Memories flooded Soundwave's processor then, everything he'd ever stored, of his time in the fighting pits. And this time, instead of fighting it off, struggling just to forget again, he welcomed it all, because it only served to fuel his rage.
"You don't know what it is to feel your own armour melted to you frame," he snarled, and aware of beginning to shake again as he did so. But he only wrapped his cables even tighter, determined not to brake, pouring every bit of his rage for past injustice into punishing the bot he was sure he'd come to hate. He was speaking as well as he was only because he focused hard on each word he spoke. Still, it was not exactly perfect. And he was aware, somewhere in the back of his processor, of switching from his formal shorthand, into more informal and back again, all the while making mistakes.
"To feel your own body burning – terror – panic. Pain - feels it may not ever stop. To be so small a youngling, nearly dead like that because your creator is careless... And turn your back on the effects of your own carelessness. I should kill you. Anyone should kill you."
Despite Spundwave's harsh and pointed words, spoken thorough the rage in his voice... despite the cables tightening around his body while heavy hands held firm to his neck; Scrapheap only began to laugh out loud.
"You... you talk like a... first frame."
Soundwave responded to that only by letting go of his neck with one hand only to drive a fist into the smirking green face-plate below him. And when he'd done it once he couldn't stop himself from hitting him again and then again. His remaining hand, still against his neck, pressed harder, and his cables slowly tightened.
"Soundwave!" Firestorm screamed over the sound of bending metal, and the creaking it caused. He realized, with only a slight and passing thought, that she'd been yelling for a while already. Begging him to listen while he fully tuned her out. Laserbeak, perched on her arm, was close to screaming too. "Soundwave, stop. You two clearly have history. I get that. But you're going to kill him!"
"Intention – obviously clear," Soundwave growled, while he hit the green bot again harder than before. He tightened his cables still more and considered sending though a high voltage charge. He laughed just a little to himself when he thought of just how simple it would be to short circuit the bot's worthless processor in seconds.
But two firm hands grabbed him in that very instant. And he was yanked off and away from the big green bot, where he came to land sitting on the floor close by. Soundwave turned then, snapped instantly out of his rage, to find Firestorm behind him, still holding firmly to his upper frame. Firestorm was still so far from strong. Her balance was still bad. And she was little besides. The minibot promptly lost her own sense of balance, in under a second, falling her her knees horribly, after she'd managed, somehow, to yank Soundwave away from big green brutish bot.
"For Primus sake," Ultra Magnus muttered. And with a shake of his head, so clearly meant to break himself out of his own state of shock, he grabbed Soundwave at once, hauling him to his feet, without any resistance.
"Deranged 'con tried to kill me," Scrapheap snarled while Arcee, at his side at once, so clearly only out of duty, checked him over carefully. The big green bot sat hismelf up then on the hallway floor. And he roughly shoved the small Autobot away from him in doing so, and almost made her stumble backwards because of it. Soundwave felf his own rage build again at this. And he struggled a second, his arms held firmly by the police-bot, wanting more than ever to hit the brute again.
"I have no reason to think that anything we just saw has a thing to do directly with faction," Ultra Magnus said, seriously. Soundwave calmed down again slowly. And to his surprise, the police-bot let go of him, allowing him to stand freely, while he looked from one of the two combatants to the other, frowning all the while. His optics landed finally on Soundwave. And his frown turned to a glare. "I'm thinking a good while in lock up might be the just the thing you need to cool off."
"Ultra Magnus, please," Ratchet exclaimed, stepping in at once. He used one hand to quickly usher the police captain into the doorway of the recroom, clearly seeking at least some degree of privacy in which to have a conversation. And he gestured for Soundwave to follow them with the other.
"Soundwave has proven hismelf to be a decent bot. And one who's trying just as hard as I've seen any bot try," the old medic said then, speaking in just above a whispered tone. "It's no secret of course that he's had his share of issues since defecting." he shook his head silently a second, before he sighed, and went right to speaking again. His tone now was far more cautious however. "Listen. I don't claim to know even half the things he's seen and been through in the course of his life. But it's perfectly clear to me that Soundwave is entirely traumatized... just the same as at least thirty more defectors. He was stressed this evening already... on edge, troubled. This bot, Scrapheap, is clearly a bot he's got extremely negative history with. Just hearing his voice... it set Soundwave off."
"That may well be so," Ultra Magnus answered. His frown never left his face-plate, though it was clear in his tone that he certainly understood. "Still, I can't just ignore the fact that Scrapheap could easily have been killed." He stood a second just shaking his head again, before he continued on, almost mumbling now. "If I'd had any idea tonight I'd be dealing with a dispute between two former pit fighters born and raised in kaon... Look, I hate to say it, Ratchet. Because we all know few bots around here have any respect for Scrapheap over what he's done and what he now wants to do next. But still, when it comes to tonight, Soundwave attacked him without provocation."
"Without provocation?" Ratchet shook his own head now, in obvious fustration, as he gestured toward the big green bot, now sitting on the floor, his hands bound firmly in cuffs, by Arcee. "That bot destroyed his face-plate, melted the metal almost beyond repair, and blinded him... all in the name of shocking a crowd of deranged spectators!"
Ultra Magnus appeared for a moment, to consider everything he'd heard. His glare turned back to a frown, and finally the frown turned to a look of clear understanding, even sympathy. He turned again to look at Soundwave, his optics so obviously looking for the place where the other bot's would be, hidden well, beneath his face covering.
"One night in a lock up cell," the police captain declared then, his tone deceive. ""I'll release you tomorrow evening, after we've had a chance to talk a while."
Ratchet stepped forward again, and it was more than clear he was about to say more. But Soundwave only shook his head just slightly, motioning for him with hidden optics, not to. The police-bot's decision was fair. More than fair in fact. And Soundwave knew a far worse punishment could, and quite likely should have, been handed to him for acting on such anger as he had. Firestorm, still a short ways down the hall, hurried over with stumbling steps. And for a moment, he saw the horror and dismay on her face-plate. But Soundwave only nodded to her next, assuring her, with the simple motion, as he held his hands quite willingly behind his back, that he'd be fine.
Important note! /
A scene in this chapter, the scene involving Soundwave in the medbay, while Ratchet translates the visuals and audio, he'd brought back... it was inspired greatly by another writer of another fanficion. The story is 'Redeem the Stars' by a writer named Megadoomingir, and is a very cool story, which follows Starscream after the end of the war for Cybertron. There's a plot point in there which my scene mirrors perhaps a little too closely. I dont want to give away their plot, because of anyone who might be reading that story at the same time as mine, obviously. But know that I am taking inspiration, because I honestly LOVED the concept Megadoomingir presented. It was such an interesting take on things.
(And another note of less importance) I do realize this story now has a few still barely unfolding but still obvious subplots. I hope they still make sense. Each of them are leading to an end and will be important. I'm still confidant in my balancing of subplots, even if it looks, (even to me at times, I must admit) like all I'm making is a mess here.