Available on AO3
Summary: Post-battle roll call.
Notes: For @soundwaveweek, prompt was ‘poetry.’
—
The MTOs were stressed. He could understand that, and in fact had little choice but to. Coming online in a crashing shuttle was a less than ideal way to begin life, and the hours of listening to gunfire and artillery going off just outside their prison-slash-shelter almost guaranteed the sorts of injuries no tool could fix. Soundwave had no idea whether the silence that followed the Decepticon victory would have been a welcome reprieve or the most hellish stretch of the experience, but his torch cutting through the crumpled hatch had broken its hold on them, and now they were frantic.
The other Autobots are well behind him, so it must be new and possibly prone to self-destructing. The other Decepticons are too busy to notice them, frantically trying to wrap up the latest energy raid on this organic planet. Only Soundwave sees and he’s too far away to intervene before it’s fired.
It releases a soundwave ironically, a very concentrated one that doesn’t reach the Autobots due to Trailbreaker's fancy shielding. It’s clearly not supposed to do that by Wheeljack’s disappointed face.
But maybe he shouldn’t be because it shatters every piece of glass in its path.
Maybe that doesn’t seem like such a big deal considering that Cybertronians are made of primarily metal. But plenty of parts are glass. Seeker cockpits, car windows, headlights, optics, visors, and the cover for Soundwave’s cassette rack are all made of glass.
If Soundwave could see he’s sure the Autobot inventor would be horrified.
It still doesn’t stop the screams as tiny bits of shattered glass trickle into exposed delicate circuitry.
Is this how the Decepticons end, Soundwave wonders. Blind and defenseless, with nowhere to hide as their self-repair removes the glass from their internals and heals the cuts to tubes and wires, without a skilled medic to replace optics, cockpits, and shattered visors? Cut down in confusion?
Oh, Primus, he can hear his cassettes crying.
“Autobots, stand down.” The Prime’s voice thunders.
There’s a touch on his elbow and Soundwave flinches.
“Easy now,” a voice says. Ratchet, Soundwave thinks. “We’re going to fix this.”
Soundwave has no idea how they’re going to keep fighting after this. The Prime has been merciful before, but never like this. In the end, they aren’t even taken prisoner. Optics are replaced right there on the field and they let them flee back to the Nemesis to nurse their wounds.
Megatron screams for blood, but Starscream says “That’s it” and walks out.
Part of being Amica Endura is being there for each other when things get tough. It means listening to each other talk about their interests and helping them when you can.
Which means sometimes you have to proofread poetry.
Soundwave isn’t really into poetry. He prefers music. But Megatron likes it and it’s been literally several million years since he wrote a single poem. If this is how he’s trying to settle into a life without war, Soundwave is happy to support him.
Megatron is looking at him nervously. “Well, what do you think?”
Soundwave glances down at the datapad in his servo. Be honest, Megatron said. Don’t sugarcoat, Megatron said.
Sometimes being Amica Endura means disagreeing on those special interests.
“It does not rhyme.”
Megatron gave an exasperated sigh. “Soundwave, how many times do I have to explain that it doesn’t have to rhyme to be poetry? Some of the greatest poems ever written never rhymed once.”
“Poems must rhyme.” Soundwave insisted. They’d had this argument before, many times in fact, in the early days out of the pits.
Megatron rolled his optics. “Fine,” he huffed “think of it as artistic prose then.”
“Very good artistic prose,” Soundwave replied.
“Thank you,” Megatron said and reached for the datapad but Soundwave pulled it out of reach.
“Negative: Soundwave will not allow this to be published anonymously. Soundwave: must publish publicly on the internet with author name.”
“Soundwave! That is my work. I will do with it what I will…”
Soundwave finished adding Megatron’s name and clearly hit the publish button.
Megatron buried his face in his hands. But Soundwave wasn’t done.
“Soundwave: submitting this to Swerve’s poetry slam.”
Megatron lunged for the datapad. “Soundwave, no!”
“Too late.”
Sometimes being Amica Endura means sitting in the front row as your leader performs in an Autobot poetry slam you signed him up for.
Some fictional love-struck teenager had said that in a play once. Some brilliant man had penned those words. Soundwave wonders if he ever knew how true that phrase was.
Soundwave is dying. His cassettes are all grown, most have left the rack to make names of their own. Those who remain will be fine. Sure the twins will be an absolute wreck for all their complaining about being stuck with him. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw will beat themselves up for not being there. And he’s glad all the cassettes he’d raised aren’t here. He’s even gladder Megatron isn’t there. He doesn’t know if he could stand to see how his loss would devastate his friend.
Besides, as he passes into the Well of Allsparks, the one mech he wanted is there.
Ravage sits regal as ever, face sad but soft, as explosions echo around them. The panther had found Soundwave in the gutters and raised him as his own. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Ravage had all chosen to become cassettes so they could protect Soundwave.
Soundwave will be sad to leave them, sad to leave Ravage. But he knows Ravage understands.
Because all Soundwave can think of his precious Ratbat, his little cassette taken from him far too soon. She’s waiting for him now. He can hear her calling him home.
It will be nice to leave the fighting. To not have to live with the constant gnawing of hunger in his tanks. To be free of the nagging thought that this was not what he had signed up for as energon spilled over his servos from yet another dying mech.
Ravage creeps forward to rest his head by Soundwave’s face. “She’s waiting for you, isn’t she?” he says. “Don’t worry; I’ll stay until you are sleeping.”
Ravage’s deep purrs rumble through Soundwave as the world fades to black. The last thing he sees is the fatherly love in those crimson eyes. And then it’s over.
Together they would right the wrongs and destroy the caste system. Together they would bring freedom to the downtrodden of Cybertron. Megatronus had promised a bright future for all mechs.
Soundwave had believed in that promise, content to play his small role. Megatron would not betray them. There was a reason to his madness, to his obsession with Dark Energon and his mind games with the Prime. If Soundwave could but continue to serve faithfully, things would turn out alright in the end.
He repeated that as each of his minicons sacrificed their sparks for the Decepticon cause. As he cradled their graying forms in his arms. Even as he was trapped in the Shadow Zone, Soundwave held onto hope. Surely Megatron would come for his most loyal soldier, his friend.
But Megatron never came.
Instead, it’s a boy, the small one the Autobot scout is so fond of. He smiles and his loud female friend pushes a cube towards Soundwave. Soundwave can barely lift it, but he manages, sending most of the lifesaving energy to Laserbeak. A few more hours and he’d have lost her too.
The boy gently explains what’s happened since the Nemesis left earth. That Optimus and Megatron are both gone; one to the Allspark and the other to the stars. What he says next is even crazier. Both factions coming together to rebuild their homeworld. To rebuild the original dream that Orion Pax and Megatronus shared, the one Soundwave believed in. New leadership too. Ultra Magnus and...
“You,” the boy says. “I mean, mechs are going to need to hear they can come home now and you are the greatest communication specialist around.”
Also on AO3
Summary: A quick walk around the neighborhood.
Notes: Bit of prowlcoswave written for day 1 of @soundwaveweek! Prompt was ‘together.’
—
Cosmos gave the tether an experimental tug. Soundwave’s solid form meant he did not move, but nor did the harness pop off, which was exactly what Cosmos wanted to see.
“Looks good,” he said, stepping back to cast a quick final check over both him companions. “Feel ready to go?”
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