Megatron / Soundwave (Pre-War)
The Cybertronian coliseum pulsed with the roar of the crowd, a sea of metallic faces gleaming under the artificial lights. Energon-splattered sands bore the weight of countless battles, and tonight would be no different. Gladiators strode into the arena to test their mettle, each seeking victory, fame—or survival.
Among them was Megatronus, a towering ex-miner whose reputation had already begun to eclipse others. His movements were calculated and powerful, his crimson optics scanning the space like a predator. Yet, for all his notoriety, this was his first time facing an unfamiliar name: Soundwave.
The gate across from him groaned as it opened, and out stepped the enigmatic figure. Tall and leaner than most gladiators, Soundwave’s face was a blank visor reflecting the glaring lights. His posture was calm, almost eerily so, as if the jeers and cheers around him did not exist. The only sound from him was the faint whir of his systems, a symphony of mechanical hums that somehow harmonized with the chaos.
Megatronus found his optics lingering, intrigued. This gladiator was different—not just in appearance, but in the way he held himself, an aura that demanded attention without a single word.
The gong echoed. The battle began.
Soundwave moved like liquid, weaving through Megatronus’s thunderous strikes with grace that belied his size, tentacles always ready to strike. His movements were deliberate, a dance of precision and efficiency. It wasn’t long before the audience fell silent, enraptured by the duel.
“What are you?” Megatronus rumbled mid-battle, voice strained but laced with fascination.
Soundwave did not reply verbally. Instead, he dodged another swing and countered with a quick strike to Megatronus’s shoulder, forcing him back. The visor tilted slightly, a silent challenge.
Megatronus smirked, a rare expression for him. “Silent, yet so loud.”
The battle continued, but it was clear that neither fought to end the other. There was no overreach, no attempt to finish the duel. It was as if they were testing each other, learning.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gong rang again, signaling a draw. The crowd erupted in mixed reactions, but neither gladiator seemed to care. Megatronus approached Soundwave, his massive frame casting a shadow.
“You intrigue me,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I’ve faced countless warriors, but none like you.”
Soundwave tilted his head, his visor flickering faintly as if considering the statement. Then, in a voice devoid of emotion yet somehow intimate, he replied, “Observation: you seek more than victory.”
Megatronus chuckled, a sound both dark and amused. “Perhaps. And what do you seek, Soundwave?”
There was a pause before Soundwave responded, his tone soft but firm. “Purpose.”
The single word struck Megatronus harder than any weapon. He saw a reflection of himself in it, an echo of the drive that had pushed him into the arena in the first place.
“You’ve found it,” Megatronus said, surprising even himself.
Soundwave didn’t answer immediately, but something shifted in the tilt of his head, a subtle acknowledgment. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the gate, his steps soundless despite his size.
Megatronus watched him go, an unfamiliar feeling stirring in his spark. For the first time in eons, he felt a connection—not of rivalry, but of understanding.
As Soundwave disappeared into the shadows, Megatronus knew this would not be their last meeting.
It was only the beginning.
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