–
Tag: Slenderwave
“Yes, I recall the sight.” Hard to miss different kinds of Wheeljacks and two each of Arcee and Smokescreen. "But I will deal with that matter soon enough.”
It tilts back as it would have had the body been there to cross arms over chest. Interested. Judging.
The opposite situation, hm?
“And what trap do you intend to lay for your enemies? Multiples of your own crew?”
It chuckles, wondering if its alternate has learned from its own fatal mistake or if there is something better hidden up the arm plating.
“Nothing so simple. I could clone my own crew if I had real need to.” He knew that look, having worn it himself so often. It was waiting to be impressed.
“The multiverse has far more to offer than what is familiar to us.” There was no reason to give the game away, not when he still couldn’t be sure that this wasn’t a trick by the very traitors who had slain his alternate.
Megatron stands his ground against this… thing as it circles him, never letting it out of sight. His proximity sensors tell him that it is no apparition or vision, though for once, that does little to ease his mind. The cannon at his side charges.
“That would depend on what you are.”
"Lord Megatron, leader of all Decepticons,” it snapped, annoyed that this other self would waste its time by asking such an obvious question. "Until those wretches Soundwave and Starscream betrayed me.”
As it has no body, it has no cannon to charge; its dentae bare in warning instead. It’s already dead – what do you think shooting it is going to do, other than aggravate it?
“I see that not all have met so unfortunate and inglorious an end.”
The identity of the helm was obvious, and not what he had asked. He’s about to restate the question when it becomes clear which Megatron this was meant to be…
“Unlike you, I have not met an end at all. Your treacherous allies succeeded with outside help, and I will not be caught up in the same trap. Quite the contrary, in fact.” In spite of the morbid subject matter, the warlord smirks. It is good to be in tact.
Quite suddenly, a ground bridge appears in Megatron’s quarters. Soundwave must be back from the Lost Li-
…
Was that… his helm?
“What is the meaning of this?!”
The floating head turned again at the sound of its own voice, optic shutters narrowed and upper mouthplate curled.
“A clever trick,” it murmured, taking note of the self that still had a body. It hovered closer, circling Megatron once before coming to a rest in front of him at head height. "Tell me – are you what they call an ‘alternate’?“
Megatron stands his ground against this… thing as it circles him, never letting it out of sight. His proximity sensors tell him that it is no apparition or vision, though for once, that does little to ease his mind. The cannon at his side charges.
"That would depend on what you are.”
Soundwave creeps out of the small crevice in Cybertron’s barren surface and blasts music as loud as he can to draw the flying head’s attention. It does not take long for the horrendous thing to find him, zeroing in on the sound and snarling with rage.
Oh, yes. It remembers everything.
Except, perhaps, one of Soundwave’s oldest tricks, helpfully suggested by a benevolent greyface.
It does not have the ability to stop as quickly as it would like, and flies straight through the space bridge that Soundwave opens before it, popping out in another timeline altogether.
Megatron’s head stares around itself by spinning on its chin in the air, suspicious. These surroundings are somehow both familiar and not.
“What trickery is this…?”
Quite suddenly, a ground bridge appears in Megatron’s quarters. Soundwave must be back from the Lost Li-
…
Was that… his helm?
“What is the meaning of this?!”

[[A gift.]]
*He doesn’t know what it is but it’s from YOU so he’ll be giving this a wide berth*
[[ On a scale from one to Optimus becoming Prime. ]]
Just under your desertion.
Curly x symbol
Megatron leans on the wall, glaring up at the dark figure. So familiar, silent as ever.
“Soundwave…” His voice is quiet. Dangerously so.
“At least Orion had the decency to say something at the start.”
Soundwave barely begins to twist away on instinct when he suddenly remembers that he’s supposed to be his alternate, who would find such a touch comforting. Trying to restrain the panic he feels bubbling up from within at the heavy silver hand on his shoulder, Soundwave nods and forces himself to make a purring noise before continuing after Megatron. It’s too hard for him to modify this one’s EM field to feel something he doesn’t, so he can’t give gratitude that way.
‘The gods have no bearing over us.’
If that were true, Unicron would not have them both in his grip.
But of course, he does not voice that.
Had he heard such a thought, apart from being suspicious, Megatron would have reminded his spy that he had fought Unicron’s control twice now, and was more than prepared to fight for Soundwave as well. As things are, he is deaf to the impostor’s internal musings. But even with his reassurance, his mate’s EM field remained tight and erratic, so very nervous. The gladiator was ill-adept at comfort, but he resolved to try again once the soldiers had been found.
There, at a junction- tracks, cutting through the rust and grime. Fresh. With a glance back to the path their blind companion has left, it’s confirmed that they match. Vehicons.
The message hadn’t been fake. His soldiers had survived, escaped. Questions race through his mind as he picks up the pace: How many are there? How did they manage this? Was the ship still in Autobot hands? Who orchestrated this? Was there some sort of interim leader amongst them? …Would they even be willing to relinquish control to him upon his return? Soon one trail turns into many, tire tracks joining them, but Megatron stops, charging his cannon.
*tink tink tink tink*
“…Scraplets.”
So concerned with looking at the blue coming out of the ground (and remembering it as it split Shockwave’s lab – remembering their taking what was needed and destroying the rest), Soundwave nearly bumps into Megatron as the bigger mech makes an abrupt stop.
The lie comes easily. He knows what the blue light means, and it coincides with his own feelings on the situation.
Uncomfortable with being on Cybertron.
A servant of Unicron could not be expected to want to be so near to proof of Primus’ existence. And, truth be told, he did feel a little unwell, not just mentally.
He had suspected as much. Megatron places a servo on Soundwave’s shoulder, allowing a moment of comfort to pass between them. The gods have no bearing over us. His grip tightens gently before the slender mech is released and they continue down the passage.