Apology Not Accepted --|Shockwave x Vehicon Reader |--

Home Sweet War Ship

(The finishing of the triple series I had made! Thank you all again for being so patient!)

     I've come to enjoy watching these flesh creatures. They have primitive processors and the eldest two are over all useless, but it's amusing to see them squabble over the most pitiful of things. For instance, the fact of if I could transform or not.

         "Well can you?" the human femme asked, about to fall off the platform railing if it weren't for the eldest human mech.

         "Miko, I'm sure she can considering she's a vehicon and not a miner."

         "And I'm sure she can answer for herself," the spunky fleshy fought against him, and won as she once again clung onto the rail closest to me. I saw the curiosity in those wet... squishy... whatever they are (they aren't optics) and knew that another question was coming.

         "Excuse me..." it was the smallest of the humans, the most tolerable one. He pushed his odd, see-through double visor on his, I guess his face, looking up at me from the floor, "but, may I ask why your optics aren't red, like your masks are?"

         "Raph, she hasn't exactly answered Miko's questions," the only other femme butted into the conversation, though she was right, "I don't think she'll answer yours."

         "I don't mind answering this one," I gave a small smile, "Tell me youngling," I bent down on my newly repaired knee joint, "Do I look all that foreboding with blue optics?"

         "No," he answered truthfully shaking his fuzz covered helm, such a nice young mech.

         "I was rather terrifying when I was first brought here wasn't I?"

This time he nodded. 

         "If we all had red optics, we would have no need for masks, but," I tapped near my left optic, "these curses force most of us to hide our faceplates. Thus, the foreboding masks that only spell trouble."

The little thing nodded, his curiosity fed for now. I watch him as he scampers up the platform to his primitive computer, allowing a genuine smile to inhabit my faceplate, a part of me I never thought could be so intriguing, as everyone stares.

     I notice the time, and feign exhaustion as I stumble slightly to the flattened medical berth. If all goes well, the smallest human will be unharmed. He's such a sweet youngling, I'd hate to see him offline.

     Forcing myself into an almost dreamless recharge, I think of Shockwave, and how worried he must be. Nothing horrible has happened, though I do hear the suspicious whispers from almost everyone, the only ones not suspicious being the soft and gullible Prime, the worried and guilty medic, the all to trusting Scout, and the two younger humans.The others were either grumbling, making their opinion known, or avoiding me all together. Their Agent Fowler is someone I wouldn't mind offlining, and I hear his ever present whispers.

         "Female, fragile or mentally deranged," he was most likely speaking to Optimus, "I don't care if she identifies as a box of door knobs!" I don't know what that is but I still feel insulted, "I don't trust her!"

         "Agent Fowler she was in the middle of nowhere, fatigued and injured. Her story aligns with what Ratchet was able to discover as well."

So easy to fool a medic with a conscience.

         "You're far to trusting of this 'Con," Fowler noted, "if this goes south, you and Ratchet will be at fault, got it?"

I can only assume that the Prime nodded, since it grew quiet after the darker fleshed human had made his point. I had started to hope that Soundwave would come sooner. The less time I spend here the better, as well as being with Shockwave again.

     One by one, I began to hear the engines of some of the Autobots as they left, only a select few being left behind. Why? I don't know, but if Soundwave didn't take this opportunity and not have a valid excuse, both Shockwave and I will be having words with him. Out of boredom I began to bring myself out of the half recharge, and looked around. The rookie quickly looks away after staring at me, the medic is busy on his computer, and there's a distant whistle outside. The doors are down, so it may be the wind, perhaps a coming storm. To the untrained audio, that's exactly what it is.

         "Doctor," I began, earning his attention as he looked to me, "do you get many storms out here?"

The older mech stopped, and listened for a moment, the whistle louder, more prominent.

         "Not particularly..." he was suspicious, but I wanted this suspicion as he looked to the door.

The whistle stopped, and the Autobots that remained called upon their weapons of choice while I acted out what fear I should have in this situation, tucking my pedes close to me, farther from the door.

         "Maybe, it was the wind?" 

The rookie spoke to soon, the glass of a high window being destroyed by Laserbeak upon impact. I shrieked as some of the shards came dangerously close, earning Ratchet's worried gaze. He shouldn't have lost focus, because it cost him the security of the hanger door. The heavy metal fell to the ground, and I faked my horror as Soundwave drew nearer, despite the opposition he easily put down with nothing but his tendrils to shock them into stasis.

         "Please," I begged to further the show as I slipped off the berth, trying to drag myself farther from him, "H-have mercy!"

His last opponent was the medic as he tried to cut through Soundwave's side armor, only to be electricuted himself.

     The base was silent. Soundwave helped me up. I tried to help him with the stupid mech, now out cold, but he refused to let me help. I still felt bad for letting him do it on his own, just watching as he half dragged half carried the Autobot medic through a groundbridge, where many vehicons took control of the situation, and carried him to the brig. Thanking Soundwave for doing his part, I dismissed him, allowing that he could have some time to himself. I would imagine that he likes to spend time with his symbiote Laserbeak.

     That done, I went to find Shockwave. First the throne room, since it was closest, then the lab, our own little escape from everything. Sure enough, I found him vexed over the Synth-En formula, to which I smiled. I love catching him off guard, so stepped silently, until I was close enough to stroke his currently pinned antenea, breaking his concentration and earning a frustrated but relieved sigh as he turned around to meet my gaze.

         "I told you it would work," I smiled, my servo reaching up to cup the side of his optic, but my action was stopped by his own servo.

         "You're injured." Blunt and to the point, as always.

         "Only a few dents and scratches," I went and sat on the medical berth, an acceptable familiar sight, "Nothing serious."

         "Then what is this?"

He placed his servo on my helm. I thought it was a gentle pat, but he took it away to reveal fresh energon, and for the first time, I felt a stinging sensation on my helm.

         "I must have hit my helm when I fell off the Autobot medical berth," I guessed, though it may have been when Laserbeak had broken through the window.

         "Lay down," he ordered, and I complied.

         "Love you too," I grumbled as he started to smooth out my dents, and repair the scratches as well as the single gash on my helm.

         "I don't believe I need to apologize."

Karma's a glitch sometimes.