Chapter Text
Soundwave’s processor ached as he returned to consciousness. That wasn’t unusual, not for a long time. With how busy he was making sure the Decepticons stayed running he barely had any time to recharge, let alone run a proper defrag cycle. Every time he tried his rest was interrupted by an emergency that needed his personal attention. He had resigned himself to being unable to properly defrag until they had beaten the Autobots and finished establishing their own government.
He doubted he would get much recharge then either, but he had hopes that he could recharge at least somewhat regularly.
Until then, he had to make do with substitutes for recharge that left him with a constant processor ache.
Wait, no one came to him screaming about an emergency.
Panic jolted Soundwave’s systems to full awareness. If they slagged his systems trying to handle everything on their own, then Soundwave didn’t care about keeping as many fighters as they can. He would kill the offender.
It would make him feel better since he knew what a pain fixing everything would be.
Only, when his optics onlined Soundwave wasn’t greeted by his room, or even the soothing purple walls of the Nemesis. They weren’t even the orange of the Autobots' beloved Ark. No, these walls were gray—Soundwave couldn’t remember any factions that used the color gray.
That was especially concerning seeing as Soundwave was strapped to a table. Craning his head around, he could see various medical supplies and syringes filled with different colored liquids that Soundwave couldn’t identify. But one item made Soundwave’s vents stutter.
Innocently curled up next to the saw was a large cable Soundwave instantly recognized. A cortical psychic patch.
He needed to get out of there. Now.
Before Soundwave could start trying the straps something floated into view. It had a gray metal face that morphed into an oversized growth for the back of its head. The gray and purple metallic shell covering the top of its head didn’t hide the green organic skin at the sides of its head. That wasn’t even talking about the two tentacles it had for each arm.
Watching how its head pulsed, and its arms wriggled about Soundwave felt the urge to purge his tanks.
And then the thing looked at Soundwave and said something in a language he couldn’t understand.
Soundwave was in charge of the Decepticons’ intelligence, and he had never heard of such a creature before, but it must have known of Cybertronians seeing as how it had a cortical psychic patch.
The creature continued speaking in its unrecognizable language as two of its tentacles reached out to Soundwave and rested on his cheek. His bare cheek. Where was his mask, HIS MASK!
Soundwave’s tanks churned at the warm pulsing of the tentacle. He tried leaning away from it, but the strap around his neck, despite being looser than the other straps, held him in place.
The thing continued speaking, and its words felt slimy to Soundwave’s audials. Soundwave was relieved when it pulled away from him, but that relief was short lived when the thing immediately reached for the cortical psychic patch.
Nonononononono
Soundwave pulled at his restraints trying to escape, but it was useless. The restraints didn’t even budge under his frantic squirming.
The thing approached, sliding the patch into its head before pressing a button on the table. Soundwave felt the table disappear at the base of his head.
No no no, this couldn’t be happening.
The cold metal of the patch against his neck shocked Soundwave back into the moment. He flinched away. He couldn’t move his head much, but what little he could move was enough to stop the patch from sliding into him.
He wouldn’t let it enter him, he couldn’t.
Soundwave squirmed doing his best to keep the thing out of his processor.
It wasn’t enough. The thing quickly tired of Soundwave’s resistance and used two tentacles to hold Soundwave’s head down. He wanted to purge his tanks as the cortical psychic patch easily slid into place.