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Calls from the Ark were rare.
Calls from anyone NOT Optimus Prime and not addressed to Megatron were practically unheard of.
All in one, it was only logical, Soundwave mused as he made his way to the Communication Console – because of course the call had come in while he had been on break. The universe liked little ironies like that.
Autobots and Decepticons rarely had anything to say to each other, unless it was insults thrown across the battlefield. Not that Optimus Prime was in the habit of cursing, but… you know how it went when a mech was riled up and dodging laser-fire, don’t you?
Calls between the two flagships usually resulted of two possible scenarios: either Optimus was making an impassioned speech about peace and truce and rebuilding Cybertron together and/or calling to a stop to the fighting for the sake of a local population, which Megatron usually ignored unless he wanted to draw the Prime into a trap (that never worked, because the Prime might have been naive, but not THAT naive, and his advisors were a canny bunch), or Megatron called the Ark to gloat about his latest victory and deliver a speech destined to crush the Autobots’ hopes and calling them to surrender to his might, which Optimus listened for a minute or two, sighed, and disconnected the call midway through with a sad look and a demand for Megatron to call back when he actually had something more interesting to propose than subjugation and complete annihilation.
Those usually left Megatron in a sulky mood for a decacycle.
The Prime certainly had pure steel nerves, Soundwave thought privately. No one else ever dared to disconnect during a call with Megatron. Perhaps it was one of the reasons Megatron was so fascinated by his designated enemy, to the point of idiocy at times. Soundwave didn’t judge, but…
Oh, well. Yes, he did judge, but he knew better than to say anything aloud. Friend or not, Megatron had a temper and no patience for mechs calling him out on his junk unless he had realized what an idiot he had been beforehand. Soundwave still held the hope his leader’s self-awareness would kick in one day, and then maybe they’d be able to discuss how to actually have a conversation with the Prime that didn’t make the mech hang up on him.
Primus knew Megatron was dreadful at flirting with other Decepticons, so flirting with an Autobot...
But that wasn’t the matter at hand today, Soundwave reminded himself.
Today’s unexpected call was NOT about Megatron, or about Optimus Prime, even if Megatron had already threatened the caller with the worst tortures should he not get the Prime on the line.
Today’s call was, apparently, a matter for Soundwave… and for his hated nemesis.
Soundwave pursed his lips behind his mask as he caught sight of Blaster’s face on the screen. People tended to think Jazz was the one Soundwave had rivalry with and on a fundamental level, they weren’t wrong, because Jazz was a thorn in his side. But Soundwave’s true ire was reserved for his fellow Host who, in his opinion, was a right slagger.
There was just something about Blaster that got on his CPU, and it wasn’t just because the other Host knew how to counter his every move. It was more… visceral, although it was hard to put it into words. Perhaps it was a natural reaction due to intense competitive coding strands between Hosts, for the best Host was usually the one who gathered the most Cassettes…
But Soundwave judged himself far above such petty consideration.
Truly.
“You!” Blaster hissed as Soundwave came into view of the camera, ducking under Megatron’s arm to get a better look at the red Host. Blaster was glaring at him, and though the other mech couldn’t see it through Soundwave’s visor, the telepath was glaring right back with as much fervor. “You cog-sucking, son of a…!”
“Query: What is Blaster’s purpose?” Soundwave cut through the slag immediately. He had little to no patience to get insulted, especially by his Autobot counterpart.
“Indeed,” Megatron rumbled slowly, arms crossed over his chest, optics flashing dangerously. “You have a lot of nerve to call my ship, Autobot, and to insult my trusted Third like…”
“I’ll talk to the glitch how I like, so suck it, Megs,” Blaster snapped and Soundwave’s optics cycled at the disrespect. He knew the other Host could have a foul mouth, but even he was usually smart enough to avoid mouthing off Megatron. His leader had a short temper and a very big fusion cannon, after all. “My beef isn’t with you, it’s with that slagger and his pet nano-fleas infested menace he calls a Cassette!” he pointed at Soundwave through the camera, optics radiating fury.
“Blaster, really,...” Optimus Prime’s voice could be heard from somewhere offscreen, making Megatron lean forward at the chance of trying to catch a glimpse of the other leader’s frame.
“Well?” Blaster glared at Soundwave, unbothered by his own leader’s attempt at soothing (or at least Soundwave supposed that was what it was). “Where is he?”
“Just here,” Ravage drawled lazily before Soundwave could properly bristle and say he didn’t know where his Cassette was and cut the aggravating call already. The blue Host didn’t quite glare at Ravage behind his visor, but the way he inclined his head his way as the feline-shaped mechling jumped on the console in a perfect show of balance was meaningful. The two of them would have Words in private later on. “May I know what I’ve done to merit such animosity?” Ravage purred darkly. “Is it about your sentry missing an optic? The little Minibot I’ve almost mauled to death last decacycle? Or did your Security Director burst in panic when he finally discovered I purged my tank in his closet?”
”He did WHAT?!” Red Alert shrieked offscreen, only for someone to hush him firmly.
Blaster’s optics shone brighter, nearly white in fury. Curious; Soundwave had never seen them take that color before. “You,” he said slowly and more threateningly than Soundwave had ever thought him capable to be, and damn if it wasn’t making a shiver go down his spinal strut, “know perfectly well what you did, you little freak!” The finger he was pointing at Ravage was shaking.
“You ought to develop, because it certainly doesn’t narrow it down,” Ravage replied flippantly, tail curling around his legs as he sat down. For all his bravado, Soundwave could feel a hint of nervousness in his field; apparently, Blaster’s rage was surprising him as well.
For the first time, Soundwave wondered what Ravage might have done to make the other Host so furious. Ravage had his entire trust, just like Laserbeak, and the telepath usually let them free reign to pursue their missions and achieve their objectives without direct supervision, something he rarely allowed the others. Rumble and Frenzy were agents of chaos who needed to be reigned in and Buzzsaw was still a bit too ‘green’ to fly without directives.
Ravage’s freedom to act as he saw fit had never been a problem before, but suddenly, Soundwave had the sinking feeling it was about to become so. Call it a hinch.
“I’m talking about STEELJAW, you slag-sucking glitch!” Blaster howled, making Soundwave wince and resist the urge to put his hands over his audio receptors. Next to him, Megatron backed half a step and Ravage crouched on the console. “I ought to neuter you, you little suborning pervert! You two-credits, virus-addled seducer! You…” Blaster’s speech dissolved into statics, but Soundwave didn’t care.
He was too busy staring at Ravage, and he was Judging him, because he was getting a better understanding of the situation, and he didn’t like the picture it was forming at all. At least Ravage had the good sense to look sheepish, but that wouldn’t save him. Soundwave and his Cassette weren’t just going to have Words, they were going to have a Lecture.
“Wait,” Megatron said slowly, “are you saying you called my ship, insulted me, and screamed obscenities at one of my loyal soldiers because he… what? Seduced one of your own Cassettes?” The Warlord had raised an optic ridge, unimpressed, and his optics slid over Ravage. Soundwave wasn’t the only one judging the feline, now.
“Seduce? Seduce?” Blaster laughed harshly. “This cad forced himself on my poor, innocent…!”
“Blaster,” Optimus Prime’s long suffering voice called from offscreen. “We already had this conversation. Steeljaw said he wasn’t forced in any way, he just had a… bad lapse in judgment.”
“He sure did,” Blaster said in a sinister tone. “And it’s all this glitch’s fault!”
“Now, now,” Ravage chided the red Host, “I seem to remember that you need to be two to make bad decisions of this kind, and he certainly never seemed to mind when I grinded against him…”
“Ravage: no details,” Soundwave warned while Blaster’s face made a complicated expression.
“I don’t even see why we’re having this discussion anyway,” Ravage switched the subject. “If Steeljaw has a complaint, he can always bring it forward himself, and I don’t see him there, do I?” he said smugly.
“Oh, I’m sure he would, if he wasn’t in the Medbay!” Blaster snapped. “And it’s all your fault!”
“I do not see…” Ravage started as Soundwave watched Blaster’s hands disappear from the camera’s views and come back up…
There was a moment of silence on the Nemesis’ bridge as Soundwave, Ravage, Megatron (and half a dozen other personnel who were eavesdropping) stared.
“... Oh,” Ravage said in a very small voice, finally sounding contrite. Soundwave might have petted him in other circumstances, but he was too busy staring at the tiny mechling in Blaster’s raised hands.
The tiny, mini-Ravage shaped with blue-optics, definitely a miniature, Sparkling Cassette in Blaster’s hands.
Suddenly, the red Host’s fury made a lot more sense, and Soundwave found himself trading a look with Megatron. A look that clearly meant: well, slag.
It was the moment Optimus Prime decided to peer over Blaster’s shoulder on the monitor, facemask still in place but optics wide, a tell-tale sign he was smiling ruefully. “I think congratulations are in order, Ravage: you’re a Sire.” And to twist the knife further, he raised a basket in which Soundwave slowly counted four other little feline-Cassettes, yellow and black mixed, some closer to Steeljaw’s body type than Ravage, or a perfect blend of the two.
A whole Cassette litter, with no doubt left on the parents.
“Ravage,” Soundwave said slowly as Blaster bared his teeth again.
“I’m not kidding about the neutering, Soundwave, and I swear to Primus if you don’t do it, then I’m going to do it myself at the first opportunity…!”
“Blaster, please,” Optimus sighed. The Autobot leader looked at the camera with a long-suffering expression that his mask did little to hide; obviously, he had had his fair share of rocky discussions and crisis management before calling the Nemesis. “I will say that I’m not exactly happy with the situation myself, but now that those Sparklings are here, I find myself reluctant to keep them separated from their Sire. Perhaps we could discuss a sort of joint custody arrangement?” he asked, but it was clear he didn’t believe in it himself. He was just going through the motions and eyeing Blaster warily, as if expecting physical assault.
That was, Soundwave decided, not unlikely given the other Host’s state of nerves. Not that Soundwave blamed him.
Next to him, Megatron scoffed and started posturing, saying he didn’t see a point in discussing custody when those miniature Cassettes were clearly of Decepticon stock and should be immediately handed to their proper faction, while Optimus argued back about the need for their Carrier and the fact Cybertron law was more often in favor of Carrier’s custody than Sire, if only because of the support of delicate systems.
Soundwave didn’t point out it would be all for moot if they didn’t have an Host ready to accept the litter already, and that he suspected neither him nor Blaster were up to the task, either for size or for systems compatibility. It was likely one more reason Blaster was ticked off, and one Soundwave shared.
Forget the Lecture. Ravage was going to get spanked!
Still…
::Ravage. Query: why?:: he sent to his Cassette via their private comm link.
The felinoid didn’t quite shrug, but the intention was there. ::What can I say? It seems I’m better at seducing Autobots than Megatron, that’s all.::
And he had every right to sound smug about it.
End