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Title: Unforeseen Affliction	By : Chaosdreamer Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 1352 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers and all recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I am making no profit writing these stories.

Chapter List
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- 2
Title: Unforeseen Affliction (1/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Fandom: G1.

Rating: Mature. Slash hints with other pairings.

Pairing: Shockwave/Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: This fic deals with a significant deal of psychological extremes: obsession, paranoia, rage, and wrath; mainly Shockwave’s out of norm behavior resolving around one of his earliest creations, and the loss of his creation. Some readers may be a little bit uncomfortable with Shockwave’s behavior, mainly his mounting obsession and, shall we say, developing insanity…

Author’s Note: The first chapter is purposely disjointed. Memory files from their time on Cybertron.

Shockwave keeps only a handful of projects outside of Lord Megatron’s notice. Simply because certain projects were not worthy of the warlord’s attentions; Lord Megatron’s focus needed elsewhere after cutting Sentinel Prime down and leaving Cybertron’s guard in tatters.

His loyal soldier’s private projects were of no concern, and Shockwave intended to keep it that way.

All for the best, since Shockwave would bemoan leaving his current undertaking as such a critical time; as of right now, the Guardian’s most recent project was in its earliest phase.

Curiously, a gold optic intently focuses upon the thick, upstanding test tube. Within the warm pulse of bubbling clear liquid, a tiny being curls in a tight fetal position, little face slack in repose as the tiny creation slumbers.

Shockwave’s lens narrow, cataloguing the various data, attention never straying from upon his creation. This latest project is a minor curiosity, at best. Simply, he wonders…

Why, on a handful of occasions, that mechs and femmes threw themselves over their creations…their sparklings…protecting them from Decepticon soldiers…

Why, then, risk injury onto themselves, screaming and begging for mercy, clinging onto their shrieking creations as the soldiers tear the tiny creatures away. Such fragile things, barely capable of surviving on their own without the attention of their creators or sires.

What a useless thing to sacrifice one’s frame, to waste one’s Spark to defend.

This peculiar attachment between a Cybertronian and sparkling, unlike anything Shockwave has experienced, intrigues him. The guardian sets out to explore this instinctive drive, hardwired into Autobot and Neutral alike, and the rare few Decepticon sires or creators.

So he takes the necessary steps…by first devising a computer sequence. Starting with a single hardwire component and the random personality programs that suit his requirements. Building and building from the scrap piece up. Patiently filling his night cycles by delicately soldering the frame together, fusing the capillaries and energon tubes. Pooling the trembling Spark into the tiny frame, cautiously watching to make certain that the bead of light doesn’t flicker and die.

His patience and fortitude is rewarded, and now he is looking at his creation, capable of fitting within the palm of his hand. What essential began as a computer sequence inputted with a sentient program, growing and developing like a normal Cybertronian.

A sparkling…

Shockwave hums with attention. Recording the data, watching for every twitch and moue of expression as the little being continues to develop, until the Guardian is completely satisfied and ready to continue onto the next phase…

Perhaps if his creation survived the process, he would feel required to assign it a designation…

^^^^^

His creation has remained online for several cycles. Shockwave left most of its maintenance to his drones. The mechanized servants programmed when to supply the sparkling with energon.

Yet not too long after, one of his drones bleats in alarm, urgently pinging for the Guardian’s attention.

The sparkling is in distress, and nothing the drones are doing appear to draw a response.

Shockwave calmly strides into the room housing his creation. Within the low, cramped box acting as a pen, the sparkling is propped against the wall. Ginger optics dull and lifeless, with its thin stick like arms hanging between its curled legs.

“What Is This, Then?” Shockwave demands. Seeing no problem besides the sparkling appearing lethargic.

The drone waves its spindly arms. Shrilling that the sparkling is near catatonic, deprived of attention and touch. Its system functions steadily declining as it wallows in ache and loneliness.

Shockwave scoffs at the notion, “Loneliness?” The Guardian leans down, plucking the limp red and cobalt sparkling up, holding it at optic level by the scruff of its breakable neck, “What Could This Thing Possibly Understand, Or Concern Itself With Such Emotions?”

The tiny sparkling’s ginger optics hum with a fraction of life. The microscope’s helm shakily lifting, a pathetic whimper trickling from between dark lips.

Shockwave’s sensors discourage him by noting that the sparkling’s temperature is far lower than he would be partial to. Sighing at the distraction from his other projects, the Guardian cradles the shivering sparkling against his chassis. His drone beeping and bumping into his heels as he returns to his monitor station, overseeing the recorded feed from earlier scuffles with the Autobot resistance.

Seated once again in front of the massive screens, Shockwave tucks the curled sparkling against his chassis, directly above his Spark. He notices how his creation snuggles in tighter, whimpering beneath the breath of its vents as it curls close, cradled by the Guardian’s one hand.

Shockwave does not deign to notice how the sparkling immediately shuts down into recharge, the first restful period in its short existence since it gulped unhindered atmosphere through its vents once freed from its large test tube, the weightless bobbing cradle it had known for so long.

His drones share the new data with the Guardian once the sparkling onlines once more.

^^^^^

Over the coming vorn, he takes more time to travel to his creation’s sparse room. Picking the young being up from its little box and carrying him, holding the shivering frame against his chassis. His processor strangely possessing the proper files and command sequences that urge the Guardian to hold the sparkling against the warmth of his frame.

If the rare Decepticon notes that the Guardian carries a silent, recharging sparkling while Shockwave is at work or surveying his scattered projects, then they do not comment on the anomaly.

^^^^^

He begins to notice a peculiar behavior.

His creation appeared extremely sensitive to Shockwave’s moods; more so than the Guardian was aware of his own frame of mind and the way in which his massive body carried and expressed his disposition.

After a particularly sour meeting with one of his squad commanders, the mech listing the damages to their unit and the loss of energon storage cubes, Shockwave remained in his stationed seat; fingers drumming angrily upon the armrest as he contemplates the loss of soldiers and precious energy.

In his lap, his creation stirs, as if answer to his raised ire. Clicking in worry, the little microscope pushes onto his knees, stretching forward and butting his helm against Shockwave’s hand.

Paused by the sudden gesture, Shockwave turns his optic towards his creation’s actions.

Again his creation butts his hand. Shockwave’s hand uncurls as tiny fingers clutch at one much larger finger, clinging onto the large mech.

When Shockwave’s fingers unintentionally brush an audio, the microscope shivers, mewling in pleasure. The Guardian hesitates, before laying his hand on his creations’ helm. Petting the small being, earning a soft sigh from the little one.

He traces his hand down the little sparkling’s helm, running down his back, idly petting the creation, not realizing that his stress levels begin to slowly drop while the sparkling curls upon his lap, small back rising and falling smoothly as his tiny systems rumble with pleasure as his creator graces him with his touch and attention.

^^^^^

“Guardian Shockwave?” His drones inquire, “Designation Has Been Assigned To Young Creation?”

“Confirmed,” Shockwave addresses his unit of drones. The time long past to assign his creation a designation, having long ago earned the privilege after remaining online and with systems in optimal condition, “Designation: Perceptor.”

^^^^^

He takes great care to always monitor Perceptor’s education. The data pads, the history files…Shockwave is abhorred that much of the Academy’s data files are corrupted or locked tight within the main computers, far beyond his reach at the moment.

Therefore he makes great efforts to carefully administer the proper data files that he can salvage or personally upload, seeing that the microscope is properly administered with an education suitable with his developmental age.

His creation surprises him with his avidness to learn. Perceptor surrounds himself with a sea of data pads, the microscope initially frowning and staring at the complicated rivers of text and images, hands kneading the taunting blue surfaces and the mysteries that lay tucked away.

Shockwave patiently teaches the maturing youngling how to read. Along the way, he also teaches his creation to read Ancient Cybertronian, wishing for Perceptor to be well diverse in the old language that very few young Cybertronians bothered to study.

Perceptor wrestles a particularly large data pad into his lap, tottering under its weight. Shockwave bends down onto one knee, supporting him with his hand acting as a solid wall against the microscope’s back strut.

Face twisted in consternation, Perceptor wriggles and bests the large data pad into proper alignment. Sighing in contentment, his creation fiddles with the key pads, pulling up the latest window in order to continue with his lesson from earlier. Tilting his helm back and smiling and his creator, squeaking and trilling up towards Shockwave’s benevolent face.

^^^^^

From what the data records have supplied, Perceptor is well into the developmental age where he should be making efforts to speak. However, his creation shows little interest in emitting words or phrases, regardless of the fact that his processor and vocoder are finally capable of producing such a talent.

Perhaps a glitch, then? Shockwave ponders the conundrum, watching Perceptor tinker with a discarded pile of metal and computer disks.

In the back of his processor, Shockwave rearranges his schedule, inputting a maintenance check to ascertain the condition of his creation.

^^^^^

Shockwave steps back, observing Perceptor. The youngling, still shaky on his developing legs, totters over to a malfunctioning drone, the servant unit spasming, hands scrabbling to remove a jagged piece of debris from its back strut, the scraggly mass of metal debris entangled around sensitive neural sensors and disrupting its movements.

The Guardian is aware that his creation has a high degree of empathy, even for the…less sentient of beings. While Shockwave would not bother to waste his time in repairs when the drone is not suffering a catastrophic failure, Perceptor persists in aiding the drone, carefully tugging the debris free.

Murmuring small chirps and then a shrill cry of excitement as the drone beeps and affirmative, saluting its master, Shockwave, and his much smaller creation, before the servant returns to its tasks that had been hindering by its repetitious and mad racing in wild circles around the room while grasping for the debris cluster in its paneling.

Shockwave deigns to bend down and inspect the debris that Perceptor retrieved from the hapless drone when the youngling chirps for his attention, holding out the metal laced pile for the Guardian’s inspection.

“Very Good, Perceptor.” Shockwave ordains.

Perceptor smiles beatifically up towards his creator, ginger optics alight.

^^^^^

Without his notice, Shockwave is more frequently rearranging his schedule to perform maintenance on his creation. Hardly necessary, given that Perceptor suffered no glitches or damage.

However, for some strange reason, Shockwave encountered a trace of pleasure in assuring himself that his creation’s frame remains warm to the touch and not a dull, chilling gray. Pressing a hand over the microscope’s Spark, ascertaining that the life force beat true.

^^^^^

“Am I…malfunction?”

Shockwave raises his helm from surveying the recent battle charts. “Where Did You Learn Such A Word?” The Guardian finds the label beyond distasteful, especially when emitted from his creation’s vocoder.

Perceptor, standing on his pedes now reaches a height close to Shockwave’s hip, stands before his creator with his hands twisted together. “I..do not look like you. Nor…the drones.” His creation stutters, an unusual degree of shyness constantly plaguing his creation, no matter how often Shockwave studied the behavior and tried to rectify it. “Am I a mistake? Am I…the only one who looks like this?” He gestures to his dark face and ginger optics.

“Your Eye Color, Perhaps. Design: Yes.”

“Am I a Cybertronian?”

“Yes…” But Shockwave pauses, “But No.”

“…oh..” Perceptor wilts before him.

The Guardian sighs, realizing that his error and pause is causing his creation undue distress. “Come Here.” Shockwave holds out his hand in command.

Perceptor steps forward, unresisting as Shockwave wraps his hand around his waist, lifting the youngling up to lie upon his lap. Perceptor immediately curling up, resting his helm on his folded hands, listening to the steadying churn of his creator’s systems and fuel tank.

“Do Not Concern Yourself With Such Thoughts.” Shockwave pets his upset creation, patiently soothing the little one’s rattled processor, “There Is Not Point In Dwelling On Such Things. You Are My Creation. That Is All That Matters.”

“……” Perceptor buries his face against the smooth paint of Shockwave’s hand, nuzzling for more attention, “..and you are mine, too?”

Shockwave tilts his helm to ponder the question. “I Am Your Creator. Just As You Are My Creation. To Answer Your Question…Yes.”

“…’kay.” Perceptor happily burrows deeper into Shockwave’s lap, prepared to make himself comfortable for the duration that Shockwave allows his creation to remain within close proximity.

^^^^^

“What are Autobots?” Perceptor presses his hands against the glass, mesmerized by the fireworks of laser shots and the Seekers and triple changers taking to the air, raining fire upon the scattered throng of ground vehicles.

“They Are The Enemy.” Shockwave answers.

“What is enemy?”

“Opposition. Threat. Aggressor.”

Perceptor frowns. “Should I be afraid?”

“No.” Shockwave leads his creation away from the large bay windows, wishing to pull him out of sight as the skirmish draws closer to the small tower, the Autobot fools discovering one of the Guardian’s spare labs hidden deep within the city. “We Will Return To Our Base Now. The Autobots Have Discovered This Lab. This Is Only A Minor Loss.”

^^^^^

Perceptor does not resist when Shockwave pulls him into his secured recharge quarters. The Guardian wants his creation to remain close by, his composure unsettled by the uprising of Autobot attacks, his observation tower shuddering under the rain of attacks, Shockwave restless with the feel of his base appearing utterly defenseless.

A foolish scrap of thought to ever cross his processor. The tower was his greatest achievement in offense and defense. The Autobots risked losing many if they were foolish enough to dare to raze the Decepticon stronghold.

Nevertheless, Shockwave felt this peculiar curling of…fear.

Not for himself, but for his creation.

Perceptor wiggles to try to make himself comfortable as his creator’s arms tighten, drawing slightly uncomfortable around him, but the microscope does not try to escape. Curling into Shockwave’s embrace, small worrying clicks escaping, hiding his face against the Guardian’s large chassis as the thunder of falling bombs strike the tower’s shields.

^^^^^

It is of no surprise when Soundwave learns of his project.

Shockwave is not overly concerned. The technopath is mildly curious at best, wishing to see for himself the progress that the Guardian has made.

The Guardian growls low underneath his vents, however, when Soundwave’s Cassettes become even more curious. Rumble and Frenzy peeking at the youngling, while Perceptor nervously steps away from them, his footfalls mirrored by the shorter Cybertronians. The twins creating a game of following his creation, while Ravage tests her olfactory sensors, pondering the unusual scents of the microscope, her tail flicking left and right, but she patiently remains at Soundwave’s side.

Soundwave lays his hand on Shockwave’s wrist to forestall the Guardian in interceding as the young mech and the smaller Cassettes move in a circle around the table in the room, “Creation: Must Learn To Adapt. Mingle With Fellow Cybertronians.” Soundwave turns a baleful glance towards the larger mech, “You Do a Great Disservice in Keeping Him Distanced And Hidden Away.”

Shockwave momentarily flicks his attention towards the other Decepticon, keeping an audio on the Cassettes while the two continue pestering his creation, “I Do Not Trust The Other Soldiers. They Would Reveal Perceptor Only To Gain Favor With Lord Megatron.”

“The Sooner You Reveal Your Project, The Less Likely Megatron Will React Unfavorably To You Hiding This From Him.”

“True.” Frenzy and Rumble literally sprawl in Perceptor’s lap when the microscope retreats to his seat at the head of the table and the pile labeled data pads, the two Cassettes clambering up the taller mech’s legs and plopping into his lap, making Shockwave’s creation as their favorite resting spot while they bicker with very unamused Laserbeak, “I Will Inform Lord Megatron…In Time.”

^^^^^

Perceptor’s frame continues to grow. Soon, within several vorns, he would develop into a mature Cybertronian.

The microscope was more confident within his own body now, no longer moving with an gangly gait, restlessly shifting his too long arms and awkward legs. Quiet and composed, he remains at Shockwave’s side unless the larger mech meets with Lord Megatron or the squad commanders, the Guardian still wary to leave him without a chaperone.

Shockwave especially does onto Perceptor to wander anywhere on base alone, the Autobots too quiet as of late, their disappearance making the Guardian agitated, ordering the guards to run more sweeps around the perimeter.

“Sir?” Perceptor stands at attention at the Guardian’s turned back, biting his lip at interrupting his creator’s internal musing. Shockwave’s optic adhered to the video screen.

“What Is It?”

“S-squad leader T-Talon sent you a message.” Perceptor carefully hands the data pad to Shockwave, ginger optics narrowed in concern, “I’m sorry…I didn’t read it, but I thought it was urgent enough to personally deliver the message since the drones were looking for you.”

Shockwave accepts the pad, holding the data screen below optic level, scanning its contents.

Perceptor winces when Shockwave’s fingers curl into the data pad’s sides, the plastic and metal groaning at the pressure.

“S-Shockwave?”

“…It Is Nothing.” Shockwave contradicts his answer by throwing the data pad against the farthest wall, the data pad shattering to pieces. Perceptor shrinking and covering his helm, crying out softly at the Guardian’s unusual portrayal of distemper.

“Leave.” Perceptor immediately complies, tripping in his hurry to escape his creator.

Once the door slams shut, Shockwave smashes his fists onto the computer terminal, ruthlessly breaking the key pads.

Megatron…Lord Megatron and his crew had been lost once taking chase after the Ark. Both ships caught within the maelstrom of a sudden meteor shower, followed by a crash landing upon an unknown planet.

This disruption could ruin a vast majority of his plans. But he would need to be patient…He knew his duties. The Guardian knew that he would remain loyal to the Decepticon cause. Acting as overseer, watching over Cybertron and digging out the Autobot infestation little by little…

Until his Lord Megatron returned in glorious conquest.

^^^^^

Perceptor keeps his distance, not wishing to test his creator’s temper. He stayed in the farthest reaches of the tower, outside of Shockwave’s usual labs or quarters. He does not anticipate encountering the Guardian, expecting to only perhaps stumbling across an odd drone or two.

It comes to a great deal of surprise when Perceptor steps out of his new quarters, to literally smash into a stranger.

“W-Who?” Perceptor’s ginger optics blink in confusion, the young mech bumping against the wall after smashing into the older scuffed green mech, “Who are you?”

The red stenciled insignia upon the mech’s chassis is noted immediately.

Perceptor gasps in fright when the mech snags his wrist, the young mech wincing, never before having been manhandled or harmed in any manner; the Autobot’s harsh hand causing him to wince.

“The question is: who are you?” Kup demands.

“Y-You’re hurting me!” Perceptor jostles to push his aggressor away.

“Are you a Neutral?” Kup pins the struggling mech by the shoulders, not finding any Decepticon ¯ or Autobot insignia ¯ that addresses the young mech’s loyalties. “Are you a prisoner?”

“No!”

“Then why are you here!”

“I am..” Perceptor ducks his helm, “Shockwave is my creator!”

The Autobot’s stunned horror is obvious when his grip slackens ever so slightly. “Impossible…”

Perceptor tries to escape when the Autobot’s grip loosens, but Kup quickly reels him back. “I know what you are!” Perceptor gasps, “Autobot! Enemy!”

“I’m sure Shockwave taught you that.” Kup growls.

“Yes…” Perceptor tugs feebly at his trapped wrists, “Sir Shockwave raised and taught me well. Autobots are the enemy. Aggressors. A threat.”

“And Decepticons are the gifts of Primus himself, I’m sure.”

Perceptor opens his mouth, but halts, “I…d-don’t know…S-Shockwave speaks little of Lord Megatron. Less that he speaks of Autobots.”

“Why?”

“B-because such matters are not my concern.”

“Why?”

“Because that is my creator’s wish, and as he deems it so, my place is here with him, to follow his command!” Perceptor snaps back in frustration at the Autobot’s constant demands for a suitable answer, “And his command is for me to not be concerned with this war. Shockwave does not wish for me to become involved with such scuffles.”

“Shockwave this. Shockwave that.” Kup spits in disgust, “Apparently he can do no wrong.”

The struggling young mech surprises him by stilling within his grasp, anger fading, a slight cherubic smile lighting his dark features. “Shockwave is everything.” He ginger gaze flickers to Kup, “What else could I possibly require beyond my creator?”

Kup shudders at the blind devotion. His processor screaming in alarm, horrified at how well Shockwave has programmed this young mech for unwavering loyalty. “You can’t stay here.” The soldier drags the confused mech towards him, “Shockwave has blinded you with half-baked truths and cruel lies…turned you into his…his servant.”

“B-but I do not wish to leave Shockwave..” Perceptor fails to respond quickly to physically wrestle against the mech’s aggressive actions, struggling half-sparked as he awkwardly follows the stronger Autobot, “Please. I wish to remain here with my creator¯”

“No! You’re coming with me before¯”

From the other end of the hall, a security drone bellows in alarm at the sight of the Autobot intruder.

Immediately, the sirens begin to sound throughout the tower.

Kup throws Perceptor to the floor and shields the smaller mech with his larger frame as the drone’s frame shifts, and its chassis reveals a concealed blaster, before firing at the two mechs.

“No! Stop!” Perceptor covers his face as hot flakes of burning metal and panels fall of the ceiling and scorched walls, “Do not fire!”

“Don’t bother!” Kup pulls the fearful microscope to stand upright, “Shockwave’s drones are programmed to shift into aggressive actions when the alarm is sounded!”

“You’re wrong!” Perceptor is nearly lifted off his pedes as the Autobot races down the hall, turning a corner and yanking the microscope around, both mechs narrowly avoiding another stray shot, “T-the drones..I’ve repaired them myself..They’re only maintenance units…S-Shockwave isn’t l-like that¯”

He screams in fright as a huge fist punches through the wall across from them. A huge metal guard unit bursting through the crumbling barrier. The alpha security drone narrowing its ruby optic upon the two mechs, categorizing the Autobot and unknown Cybertronian as the intruders.

“Move!” Kup jerks them aside to avoid another large blast, the much bigger drone barely responding to the Autobot’s return fire, the blasts doing nothing more than scorching the plating of its massive chassis.

“S-Sir Shockwave!” Perceptor begs for his creator to appear and disperse the chaos, the young mech quietly beseeching the Guardian to rescue him whilst being forced to follow the Autobot, Kup never releasing his reluctant partner.

From the corner of his optic, Perceptor catches the shine of light across dark metal plating. Another large drone stands hidden in a bisecting corridor, and is raising his blaster hand to fire at Kup’s turned back strut. Reacting compulsively, even for his enemy, Perceptor shouts in warning.

“Watch out!” Pushing the larger Autobot out of the path of the weapon’s fire.

A shriek of agony and molten pain races up his back strut, the microscope arching as the blast pierces his lower torso.

Kup curses, firing at the drone, nailing their attacker through the single optic. The drone reels, clutching its ruined facial plates.

The Autobot catches Perceptor’s limp frame as the young mech drops to the ground, Kup shouting for the microscope to respond, the mech’s ginger optics mere pinpoints within a canvas of black, energon pouring from the gaping wound, draining from his ravaged body to form a large lake upon the hallway floor.

“Slaggit to the Pit!” Kup carefully gathers the bleeding mech into his arms, lifting the unresisting frame, jerking his head up as answering blaster shots pour from the nearest corridor. The old soldier recognizing the shouts and voices of his companions finally rejoining Kup, the raid successful, “Hold on, kid!” Kup pleads for the young microscope to stay online, the ginger optics feebly staying alight as the Autobot races towards the squad, shouting for a medic and an immediate evac.

^^^^^

Shockwave’s drones scatter, several literally scattered about in a tumble of shredded pieces as the remaining try to avoid the Guardian’s wrath.

A low, bass howl races up the Guardian’s chassis, sweeping his large arms across the lab tables. Spilling precious liquid test tubes and data files as the pours his rage throughout the room.

The video feed had shown how the Autobots had invaded his stronghold. Valuable data stolen, his drones terminating a few, but the surprise assault left many unaware of the exact location of the Autobots within the tower.

His own drones had fired at his creation…

The memory file of his creation stumbling as a blast ripped through his back dragged another howl from the Guardian. That particular drone missing its helm, seared from its shoulders when Shockwave located the loyal mech, cruelly grasped its large skull cap, and buried his blaster hand into the fragile wires of its neck and fired.

“No No No No.” Shockwave moans, hands shaking in front of his distinctive face, “Not Him. Not What Is Mine…”

His programming can not handle the influx of emotions that flood his systems. The Guardian incapable of assimilating his response to his creation’s capture and injury.

That vile cur ¯ ’Kup’, his processor growls the hated mech’s designation ¯ dared to lay his worthless hands on his creation..Dragging Perceptor from the safety of the tower and in front of the barrel scope of one of his security drones.

Shockwave turns to face the doors as his raging is interrupted, another large security drone unit dragging a few stray Autobots into the room. Not part of the small unit that had invaded the tower earlier, but the two struggling Autobots had been sighted skulking around a latest energon shipment.

Sighting the hated blue optics…the azure gaze, not unlike that wretch Kup..Autobots. The thieves…little thieves…stealing and grabbing with their little hands, taking his precious creation...

Shockwave is swallowed by an immeasurable on pour of unsurpassed hatred. Processor babbling for retribution.

The smaller of the two Autobot prisoners whimpers as the Guardian grips his face, dragging his cruel fingers down the pale paint. Shockwave shuddering, cursing that abhorrent color.

“Such Distasteful Blue Optics..” Shockwave hisses, bending the mech’s neck almost to the breaking point, “I Can Not Stand To Look Upon Them. How They Taunt Me.”

The prisoner shrieks in agony as Shockwave plunges his thumb through the first lens. Energon and oil snaking thick tears and components down his face.

The other prisoner shudders and rattles with terror as Shockwave continues, tearing the other optical lens and rolling eye ball component from its casing.

“Do Not Waste Your Efforts With Weeping.” Shockwave flicks the gobs of shredded wires and clotted oil from his fingers while the prisoner continues to wail, “Your Kind Does Not Deserve Mercy After What You Have Taken From Me.”

“S-S-stop!! Please!!”

“An Experiment, I Believe, Is In Order.” Shockwave ponders out loud. Ignoring his guests’ pleas and curses, “I Wonder What Makes Autobots Tick? A Dissection Is In Order, Wouldn’t You Agree?” His guests wails are his answer.

^^^^^

He is at a loss, now. Rummaging through the soaked remains of the prisoners spread out upon the medical berths, he feebly aligns the shredded joints and torn sockets, before discarding once more. Incapable of finding the desire to continue.

Lord Megatron is gone. His creation…lost as well. Shockwave does not even know if Perceptor has been deactivated.

His large chassis gusts in a sigh. What to do, now? The hollow ache that rests in his chassis unnerves him. The loss of his creation stirring very unfamiliar sensations…emotions he never wished to encounter in the first place.

Perhaps he could sever these feelings by creating another…

^^^^^

“Why Will This Not Work?” Shockwave growls his annoyance, watching the test tube and the pathetic life form shrivel into nothing. Hardly lasting a joor since he planted a small spark into its tiny form.

Where had he gone wrong? He meticulously repeated the same sequence as he had done with Perceptor. Yet time and again, his specimens failed. None surviving.

Shockwave looked to his many data pads, trying to find some sort of answer in their hidden depths. What was he missing? This failure could not continue. Too many precious materials were being wasted with each failed attempt!

It is only when many vorns pass that finally, he surrenders to the inevitable. Locking the data files behind secured fire walls, he closes the project.

His precious data lost to cyberspace. Far more invaluable, his creation disappeared into the unknown, online or not. He would probably never learn of his creation’s fate.

‘Damn You.’ He does not know who he curses. Himself, for foolishly embarking in the experiment? Kup and his pathetic comrades for stealing his creation…

Or does he curse Perceptor for making him care so much for a being that had simply started its existence as a mere curiosity, but resulting in a strange attachment that the Guardian can not shake?
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Title: Unforeseen Affliction