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Nearly three vorn since the retaking of Cybertron, and approximately four mega-cycles after the beginning of the Decepticons final victory push against the Autobots, Soundwave is called into an interrogation room to question an attempted assassin. This is a nearly weekly event, nowadays, as Galvatron grows more and more fanatical - even the most insane of Decepticons chafing underneath their new ruler. The difference with this one is merely in the level of success.
Galvatron is in the medbay, attended by an increasingly antsy Hook and under the watchful, protective eye of Cyclonus. His main fuel lines had been slashed, his comms sliced, and his own internal reactor - meant to power his Unicron gifted weaponry - was turned against him, going into a meltdown with enough heat it nearly melted through his frame and into his spark chamber. For any other Cybertronian, this would have been a death sentence, and it still nearly was for Galvatron. The planning that went into this was meticulous and thorough, and the assassin had clearly not meant to survive the encounter, as they had locked themselves into a hab suite meant to stand up to orbital bombardment with the very mech they intended to kill. It was only by sheer luck - and even more Unicronian weaponry - that they managed to bust open the door before they both perished.
Now, Soundwave stands in front of the half burned and heavily damaged form of the one who nearly rid them of their newest leader, and he can't help but wish they had been but a few minutes later.
The visored mech grins up at him, paint mostly melted off, the ghost of a Decepticon brand still trying to cling onto their chassis. Database and codes identify him as Flux, a previous Neutral recently turned Con after the retaking of their home. He is assigned to be an electrician, working on maintaining their forward bases as the Autobot line gets pushed further and further back. By first glance, just a small and unassuming late stage acquisition that was meant to be looked down upon for only picking a side on the eve of ultimate victory.
The real mystery is who he actually is, and how he managed to get past Soundwave. From surface level thoughts all he can get at the moment is vicious satisfaction, pain, and a jittery undertone to it all that speaks to a level of instability that contrasts the meticulousness of their assassination plan. Surface level is inconsequential, though. He will know more shortly.
Too damaged to move much and in stasis cuffs, the mech can barely squirm as Soundwave extends a hardline connector, and slips it into the closest intact port to his core processor. Instantly Soundwave is dumped into a set of firewalls that is more endless dizzying noise than traditional defense. The change is disorienting enough that he feels a concerned ping come in from Ravage, who is currently in the medbay vent system monitoring the precarious situation. Steadying himself with their bond, Soundwave pulls back from the firewalls best he can, and starts finding places to begin tearing them down.
Ultimately, the initial wall of noise is easy enough to rip apart, allowing Soundwave to begin clawing at the edges of the assassin's deeper systems. He keeps a part of his background processor working on the more aimless thoughts and memories floating about, a categorization system narrowing down a list of previously known infiltrators based upon the natural differences he's observed between individuals. Meanwhile, his main processor is picking its way through minefields of code and mental partitions meant to hide information from plain telepathy. It is here, where the first attempts of active resistance start to appear.
"Hey now, Soundwave, that's not meant for you, ya know," a thought crystallizes into place, pointed enough to be bumped into main processing at the same time as another mind slams against his own. The attack is quick and brutal, a slash of knives meant to draw attention away. Protected by his own firewalls, Soundwave rebuffs the attack, and presses deeper into the spinning disorganization of the assassin's mind. He sets up another background analysis towards tracking the resistance, puzzled by the clear experience behind the retaliation but the odd lack of true mental fortitude such efforts would require.
Any chance that this was some enterprising Neutral previous to this is all but null as their mental struggle continues. Small blitz attacks, often accompanied by loud distracting thoughts, and automated pitfalls hidden within access and permission codes, paint a picture of a mech that is far better trained than any Neutral would have gathered through the war. This isn't just a fully trained agent, but an agent that has previously been up against Soundwave before, and the list in the back of his processor narrows even further. Almost certainly an Autobot, likely high up in a special operations unit. With this in mind, Soundwave stops the straight forward approach, and doubles back upon code he's already discarded.
All spec ops assets have a set of commands and directives so tightly woven into their code that it nearly perfectly mimics core functionality. (Well, the ones that live this long do.) Knowing what signs to look for now, Soundwave begins following seemingly innocuous cascades of thoughts and memories that draw him further away from intel, and into the main brain module. The shift and tactics is met with increased resistance.
"Last I checked, Wavey, you aren't a mnemosurgeon. What are you gonna do here, dig through my dialect archives?" the assassin asks as they slam down the memory of a particularly close and blinding explosion. The flashy mental echo hides a backdoor that nearly sends Soundwave slipping back into the outer parts of their processor. Refusing to be swept back up into it, he forcefully cancels the memory cycle in a move that will give both of them a processor ache - the assassin more than him. An automated process tries to activate and pops up an error code as he claws his way back to core coding. The connection between them trembles dangerously as the resulting code loop nearly causes a full crash. He needs to hurry, or they might be stuck together when this mech's entire system collapses.
Secondary processor suddenly throws a flag as Soundwave takes in the tangled, damaged mess of coding near their core. The background analysis have gathered enough data points to cross reference and pull up a file on the most likely identity of the would be assassin.
Head of Special Operations and TIC of the entire faction, Autobot Jazz. Last known location: unknown. Status: MIA since five orns after the battle to destroy Unicron and the renewal of Decepticon hostilities towards Autobots
The file of Jazz that Soundwave has compiled shows his physical appearance far different from the description of Flux, but at the base level - most everyone active in the war having been reformatted with more armor and internal weapons at some point or another - they share the same basic frame type. An easy enough coincidence to waive away underneath the ever loosening grip of Galvatron upon the home front. Soundwave hasn't personally interviewed any of the new recruits in two vorn, instead forced to collaborate with Cyclonus near constantly to keep the entire faction from erupting into outright mutiny. Lord Megatron would have nev-
Soundwave forcefully cancels that thought process before it can finish. It doesn't stop the reflexive, nearly painful flare of his internal (and never removed despite the lack of Functionalism in the war) loyalty coding. Still deep within the depths of Jazz's processor, it is impossible to completely hide the flinch.
"Ya miss ole Megatron that much? Even you want Galvatron gone!" Jazz laughs, all sharp amusement, "Ya should'a let me do it, Soundwave."
"Irrelevant," Soundwave snaps, breaking his normally held policy of remaining silent during any hacking, "Loyalty: to the Decepticon cause. Successful assassination: high potential for disaster." A pause to evaluate data and, "High potential for disaster for both factions. Autobot High Command almost certainly did not approve of the actions you have taken today."
Even more sharp amusement, code nearly splintering under the weight of the emotion, "Yeah, well, command and I don't quite mesh anymore. Call it a secret op."
And suddenly the tangled mess of commands and processes near Jazz's core make sense. Looping requests to a series of leaders that no longer exist, hollow spaces where emotional recognition would have connected through a bond, and the near perfect set of comm codes stuck in the center of the whole thorny pile. Jazz lost his ideological leader, his sparkmate, and his spec ops handler all in one day. The damage is eerily similar to another set within Soundwave's own processes that had to be cleared out by Hook vorns ago.
The Autobots lost their CMO before the battle of Autobot City as well. There would have been no one there who knew to look for signs of personality destabilization in the days following Unicron's defeat. Jazz would have - should have - collapsed in on himself as over half of the support system keeping his sanity intact was suddenly cut away. Killing Galvatron, and by extension destroying the Decepticons would have been the only thing keeping him from complete processor failure.
"Jazz: failed objective. Complete personality matrix collapse has become near inevitable without reestablishment of core processes."
"And don't I know it, Wavey. For old friendships sake, why don't ya back out of here. It won't be long, now."
It's true. Already their connection is growing more unstable, path back to his own processor becoming clogged with cascading errors as code begins to loop endlessly into a collapse. He disengages as quickly as he can, uncaring of the damage a hasty retreat may leave behind. Coming back into his own frame, he is greeted by the spark filled twitching characteristic of major processor failure jerking its way through Jazz. Soundwave goes to pull the hardline completely out, before pausing.
For hundreds of mega-cycles, Jazz has been Soundwave's equal, the very being he had to consistently thwart and beat to ensure ultimate Decepticon victory. And for vorn before that, they had been casual friends, brought together by a mutual care for sound mixing. Truly, Soundwave's longest kept relationship outside of his cassettes, in one way or another.
So that is what is on Soundwave's mind when he decides against immediately unplugging and allowing Jazz to expire beneath the weight of his own collapsing personality. Instead, he flags a medical code, and initiates emergency stasis lock, temporarily pausing the deluge as Jazz's body goes into barest survival mode. His audials feel empty, when that visor on Jazz's face goes dark, the sheer noise of his processor silenced in an instant.
"I'm sorry, you want me to fragging do what?"
"Repair his physical frame, and assess options to heal major processor damage caused by major personality matrix malfunctions," Soundwave repeats himself. The still form of Jazz lays on Soundwave's own recharge slab, being curiously looked over from above by Buzzsaw and Laserbeak. Hook stands near the doorway, looking exhausted and grumpy. Galvatron woke roughly three joor previous, and subsequently demanded to be released from medical to kill the being that dared to attempt to kill him. Upon being told by Soundwave that the threat had already been neutralized, he instead made Cyclonus and Hook relocate him to his own quarters for his recovery. Hook, by now, has not had a proper rest cycle in orn.
Soundwave, of course, planned for this. An exhausted Hook is one far more willing to consider what amounts to treason, and one that will later, upon realizing what he agreed to, also loop his gestalt into the scheme in an attempt to protect himself. Like all Decepticons, Hook has a certain amount of mental defenses against telepathy, but while specific thoughts may be hidden, emotions are not. Thus far, no hostility beyond the expected amount for summoning him so soon after finally clearing his medbay from Galvatron is present.
"And how the slag am I going to do that? This isn't a medbay, and there's no way in Pit that I am going to let you bring him to mine," Hook shoots back, dubious.
"Current quarters: sufficiently sanitized for physical procedures. For code: my own functionality is more than sufficient with input from a trained medical professional," Soundwave responds, hinging on both the flattery of reminding Hook of his position as current CMO, and his tendency to be fascinated by information he did not previously hold. Soundwave's frame type and configuration was long since considered obsolete by the time the Constructicons were sparked. He had only been kept around by his owner's personal proclivity for preferring more emotionally complex responses over the newly invented drones rapidly replacing his class in Golden Age society. Given the rarity of Soundwave himself needing repairs - and his preference to fix his cassettes on his own if at all possible - Hook has had little chance to learn the engineering and processing prowess of his TIC.
Curiosity ultimately wins in the end, Hook pulling a medkit from subspace and crossing to the bed with a brief grumble, "Fine. But I'm not a damn miracle worker. He's going to lose a lot of outer plating, and it will take time to replace."
Soundwave indicates his understanding, and sits back to observe as the medic starts working. This close in proximity to his cassettes, Soundwave can brush against their own minds via their bonds to check on the process from multiple angles. Unlike most mechs, they never shy away from his telepathy, a level of sheer trust that is rare amongst Decepticons. Laserbeak gives the impression of brushing her helm against his servos, and shows him what she sees from her optics, still perched above the bed like an Earth vulture.
True to his word, Hook strips several layers of charred and burned plating, subspacing what can be salvaged for materials later and discarding what cannot. From there he fixes broken fuel lines, realigns joints, settles internals, and sets up further inhibitors upon internal weaponry and comms. Both physically repaired and metaphorically defanged, Hook pings the inhibitor control codes to Soundwave's inbox, and pops open an access port for specifically medical purposes. He does not plug in.
"I'm doing this through you. I don't want to have my processes ripped apart by an enemy's firewalls just because I'm not flagged as an acceptable medic."
Ignoring the unlikelyhood of that probability, Soundwave steps forward. Extending a thick, higher bandwidth line and opening a side port, Soundwave allows Hook to plug into his port before putting Soundwave's into Jazz's. The silence of medical stasis is still defending. Hook takes the lead, flagging medical damage as he goes in a diagnostic system that Soundwave now has access to.
He knows that Hook found the crux of the problem when the echoed hiss of objective, medicinal facination goes over their connection, "Yikes. That's one fragging mess, isn't it." Hook pokes around the edges of Jazz's tangled,half collapsed ops processes for a moment, not even sure where to start, "To be realistic, Soundwave, I don't think this is fixable with a code clearing procedure. It would just retangle itself even faster than the first time. I'd either need a coding specialist, or he needs a new baseline connection to loop that process back to."
"Proceed with code clearing."
"Did you not hear me? It won't actually fix anything!"
"Understood. Proceed with code clearing. Soundwave: will become new handler for asset."
Surprise flares strong between them, before wary amusement, "You think replacing just one of those missing supports will fix this?"
"Negative. Additional balance will be given. Hook: is needed in case integration of partial symbiote coding fails."
With that statement, Soundwave presses over the barest details of his plan to Hook. He feels the risk assessment Hook runs - ironically taking advantage of Soundwave's superior processing power - and knows the moment he agrees without even needing words. Bundling together a data packet, Hook triggers the code clearing. Poised at the edge of it, Soundwave waits for the code to begin rewriting itself before plunging in. He has only ever done this with his cassettes, in a far more intimate and consensual setting. But Jazz is not a cassette, Soundwave is not his carrier, and this coding he is inserting now is his own creation, made just for this purpose.
Hook has to put up several medical blocks, overrides, and permissions as Soundwave works. Jazz's defenses naturally try to reject the foreign lines of code, even as Soundwave begins coaxing the familiar edges together, weaving them into a feasible connection. The moment Jazz's system notices the edited version of the asset/handler coding, it starts integrating, and Soundwave allows the further strands to flow into the whole, sealing loops and smoothing out the damaged processes.
Both Hook and him poke at the coding for a few minutes as it fully settles into core functionality. The gaping hole of a broken sparkbond processor is still there, but instead of constant errors the nodes start flagging the usual grief routine, no longer trying to route around into neighboring processes in an attempt to fix the damage, and further triggering more errors as they too run into dead ends. Experimentally, Soundwave manually pings Jazz's processor from the outside, and triggers the shift from emergency stasis into a version of cassette suspension.
"Slag. Guess it works. Soundwave, good fragging luck."
Jazz onlines.
That in itself is a surprise, his memories logged a haze of processor pain and damage as Soundwave hacked him, the feeling of his own personality matrix collapsing the last thing fully registered before darkness. He had been sure he was headed back to the Well, back to Optimus and Prowl and all the friends he lost. Frag, he even warned Soundwave away, and welcomed it.
So onlining to the artificial numbness of medical pain blockers and the feeling of warm weight draped over his chassis is a shock he's not quite sure he welcomes. Ops programming kicking in, he reroutes power to visual processes and emergency locomotive systems in an instant. Optics cycling on under the visor, he gets the up close view of a beastformer - frag, is that Ravage?! - splayed out across his torso before his servos kick in and he's twisting. The beastformer gets summarily booted down as Jazz proceeds to vault off the edge of a recharge slab.
That is as far as he gets before there's a full systems ping, and Jazz drops, his motor systems temporarily disabled. The flagged process, his internal diagnostic happily tells him, is asset coding, requiring instant cessation of all activity until cleared by his handler. It's a code that should only be triggered when behind friendly lines, and the only person who Jazz ever trusted enough to keep that access has been offline for three vorns now. Frantic attempts at override show that no, this isn't from an external source, and his handler is pinging this order directly.
Vents kicking into overdrive, Jazz can only lay there and wait for the all clear to be given. Ravage - yeah, definitely Ravage - hisses lightly at him, turning gracefully away from Jazz with an indignant flare of his field. The contact is too casual, too familiar, and Jazz draws in his own field in response, tucking it tight to his frame and attempting to activate his secondary, ops modded field. It flickers to life for an astrosecond, before another command code hits and it drops. All special operations systems temporarily suspended, until cleared by his handler.
His servo is in view now, and Jazz sees the stripped bare metal and wires normally hidden beneath plating. What little paint still remains on his arm is the dark red of Flux's look, but this definitely is not his Decepticon assigned quarters. No, the lack of personal details but the inclusion of a winged beastformer perch and a corner TV with human sized video game consoles is familiar enough. (As if Ravage wasn't a pretty obvious indicator too.) He is in Soundwave's quarters.
Speak of the devil, a door behind him opens and shuts, bringing with it one set of heavy pedes. Unable to trigger a manual override, Jazz has to just sit and wait with his panic and paranoia routines quickly overwhelming his processor. A thick field presses against his own, and the bare edges of Soundwave's telepathy press into his brain module. Instinct slams down the partitions he keeps to protect his thoughts, and he tries in vain to tuck his field in even tighter.
He has one klik to brace himself before Soundwave is down on one knee next to him, large servo pressing into his spinal strut right at the base of his helm. The position isn't used to crush his cables and paralyze him, instead Soundwave positions his digits just so and gives a squeeze.
Oh. Jazz's panic subroutine is instantly booted as he suddenly relaxes, completely strutless. It's like being pressed beneath the shielded plating of a cityformer, except Soundwave isn't that large, and Jazz isn't that small. Pattern recognition pops, and Jazz remembers that this is a hold he's seen before - just not on a full sized mech. Blaster uses this sometimes, when one of his mob is freaking out. Symbiote coding, he told Jazz once when asked. It's meant to be a reassurance, and a reminder of the protection offered by a carrier.
So why is Jazz reacting to Soundwave like he's one of his cassettes?
It takes two tries to boot his vocalizer, body still relaxed despite his own emotions, "What the frag did you do to me?"
Soundwave ignores his snarled question for a few kliks, instead loosening his hold and moving to haul Jazz off the floor. Jazz is reminded that his base frame was always meant to be a lightweight and fuel efficient courier model, and compared to the protective bulk of a carrier model, he feels like his weight is negligible as he is laid back down on the recharge slab. A servo is pressed to his halfway intact chest plating, firm but not painful. Then, abruptly, the all clear for motor function comes through. Jazz tenses back up, manually testing his pistons in small clenches for a second, staring up at Soundwave's visor and face plate, wary.
"Autobot Jazz: loose asset. Soundwave: secured asset."
Oh Pit no, Jazz tries to shove out from underneath him, and instantly gets another ping that just sends his efforts skidding softly across the metal of the slab. Engine roaring, Jazz's vents heave as the realization sinks in, "You hacked my asset/handler code?"
He doesn't even need the confirmation in words, as another ping comes in and one of Jazz's secondary access ports pops open without his own input. Jazz is helpless, unable to even attempt to slip away as Soundwave plugs in a cable. His firewalls part instantly, ignoring the literal hundreds of thousands of vorns of war marking Soundwave as the highest level of threat within his internal database. A small sound of panicked horror slips past Jazz's vocalizer as Soundwave starts parsing through his code.
With full permissions, it's closer to mildly uncomfortable than painful. Still, the feeling is alien. Jazz can count the number of people he's let this close on one servo, and Soundwave was most certainly not a part of them. He pulls back enough to not feel Soundwave against his active consciousness, and watches as Soundwave begins dismissing subroutines and system flags like he's used to it. Poking a bit at the code that is currently lighting up like a switchboard, he realizes that Soundwave in fact is used to it. The same process is used in cassettes - who's processors often have to sacrifice internal diagnostics in exchange for smaller size and more efficient processing time.
When he's done clearing out Jazz's clogged crisis motivators, Soundwave pulls back to the edges of Jazz's processor. This allows Jazz to cycle his optics as he anticipates the cord being disconnected soon. Instead, Soundwave once again finagles Jazz's strutless body, sliding up onto the recharge slab with him and pulling Jazz into his lap. One audial horn is laid against the quadruple reinforced and bulletproof glass of Soundwave's cassette slot. Up close like this, he can feel the faint edges of two cassette's fields, and the secondary echo of them from their still connected systems.
"Code: Repaired, not hacked," Soundwave says - like the distinction matters - smoothing down Jazz's instinctive bristle with the mental impression of a hot solvent shower, "New baseline connection was established to prevent catastrophic personality matrix collapse."
"Oh, and does asset/handler code also include symbiote processes?" Jazz retorts, internally, because his frame is still involuntarily relaxed and activating his vocalizer again feels like a monumental task.
Soundwave doesn't even pause, "Negative. Partial symbiote coding introduced to ensure extra matrix stabilization, as well as additional incentive to follow commands."
Jazz barks a laugh - more a burst of static than anything else. A sense of rage tries to rise, only to be dunked into calm once more by Soundwave. It's maddening, the lack of control in his own processor. If he could, he would rip that hardline out right now without proper disengagement, frag the damage such a move might cause.
"Coding can only make me do so much. Ah'll never help the Decepticons!"
"Affirmative," and Soundwave's response is internal this time, the sudden switch a little disorienting, "Jazz will not be Decepticon asset. Jazz: now Soundwave's."
By Primus, he's insane. Jazz continues to try in vain to forcefully disengage their processors, to turn on his motor functions, to do anything, and each time is soundly rejected. His engine is giving a high pitched whirring sound at the sudden jolting between Jazz's emotions and the field of calm Soundwave keeps pushing him back down into.
"Rodimus Prime: ineffective leader. Ultra Magnus: ineffective leader," A pause, "Galvatron: ineffective leader. Cybertronian race: dying. Jazz: offers solution."
And that is jarring enough that he ceases his struggles and just listens with a horrible fascination for where this is going.
"Cyclonus: capable leader and willing to accept Autobot surrender. Jazz: widely liked and trusted by Autobot forces, and still recognized Third In Command."
"No," Jazz interrupts, mind reeling, "No, you're not fragging asking me to-"
"Death of Rodimus Prime, Ultra Magnus, and Galatron: end of war and survival of Cybertronian race ensured. The two of us are the best remaining special operations commanders in entire galaxy. Jazz remaining stable is necessary for this."
Despite the active canceling of any major emotional reactions, the sheer overwhelming awfulness of this request hits secondary processing and causes his frame to tremble, "No! No I can't - You can't - I won't," A stinging, hitching vent, and the further smoothing of sharp emotional edges, "I already killed enough good mechs, even before the war. You won't convince me to do this."
"Jazz," Soundwave reassures with a spark sinking tone of finality, "Will be convinced."