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Who: Shockwave and YOU, unfortunately
Where: Around
When: Oh man who cares.
What: Cracks knuckles despite only having one working hand - it's time for Science.
Warnings: Shockwave. Will update as needed.

( a ) city

The laboratory was stopgap; very much a work in progress with antiquated equipment identified after the sheets of dust and debris were pulled back revealing something, well, altogether underwhelming. Shockwave had worked in greater want for his nigh impossible standards met in the past, but he felt the simplicity that ruled his life now more challenge than before. All because he was presented with the rather disturbing mystery to be opened up and examined: What, in his absence, could have so thoroughly salted the earth. Reverse engineering the apocalypse certainly seemed like a task he could accomplish given time.

Shockwave needed to work - too many questions to be answered, and after Emma carved that much-needed stricture into his brow he was...spurred to begin anew with greater purpose. The bare bones of what he surmised to be a university research lab would have to suffice. For now.

Prodding the nerve endings of the network, now more noticed by the outside world than a ripple in a greater reservoir, he examined the footprints left behind by the minds behind it, amused with how rudimentary it was. Impressed that even existed at all. A Beowulf cluster suddenly superseded all other priorities; something closed and close to the chest away from prying eyes. In the matter of hours all useable hardware had been cannibalized with the stripped parts left out the front doors out into a narrow alleyway between the lab and desolate campus like bones spat out at the mouth of a monsters' cave. The afterthought of his mess a warning written loud and clear: Stay Away.

( b ) wildcard

( pick your own adventure; finding holo avatar Shockwave in somewhere too small for his regular old purplesaurus rex self or any other feasible random encounter )

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"I would think so given that I was only the head of the Decepticon science division."

Shockwave gave only the most unconcerned answer someone who more comfortable with admitting to spearheading some of the most brilliant redefinitions of war crimes than he was with relating his past with Optimus to one of his closest friends dragged back out from the depths of their old live.

"When...cross-faction collaboration were more tempered."

"Uh."

He makes a face, trying to work all this out. But it doesn't click. Names are vaguely familiar. But... factions. That's...

"Okay, hold on. I'm sorry. But according to Pax, I'm... missing about four million years," he says. And it sounds like an admittance of guilt more than anything. Like it's his fault. Which it might be, for all he knows.

"I've got... pretty much no idea what you're talking about."

And for once in perhaps a long time, only shown by his eyes, Optimus flinched. The noise, accompanied with the pure, harsh emotion from from his friend made his eyes soften considerably. Both because Shockwave is still suffering from the aftermath of shadowplay, and because he can't do anything to fix it.

Deep down, the anger was freeing, to know that something was at least affecting the other, instead of the dead apathy he'd heard for so long. Emotion meant life, and Shockwave for the first time in four million years was living. If he had to take the brunt of some anger, he would gladly do so.

More than gladly for him.

"Shockwave--" He doesn't know what he's going to say. Anything he could possibly add would fail in both delivery and comparison to what Shockwave's probably feeling. "That's the nature of our race. We will adapt."

A hand goes out to that shoulder. A daring move, reaching towards him so suddenly. But he knows Shockwave, and if he had to take a blast from him to prove that, he would.

"It's what we're best at."

Don't look at me like that.

Shockwave nearly said it only for too many obstructions holdover from an eternity riding out the ceaseless, deadening indifference that had for long defined him holding Shockwave back from voice even minor discomforts. Something about the way Optimus held him as though he would shatter at any moment or even combust with his gaze alone turned his insides to knots. Anger was the quickest, most immediate emotion for him to latch onto and he wanted to hate this more than he already did. Only he was coming up short, and staring down the rather frightening prospect that he couldn't navigate this one on logic and bursts of fury alone this time around.

"You must be busy with your wayward Autobots." Shockwave said, a guarded way of giving Optimus an out as his large yellow eye drifted to an empty wall and his shoulder slumped as if the hand over it weighed a great deal more than it did. "Enough that watching me calculate the logistics of treated water within city limits is hardly worth your time."

The room grew quiet again and Shockwave realized that after a life isolating himself the sudden shift to recognizing the inherent abnormality of being cut off from all low risk social interaction made something as simple as attempts to reconnect feel futile. Like beating his fists against the walls of a vacuous, empty space for none to hear. He still doesn't want to look passed the blank wall in the far corner.

"It's...strange." Shockwave wanted to say it was 'funny' but that word felt beyond him, "Too many years playing consigliere and ad hoc medic between radical attempts at reshaping the universe itself and engineering a stable water treatment plant is taking up all my time. Something to be said there for the ills of excessive specialization."

He couldn't blame Shockwave for defaulting to anger, it'd been so long, after all. And Shockwave was hurt beyond any definition of pain. It was painless, of course, but that only meant that damage was harder to gauge, even for yourself. After going so long without emoting anything...you became angry. His hand continues to rest on that shoulder, not moving an inch from his position.

"I'm busy with my wayward friends, no matter what faction they aligned to," he softly states, trying to catch a glimpse of that yellow optic trying to avoid his gaze. "And it's the same with you--I want to know if you are alright--if you need my help."

Now or in the future.

But the silence was louder than any shout, any exclamation could sound in the room, and it made Optimus's plating uneasy. Conversation was so easy for them many years ago. Now they were like acquaintences again, scoping for safe topics.

"Perhaps it's time you allowed yourself room to breathe, as humans would say."

"Um. Sure." Still uncertain but heartened by the fact that she wasn't dead yet, Nautica got to her feet, making Shockwave only twice as tall as she was, and dusted at the nonexistent dirt on her knees. With a flick of her thumb, she popped open the panel on her wrench and turned on the hologram projector, a three-dimensional representation of the city's limited power resources springing to life in the air between the two mechs.

"So far I've just restored the city's original power infrastructure to the buildings that are in use, since we don't have what you'd call a plan, and half the people here won't talk to the other half without trying to kill th--uh." Maybe she didn't want to talk about killing with the Decepticons' leading scientist moving right along. "Anyway, pretty soon we're going to need a less haphazard system than just me sending someone out to the crater for energon every few days."

"Speak plainly." That massive singular point of an eye flares wide then retracts to a scrutinizing pinprick (MRS. BRISBY, bellowed the Great Owl that sort of thing) a cold yellow light hanging over Nautica in almost comical facsimile the interrogation lamp. There was a beat. "-Please. I'm no more loyal to the Decepticons than you are and only find their squabbles to be interfering white noise."

"The devil is always in the logistics." Shockwave intoned after an unnervingly quiet few moments of going over the three-dimensional resources Nautica was so kind enough to map out for him. His massive hand hovered over the interface and Shockwave highlighted a few areas of note. "Clearer roads would be a stopgap solution. With no one suited to transforming into the sort of vehicle we need and the generated cube system being as antiquated and cumbersome as it is we should instead be looking down. Piping the raw engeron to closer facilities. This project can run concurrent with my plans to retrofit human populated building with running water."

Shockwave tilts his head and looks back at Nautica, "Is the damage you sustained related to shoddy transport methods?"

Edited 2015-05-07 01:03 (UTC)

"Yes, he...said as much."

Lying was awkwardly executed when you had no clear goal in mind and literally staring down your own past. All social graces fly out the window with the Shadowplay and where long winded diatribes failed to save him, Shockwave was falling back on rusted attempts to make simple conversation near impossible. Especially when angling to lessen the blow of a hard truth when for so long such a thing would have never occurred to him.

"I'm sorry this must be a lot to take in."

"Oh. You've talked to him, then..."

That was sort of nice. Maybe he really did need to quit avoiding Pax. And talk to him about... things. It'd be the smart thing to do. But it... was also the more difficult thing to do. Which meant avoiding him was the more pleasant-sounding option.

He shakes his head, running a hand over his face. "Way too much, some days, you know?"

Hey. Small talk. Maybe he can make a decent impression with this guy, if he can't with Shockwave.

Hah.

Hah hah.

"Yes, I-" Small metal digits tapped against the floor like spider legs as a service drone created on the spot from scraps in this lab for for micro repairs interrupted.

"Shockwave, Sector-11AB7 successfully rewir-"

The automated voice fizzled and crackled out when it snapped, shattering underfoot when Shockwave hurriedly stomped on the machine in an aborted attempt to cover a lie already blown wide open. Everything went dead quiet except for the sparking broken droid twitching out from under Shockwave's foot.

"Roller-" Shockwave said the name but could get no further.

It's... sort of like the ground drops out from under him. Along with his fuel tank. The familiarity suddenly makes sense -- too much sense. And for a minute, he isn't sure if he can keep his balance.

What.

This is what happened. This is what Shockwave went and had happen, because he couldn't stop it... Because being big wasn't enough, was it? And that's all he has, right?

It wasn't enough.

We don't blame you--

He doesn't realize he's been staring in mute horror for a moment or two too long. It's not until this str-- until Shockwave -- says his name he even blinks. His jaw works, and nothing really helpful or intelligible comes out.

"You..." More awful silence. "You're really him?"

-- but you should.

"Optimus--Orion."

The blank space between the corners of the wall stopped drawing him in, away. When he looks back his eye hooks into and latches onto Optimus in an unwavering gaze.

"I've been breathing in empty spaces for the last four million years." His hand slowly eases up until it closes around Optimus's wrist. "In that endless space it's suffocating."

Outliers; an existence outside mode determinism the Fuctionists would see burned then brushed under the rug before they would adhere to even the Senate's speaking out both sides of the mouth and half-hearted dissolution of then unappealing dictum. Point one percenter - heavy class. Promising. Watch for latent manifestation.

"Roller." The one that showed as much promise as the one whose shadow he willfully trailed after. Shockwave held his hand out; he knew only of a very small number of people who being caught on the wrong side of ill temper would give Shockwave pause. He was now in a room with one of them.

There is nothing really to be said. For either of them.

"It's been a long, long time."

Nautica shrank from Shockwave's stare, at least until he modified the accompanying command into something more conversational. Still confused by how this conversation was going, she let the silence stretch until he deigned to fill it with technical commentary. That she could deal with, and she was about to reply when he suddenly asked a personal question, tipping her back into uncertainty. A hand went up to trace the unpainted weld on one shoulder. She couldn't see the damage most of the time, and it now barely hurt beyond the occasional twinge when she moved her impellers too enthusiastically.

"I wish." That would have been an accident and thus so much less disheartening than the strange Megatron's unstable malice flaring into violence seemingly at random. "No, Megatron--the one from the other universe--attacked me."

A long, long time. For one of them. For him...

He still remembers blearily staring after the departing senator, aware he should be doing something. Aware he's done something wrong. Aware he has to explain this to his friend, his partner... It's as clear as can be.

Like it was just yesterday he let them both down. Them, and all the little weirdos Shockwave was looking after.

For a second, remembering all that is overpowering. The relief he'd felt the last time Pax-Prime had all but beat the notion of we don't blame you into his head is gone. He's staring down the result of that fresh failure and it... it hurts. Though that's far too mild a term for the feeling clawing through his internal workings.

"I'm ..."

His voice falters. Flickers into static. Words fail.

"I guess it... it has."

I'm so sorry.

His joints hitch at the sound of his old name, eyes widening as the yellow optic meets the cold blue of his own. He can't look away, not when he's addressed like that.

Slowly, his hand grips the other's wrist, just like his is being held.

"I'm here, Shockwave. The universe has a plan for me, and until I find out what that is, I'm here."

He was curious, of course, if only for a little while; Shockwave knew his fate? His future?

But the vagueness wasn't new and Sixshot wasn't bred to question. He was Megatron's most loyal dog, so obedient that his hesitance in the face of the Reapers had surprised their ex-leader. Depression had eaten away the rest of his cares eons ago, either way.

"Megatron's defected," he says simply. "What about you?"

The universe I was more than willingly to destroy in a fit of pique. Shockwave nearly said. And how very Cybertronian of them to think in such broad literally universal terms where it concerned their role and influential reach. What small pockets of the cosmos who avoided being caught in the crossfire of their war had no idea what they had.

"Don't-" Voice heavy with the strain of each infliction a flicker in the yellow light as plates shifted around his shoulders and the rolling friction under Optimus's gentle grasp ignited. "Do this to yourself again."

His eyes stare at their hands. How familiar and yet seemingly foreign the touch was. Something they had to work on, probably. His grip doesn't slack though, letting Shockwave's words sink in as he continues to hold it.

"I won't let you suffocate."

"This isn't like last time."

There were a few shared red letter days between them but the nonspecific response was not without intent; he dwelled nowadays perhaps as much as Optimus forced himself to when it came to revisiting old mistakes. Mistakes was a charitable word and they had been in no short supply of either regret or more comfortable words they used to distance themselves.

"We're no longer helpless." Shockwave watches as his fingers slip through hands that anchored him there for however loose the actual grip was and where his palm splays open on the dented and cracking chestplate he knew if he cracked open he'd see his own marred handiwork that survived a life time. "Simply tired."

Optimus watches Shockwave's hand slip out of his own, and almost by instinct, he starts to reach for it, only to let it fall short and back down to his side. His eyes can't match up with Shockwave's again, not without a tinge of guilt shooting through his spark.

"Tired is a good word for it." His voice is even softer, every sentence more like a suggestion than a statement.

"But we can't rest just yet."

"Had I even a modicum of the self-promoting arrogance that has carried me through all these years," A slight tilt to that expressionless face and subtle inflection to his voice implied an unseen if contrite smile, "Even then I would never claim that what we plan now will be successful."

Knees dip forward, the back of his legs knocking softly against the side of the desk as even the weight of Optimus standing tall over him was almost palpable. Shockwave notes his hand hadn't moved yet he didn't feel compelled to rectify this. It sends pangs pulsing deep in his chest like a freshly healed t-cog shifting constantly as it heals. Nostalgia.

"Yet you and I will, at either our best or worst depending on the perspective, would never be accused of idleness."

"Idleness has never been my strong suit," he admits, although there's slight affection in that sentence. Granted, Prowl would have never said it with the same tone. In fact, Optimus was a little too active for his Second-in-command's liking. But he knew that Shockwave was the same way. They both desired change, and knew that sitting around just waiting for it to happen was...well.

Stagnant in itself.

"But I don't think the planet would want that either. So maybe this new world is our mission now."

"Which is where I've reasoned it would be best to defer to you." Shockwave dipped his head as his hand fell back to his side.

There had always been that fine line that could fissure into a gulf between involvement out of a simple altruistism and forcing change on the unwilling. Optimus may not have the cleanest hands himself, but something should be said for his unwavering dedication and near reverence for where that line was drawn. Shockwave would have liked to say the same, but that empty space dug into that chestplate was all the reminder he needed that he himself had been without fault. So much time between then and the postive outcome dimmed his normally pragmatic sense of perspective.

If only he...

Shockwave stepped away and half turned towards a running monitor on the desk.

"I want to show you something."

The war had made everyone's hands dirty, whether they fought in it or not. Both action and lack of it tended to taint it. Optimus just happened to carry through with everything he did. Prowl would say it was one of his worst traits. Others? His best.

Sometimes he just didn't know anymore. But he kept going, because in the end...that's all he knew how to do.

Those eyes flick up, though, looking at Shockwave both bright and inquisitive. "What is it?"

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