How Very Logical. (TFP SI.) by Tomb Spyder
Words: 61k+
Links: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/how-very-logical-tfp-si.1093493/
https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/how-very-logical-tfp-si.120996/
( What would one do if they woke up with a singular eye, a head full of terrible, mad ideas and the desire to perform science? Oh, don't forget the fact that he's a giant robot. That's pretty important.
If you're new, welcome. If you're coming from one of my other stories, you're probably wondering just what the hell I think I'm doing starting up yet another fic.
This one is a Shockwave self insert by the way. :)
Anyways, since my pc is still dead and all the plans for my other fics are stored on there, they're kind of on pause until I can get the bloody thing fixed.
So how am I writing this? Well I've managed to connect some random keyboard I found to my phone. So essentially, this fic is something for me to do until the old pc starts cooperating again, or until I can think up something new for the other fics.
TLDR: Pc broke, doing this on phone with keyboard.
PS: If you've read my first fic, Giant Robot Spider Lady, this will seem familiar. I was really new to writing when I started that story, so I'm hoping this one will be better overall. Like it's predecessor, this will eventually evolve into a multicross.
Canon omakes=Side Stories section.
Non-canon omakes=Apocrypha.
Fanart/memes/etc=Media.
Anyways enough of my chatter, let's begin. )
LOG-001.
Everything hurt.
[WARNING: LARGE SCALE DAMAGE SUSTAINED. BEGINNING SELF-DIAGNOSTIC.]
I couldn't see anything. Could barely feel my way around with a hand. It's counterpart felt...off.
[LISTING INITIAL DIAGNOSTIC RESULTS:]
[OPTICAL CAMERA: OFFLINE.]
[BUILT-IN ASTROMAG CANNON: OFFLINE.]
[LOCOMOTIVE SYSTEMS: OFFLINE.]
My legs...I couldn't feel my legs...?
[ACCESSING PRIMARY PROCESSOR NODE.]
[ACCESS GRANTED: DISTRIBUTING RELEVANT FILES.]
I'd...been in an explosion. Because apparently that was a thing.
[BEGINNING CHASSIS-WIDE SELF-DIAGNOSTIC.]
I focused on sorting through my memories, letting the background process do it's thing.
I had been...at my desk. Typing something up.
Yet I'd also been engaged in combat against a pair of Autobots. Arcee and...Cliffjumper. Yes. Just outside the space bridge.
My name is...was...something. Those files are corrupted to hell and back it seems. Lovely.
Although the other set of memories did have a designation I could use. For now at least.
Shockwave.
The name held different meaning to the two corresponding sets of memories.
In the first, Shockwave was a villain. An antagonist of sorts. Though not the main one.
In the second...well. I'm Shockwave. Aren't I?
I didn't feel too torn up about the conflicting memories, to be honest.
Both gave me the same answer as to just why I wasn't panicking like an idiot right now.
Empurata. Or Shadowplay, rather.
My sole remaining servo clenched into a fist. Just because my emotions had been dulled due to the mnemosurgery, didn't mean I felt nothing at all.
Or did it?
Yes...the newer memories. The corrupted ones. They'd spread into the rest of my processor. My mind.
I had emotions again...or at least muted ones.
My cybertronian memories were convinced that I'd picked up some type of nonsensical virus. That I'd gone mad.
My human memories told me that I'd been fucking isekaid. Also lovely.
I ignored both conflicting files and got to work directing my self-repair subroutines.
They both agreed on one thing at least.
I refused to die here.
---
It had taken time. Too much time, but I'd gotten my singular optic online. With my vision returned to me, I'd managed to drag myself over to an offlined vehicon with my sole remaining servo.
I hadn't thought twice before cannibalizing the dead mech's parts. Economy models though they might have been, they weren't as damaged as my own.
Besides, it wasn't as if he was using them.
And so I went, dragging myself from corpse to corpse. Salvaging what intact components remained from the rusted frames of my former troops.
I'd achieved locomotion after a few cycles worth of repairs. Taking my first steps, no matter how unsteady, had been a triumph.
Now I walked the bombed out streets of Tarn of all places, searching.
Assuming my cybertronian memories were correct...ah.
I couldn't smile. Lack of a faceplate and all. But as I passed through the hidden entrance of my lab, the faintest echo of the sensation made itself manifest.
---
My AstroMag cannon was back online. Luckily, I'd had some spare parts lying around. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't repair it.
Really. The fact that I'd made it back to my secluded laboratory unmolested was a minor miracle. Cybertron was a dead planet, but by no means was it deserted.
Things stalked the darker areas of the surface.
Not to mention the scraplets.
I resisted the urge to let my frame shudder at the thought, and went back to checking through the terminal's logs.
Everything seemed in order. I'd even managed to reactivate some of the lesser defenses that had survived the surface bombardment.
Which meant I now had nothing to do. Aside from scavenge the surface for what energon I could find of course. The life giving resource was always in short supply after all.
As if to emphasize my thoughts, my fuel tank sent me an alert.
Cybertronians didn't need to breathe, but I cycled some air in an approximation of a sigh nonetheless.
Time to get to work.
---
Transformation was a blessing, and no one would ever tell me otherwise.
After receiving a status alert from my t-cog, namely that it would't rip itself apart if I attempted even the most minor of modifications, I'd slowly, carefully shifted into my alt mode.
Being a tank was great. It felt like...like you had been walking on your hands your whole life, and then you'd suddenly discovered you had legs.
Weird analogy, but it fit. Either way, I felt quite happy just rolling around the various cratered roads surrounding my lab while in my alt mode.
Of course I'd make a stop now and then. Usually when I found a decent source of energon I could drain.
Most of the time, it was a semi-intact body.
You know, draining a corpse of energon is a surprisingly complicated process.
First, I need to find the corpse. That's the easy part. Since they're practically everywhere.
Seriously, some of the wider streets were pretty much littered with them.
The second part of the process was filtering through the corpses I'd found for a whole host of problems.
Stale energon. Remnants of viruses. This and that.
And of course I had to keep my optic in the air at all times. Scraplets, obviously.
I'd actually seen a few of them from a distance. They'd made it to a particularly large Seeker before I'd gotten the chance to.
It was...fascinating. And horrific. The way they'd essentially stripped the dead mech to his protoform in just under a minute. Then they'd devoured that too.
I'd crept away very quietly as the little terrors had continued to gorge themselves.
Ah but yes, back on topic. Draining energon.
This particular femme might have been nice to look at once, but considering her entire faceplate had been melted off, she probably wouldn't be winning any beauty contests anytime soon.
On top of being permanently offline of course.
Nonetheless, her energon tank hadn't ruptured. Or been laced with a cyber-weapon. Or eaten by scraplets.
Which meant it was mine.
I tilted my helm back at the shriek of metal as my servo tore through her comparatively light armor.
It took a few seconds of rooting around her innards, but I finally found the tank and gently yanked it out.
"Cheers."
I took a moment to store the stolen organ into my subspace, then shifted back into tank mode and took off.
It wouldn't do to stick around in the open too long. I wouldn't be surprised if the femme's corpse was missing by the time I came back.
Either way, a small bit of energon now sat in my subspace.
Subspace. It was really convenient. A limited form of hammerspace, essentially. I could fit a decent amount of stuff in there before it locked down due to insufficient storage.
[TRACE CNA SOURCE DETECTED.]
I noted down the location and continued on my way. Treads smashing apart what few obstacles futilely attempted to halt my advance.
Alongside the rest of my equipment, I'd also been working on a large stasis tank nestled in the very back of my lab. Thanks to my human memories, I had a far better picture of what the end result of project Predacon would look like.
A small part of me felt giddy at the thought of having a cybertronian dragon. Especially if it could prove a decent subordinate. Predaking had seemed fairly alright from what I'd seen in the show. Even if he had gotten the short end of the stick.
I'd also need to work hard on preparing myself for the inevitable move to Earth once Knockout made his way here.
Really, I'd worked hard on my Predacon super soldiers. I couldn't, wouldn't let Megatron just kill them off like he had in 'canon.'
I grumbled as my energon tank sent me another alert.
Fine. Refueling first. Planning later.
---
"Baby shark doo doo doo doo, baby shark doo doo doo doo, baby shark doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo."
I paused, glancing at the dead Autobot resting on my operating table.
"You know, this is probably in bad taste."
After a resounding lack of a response, I shrugged and got back to attempting to salvage the bot's spark chamber.
"Mommy shark doo doo doo doo."
---
It had been a stellar cycle since my activation.
Or in English, about four hundred days.
I'd been here for over a year. Most of it, I spent fortifying my lab, scavenging for energon and generally conducting whatever experiments piqued my interest.
My spare time, I spent on my future dragon bro. I searched far and wide. Thankfully I'd already been planning this project since before the space bridge incident, so I had the equipment necessary for detection of viable CNA deposits.
Namely, the fossilized remains of ancient Predacons.
Cybernucleic acid in and of itself was interesting to work with. It adapted in the most unique of ways, yet was surprisingly malleable to manipulation.
I wasn't sure if this iteration of Predaking would be the same as in the show. I was bound to have made choices that differed from that version of Shockwave. Nonetheless, I made sure to implant every possible upgrade I could think of into my future friend.
As time passed, the creature in my lab grew larger.
---
The tube hissed as it went through the drainage procedure. Predaking wasn't fully grown. Compared to my own frame, he was barely the size of a housecat, actually.
But (and I hated to admit it) I was lonely. One could only talk to themselves and the corpses around them for so long before they grew tired of it.
My attention was drawn back to the small (again, relatively) dragon that was slowly taking it's first, wobbly footsteps.
Twin bestial yellow optics whipped around to stare at me as I knelt down, holding out a servofull of processed energon pellets.
"Hello. I am Shockwave."
The draconic Predacon hissed at me and scampered back into it's tube.
I settled down to wait. Eventually the familiarity protocols I had programmed into it would kick in.
It. Or him. What pronouns do you give to a dragon?
I'd give Predaking the choice once he could speak.
The answer was simple, really.
Whatever damn pronouns the dragon wants. It's a dragon, after all.
---
"Stop squirming."
Predaking kept squirming, even as I slowly tightened the restraints around his frame.
I doubt the original Shockwave had ever released his 'pet' in canon. Not this early anyway. As a result, I was forced to put the little dragon through a battery of tests. After all, who knew how his ancient immune system would react to Cybertron's current...conditions.
The Predacon let loose an irritated growl, even as I began initial measurements.
Hm...that...didn't seem quite right.
"You're thin. Thinner than you should be. But you've eaten the supplementary energon pellets and more..."
My sole optic stared into my counterpart's golden gaze, before I shrugged.
"I'll increase the size of your meals. Hopefully this won't become a long term problem. Worst comes to worst, I'll put you back in the tank with a specialized growth solution."
Predaking just grumbled in response as I reached for a non-invasive scanning module.
---
The next few months passed quickly. I developed a routine of sorts.
Scavenge.
Experiment.
Play with Predaking. (It helped develop his pack oriented processes.)
Continue repairing the lab.
Aside from a few close calls with scraplets, life was...mundane.
Then one day my companion decided to throw a wrench in things.
I'd just been leaving the lab when a draconic helm had bumped against the back of my pede.
I turned to stare down at the waiting Predacon.
"I'm leaving. Wait here."
The little thing nipped at my pede, before pushing against it.
Tilting my helm, I thought aloud.
"You want to come with me?"
Predaking continued to push against my pede.
I sighed. I was doing that a lot lately.
"Fine. Let's go."
The dragon scampered along behind me as I strode outside.
---
The ground beneath me rumbled as I tore across the ancient highway. My treads crushing various random detritus beneath them.
Perched upon my turret, Predaking let loose an inquisitive screech.
"This trip will be a long one. It's the reason I've packed the extra energon rations into my subspace."
Another screech.
"We're moving around the Sonic Canyons and past the Sea of Rust. Well. More like we're skirting in between them. Once we pass them it should be a straight shot to Hydrax Plateau. As a space port, it should have something of value we can bring back to the lab. Hopefully."
A chirp, the Predacon craning it's long sinuous neck to stare down at me.
"You will remain close to me at all times. There is danger everywhere. Do you understand?"
I took Predaking's screech as an affirmative, and poured on the speed.
---
The Sea of Rust. In the show, Cliffjumper had compared it to Earth's Nevada desert.
He wasn't that far off, really.
Hopefully, the next time I came to this place, it'd be to reunite with my fellow Decepticons. Even if my priorities had changed, it would be nice to speak to other sapient beings again.
...I would have to ensure that I didn't differ too greatly from Shockwave's typical personality. It wouldn't do to be imprisoned due to my allies believing me to be a spy of some sort.
Veering off to the side of the path we'd been travelling down for the past day or so, I shifted back into my root mode, Predaking hopping off of my AstroMag cannon with a squawk.
"We'll rest here for a while." Reaching into my subspace, I withdrew a servofull of pellets and a single cube of energon.
I tossed the pellets to the ground, letting my companion gorge himself as I took a seat myself, staring up at the sky.
"...Do you think we'll find something interesting, bud?"
Predaking glanced up for a moment, growling, then went back to vacuuming up his meal.
"Mm. Wise words."
---
Cosmic Rust was nasty. I should know, my faction had weaponized it after all.
What that also meant was that any corpses we came across were essentially useless. Ingesting the energon within them would lead to a prolonged, painful death.
Thankfully, surface exposure was something we didn't need to worry about. I'd long since immunised myself to the weapon via corrostop. Something that I had also implemented into Predaking's frame.
It didn't stop us from avoiding the heavily rusted corpses that littered the path to Hydrax, however.
---
We'd made it to the spaceport. It was...something.
Worse than I'd hoped. Better than I'd feared.
The numerous ships that had been mothballed here were all but useless. It would be easier to build a new vessel than to try to repair them, in all honesty.
But there were a decent few parts scattered here and there, and watching Predaking glide around after getting propelled by an exposed thermal vent had given me an idea.
Skiffs. Or a hover skiff. To be more specific. I reasoned that, using the parts I could salvage from the mothballed ships, alongside the space port itself, I could definitely make one.
"Predaking. Don't wander too far off. I'll be working if you need me."
The slightly bigger dragon squawked at me.
---
"Testing in three. Two. One. Activating."
With a thrum of energy, the repurposed salvage gantry I'd ripped from a bombed out crawler began to float. The juryrigged hover units I'd welded and wired beneath it keeping it aloft.
"Observation: I am the best."
Predaking cracked an optic open from his spot atop a pile of scrap, snorted, then promptly went back to napping.
I crossed my arms.
"Doubt me all you want. But now we're riding in comfort. And we can carry all this stuff back home."
The snarky lizard continued to ignore me.
"Hmph."
---
I swerved, the skiff groaning in protest as I gunned it's engines.
"Hold on!"
Predaking let loose a small blast of flame, frying one of the scraplets that had managed to catch up and board our craft.
"Keep that up!" Slamming a shard of scrap into the steering apparatus to keep the skiff straight, I made my way to the back of the gantry, slapping aside a few stray scraplets.
Behind us, the swarm continued to chase. Thousands strong.
"Fine! Feed yourselves!"
Kicking one of the larger corpses we'd been carrying off the back of the skiff, I sprinted back to the front and poured more power into the hover units.
Slowly, the swarm began to shrink as we distanced ourselves from it. The scraplets too busy devouring the meal I'd given them in favor of chasing us.
Then I had a Predacon nuzzling between my pedes with a whimper.
Picking up the dragon, I gently stroked along the killing machine's spinal spikes.
"We're alright. We made it. Now let's go home."
---
I'd parked the skiff in a semi-defensible position and deactivated it once we made it back to the lab. No reason to keep the thing online, that was just asking for trouble.
As for it's cargo, I'd spent the better part of a day just hauling various components inside. Alongside some of the more intact corpses.
I had a project in mind. One that I'd pour myself into once I got Predaking back into his tube. He still needed to spend a decent bit of time in the growth solution after all.
"In."
The Predacon nipped at my outstretched digit, but to his credit followed my command. I gave the dragon a nod of approval even as the tank pressurised, rapidly filling with enriched fluid. It would promote faster growth, while also keeping him in stasis.
Shaking my head, I moved back to the pile of disassembled parts I'd slowly been building up.
"Now, let's see."
Running a servo across the parts, I found what I was looking for.
A singular red optic that I'd managed to rip from a particularly bulky femme stared into my own. Turning my helm, I glanced at the slowly forming protoform resting against an operating berth.
"Project Predacon will spend some time on the shelf. Let's see if I can pick up where I left off with the vehicons..."
As I approached the sparkless frame, I liked to imagine my lone optic glinted in the dim light of my lab.
Project Zaku was a go.