Designation: Shockwave

longarm is acting kinda sus

"We have a separate room just to the left here..." Pharma directs Shockwave into said room. The space was almost a blinding white, not a speck of dust in sight, and the smell of disinfectant filled the air. In the center of the room there was a large examination table, The table itself almost blended with the room.

Pharma likely would need to stop the Senator if he didn't wish to go any further. Shockwave was reletnless in his flirting, and if he was given the chance, he would certainly berth anyone he deemed worthy of his attention.

Another reason why the Senate was watching him with close optics. He was a 'problem' they thought, and too vocal, and too scandalous. Someone that had too much of a voice at times, and was liked by most he came into contact with. Underneath that charm, of course, was a very kind mech who wanted nothing more than for their world to grow with open sparks.

Shockwave's brows raised when the medic guided him along, and he wondered just how far this little meeting of theirs would go. Oh, it was delightful! And Shockwave, himself, was delighted.

Running his servo against the examination table, the Senator inspected it with keen optics before they rose back to the other mech, a little smirk at his lips. "You are pristine, my dear Doctor." He then popped himself up onto the table and sat there, waiting for Pharma to come in nice and close.

loyal-logik​:

Where others saw monsters, Shockwave saw potential. He was a scientist, after all. There were species far less advanced than them, absolutely, but that did not mean they could not succeed in other areas that Cybertronians could not. Their species was rather adaptable, and evolution over the millions of years had its place. They were still living, sentient beings with bodies that were not always in their control. Sentio metallico was a very complex material.

What their people thrived at, though, was survival. They were resilient as ever, and Shockwave was living proof of that, as he’d been stripped head to pede, his spark still active and maintained. Oh yes, the aches and pains smothered him at times, but his spark was very much still alive, even without being attached to a physical body. No doubt Blacktip and his Seacons had their own, especial ways to survive and evolve–as such was proof of the depths that they could dive without being entirely crushed by the pressure around them.

He would have to ask if he could study their materials so he could potentially replicate it and have drones that could scour the seas more. He didn’t expect Blacktip to remain taking missions constantly for him.

“Infighting is left for lesser minds,” he noted nonchalantly. All Decepticons should have been on the same page, considering what Megatron stood for, but it seemed the longer this war waged, the more people fought just for the sake of killing. Shockwave cared little for that, it was wasted life and wasted potential. But the bodies did prove to make good tools for his experiments.

Shockwave’s hands remained behind his back, a little wing flare there or the twitch of an antennae to show he was listening (and reacting).

“I see,” he noted, his optic back on the Sharkticon. “A shame.” His hand rose as he rubbed at his chin. “Your team is well organised and led, despite some of the youth. I have seen far less willing Decepticon soldiers and officers.”

His hand fell, a partial sigh leaving the vents in his throat. Truth be told, it was nice to be away from Cybertron for a little while. Seacrest was a little loud and childlike in nature, but he was willing to help, and Blacktip was a good commanding officer. The company could be worse. Starscream taunted him and Soundwave lurked in the shadows. Megatron’s company was about the only he cared to have when he was inside his lab back in Tarn.

“I would be interested in studying your alloy,” he then said. “I believe the Decepticon cause could greatly be aided by it.”

And yet, Shockwave would occasionally find the Sharkticon absent from the ship when the crew were ordered out on dives, scouting and patrols. Shockwave’s presence was new, but old habits died hard. Blacktip garnered the respect and loyalty of his crew from carrying out the same tasks they were frequently instructed on. All, or Nothing. If he himself would not go out on a mission, or saw no victory from it, he would hardly expect his crew to do so. Cannon fodder, to many, of simple minds, but not his. In all but locations, his crew were Cybertronian, and priceless to the repopulation of Cybertron, if only in residents. Until such a time as Cybertron could be classified a home for them, he wasn’t loosing one more member of his crew.

“These are also the same minds that create loyal decepticon’s in bulk, and proceed to treat them as nothing more than a meat shield for the mech behind them in oncoming fire.” Blacktip rumbled idly, regarding the mech curiously at all their subtle little motions. Someone’s mental cogs were whirring.

He does, however, give an off guard little sound of amusement at Shockwave’s comment of studying him. Welp, guess he owed Echo 50 shanix. He’d bet it would take the mech at least a few more days before popping the question.

“Alright, I’ll bite, I was waiting for it at some point in residing with us, but how exactly would you study my alloy, and in what quantity?” If Shockwave is looking to scrape a few filings off his armour and stick it under a microscope, or is he interested in more intensive testing. He was somewhat … Private about his DNA being used, let alone replicated. Especially with Shockwave’s achievements in cloning and resurrection of bygone beasties. Any other sharkticon, Shockwave could scrape and study to his spark’s content. His lineage? Hard pass. 

Canon fodder had its place within a war. Those that would serve their duty and die for their cause. It was inevitable, and Shockwave would be shedding no tears for the few hundreds (and thousands) that were lost in battle.

But there were those that had higher purposes. Those that were elite. The scientists that would create and research, the medics that would heal, the particular elite mecha that had strength beyond the common soldier, and those that had special talents, that could not be easily replaced.

In a sense, Megatron's cause could be seen as his own contradiction and double standards. There was still a hierarchy, and those on the lower decks were killed on the field. The only difference was that nobody was forcing them to do it. These mecha went out and fought of their own accord. But Shockwave wasn't here to talk politics. He was here to continue his research and make sure that their planet survived this chaos.

And, perhaps... to shoot the Senate in the face for what they'd done.

"True, I could easily take my pickings from your brethren, including those lost on the battlefield, but those subjects would also be limited no thanks to their... predicament." Dead pickings were still usable, but nothing was quite as fresh as a living subject.

"Of course, I would respect your wishes, Blacktip. You would not be a subject, per se, more or less a research study on what makes your kind different from the rest of us." And the lesser Sharkticons lesser than Blacktip.

This is Sleepy Shockwave.