Cybertron groaned under the weight of war.

In the half-light of a dying sun, metallic dust swirled across the ruined plain. Towers once proud now lay in twisted wreckage, casting long shadows over the gathering Decepticon forces. The wind howled like a broken comm-line.

Megatron stood at the edge of the cliff, sword held upright against his chest. His armor was scarred, scorched from the last engagement—but he stood tall, unyielding. A symbol of strength. Of dominance.

Of control.

Beside him, silent as ever, stood Soundwave.

No words passed between them. None were needed.

Soundwave adjusted the shoulder-mounted sensors on his frame, his glowing visor flickering faintly as he monitored the frequencies of the enemy below. But every few moments, his gaze flicked sideways—to Megatron.

Megatron noticed.

He always did.

"You've been quiet," Megatron said, voice like grinding steel.

Soundwave turned to face him fully. “Communication: unnecessary.”

A pause stretched between them, heavy with meaning. They had stood like this before—before battles, before sieges, before slaughter. But this felt different. The air was electric. Tight. Fragile.

Megatron looked out over the battlefield again, then slowly lowered his sword.

"You're the only one I trust to stand beside me when the smoke clears," he said, low. “That isn’t strategy. That’s... truth.”

Soundwave didn’t move. But something flickered through the bond they rarely acknowledged. A pulse, felt not through wires or signals—but through something deeper. A resonance of sparks.

"Statement: I will not leave your side."

Megatron turned to him.

Soundwave’s stance was still—the model of precision and loyalty—but his voice was softer now, layered with something almost tender beneath the modulation.

“I know what this war has cost you,” Megatron murmured. “What it’s taken from both of us.”

Soundwave’s visor glowed brighter. “Correction: Not everything is lost.”

Another pause. Their optics met.

The battlefield loomed below, Autobots forming ranks, the storm of war about to break again—but for one fragile moment, nothing moved. No commands. No datafeeds. Just them.

Two soldiers.

Two sparks.

Megatron stepped closer, almost imperceptibly. “When this ends,” he said, “whatever survives after the war... If we win this... It's yours”

Soundwave’s voice was barely audible. “Acknowledged.”

The first blast rang out across the plain. Alarms wailed. The time had come.

Megatron raised his sword once more “For Cybertron”

Soundwave stood beside him

and whispered under his breath “For you"

And together, they charged into war

The battle began like thunder.

Autobot firepower lit the sky, red streaks across grey clouds. Earth ruptured beneath treads and heavy boots as mechs stormed the valley below Kaon’s western ridge. Smoke thickened the air. Buildings fell. Screams—digital and organic—blended into static.

Megatron moved through the carnage like a storm front.

Blaster raised, sword sheathed on his back, he advanced without pause, tearing through the Autobot lines. His presence alone sent enemies retreating—but he never fought alone.

Soundwave followed in his wake, not just as a subordinate, but as a ghost. A constant. A shield Megatron didn’t ask for—but always accepted.

Their movements were synchronized down to the nanosecond.

Megatron charged; Soundwave flanked.

Megatron took the hits; Soundwave silenced the shooters.

Their enemies couldn’t separate them—didn’t dare try.

But amid the chaos, Soundwave’s mind wasn’t quiet.

He said it.

Just before the battle—when the sky was still and the silence between them heavier than any command—Megatron had looked at him and said

"When this ends, whatever survives of me... is yours."

It wasn't a tactical statement. It wasn’t an order.

It was something else.

But Soundwave didn’t know what to make of it. Megatron did not lie—but he was capable of weaponizing truth. And love, if that’s what this was, could be just another war tactic.

“Megatron—” Soundwave’s voice cracked through the comms mid-firefight. His tone was unreadable, even to himself.

“Speak,” Megatron growled, slamming an Autobot scout into a steel pylon.

Soundwave paused. “Query: Did you mean it? Earlier.”

A beat passed.

Another explosion shook the ground.

Megatron paused long enough to glance back at him—just a fraction of a second, but it hit Soundwave like a seismic pulse.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Soundwave.”

Then he turned and ran headlong into the next wave.

Soundwave hesitated.

If it had been anyone else, he would have dismissed it. Emotion in war was instability. Affection was weakness.

But this wasn’t just anyone.

It was Megatron. His war. His revolution. His voice that had first called Soundwave from the silence and given him purpose.

And now he was saying this?

Soundwave pushed forward, launching two seekers into the rubble with sonic blasts—but his mind was spiraling in a way he couldn’t regulate.

Was Megatron confessing something real?

Or was this proximity speaking?

Was war making them both softer than they could afford?

He didn’t know.

He hated not knowing.

End of Battle: A Quiet Edge

Hours later, the battlefield was ash.

Decepticons roamed the ruins, checking for survivors and dragging wounded back to base. The fires were dying, but the smoke still rose.

Megatron stood at the edge of a half-destroyed tower, overlooking the wreckage.

Soundwave approached from behind, silent.

This time, Megatron didn’t speak first.

“You may have feelings,” Soundwave said slowly, “but you are also manipulative. Strategic. Dominant.”

Megatron turned slightly. “Do you think I’m lying?”

“I think... I don’t know who you are when you’re not giving orders.”

A long pause.

Then Megatron said, “Then stay. Long enough to find out.”

Soundwave looked away, visor dimming slightly. “...I will try.”

Megatron stepped closer, not quite touching, but close enough their energy fields brushed.

“That’s all I ask,” he said.

And together, without words, they stood in the silence—not as leader and subordinate, but as something unspoken. Fragile. Unresolved.

But real.