Screwloose

Summary: Everyone's got to visit the doctor at some point or another... No one said it had to be under the most normal of means. Mentions of Slash, Mild Language and a sprinkle of Crack!Collaboration with Randomus-Prime
Rating: T

Chapter 2


Chapter 2: Medics come in Cyclops-version too...

Dear Primus, Unicron must have been laughing at him this very moment...

Shockwave stood warily, one red optic narrowed as he scanned each of the 'bots present, processor working. It should have been simple enough to analyze the unique sparks that even a microscopic sliver of the All-spark could create, but apparently the covert agent had forgotten just whom his patients were to be. Now he found himself nearly outnumbered, in a small room, with several faces of the one mech he hated more than that bumbling moron, Lugnut.

"As if I'd ever let someone as inferior as you near my magnificent spark chamber!"

"Oh, it is indeed magnificent brother. But surely, the wonderful Shockwave with his glorious servos might be allowed a peek into your handsome cockpit."

"Never!"

That.

That bit right there had to be the most annoying thing. Starscream, intelligent as he is, had actually managed to create clones of himself. Clones with their own supposed "personalities"... and excessively loud, irritating vocalizers.

"If you would please," Shockwave started scathingly, cutting through the mindless babble the clones were partaking in. "I only have these few, short cycles to analyze your sparks before I am to attend to other business. It would benefit yourselves, and please Lord Megatron, if I could do this task in under that time limit."

"And why should I care about what that rust-bucket wants?," the blue one sneered. "He is nothing compared to me; I am greater than that ancient scrap-heap!"

"No one's better than you," added the silver jet.

"I would be careful in which company you boast those things, sparkling. There are some who would not take kindly to those words -ego or not," the double-agent hissed, feeling his patience begin to wane. As expected, the arrogant clone blew up at the title; crowing that he was superior and not some sparkling, yada, yada, yada... Shockwave could really care less, and turned to his array of instruments already sitting on a wheeled stand.

"Suck it up, Thundercracker," the female one spoke behind him. "Acting so pathetically over a slagging term is degrading. You make yourself look 'inferior' with your behaviour."

Well that got the ego-maniac to shut up. Shockwave faced the clones again, optic focused on the femme. Slipstream was her name, if he recalled. She was definitely unique compared to her "brothers". She sat on the medical berth surly, arms and legs crossed, with an expression of utter disinterest plastered over her faceplates. The lilac jet rarely spoke, but when she did her words were cold and crisp, and always with a bit of sarcasm thrown in. Her optics though... they took everything in, analyzing, filing, processing... Slipstream was a wily one, for certain, and perhaps the most harrowing of Starscream's ridiculous clones. Shockwave felt that he might have to be more attentive to the femme in the near future.

"If we can get down to business now," the tank said smoothly, interrupting the momentary silence. In his claws was a strange device, like a mix between a set of elongated pincers and a crude scalpel. Frames started to rattle audibly as the lights from the medbay ceiling gleamed off the instrument's sharp edges.

"You first," Shockwave called, pointing to the black and purple jet cowering almost unseen behind his kin. Attention drawn to him, the mech began to quake and tremble until his armor clanged together almost obnoxiously with his fright.

"N-no! Nonononononononononononononononononononono -scary; too scary! SCARY!," he cried, cringing. Coolant pooling along his optics as the others continued to stare at him, the mech screeched wordlessly, diving under one of the desks and out of sight. The tweezers in Shockwave's grasp squealed as they were bent; the only outward show that the clone's horrendous scream had further irritated the covert agent.

"Primus," Slipstream sneered at the mechs, most of whom were nervously backing away from the lieutenant now. "You're all a bunch of oil-leaking morons. Trembling over a simple examination..."

To prove her point, the femme uncrossed her arms; cockpit pulling back and baring her spark to the room's occupants. Secretly relieved that things were finally progressing, Shockwave replaced his damaged tweezers with another set, stepping up to the calm jet. He peered into her spark chamber with his one optic, feeling it narrow with contemplation. The lay-out was the same as for any 'bot, criss-crossing wires and fuselage cords twining about the cylindrical alcove in the very center. The major difference though was that, instead of the red, liquid-like orb that pulsed within Shockwave's own chassis, a simple sliver of crystal hovered in place of Slipstream's spark; emitting a flickering glow like a far-away star. And her's was uncoloured.

"Most peculiar," Shockwave mused aloud, claws brushing the spark chamber's outer circuitry. "I don't think I've seen anything quite so fascinating."

"Oh, I bet," Slipstream smirked, pressing her chassis up into the tank's touch intentionally. "Would you like a closer look, doctor?"

Shockwave actually felt his processor lag for a second.

If he had the lip components, how he would have smirked in return. This femme was definitely a troublemaker...

"How nauseating! Flirting with that third-rate rusting malfunction! It's amazing how much more you degrade yourself, when you're already so worthless!"

He was going to have to take care of that first though, Shockwave noted.

Pulling away from the lilac jet's spark chamber, Shockwave rounded on the rest of the clustered clones; red optic narrowing dangerously. "Let the examination begin," he said lowly. Skywarp's whimpering could be heard from his hiding place, before the terrified screams of his brothers drowned out all other noise.

Bored once again, Slipstream let her cockpit slide back into place with a sigh, stepping down from the medical berth and sashaying for the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Silence.

Shockwave sat on the edge of his seat, shoulders tense, and claws folded smoothly before his faceplates. Across the room, standing just behind the medical berth in the center of the medbay, was Lugnut. Both mechs were stuck in a stare-off; refusing to budge, or be the first to break the quiet. The silence continued to stretch on.

"Shockwave, how goes the evaluation?"

The lieutenant did not break optic-contact with the massive bomber plane, even as he shifted enough to raise a claw to his commlink. "Well, Lord Megatron. Lugnut's scans are nearly complete," he answered over the connection.

"Good," Megatron replied. "Report to me when you are done."

"As you command, my liege," the covert agent said, pulling his claw away from his helm as he closed the connection.

"You have lied to our glorious and magnificent Lord Megatron. Such heresy is unforgivable!," Lugnut growled, clenching his pincers menacingly.

"Like you have any right to address me as such, you looping, stuttering skidplate," Shockwave shot back. "Are you not the one that agreed you'd come for the evaluation in the first place?"

The bomber plane shook a pincer in the air. "Of course! I would never dare to spurn Lord Megatron's concern; not when he has been so gracious to spare even a nanoklik of his time on someone as lowly as myself-"

"I couldn't agree with that more," Shockwave interjected.

"-And so, to not burden Lord Megatron's processor further with these insignificant worries over my superb function, I come to see the medic," Lugnut continued, either having not heard what the other 'bot had said, or simply ignoring the insult, "Not knowing that it was you -unworthy, lying fragger- that is the acting-CMO!"

"How unfortunate for you." Shockwave merely shuttered his optic at the ranting mech. "...Finished now?," he asked, when a few astroseconds of quiet reigned.

Lugnut's facial plates darkened, large, red optic narrowing at the tank. Not wanting to hear the moron speak again, Shockwave quickly grabbed a datapad off from the counter nearest him, waving it lightly in the air. "Putting your foolish jealousy aside... Are we agreed to the notion of you signing this evaluation form, stating that your scan is complete and no problems were found?"

"Yes!," Lugnut shouted, jumping at the rare opportunity that Shockwave presented to him. Anything to keep him from having his inner circuitry touched by that wretched shape-shifter who had stolen their leader's favour; at the same time, not having him fail Lord Megatron by refusing the examination he had promised to take.

"Here," Shockwave drawled, extending his arms and handing the datapad to the bomber plane, without getting out of his chair. "Sign it and go. I have more important things to do then humour your idiotic sycophancy."

"Nothing is more important than Megatron's command!," Lugnut bellowed one last time, quickly scribbling his signature onto the medical document before dropping it onto the berth. "Do not forget that, infidel!"

Shockwave merely vented an exasperated intake, watching as the large mech finally stomped out the door, leaving the covert agent alone in his medbay. Waiting a few more astroseconds, the tank gathered the datapad that Lugnut had so carelessly dropped, allowing himself a small chuckle as he returned to his desk. That idiot was denser than he had first originally thought. Any other mech with half a processor would have noticed that their systems were running just a little hotter than usual; cooling fans not even responding to the rise of core temperature -all signs of a hazardous virus.

Normally the covert agent would have wrestled such an irritating patient down, welded them to the medical berth and then treat them with as much inflicted pain as possible, just to be a prick. He had, after all, a bit of a perfectionist streak programmed into him and didn't like any sort of negative image to fall on his "work." But whatever, Shockwave mused. If Lugnut was too much of a moron and a jealous sparkling, then the bomber plane could learn the hard way what his silly prejudice would do to him. Not that it would do much, unfortunately... just send Lugnut into stasis lock until his system's self-repair was able to get rid of the infection. Bringing him back to medbay, yes, but maybe then Shockwave could make some... improvements... on the immobile mech.

At the very least, the Nemesis would be a little quieter for the next while.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are you doing in my room?!"

Shockwave nimbly avoided the lunging pincers, turning around and facing the new-comer. Blackarachnia hissed sourly at missing her intended target, retracting her pincers for another assault. Shockwave wisely stepped back a little further. "Now, now, my dear," the covert agent tried to soothe. "Lord Megatron is merely concerned about your well-being... You have refused all scans as of to date, and spend copious amount of time locked away in your room. One would wonder as to why."

"So, he sends his little spy then?," the femme spat, servo reaching back and assuring that the door was locked before stalking forward. She kept her optics glued on Shockwave's thin form, fangs bared. "As if I was some common traitor -some blithering Starscream- that needed surveillance!? And so what, if I decided to refuse the examinations? I'm not some freak experiment for you to lay your creepy little claws on!"

"Calm yourself, Blackarachnia," Shockwave replied, tone lowering as he began to get annoyed with the techno-organic. "Consider yourself lucky that Lord Megatron even deemed it worthy of his time to collect you off of that back-water rock; but don't think for a moment that such courtesy exempts you from anything. Now... let us talk like civil 'bots."

Blackarachnia had marched deep enough into her room that she was within reach of her possessions now. Grabbing a small table, she flung it at the tank, hissing when Shockwave simply ducked the projectile; one optic narrowing on his blank faceplates as the table splintered into a hundred pieces against the wall behind him.

"Leave cyclops!," Blackarachnia warned. "Before I have the chance to catch you and pump you to the brim with my poison!"

"And how do you plan to do that?," the mech calmly shot back. "By throwing another table at me? Surely you wouldn't risk those would you?"

One servo waved dismissively at the strange, grotesque, bulbous sacs that hung from the wall just above the femme's berth. They were coated in strands of pink webbing; each pouch nearly translucent and pulsing with blue light that came from the network of metal veins along their outsides. At his careless gesture, Blackarachnia tensed; shifting her stance, and taking an unconscious step toward the peculiar anomalies.

"What is your purpose here?," the spider-bot hissed, glancing defensively at her berth wall, and then back to the covert agent. Shockwave would have smirked if he had the ability to do so. Instead, he settled for straightening his stance, letting his claws slide behind his back languidly.

"My orders were to at first investigate the reasons behind your sudden evasion to rest of the crew... but upon entering, it became significantly clear. Knowledge of the organics is somewhat limited at the best," Shockwave shrugged, answering coolly, "But references suggest that this... peculiar growth... is a variety of nest. Spiders, specifically, lay eggs. Eggs containing their offspring..."

Shockwave tore his attention away from the florescent sacs long enough to glance at Blackarachnia. To her credit, the femme was remaining remarkably composed... though her shoulder plating trembled ever faintly at the tank's words. As he had thought... "Further research is necessary, but I am quite confident in my deductions so far. I was in the middle of scanning energy signatures when you so rudely barged in and interrupted me."

"Barged in!?," Blackarachnia finally snapped, coming out of her silent daze. "These are my private quarters cyclops! You have no right to be in here, none at all!"

Shockwave did not respond to that. "Though necessary action dictates I report these findings to Lord Megatron," the tank continued. "I must admit I am curious to see how this progresses. As repulsive and warped as you may be, Blackarachnia, your frame still holds a certain mystery that I am interested in studying further. Even more so, one such as myself can only imagine the kind of lifeform a techno-organic and cybertronian will create."

The femme took another step towards her brood. "...How much do you know?," came her soft-spoken question.

"Many things, my dear," Shockwave answered. "But," he continued, in a clear, crisp tone. "From what my readings show, there are several energy signatures coming from your little nest. Several different energy sources."

Blackarachnia turned her face away from the covert agent, trying not to acknowledge or admit anything to his exclamation. Her actions though had already told Shockwave all he needed to know. "An interesting thing," he said softly, coming up behind her, "That your powers go beyond a mere 'borrowing' state. To actually hold and contain a strand of CNA from any 'bot you touch -as if you were a living incubation pod- keeping it healthy and active enough for later use. I can see that you hardly wasted your time."

He glanced at the wall again, where the eggs hung above them, pulsing still. Fresh, young life grew in each sac; birthed from a mutant spark for impure reasons. How he wanted to get his claws on those sparklings when they hatched... Surprisingly, Blackarachnia did not react violently to Shockwave's closeness; stepping away from him and approaching her nest, instead of retaliating and attacking the tank. It seemed as if all the fight had drained out of her.

"What a surprise they'll all have in store," the mech commented, intent on provoking some sort of reaction out of the techno-organic. He wanted her to get angry, try to attack him -such open emotion was a weakness easily exploited, and he needed to bend her to his will. It was the only way the femme would let him near her eggs otherwise. Shockwave felt mildly shocked when Blackarachnia turned away from the rest of her nest, focusing all her attention on a single egg; purple talons stroking its soft flesh adoringly. A quick scan confirmed that the "donor" of this egg was not that idealist Autobot firetruck, but a Decepticon... A seeker, no less...

"How droll. Truly, my dear, you are more pathetic than I thought. As if that little, winged brat could feel anything for one such as yourself. Even with that silly half-spark, her attention is too focused on that virginal Autobot Arcee. You're chasing nothing but solar fumes."

"Mind your own business," Blackarachnia finally ground out. Her vocalizer, unfortunately, lacked a lot more bite for it to be effective.

Shockwave couldn't even waste the energy to sigh. "So be it. Keep your childish wishes, ex-Autobot, and glorify your nest if you want to," he turned away, heading for the berthroom door. "I shall keep silent about this infestation... for now. So rest easy, in the fact that Lord Megatron won't be blasting in here any cycle to blow away such an unhealthy sight. Though I can't guarantee the same after they are hatched..."

Blackarachnia did not even look back. Shockwave, somewhat annoyed that he had been brushed off so easily, and that his target did not react to his sadistic play like the way he wanted, left the room; the click of the door, and the snap of the locking mechanism, heralding the mech's exit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why am I so UGLY!"

Shockwave dodged the flying tools, peeking up anxiously from his post behind the over-turned berth. Starscream screeched loudly in the center of the room, stomping in place like a spoiled child before collapsing to his knees and sobbing messily.

"Starscream...," the tank called cautiously, rising a little more.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!," the seeker snarled, turning around and lunging at the one-eyed Decepticon.

Shockwave quickly scrambled out of the way, watching as Starscream landed on the other side of the berth with a loud smack; growling and kicking about unseen. There was the sound of shredding metal, and the medic was tempted to see just what the high-strung seeker was tearing apart now, but he refrained. The tank didn't feel like loosing a limb, thank you very much.

"Uh... Starscream. I believe it may be more beneficial if you were to calmly come out from behind the berth so that I may examine you," Shockwave said, attempting to coax the snarling Starscream out.

Silence fell, and then there was the soft scritch-scratch of hesitant claws.

Unable to reign in his curiosity, though his survival programming screamed for him to stay where he was, the covert agent inched toward the over-turned berth and the flyer behind it. Starscream was drawing nonsensical shapes along the ravaged floor, legs cradled to his cockpit.

"...the petrorabbits have been bad. Very, very bad..."

"...I... see...," Shockwave replied, leaning in closer. It didn't look like the seeker was going to attack him anytime soon, but even on a regular day, the winged Decepticon was volatile and unpredictable. Today was exceptionally hectic.

"Seeing with one eye, vision is impaired," Starscream whispered still, in a child-like voice. The mech turned his helm sharply and gazed up at Shockwave unwaveringly. "Pedes chatter too much... like glitch mice at the pickle jar."

Alright, add crazy chatter to the growing list of symptoms Starscream was displaying.

As if the seeker wasn't already insane as it was...

"Come now," Shockwave said, reaching down and attempting to grab the squatting Decepticon. "Let's get you up here and into the light so we can narrow down the source of your malfunction. Perhaps too much disassembling for Charr ball...?"

Starscream screeched like a wounded turbofox as the tank's claws came within reach, flailing and hissing at the approaching servo. "Leave me alone! I am perfectly functional!," the flyer yelled, leaping to his pedes and backing up from Shockwave rapidly. "The whole lot of you morons keep insisting I'm damaged but I'm not! When I finally destroy Megatron, everyone will be -my bestest bestest friends, and we'll go out for picnics and have energon goodies, and, and-!"

Shockwave watched as Starscream started to skip about the medbay, declaring in a sing-song voice all the wonderful, pretty things that he would do with all the Decepticons. Oh Primus... It was like watching Blitzwing shift through his three faces... only, a hundred times worse, and in the frame of one mech that carried a reputation for being a frightening bitch. By the Pit, he was so horrified by the display before him that Shockwave didn't even move to stop the seeker from dancing out the door.

Coming out of his stupor a breem later, the tank raised a claw to his comm link, opening the connection. "Yes, Clones, I need you to go and fetch your creator for me."

A string of insults and refusals.

"I give you leave of access to use whatever means you see fit to bring him back. Just remember that I need him online."

Now silence.

"There'll be a reward of several cubes of high-grade for the 'bot that brings me the psychopath back first," Shockwave added.

He was happy to hear the scramble and firing of jet engines over the comm link. Closing the connection, the covert agent ignored the chaotic state of the medbay, heading for his desk. He sunk into his chair immediately, sighing heavily.

Well, this week had gone by quite eventfully.

Shockwave just hoped that Unicron would stop being such an aft and quit bugging him with all these stupid patients...

But even he knew that was highly unlikely.