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Shockwave knelt, his faceless head lowered in deference.
The sweep of his head was too precise, the posture too exacting. Long millenia ago, the procedure that had removed Shockwave’s head and replaced his once-expressive face with a single red optic had also removed his affect centers, flattening his emotions.
Leaving nothing but cold logic.
The very logic that would dictate abasing himself before the mech who had rescued him from millenia of exile on a dead and broken world.
Megatron smiled, his optics brightening. He’d heard such rumors already, whispered in the halls of the Nemesis when the others thought he couldn’t hear.
"Shockwave is desperate to get into Megatron’s good graces. His toadying is so transparent."
Megatron fought down a snicker. A mech who had truly lost the ability to feel emotion would hardly be desperate.
Nor would a mech who had devoted countless spans of years to recreating and perfecting a cloning project that would give Megatron an unstoppable army of beasts.
Whatever empurata had done to Shockwave, it hadn’t quite stolen his emotions. That much was obvious — to someone who bothered to pay attention.
Shockwave trembled as Megatron’s hand reached out to touch his shoulder. The metal was hot under the big mech’s fingers, as though Shockwave had spent long hours under Earth’s sun rather than hidden away in his laboratory on Cybertron. A long, low hum came from his vibrating frame.
Those were hardly the reactions of someone acting in self-interest.
Megatron was no fool. Clearly Shockwave had his own agenda, and clearly long millennia on Cybertron had taught him to keep his own counsel. No doubt he had his own agenda, and no doubt Megatron didn’t know all of it.
But Megatron had dealt with supplicants for eons, and knew full well the difference between the false and the sincere.
He said nothing and did nothing. To any casual observer, the touch of his hand would look unremarkable. Megatron’s favor was difficult to win, but someone as diligent as Shockwave deserved it by default. And everyone on the Nemesis knew it.
Shockwave lifted his head, fixing Megatron with the expressionless gaze of one enormous optic.
Megatron’s smile widened. His claw slid into the seam of Shockwave’s shoulder, his frame vibrating in a near-silent purr that matched the hum of Shockwave’s systems.
Shockwave didn’t bother to nod.
Such a display was hardly necessary.