[The video cuts in suddenly, static-laced and foggy at the edges as steam rolls by. Its Magnum, the faintest hint of terror being tightly locked under a grim visage as he is thoroughly power-washed by drones in The Silver Bullet's locker rooms.]
Soundwave.[He isn't bothering to lock this--that would take too much time, and he fears he has none
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[You are correct. Somehow, there are not. Admittedly, he has not wanted much to do with the virus, but now he can't avoid it.]
Virus samples: have been removed.
[ . . . ]
Understood.
All Hail: Megatron.
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[You know, if Decepticons (or Cybertronians, for that matter) could.]
...
[Instead, he manages one last Megatron-y smirk for you.]
It's in your hands, now.
You will do well.
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Increased security measures: Required.
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...I should be out like this?
I mean, I c...
[The power-wash finishes, and he stares down at the drones.]
...I could.
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Report: Coordinates.
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[He sends his coordinates--the basement of the Silver Bullet Arena.]
I'll...just wait here, then.
[He's still staring down at the drone, wondering what it will do now.]
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[And he is on his way, not before sending a ping to all current cassettes to report to the Arena and stand watch.]
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...they all think I deserve this.
[He looks up.]
Do...you?
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Negative.
[He pauses, dropping any pretense of formality.]
No one deserves this.
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[He curls up tighter, watching Soundwave. He knows how impressive, and how terrifying, you really can be.]
I did this to you, too. Oh, Soundwave...
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He pauses, finally offering a hand to help him up.]
Affirmative.
Soundwave-
I will not allow others to take advantage of your current status.
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And feels it.
Utterly.
But he still reaches up, shakily, and takes that hand.]
You...can you ever forgive me, Soundwave?
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... Yes.
I will continue to serve you, Megatron.
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