Drum Roll, Please

Chapter 16: Emotional

Summer could feel him. Every hour, every minute, there was a faint mind in the back of her own. Sometimes he was depressed, hopeless, and full of despair, but other times he was angry.

He was furious.

Optimus was alive. Each time Soundwave carried her through the ship and into the bridge, she could see him, his optics bright and narrowed, but his derma firmly trapped together. His limbs were twisted and forced into a kneeling position, and he had no way to move, because the metal of the wall rose to meet him. It looked as if his back had melted right into it. And Megatron sat below him, constantly smirking, as if the glory of his victory was fresh on his mind. His enemy was captured, humiliated, and helpless. It made Megatron feel like he had the biggest dick in the room.

She could tell. She could always tell what everyone was feeling now. Using her powers so much was drilling a hole in her natural defenses. Everything leaked in, little by little, but it didn't seem like much was leaking out.

Soundwave, ever silent, glowed with personal satisfaction. When Megatron was around, the TIC preened under his gaze, proud and loyal and steadfast. It made Summer sick. How could anyone be so proud of an accomplishment as horrendous as what they had done?

Once again, she was taking a ride in the palm of the faceless mech. He carried her to the bridge, where she could already feel a few bored vehicons and Optimus's dreadful mind.

The doors opened and Summer averted her gaze, afraid to look at the Prime. Every time he saw her, she could feel his tempature rise. She could feel his rage.

He hated her.

He had every right to. That's what made her so ashamed and guilty. She did this to him. Soundwave may have pressed the buttons, but it was her lack of control that created this entire mess.

Soundwave strode to his workstation and set her down before beginning to type, his digits moving across the screen faster than falling rain. She looked at the doors, feeling a happier attitude approach. Megatron stepped inside, his paint job unusual shiny, absent of the scratches and scrapes that usually littered his frame.

"Good morning, Soundwave, human, Optimus," the warlord purred the Autobot's name. "I hope everyone is ready. We have a busy day scheduled."

Soundwave turned around, his visor displaying a world map and a list. Several layers of the list were highlighted as he scrolled through them for his master to see. Megatron merely flexed his servo and nodded, barely glancing to ensure the accuracy of his third's work.

"Let's start with the ruler of Jasper, Nevada," Megatron decided. "Their government should be the first to know, considering they were the creatures aiding the Autobots. You can choose the rest, Soundwave."

Megatron paused, and then he glanced up at his prisoner slyly. "Unless you have a preference, Optimus? I would love to hear it."

The Prime glared.

"Wonderful," Megatron clasped his servos together and turned to look at Soundwave.

The TIC nodded and turned around. A moment later, the large screen on the back wall, which usually contained data regarding their flight path and the state of the Nemesis's flight gear, darkened. Soundwave stared up at it, a line of code running across his visor, and then it switched back on again, this time showcasing a very familiar room.

The oval office.

It was empty.

Summer frowned, her nervousness wearing off a little. Maybe they would have to resche—

The doors were flung open, a black drone shooting at the feet of a small group of humans in suits and dresses. They screamed, back up against the far wall, right into the center of the camera's view, and then Lazerbeak quieted, shutting the door and staring intently at them.