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Colours flitted by Keener's optics, blurry and purposeless.
Red, blue, yellow, teal, green. All meshing and swirling like storms and waves. White dancing through them, making the blobs grow and shrink in an amorphous performance. Enjoyment was drawn from him by them, strangely elicited by what he was barely seeing. He… liked it. He could have smiled, if he had any physical sensation.
If he had, a mouth, he would laugh.
Here among the vibrant lights, he sailed listlessly through the colours, attention catching on the brightest greens and yellows, comfort blanketing his mind. Wherever he was, he knew he was okay. There was comfortable, sweet, purposeless nothing. Thoughts of what he was missing slipped through his processor as if through a thin mesh. Was he supposed to be somewhere? Was there someone who… needed him? It didn't matter. He was here, and he wanted to stay. When his gaze tried to rest on any particular movement, it would run away, so he had to rest in place, letting the colours surround him in his rest.
Something in him… twinged.
Not in any place he could discern. All he knew was it was within him and it was change.
Offensively, darker hues started taking shape through the aether. Deep blue, rust red and black were consuming it. Eating them. His perception infected, blackened, tainted by their appearance. The yellows and greens fled from him, leaving him alone. Please- please don't. Don't they understand- He doesn't like that they're going. He liked them. If he didn't see them, did that mean they were dead? Like him?
Keener was positive he was dead.
Black shifted into lines, sharpened into points, connected into shapes. They bent, merged into perspective, converging into one, emitting from one source. It was like he was looking into his own internals, taking in every detail at once. The shapes were cutting. The shapes were fear.
The shapes were hurting.
He found his mouth. He was making sound.
He could… feel it. Distantly. A vibration in his optics. Something folded into his gaze, white, yellow, purple, green. Unvivid, sickly, wrong. He didn't like this.
A screech pierced his senses, reflexively drawing up his servos to cover his helm, it hurt so much, he had to shut it out. It was like surfacing from solvent, dregs of the muffling fluid still clinging to his frame. The freedom of sensation was bitter and burning. His servos caused bolts of pain to travel through him, screeching continuing, skipping and tumbling over itself like a bad audio recording. Two-toned layers of sound waves vibrating into his helm. His servos did nothing to blanket his audials.
"-Frag- frag- Commander! He's awake!"
Something was making sound. He saw them. Their shape changed along with it. Jagged, square, painful shapes. Their mouth moved, making shapes with the sound. Keener was sure the sounds meant something, but any concept ran away. Solvent through his digits. Colours through his mind. Lines that made shapes. Colours.
"Sedative."
Purple. Pink. Yellow. A third sound. Another change. This time not on the inside, but coming from outside, a twinge somewhere on his surface. It outlined where that piece of him was, sent a wave of sensation over it. He wasn't sure where it was in relation to his mouth. Maybe if he felt more pain on the outside, he could tell where all of him was.
Suddenly, he didn't care.
Nothing felt anything. All pressure was gone. The sounds were gone. The screeching was gone. He couldn't tell where anything was.
He saw the colours again.
He wasn't as happy as before.
"-disconnect its lines."
Keener knew what that was. It was a voice. He knew what it was talking about as well. Their face didn't move as they made sound, nor did he really see a face. Was that their face?
Keener's optics were open. He was seeing things. They were in their entirety, he understood what they were. Parts that fit together into a whole. He was in a room, harsh white light beating down on his optics. His focus flitted around, landing on the speaking mech in front of him. They were purple.
They had no face.
"Your designation is E-C41d3r4. Repeat it back."
Were they talking to him?
That's not his designation. His designation is Keener. Keener of Iacon.
"You are Decepticon Trial creation E-C41d3r4. Repeat your designation to me." the purple figure drawled in a stable monotone. Keener tried to look around, helm creaking against his neckplates. Something felt different. Keener shifted his jaw, opening it. His tongue was long, lolling out for a moment. His faceplates felt stiff and resistant. Something had changed. He wasn't a Decepticon creation. He was a creation of Skyliner of Iacon and Zephyr of Vos. Zephyr would sooner croak than let his only creation join a band of rebels.
"Repeat E-C41d3r4." the mech insisted.
"E- -e" Keener tried, vocalizer skipping and scratchy. It was multi-layered, higher than it usually was. He must've been damaged badly in his last mission. Everything felt so tight, like his vents were badly obstructed. His tongue was so different it felt like he'd choke on it. Oral lubricants gathered in his intake.
"..Eee?" why was he even trying? What was happening to him?
"Hh… whuhh." he groaned, vocalizer scratching, intake stuttering. "…whheur…. ahm- eyye-?"
"Incorrect." the figure stated, jotting something down on the datapad they had balanced in a servo-less arm.
"Try again, E-C41d3r4."
"..whuhh…eye..?" He felt himself whine. He made a guttural sound, unbecoming. Like a mechanimal. His frame wasn't obeying what he wanted it to do. Something near his faceplates clicked rhythmically.
"I will answer any inquiries you have after your preliminary testing." the purple mech stated, the single glowing light on their helm flashing. "E-C41d3r4."
Keener relented. He was already so tired. How long had he slept for?
"…eeeyh… see… hho-or-fffourr… wwoa-n... t-tree…-" he choked, forcing oral lubricants down his throat with a gulp, strange tongue inhibiting some of his pronunciation. His helm reeled, clarity slipping away. "a-are… f-four."
The piercing, single optic of the mech watching over him nodded, jotting something else down.
"Adequate."
Keener sagged, feeling whatever was holding him up dig into his shoulders. How big was the mech across from him? He wasn't used to other mechs being taller than him. His helm dropped down, optics falling shut for a moment. Taking in a vent, the intense smell of energon, metal and disinfectant clogged his senses- so thick he almost choked. His optics snapped open, staring down at… himself.
The body looked nothing like him.
Keener wasn't grey. His chestplates had turbines, a swell of glass in the centre of it, green and bright. Keener was strong, inheriting his mother's thick shuttle plating. This body was limp, spindly and grey. His plating was sparse, showing patches of his endoskeleton and protoform. He looked stolen. He looked like a corpse.
Keener was certain he was dead.
"As for answers," the purple mech started calmly, voice grating his audials. "You, E-C41d3r4, were rescued from a small, volcanic planet near Cybertron. There was an accident involving one of the active regional phenomena, and you fell into a large basin of molten rock. Your fellow Autobots abandoned you. You asked me for help."
Keener blinked. Is that true? He tried to shift his body where it hung. What happened to his frame?
"Your frame was irreparably damaged, to maintain the strength of your spark, I had to utilize as much as your old metal and protoform as I could, meaning a reduction in size." Keener forced his helm up, the frame's neckplates felt more pliant than they used to be. "Do not worry, E-C41d3r4."
"You are in capable servos." the mystery mech said. "My designation is Commander Shockwave, I saved you."
Is this salvation?
"I made you stronger."
A warmth ignited in his core, spreading through his joints and limbs.
"I made you new." the voice wasn't monotone, anymore. It was reverent.
Aches lessened, a pain in his helm left completely.
"You will come to see, E-C41d3r4. I saved you."
Sensation returned to his servos, digits clicking against each other.
"Now…"
His frame came alive, violent red tracking lines through its surface. Something was harnessed, channelled. Intoxicating.
"…Are you grateful, E-C41d3r4?"