Output pipe plan (Part 1)
——
Unicron was severely injured by Optimus Prime, and he used his power to give birth to me. He is currently in the recovery period and spends most of his time in slumber. After punishing me last time, he once again fell into a long slumber.
The superpowers I possess are wondrous and mysterious, but I am not yet proficient in using them, and naturally, I cannot open a spacetime tunnel across a distance of nearly five light-years to travel to Cybertron.
Therefore, I can only rely on the space bridge to reach Cybertron—but the space bridge has just exploded.
To make matters worse, I don't have the ability to fix it.
I quickly defeated and subjugated the Decepticons, whose leaders had all fled, and ordered all units to rebuild the Space Bridge, except for some essential units and Soundwave, who had been disobedient and had been thrown into a cell.
This doesn't mean that Knockout, being a medical professional, can leave his post early multiple times, almost every Earth day—I've already bumped into him outside the medical facility many times.
...
A film about humans was playing on the screen. After passing through a thick cloud of smoke woven from blood and fire, the male and female protagonists suddenly embraced. Amidst background noises of "uh-huh" and suppressed gasps from the audience, the camera blurred rapidly, but the overlapping silhouettes of two carbon-based bodies were still discernible.
"Knock them down, what are they doing?" At this moment, I hovered high above the humans, hidden in the darkness to avoid being discovered. Relying on the Cybertronians' superior optics, I clearly saw the images playing on the screen. Having never seen a human movie before, I curiously sent a question over the intercom.
I caught him sneaking out of work, and to avoid punishment, he tried to persuade me to come to the outdoor cinema with him. He hesitated for a moment, then replied, "It's just some...behavior between worms, slimy and dirty. Don't worry about it, sir."
"Oh—." I responded, then turned to access the human network search.
When I open a link on a webpage, a barrage of ad windows and a jumble of random mini-programs rush to consume my CPU, while an unknown virus keeps attacking the security system, trying to intercept the data stream.
I immediately exited the webpage and cleaned up the data, and was deeply shocked: What are all these things? Is the human internet really this terrifying?
However, words that had inadvertently popped into my brain started popping up, and driven by curiosity, I couldn't resist clicking on another webpage link. It was still a deluge of small ads and mini-programs, but this time I was prepared.
Having picked up some keywords, I asked, "'Late-night female anchor.jpg,' 'intimacy,' 'lovemaking,' '□□'—are these what you mean by 'knocked out'?"
He let out a startled scream as it was forcibly suppressed from his microphone, then asked in an unusually respectful tone, "Sir, where did you see these things?"
"The human internet, isn't that obvious?!"
The red sports car sped out of the small plaza where the open-air cinema was located, heading towards me. The driver sounded urgent: "This content is filthy, disgusting, utterly unbearable! Please tell me you're not going to watch any more!"
"No, I won't allow anything my apostles don't know." Having successfully defended against the virus invasion, I carefully watched the short video on the webpage and asked, "I found out that this is a carbon-based organism's [illegal activity], and each of them performs vigorous breathing. Is this activity very intense?"
The red sports car was already directly below me; there was no need for an inside contact at that distance. He avoided answering and instead raised his voice, saying, "Sir, the Retribution seems to be under attack. Aren't you going back to check?"
I am an apostle of Unicron, a powerful superhuman, a formidable being. I feel I should also be a responsible leader—perhaps influenced by human films.
I used my superpowers to lift the red sports car into the air, and amidst his gasps, flew towards the Retribution, bidding farewell to the open-air cinema. The weather was beautiful, the stars were bright, the clouds were close, but the movie screen was so far away; I couldn't continue watching the film, and the stream of sorrowful data almost overwhelmed me.
...
Having learned my lesson from losing the Space Bridge due to underestimating the enemy, I realized that letting the former Decepticon leader roam freely was too careless. I threw Megatron, who led the Autobots to steal the Energon cubes, into a cell, and then called Starscream, who was still having a party, to "keep a close eye on" him.
Starscream, who I forcibly dragged over and who reeked of Gaochun, saw Megatron and started yelling things like "Oh, my master," "You should have come down a long time ago," and "I am the true master of the Decepticons," while grabbing his stun baton and charging at him. Seeing Megatron and Starscream exchanging insults, I left the cell, satisfied.
Then there's nothing to do.
Yes, literally, I don't think I assigned myself any tasks.
Words like “□□” and vague phrases broke through the boredom and reached the brain module, where the desire to explore reached its peak. Leaning against the wall of the base corridor, I felt a little unsafe, and a secret emotion quietly crept into my core. I moved to Megatron's room—almost no one came here, not even Megatron himself.
I opened the webpage that the attacker didn't want me to see again, and the sound of a shockwave rang out next to me. I immediately shut down all search engines.
There was a rising heat on my mask, and I suddenly realized: Why am I hiding from others?
I flapped the wing discreetly and heard the shockwave say:
"My Lord Apostle, requesting to make contact."
"Docking," an unfamiliar term. I have descriptions of it in my database. Connecting the output tube to the interface is purely for fun. I haven't experienced it yet, I'm curious, and I'd like to agree to the request, but there's another question that concerns me: "Shockwave? Shouldn't you be dealing with the construction of the space bridge right now?"
The massive optical mirror remained a bright red. He seemed to stand still for half a minute before speaking in an extremely calm tone: "Please approve my docking request."
I didn't answer immediately; my gut feeling told me something was amiss. He added, "The blueprints and site selection for the space bridge have been resolved. I've completed my mission; it makes sense for me to engage in recreational activities."
"Okay." It seemed there were no problems. "I agree."
...
After cleaning our own devices, we sat together on the shockwave charging bed.
One of his hands guided me to the seams of the armor; beneath the hard outer armor, numerous precisely interlocking parts combined to create a strangely elastic feel. His other hand rested on my back, the hard metal against the wing, sending an uncomfortable, unfamiliar sensation through me—I barely managed to endure it.
The close proximity caused the magnetic fields to intertwine intensely, which I found very uncomfortable. I tried to break free from his embrace, but he pressed closer and firmly restrained my upper body.
"Does docking have to be this close?" The shockwave from my waist to the hand cannon behind me prevented me from swinging the wings, and I struggled slightly to get up.
"This is a necessary procedure." The red light from the optical lens shone with a flat, cold hue, and the emotionless voice remained as steady as ever. (The p-version of the big-breasted guy has emotions; this guy is just pretending.)
The hollow muzzle was pointed at me, followed by the cold barrel pressed against the side of the visor. Shockwave used his massive hand cannon to position my head sculpt directly in front of him. The red optics, which occupied my entire head and were more than twice the size of a typical Cybertronian optics, swallowed my vision like a cosmic star.
“Look at me.”
I felt a surge of displeasure, but I didn't say anything.
"Your spark is surging."
"I don't feel anything!" Well, there is one thing, that is, the closeness of another machine makes me very uncomfortable.
“This doesn’t make sense.” He seemed surprised, his cute antenna turning slightly, and I heard him whisper, “Perhaps logic isn’t necessary.”
He pressed closer, our sizes were about the same. He took my hand and slid it down the seam of his waist armor, gently circling it halfway around his hip. His fingers traced the two purple fluorescent stripes on the gray armor, and a faint "click" vibration emanated from his body.
I felt a loose patch in the gray armor, and curiously probed inside; it was soft and damp. At the same time, Shockwave's exhaust fan whirred faster, almost drowning out the very faint, short humming coming from his microphone. His hand cannon pressed hard against the back of my head sculpt, the red star drawing ever closer; the metal plates on my visor nearly touched the special red glass.
His hand moved down my waist and touched the back panel.
The unfamiliar touch sent a strange shiver down my spine, as if all the energy in my body was rushing to my head. I immediately jumped up, got out of bed, and stood on the floor, clutching my back panel.
"Don't touch my rear bumper!"
The red light on Shockwave's head looked much dimmer, and the color of his entire body seemed to have turned gray.
"This is a necessary step for the docking."
"Then I won't do the handover!" I took a few steps back to distance myself from him, and shouted in despair, "I'm leaving, bye-bye."
He approached me with the loose partition and the hot body, trying to pull me back onto the charging bed. "You're just not used to being touched. I'll make you feel pleasure and continue docking. It makes perfect sense."
"That doesn't make any sense at all!" I groaned as I dodged away, opening the door as I said, "I have something to do, yes... a lot of things..."
"What exactly is it?"
"Sir, the construction site of the space bridge is in complete chaos. Please provide instructions."
Thank goodness! The messenger's message saved me from the docking. I must allocate him an extra energy block next cycle.
"The combat units have arrived on site, but you have not given any specific instructions."
Instructions? What instructions? "Can't they find work themselves?"
"This... you assigned us here. You didn't issue any tasks, so we don't know what to do. Besides, you sent too many people, and there's no room left to put the materials."
"How was the previous space bridge built? Didn't you build it before? Can't you build it again?"
"Previously, it was Lord Soundwave who assigned the manpower, but Lord Soundwave has been imprisoned by you."
After leaving the room, I turned back to the gloomy Decepticon scientist and asked, "Can you replace Soundwave in directing the construction of the Space Bridge?"
"I am just a scientist, only capable of providing technical guidance, and I do not possess his outstanding intelligence capabilities. The construction of the space bridge cannot be done without him."
What else could I say? I could only put on a smile and send the message: "Soundwave restored to its original position."
From then on, my domineering pronouncements were freely displayed in the Decepticons' public inner circle:
"I want to see a brand new space bridge in three months."
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