Work Text:
Just one more swirl... and done.
Yellow servos placed the beaker they were holding gently onto a table. The fluorescent liquid inside sloshed twice and settled quickly due to its viscosity, until it resembled the other fifteen beakers. All were identical, save for the descriptions on their holographic labels.
To anyone else, the writing appeared cryptic. A couple of seemingly random letters mixed with numbers did not offer much of an explanation what was inside. The symbols neither conveyed a meaning nor did they follow scientific norms, but to the mech who had set up the projection that did not matter.
Because luckily, Rossum knew exactly what they meant.
He observed the beakers for a while and, when nothing changed, he sighed and noted the results in a datapad. The concoctions hardly differed from each other - if only by a margin in their mixture. But that was not enough, he realized. He had some work to do on the mix of this fluid and much to his chagrin, the entire experiment's prognosed success rate was still not looking good.
His helm crashed onto the table with a loud 'thud'. Great. Just great. There was only one way for him to prove his usefullness to the Decepticon cause and it turns out he was lousy at it. They were in desperate need for warriors, any kind of fighters that could physically erase the enemy, not more half-sparked scientists with empty promises of success.
He had already accomplished something in life, but that was before the war. Ever since, he had found it more difficult to stay relevant, stay indispensable with each passing day of delivering one failed experiment after the other. He was glad the ununtrium injections have turned out successful. Otherwise, they would have disposed of him. He was no Shockwave, that was for sure, and his only contributions to the war effort were a servoful of super soldiers. He only hoped his worth wouldn't dwindle when the experiment was over.
Grumbling curses under his exvents, Rossum recalled his last conversation with Megatron. Their ever-so-busy leader had visited him in person to ask for a new super soldier, the last of his kind, until their ununtrium reserves were restocked. It was uncertain if they would ever be able to find the rare element again, but he wasn't in the position to point that out. Not that it mattered anyway. In artificial enhancement lay his expertise, and thus he had been eager to accept the job.
Now he was having second thoughts about it. Shockwave was venting down his neck plating whenever the lead scientist was around, which wasn't very often, fortunately. Yet it was frequent enough to stress him - and this resulted in mistakes. They were minor, nothing that could threaten the experiment's outcome, but the whole situation was suboptimal.
"Oh... I'm such an idiot," he muttered into the cold metal under his helm.
He was met with silence.
The only other occupant of this laboratory was not conscious, let alone in the condition to hold conversations. But that didn't stop Rossum from talking to him, from time to time. His monologues remained unanswered, though he had to admit, it was nice to spill his spark to someone. Although that someone would have snuffed him the moment Rossum started rambling about his theories if he were able to.
Overlord was currently in a vegetative state and he was safe. For now.
Rossum righted himself up and cast a glance at the tall tube furthest away from his desk. The tube itself was nothing special, just thick glass which will be filled with the same golden liquid that was also in the beakers. Once the warrior's frame absorbed the additives in the liquid, it will be drained and he will be ready to receive the ununtrium.
On the other side of the glass, the dark figure loomed. Overlord's frame was imposing despite the lack of protective plating - perhaps even moreso, now that his bare, vulnerable form towered over the scientist.
He had raw strength on his side, paired with their leader's questionable goodwill. However, Rossum still had concerns whether or not he would survive the procedure.
He didn't care about this Con in partcular. As far as he was aware of, they had no shared history and their circle of acquaintances did not overlap. There was no reason for him to check the experiment's parameters and possible outcomes fifteen times over, and yet here he was, with sixteen samples of the same fluid, testing its reactions to different substances similar to those of the warrior's plating.
Overlord originated from Luna 2. In theory, the composition of his armor shouldn't be any different from those forged on Cybertron, but Rossum wanted to be sure. It never hurt to be thorough, he thought.
Then there was the possibility that whatever monster emerges from this laboratory will want to challenge Megatron. Their leader was strong and skilled, but pitted against someone as unpredictable as a raging super soldier, his chances of victory were... hard to calculate. Shockwave could do that himself.
Rossum let his gaze wander in an attempt to rest his tired optics. Red as the walls were, the sight wasn't relaxing and his processor felt like it was going to burst. Before his helm-ache got worse, he stood up and grabbed a dampener from a nearby closet. Upon installation, he braced himself with both arms on the wall and waited for it to properly install. Give it a while, and his processor's function would be reduced until he could process only half of the data he could now. There were no appointments scheduled for the rest of his shift and the chances of an unexpected visit were slim, which left him with one thing less to worry about.
He returned to his seat and signed off his datapad. When his processor slowed down, and with it the helm-ache, he grabbed the pad and dragged himself to the exit. With one last, humorless smile directed at the unconscious form of Overlord, he shut off the lights and locked the doors.
He had wanted this, Rossum whispered numbly in reassurance. The mech wanted to prove his worth to Megatron and this was his way of doing so.
It was unclear whether he was talking about Overlord or himself.
On the way to his quarters, Rossum tried to surpress all uncomfortable thoughts about the upcoming shift. Shockwave had said Megatron's arrival was due soon, yet he had not specified the exact time. He had to clear all his doubts beforehand and do something to increase the prognosed success rate. He must not let the ununtrium go to waste and ruin a valuable fighter.
He must not fail.