Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The lab was silent, save for the soft hum of machinery and the occasional beeping from the various monitors around the room. The sterile lights above cast a cold, almost eerie glow over the rows of incubation tubes, each containing the precious remnants of a Kaiju’s reproductive process—eggs still pulsing with faint life. Shockwave stood at the far end of the room, his posture rigid, his mechanical arm hanging loosely at his side. The lab was his domain, and the work here was his life’s greatest obsession, his highest endeavor.

He gazed at the test tubes in front of him, each one containing a single, fragile Kaiju egg. These were not the crude remnants of dead creatures; these were embryos still teetering on the edge of life. The eggs had been harvested from the sky-bound Kaiju, a rare and elusive specimen that had managed to survive just long enough to deposit its clutch before its body succumbed to death. It was the break he’d been waiting for—an opportunity to finally make progress on Project Predator, to create a Kaiju of his own design.

For most, the idea of breeding an alien lifeform was a nightmare. For Shockwave, it was a challenge—a riddle wrapped in mystery. The idea of creating a being from nothing, of combining their extraterrestrial DNA with his own scientific know-how, was tantalizing, even though he couldn’t feel the excitement that should have come with it. His mind, though, was alive with possibilities. Every calculation, every theory, every failed attempt had led him to this point. The embryos might be small, barely alive, but they were alive.

The serum they’d been using to alter the Kaiju’s neural systems and genetic makeup was showing promise. With every titration, every minute adjustment, the embryos began to develop in ways that were previously impossible. They weren’t just growing—they were changing. The neural systems were becoming more refined, more adaptable, as if they were evolving in response to the serum, reacting in ways Shockwave couldn’t have predicted even in his most meticulous projections.

He stood over the first tube, watching as the embryo inside began to twitch, a small movement that sent a thrill through him—though it was muted, like feeling the vibrations of an earthquake from miles away. His body didn’t respond to the way his mind churned with anticipation, but it didn’t matter. He had no time for sentiment. The Kaiju were the key. This was how he would finally bring humanity the edge it needed to survive. The edge it deserved.

“This is progress,” he murmured to himself, his voice low and methodical. His breath fogged the glass of the tube as he leaned in closer, studying the delicate movements inside. The Kaiju embryo’s body was slightly translucent, giving him a clearer view of its developing skeletal structure, its veins pulsing with faint, unfamiliar energy. He could see the neural nodes firing—small but vital sparks of life that would become the framework for something far greater.

A part of him wanted to feel pride in the achievement, but that part was buried, muted by the changes made to his own body. He could only process the logic, the data, the certainty that success was near. The theory, the hypothesis—it was all aligning. But there was still the looming uncertainty. These Kaiju embryos were the product of years of failed attempts. The genetic structure, so unpredictable, so volatile, made it all but impossible to replicate a stable lifeform.

Yet the chance, however slim, remained.

He moved to the next test tube, observing another Kaiju embryo, this one slightly further along in its development. The changes were more noticeable now—its neural system had begun to form a rudimentary connection with what could become a brain. Shockwave adjusted the settings on the nearby interface, running a series of scans to assess the activity. The embryo’s response to the neural serum was encouraging. If they could just push it further, if they could just crack the code, the results would be unprecedented.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, almost imperceptibly. The egg didn’t respond to his words, but the pulse of the developing creature inside seemed to grow stronger, faster.

For a moment, Shockwave’s gaze lingered on the eggs before him, his expression unreadable. The years of failure, of setbacks, of dead ends—all of it was worth it for this singular moment. It wasn’t just the possibility of creating a Kaiju—it was what the success represented. It was the culmination of everything he’d been striving for: the perfect creation, the ultimate weapon, the future of humanity’s survival. It was all contained in these fragile, incubating lifeforms.

But still, there was no relief, no sense of accomplishment. Only the quiet hum of the lab, the steady rhythm of the heartbeats—his and theirs—drifting in sync. Shockwave didn’t need emotional validation. He had long ago learned that his logic and intellect were the tools he needed to forge his future.

The embryos continued to stir, the possibility of life growing ever closer with each passing moment. He observed them, not with a sense of accomplishment, but with quiet determination, knowing full well that there was still much more to be done. Much more to perfect.

He turned away from the tubes, his thoughts already racing ahead. He had made progress, yes—but this was only the beginning. There would be more challenges, more variables to overcome. But Shockwave was ready. He always was. His work was not for validation, for praise, or even for himself—it was for the greater good, for a future he would build, no matter the cost.

And in the stillness of the lab, with the incubators whirring softly in the background, he could almost hear the Kaiju—his creations—calling out to him.

Chapter Text

The sterile lab buzzed softly, the rhythmic hum of the life-support systems weaving a steady undercurrent beneath the silence. Screens blinked with real-time biofeedback, gentle pulses of color reflecting the steady heartbeats and neural flickers of embryonic Kaiju hybrids.

Shockwave stood alone before the incubation chambers, his silhouette cast in fractured blue by the overhead monitors. His fingers hovered above the glass of one chamber—Specimen Alpha-V—before resting lightly on its surface. Within, suspended in nutrient solution, the curled form of the embryo floated, translucent and half-formed. The others were still and calm. But Delta-V’s biosensors told a different story.

Neural fluctuations.

Small, irregular pulses barely beyond statistical noise. But Shockwave didn’t overlook anomalies. The pattern was responsive, almost rhythmic, too consistent for chance. It wasn’t just reacting—it was listening.

He exhaled through his nose and tapped a command on the nearby console. The overhead speakers stirred to life. Instead of silence, soft piano chords spilled into the lab—a controlled stimulus. One of the earliest sonatas from Earth’s archive. Measured. Deliberate. Familiar patterns strung together like code. Music. The kind he had used before.

But this time, he added something new.

His voice.

He leaned slightly toward the incubation chamber, his tone even and calm—clinical, yet unmistakably direct.

“You’re awake earlier than expected,” he said. “That wasn’t part of the design.”

The embryo inside shifted slightly. A ripple in the amniotic fluid. Not just a twitch—an intentional motion.

He glanced at the biometric readout. Confirmed.

“Responsive to frequency,” he murmured under his breath, noting the readout. “Possible precursor to imprinting phase. Beginning verbal pairing protocol.”

Then he straightened, returning his full attention to the embryo. This time, he spoke not as a scientist recording observations, but as though he expected to be heard.

“You’re not alone in there. You’ve heard me before—every day, every night. I’ve been here since before your cells began dividing. You know this voice. Recognize it. Hold onto it.”

The embryo’s movements grew more active, no longer random. Its tail flicked. Bioluminescent waves shimmered briefly along the edge of the membrane. Another egg across the chamber stirred as well, subtly echoing the rhythm of the piano piece.

Shockwave took a step closer.

“You were engineered to be more. To endure more than anything born of this world or the last. You’re not a mistake. You’re not a monster. You are an answer.”

The track shifted into orchestral strings—deeper, fuller. As the harmony swelled, the embryonic Kaiju stilled for a moment, and then pulsed with energy. A neural flare. It surged—brief but controlled. Delta-V responded not just to the stimuli, but to the voice.

Shockwave’s brow furrowed slightly in thought.

“I’ll be the first voice you know. The first sound you remember. Let that matter.”

He remained still for a few seconds, watching the slow ripple of the embryo’s movement, then slowly leaned forward again, his tone dropping lower—like a secret shared between minds.

“When the time comes to wake up, don’t be afraid of me.”

The embryo moved again—not violently, but with a clear intent, as though nudging against the invisible wall between them.

Shockwave held its gaze—or where he imagined its eyes would soon open.

“I will guide you. And if they fear you… that’s their failure. Not yours.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t linger. He merely logged the data, noted the response timings, and left the music playing as he stepped away.

But he paused at the threshold.

Another twitch. Subtle. Almost like acknowledgment.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to offer a final word without looking back.

“Sleep while you can. The world you’re meant for is… unforgiving.”

Behind him, the door hissed open. Heavy boots stepped onto the sterile floor. Shockwave didn’t turn—he already knew who it was.

The door hissed open. The heavy thud of boots followed. Elita didn’t announce herself—she never needed to.

“You giving the lecture now?” she asked, folding her arms. “Motivational speeches are not your field of expertise.”

“They’re responding to verbal input,” Shockwave replied without looking at her. “Verbal tone and acoustic structure accelerate neuro-cognitive calibration.”

“Uh huh.” She moved beside him, eyes on the tank. “Or you just like the sound of your own voice.”

Shockwave glanced at her. “Would that be a problem?”

“Only if you start reading them bedtime stories.”

He didn’t answer. The embryo shifted again—more deliberate this time. Its tail curled, then uncurled like a slow breath.

Elita studied the motion. “That one’s coming out feral. I can feel it.”

“Let it,” he said coolly. “It’ll adapt.”

“Not unless it tears someone’s throat out first.”

Shockwave stepped closer to the glass. “I’ll deal with it.”

Elita scoffed. “Of course you will.” She eyed him sideways. “You always do, right? Even when it kills someone.”

A flicker—not from the embryo this time, but from him. Not a flinch, not an emotion. Just a moment’s pause before he replied:

“A necessary outcome—irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.”

Elita’s jaw tensed. She didn’t press the subject. Instead, she shifted her stance, watching the embryo slowly curl back in.

“You know, most people think you’re a shell,” she muttered. “Like someone hit reset and left you on standby.”

Shockwave didn’t look at her. “Most people aren’t paid to think.”

She snorted. “There it is.”

He turned slightly. Not a challenge. Not quite. But enough. The unspoken retort that hadn’t dulled one bit.

Elita let the silence stretch.

“It took me a while to realize you were still in there,” she finally said. “Just… buried under the wreckage.”

He said nothing.

“I don’t care if they think you’re broken,” she said bluntly. “I care that you’re still capable.”

Shockwave glanced at her, tone flat but deliberate.  “It's illogical for me to be standing here if that wasn't the case.”

She gestured to the tank. “Then don’t screw it up. They’re not your regular pets. You made weapons. Can't get comfortable just yet.”

“I’m well aware of what I made,” he said. “I made them to succeed.”

Another pulse flickered in Alpha-V. Stronger. Like it understood.

Elita started for the door, then paused just before it opened. “Keep talking to them if it helps. I don’t care what method you use—as long as it works.”

Shockwave gave a slight tilt of his head. “It will.”

She left without looking back, boots echoing into the hallway.

But in her mind, she heard that answer. Heard that same cold certainty, just as sharp as it had been before everything went to hell.

He might have lost everything else. But that defiance? That spark?

It was still him. 

And she wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Because he didn’t need her to.

She continues down the corridor.

Chapter Text

Shockwave stood once again in his lab, a quiet hum of machinery filling the air as he watched the growing Kaiju embryos through the observation glass. The sterile space, with its array of incubators, test tubes, and scientific equipment, had become an extension of his mind—a place where data flowed like lifeblood and experiments were the closest thing to meaning. Yet, for all his calculated precision, a new routine had taken root in the lab—something far less methodical, something a bit more… human.

Every day now, the soft strains of music filled the space. It had started as an experiment, something to test the embryos' responses. But it had become something more. Classical pieces echoed through the room, intricate compositions that seemed to reverberate through the walls. Ballads followed, their melodies slow and haunting, a soft contrast to the scientific coldness of the room. On certain days, Shockwave played jazz, his mind flicking to Orion’s fondness for the genre. The bursts of brass and rhythmic complexity felt like a challenge, a way to see how far the embryos could grow. Occasionally, he’d slip in early 2000s tracks—songs he’d come across during brief moments of research, tracks that almost felt like a lifeline to something more grounded, something less… detached.

He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was the thought of life responding to something beyond his calculated touch. Or maybe, somewhere deep down, a small part of him believed that music could coax more from the embryos than the strict, sterile environment of the lab ever could.

For weeks now, he had been recording their reactions—keeping detailed notes, charting every movement and response. It wasn’t just random twitching anymore; the embryos were changing. The early stages, the microscopic flickers of life, had given way to something more pronounced. The wings, small and delicate at first, were beginning to stretch and grow. The bones forming in their bodies, though still fragile, were visible now, faint lines of structure running beneath the translucent surface of their eggs. What had once been barely distinguishable, random shifts were now deliberate movements, almost like the embryos were testing the limits of their own growing forms.

One egg in particular had become a constant source of fascination. Shockwave had noticed a shift in the way it reacted to the music—a rhythmic pulsing, as if the embryo inside was dancing to the beat. He’d watched for hours as its wings began to take shape, sweeping outward in delicate arcs, the edges sharp and defined like an intricate piece of organic art. The form was becoming more defined each day. What had once been a vague, amorphous shape now looked almost like something alive—a creature in the making, breathing with each subtle movement.

But the growing size and complexity were beginning to create new challenges. The eggs had started out the size of beachballs, their initial incubation chambers a tight fit. As they grew larger, the constraints became too much. Some of the eggs had reached the size of large trucks, their translucent shells bulging slightly, the creatures inside pressing against the confines of their glassy prisons. Shockwave had already made the decision to transfer them to larger tubes, more spacious chambers that would allow for their continued growth without risking damage to the embryos.

He studied one of the eggs closely, examining the now clearly visible wings that stretched out from the creature inside. The winged forms were unlike any he’d seen before, their sheer size and structure remarkable. The wings, each one consisting of multiple membranes, were folding and unfolding as if testing the waters of flight. The delicate, filmy structures were something Shockwave hadn’t anticipated, at least not with this level of clarity. Each embryo had unique features now—some had spiked ridges running down their backs, others had limbs that looked more like fins than arms. One had a subtle glow to its skin, an iridescent sheen that shimmered with each movement.

“Fascinating,” Shockwave murmured, his voice low and contemplative as he adjusted his position, examining the newly transferred egg more closely.

The music swirled softly in the background, a smooth jazz ballad now filling the air, its upbeat rhythms clashing with the calm, contemplative atmosphere of the lab. Shockwave glanced over at the console, where he had set up the playlist, and then returned his attention to the eggs.

A slight flutter from one of them caught his attention. The embryo inside the larger egg seemed to react to the jazz, its form rippling with a subtle fluidity that almost looked like it was swaying to the music. Shockwave took a mental note, his mind working through possibilities. Could they be interpreting these rhythms? His brow furrowed. Could sound actually be influencing their neural pathways, altering their development?

He stepped closer to the incubator, his hand hovering just above the glass, his fingers aching to touch the surface, to connect somehow, but he knew better. This was a delicate process, and interference could jeopardize everything. He leaned in, watching the embryo’s delicate movements with intense focus. The wings stretched again, the membranes gently folding and unfolding like the petals of a flower, and Shockwave couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it.

Orion would’ve smiled at that—would’ve said something like ‘They’re vibing with it. You can’t code that, Sparks.’ Shockwave exhaled quietly, blinking the thought away. He returned his focus to the data, fingers dancing over the screen.

“Still listening, aren’t you?” he murmured under his breath, eyes locked on the embryo’s slowly pulsing movements on the screen. “Chasing a rhythm I never understood.”

For a moment, the music swelled once again, and Shockwave was content to watch—watch as the creatures he’d created continued to grow, their forms becoming more pronounced with every passing day. This was the future he was building—something new, something he had never imagined, but something that could change the world. Something, perhaps, that even he would one day have to reckon with.