Soundwave's cassettes were dropping like flies, left and right he'd witness their grueling deaths. All he had left was you—the last cassette he found himself desperately clinging to.

He liked to think of you as his child, looking after you and babysitting you and your troubling behavior.

Yet he was ten times as protective—constantly wanting you in his sight, and demanding you stay back from any skirmish—it was clear he cared deeply for you.

You were his last hope, the last string he was willing to hold onto. The deaths of the others struck him like a ton of bricks, and he was determined to prevent yours.

Soundwave watched carefully as you picked at overturned boulders. He knelt low to the floor, his red visor dimming with evident but subtle concern.

He felt so angsty. So worried.

And being you, his cassette, easily noticed your boss was tense.