We all fall down

Chapter 8

New beginnings.

Megatron glared out at his two newest Decpticons. The twins, now black with blood red trim for Impact and black with a burnt orange for Maelstrom, knelt in front of him. Soundwave and Scrapper insisted that the procedure had been a complete success. Their memory modules had been shut down and restarted to the day after the arena match he had lost to the set. With all that had transpired between then and now partitioned off and made inaccessible within their own cores.

Silver fingers rapped on the arm of the chair he sat in, his throne as it had been dubbed as it over looked the otherwise furniture less war room. The vast table and chairs normally sitting at its center part of the floor until summoned up for use.

Again the fingers drummed out a beat.

They had been unbeatable.

They had beaten him and his second in command at the time, Prowl, in a 2 vs. 2 gladiator match. There were no one as vicious and no one more skilled in the arena then the two kneeling in front of him.

And after so long a wait, he had them.

Only, as they were back then.

Utterly untrained in projectile weapons, not a single targeting program installed and no battle tactics for fights with more then 5 mechs in them.

And they had never taken a life.

They were fighters, not killers.

The two of them could rip apart any mech in hand to hand combat, which was a defiant plus. But it was that final step, crushing the spark out of another mech that worried him.

The silver tyrant clenched his fist around the arm rest.

"Look up at me you miserable slag worms."

The now visor covered faces lifted simultaneously. The red plates impassively regarded him, waiting for an order.

Ahh, now if only the rest of his motley crew were as half as obedient he would have won the war twice by now.

Of course these were custom builds, designed and programmed to do as their master commanded.

"Impact, Maelstrom, you may have noticed that your no longer at the arena's holding pits and that your subjugation program has been modified."

He paused as the two mechs gave curt nods to answer the rhetorical question.

"Good, I would hate to think that my investment was wasted on worthless pit spawn. You belong to me now, Cogspin met with some unforeseen debits and was grateful to get rid of you slag heads."

Cogspin died long, long ago in a prison for the crimes he committed upon these two. Crimes he, acting as the Lord Protectorate had investigated and judged harshly. The aspiring tyrant had wanted them for his soon to be army from the first match he'd watched and what better way gain control over them, then to "liberate" them.

Only Prowl had blotched it up.

The large silver mech noted the slight shift in the two at the mention of their creator and enslaver.

Was it relief or confusion? Or something else?

It did not matter; they belonged to him now and would do his bidding.

"You both will report to Soundwave for targeting and tactical program installation, then to Onslaught for the practical application. You will not be permitted energon or rest until you can handle the advanced scenarios. Understood?"

The voices came together, as one, yet different.

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

They did not move. He had not told them too.

Primus when was the last time he had such disciplined troops?

He knew they had to busting with questions. Counselor Cogspin had not raised them to be stupid. Why purchase them and not use them as they were manufactured to be used, in the fighting rings?

They knew nothing of the war or of cybertron life as it had been for the last couple of millennia. Maybe they had a hint of the social and economic tensions as Cybertron was mined dry of energon and more mech's submitted themselves to the arenas just to get sustenance.

It was highly doubtful they even knew that.

They shifted their stance, mirroring each other perfectly. Still with one knee on the deck and looking up at him, but he saw what it was.

The last they had seen him; he was on his back looking up at them as they claimed victory.

Cogspin was the immovable force that molded them and they would not rise against him as a matter of painfully learned fact. Despite that Cogspin was not made for anything other then sitting at a desk and thinking himself more important then he was.

They were going to test him. See if they could get the upper hand. They had bested him in the ring with a partner, he alone should not be too hard, should it?

They were designed to be slaves and did not have the standard programs that all free mechs received upon activation about the laws and such. There was no hierarchy they knew of, just Cogspin and the foes they left mangled on the arena floor.

And he was not Cogspin.

They needed to know just how much he was not Cogspin.

Megatron growled low in the vocalizer from his position on the throne as the thrum of his arm cannon powering up reached him.

With a single command he could send them to the floor with the subjugation program. It was how the Counselor kept them in line, but where was the fun in that?

They needed to respect what harm he could do to them, not just with the program a sadistic gambler came up with.

The twins still knelt on the deck plates watching him, waiting for the right moment. The silver mech raised his arm as they shifted again and let off two tightly controlled rounds.

The sound echoed in the vast empty room so it seemed like a volley was fired, not two low velocity stunners. The twins did not move to dodge, or plead, or even whimper in pain as the blasts hit true and knocked them to the deck plates

He was on top of them in the next instant, heated gun barrel burning a circle into Impacts chest as he lifted Maelstrom up by the throat cables.

"If either of you ever try to go against me…"

Megatron grinned.

"I'll take great pleasure in ripping the other in to space fragments and making him eat them."

He didn't so much as release as knock them to the floor again.

Then he activated the subjugation program.

The myriad of electronic signals coursing through their bodies scrambled leaving them twitching, then full out seizing on the floor. Only when blue arcs danced outward from their spark chambers and the pungent musk of melting plastics filled the room did he stop.

Never once did they make a vocalized sound. Just the increase in cooling fan tempo and the sporadic clicking as circuits reset.

Screams would draw attention, even in the pits and old Cogspin couldn't have that.

"Now report to Soundwave, do not keep him waiting."

The set rose shakily to their feet and strode to the door. Not bothering to tend the damage caused by the blasts or letting the fact their signals were still scrambled hinder them.

Even after all the eons that had past, the councilors depravity still disgusted him.

In all that had transpired in the war, there were levels even he would not sink to.

Only when the door swished shut behind them did Megatron start his return to the command center, connected to this room via a discreet side door. As his foot met the decking, pain shot through him. His leg gave out a moment later and the mighty leader of the Decepticons crashed to the floor. Laughing darkly, he pulled a shank out from the inboard side of his knee joint.

Oh, Primus did he looked forward to setting them loose on a battlefield.

As soon as the door swished shut behind them a blocky blue mech stepped in to the corridor and motioned for them to follow.

Soundwave.

Impact cocked his head to the side, it was like he almost recognized the mech. Sure he had been looming over them when they had on-lined, but even then it was like he was missing something.

Maelstrom revved lowly in warning and he straightened up and commenced to follow the mech with his brother in tow. It was all so different. Sure the place was dark and dank, but it was under an ocean… a large body of h2o that was salinated and supported immense amounts of biological life.

And was not on cybertron.

Primus they had never even out of the arena complex before and here they where on some wayward planet no longer under the titanium heel of Cogspin.

There was the Megatron guy that had bought them, but so far he was nothing like the old Cog.

Impact looked at everything, trying to take it all in. How the floor became grates and he could look at the deck below him. Everything didn't gleam, but it was clean and impressive. Defiantly not the run down pits of the arenas that had been the holding area for countless mechs before him and Mael came along.

There were no echoes of matches going on from above, no muted roar of the crowd or metal to metal impacts. Just the hum of unseen equipment and the footfalls of the mechs that got out of Soundwave's way.

He shifted uncomfortably in the new armor, it was heaver then his arena gear and it was affecting his balance. Mael shifted slightly behind him, the armor also upsetting his brother's normal grace. If they were to fight then they'd have to get used to moving under all this weight. That was what this Lord Megatron wanted.

And apparently a lot more then just fighting in the pits.

Laughter erupted out from a room they were passing to the left and when he looked in he could see multiple mechs pointing at one who was gyrating wildly in an odd rhythmic fashion. Tables and chairs littered the space haphazardly, most of them pushed back to give the standing mech room. The pungent aroma of quality energon rushed over him and he caught sight of the dozen or so cubes scattered throughout the mess. More energon was spilt on the furniture then he and his brother were allotted for in a solar cycle.

It was down right criminal for them to waist it like that.

And they were laughing about it.

Why? What was he doing that warranted wasting energon like that?

They turned down a corridor and made it about 2 breams before he couldn't hold the question in anymore.

"Soundwave… what was he doing?"

Both he and Mealstrom tensed, questions were not permitted and even though by now they were used to the subjugation program, it still hurt. Moments passed and their guide kept up his pace.

"Action nomenclature; Dancing."

Ok he had heard of that before, but why would that mech do it here and was that why he got away with spilling energon? Was he dancing for energon?

"Why is he dancing and why did the other mechs laugh?"

It just popped out. He didn't mean for it to be said out loud.

His brother revved in warning again. He was pushing things he knew that.

"Reason: intoxication. Reason: very poor dancer."

It was like the energon wasn't important.

It gnawed at him. Energon was life.

His mouth opened to form another question and a heavy foot collided with the back of his own. The black and red decepticon muted his vocalizer and stole a glance back at the smoldering face of his brother. The paint job just made Mael look… sinister.

If that was what Megatron wanted, he achieved it very well.

They turned another corner in the maze of corridors and the blue and white mech halted just long enough to key in a pass code then marched forward again through the door that slid open.

The room was spotless with jarringly powerful white lights that hung over medical berths. Soundwave touched a metal strip on the wall and the room altered itself. Stands rose out of the floor next to where their guide stood and a cabinet pulled out of the wall from between the two closest berths.

"How did you do that?"

Maelstrom voiced from behind him.

The blue mech paused in his inspection of the cabinets contents. Then pulled out several data disks and double checked to insure he had grabbed the correct ones.

"Room; modular. Compliance necessary; Sit."

He sat on the closest one and Maelstrom parked on the one opposite.

It was odd; he hadn't been punished for some sort of disobedience or insubordination or for just being him. As the blocky mech moved around him and his brother attaching various lines and cables, he suddenly tensed. The blue mech had his back to him and along the spinal support was a healed over mark. Not very big and distorted by countless weld seams, the mar of the arena was clearly visible.

"I knew I knew you!"

Soundwave turned slowly to look at him, optics burning in a familiar way and Impact jerked back as his memory banks seemed to sneeze. Flipping through several images at once, giving him an odd sense of duplicity until he tossed up a hastily prepared firewall to halt the barrage. Only succeeding in tripping the attack up momentarily and the images began to race over the inside of his optics even faster.

Primus it was like going through life all over again only on fast forward. Rip-tearing through everything that had happened at lighting fast speeds. Soundwave was doing something to the lines connected to him. It was starting to hurt but it was so fragging hard to see past his life's events as they played out.

The black and red Decepticon reared back and cried out as he watched his brother get slagged all over again, and again and again. The sequence repeating as liquid fire shot up his arm.

Maelstrom leapt from his berth and used his body weight to slam the slagger into the edge of his berth. The images flooding him halted at the impact that cracked the cassette players chest.

The black and orange had Soundwave's arm twisted up behind his back and applied enough force to make the shoulder bearing groan from the misalignment.

"Mindwarp."

Impact pulled out the line that was causing the pain, raising an optic ridge at the pungent green goop that dripped out of it.

"That doesn't look like a battle program to me."

Mael hissed into the captive mechs audio and silently Impact agreed, shaking his head to clear it of the last remains of the images.

But it was Mindwarp, there was no way it could be any other mech. The technique was the same, the outward appearance different but then they didn't look like themselves either.

"What happened to you Warp? Last we saw, you were dragged out of the pits, grey as death."

Mael slowly released the arm as he too recognized their pit companion. Running a hand down the blue back along the spinal ridge and tracing the now faint brand.

Impact turned himself around and dropped his legs over the side to sit facing the mech that called himself Soundwave. Reaching up and pausing, waiting for the curt nod he knew would come before activating the control that retracted the battle mask on the now blue mech.

The scars were just as ugly as before, faded some but dominating the still, stoic face. The jagged lines reaching up and under the red visor the Twins knew covered the empty optical sockets. Slowly Impact traced the worst looking of the scars with his thumb, from the lip of the visor down the cables along the throat until it disappeared into the chest armor.

"We thought you died."

Mael's lips were dangously close to the audio spikes on the side of their former lovers head, something they knew drove him wild. He could see black hands, not his own, caressing the inlayed sensory net that spanned the blue and whites back.

Maelstrom was always blunt about what he wanted. Impact grinned as the black hand lifted for a nanoclick and a small jolt of static passed between the hand and the sensor net.

There was something about advanced sensory relays that his brother found so enticing. To the point that he had to restrain his brother from groping a few of their opponents that had them installed. Maybe because they enabled mechs that could not fight to save their own skid plates an advantage that had cost them a few matches.

Maybe Maelstrom just liked them.

He did too.

Not nearly as much as Mael did though.

Soundwaves internal fans kicked on, blowing heated air on to Impacts chest. The black and red Decepticon leaned in, cupping the scared face. Let Mael have the sensor net, he preferred the front side of a mech.

And this mech did have a nice front side.

His other hand was exploring how nice it was indeed. Tracing the fresh crack and the yellow detailing around Soundwaves chest. He remembered the buttons and the enticing sounds their lover made when playing with them. His free hand diving south as he dove in to capture the still mouth.

"Negative!"

Blue hands pushed him away from his goal and the owner of said hands swiftly sidestepped to remove Mael from his backside.

"Tease."

He was off the berth and circling, Mael in perfect sync with him.

"Negative; action not advised!"

"Why? We thought you liked this sort of thing?"

It was a jib in the skid plates and Soundwave knew it. Primus, Soundwave was the one that showed them other mechs weren't only for fighting with in the first place. They were all owned by Cogspin and although they never did find out what made Cog go berserk and at the time make it look like he had killed the blocky mech. That was vorns ago, and they never got a chance to be with another mech like that again.

He reached forward and caressed the shoulder mounted array. Teasing the red pinstripe around the lip and feeling the sound vibrations with his fingers.

"Stop. Please."

You would never guess that all sounds made from the mech were produced by the shoulder array. Until you were touching it.

"Why should we?"

The mouth moved. Slowly and to Impact's shock, words came out.

"Time has passed; a great deal of it. I am no longer who I was when you knew me."

The voice was static ridden and glitched when pronouncing certain sounds.

"How much time? What is going on here?"

He and Mael asked at the same time.

"Sit, I will explain as the programs l-load."

It was Maelstrom that grabbed their one time lover and slammed him in to the berth, collapsing it and sending him to the floor.

"NO! We trusted Mindwarp, Not Soundwave. Why should we do anything you say? You've already tried to poison Impact once."

The vile green goop still dripped damningly from the line.

"Megatron has given me the codes for your subjugation program."

They both sneered, the pain they could block, it wasn't so hard after living through it so many times. It was the left on floor gasping, shaking unable to do anything that prevented them from a full out rebellion.

The blue mech shook his head as he pulled himself to his feet, the closest thing to an emotion they had ever witnessed from him.

"I was physically destroyed and left to off-line in the scrap heap because my spark had split due to our activities. Megatron found me, repaired me and I serve Megatron not because I have to. But because he killed Cogspin, and is fighting to prevent the things he and countless other councilors got away with due to misuse of their rank and privilege. Now there is only Megatron and those who oppose him."

They paused and looked at each other.

"What happened to the sparkling?"

The words quiet and echoing out from them both.

"It died."

Soundwave turned away from the emotion in their optics and gestured to the berths.

"Sit, several thousand vorn has passed since then and there are many things required of you before you are permitted to refuel."

They shuffled in to place and sat, he on the twisted hunk of the berths remains and Mael on the good one and let the lines be reattached. Flinching as information poured in and programs rebooted after the install. Understanding filtering into their core, of languages, of how to read and of countless courtesies and traditions.

They watched as the disk they now knew was labeled: Basic Core Programs 1, was placed on the shelf and the next disk in the series was placed in the tray.

"Can you remove the Subjugation program from us?"

The mask had slid back into place over the scared face and the monotone of the shoulder array greeted them.

"Request: Approved, Stipulation: Loyalty to Megatron."

A/N Hope ya'll don't mind the minor molesting of Soundwave, and of course reviews are always appreciated. Oh and yes I changed the summery, this fic is going in different directions then what I had planed out at the beginning.