The Laws of Unicron Chapter 1: Will You Bite the Hand that Feeds You?, a transformers fanfic

Author's Note: You guys remember me? That person that put out stories and then didn't update them? Yeah, her. Hi. I haven't forgotten about the other stories, really, but looking back at them I just see all of these mistakes…. I'll probably update them again, but not until I go back and revise the story. In the mean time, I found this juicy little plot bunny, and the rabid thing has grabbed my leg and won't let go. I think I found it while day-dreaming… or listening to "The Hand That Feeds." Not entirely sure. Anyway, here it is.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Transformers isn't, and "The Hand That Feeds" isn't either.

Summary: What happens when everything you had been taught all your life is shattered? What happens when you realize you had always been wrong? Do you change… or do you just keep going?

You're keeping in step

In the line

Soundwave. Loyal soldier to Megatron, obedient disciple of Unicron. He had never questioned his faith, never questioned Megatron's decisions. Megatron was Unicron's chosen one, after all, and one didn't question the priest.

Got your chin held high and you feel just fine

And Soundwave's priest had made his orders very clear. Soundwave was to keep order in the ranks while their leader was away, to make sure none of them strayed from Unicron's chosen path. Megatron would take care of the Allspark problem, and then the Decepticons would finally show the universe the holy way. The right way. For everyone else was heading into the darkness, into the grasp of the wrong.

Because you do

What you're told

It had only been recently that Megatron had finally contacted the ever patiently waiting Soundwave. After vorns of silence their noble leader, Lord Megatron, had finally deigned his troops worthy of a report. And the report was simple: they had found the Allspark, and in a matter of moments it would finally be in the possession of the Decepticons. Then the troops would rush to Earth and destroy the filth inhabiting the planet, but not before. No one questioned this order. No one ever did.

But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold

And then Soundwave felt it. A hand flew to his chest, beneath which four symbiotes and his spark rested. The fifth was missing, sent with Megatron, and he was hurting. The other soldiers looked at this odd display of weakness with a cool hatred, but none dared step forward, either to help or to finish him off. Even injured Soundwave was still stronger than all of them, and even unconscious he had symbiotes to protect him. No, none would step forward just yet: they valued their lives far too much.

Just how deep do you believe?

But Soundwave valued a life other than his own. He valued Frenzy's, and he valued Rumble's. Should one go, the other would surely follow. Soundwave didn't want to loose them. It went against everything The Laws told him, but he wanted to save them. Love was a weakness that could not be harbored by disciples of Unicron. Only the strongest survive: the weak fall, and the strong move on, treading on the fallen one's without a second thought. That was how it was supposed to be. Right?

Will you bite the hand that feeds? Will you chew until it bleeds?

Leaving now meant disobeying a direct order, and it meant breaking The Laws. How could he even consider such a thing? And yet Soundwave was considering it. He was considering it very much. He couldn't let Frenzy die. He just couldn't. And all of his symbiotes were echoing the sentiment in his head, supporting him. "We will follow you," they told him, "we will follow you to the ends of the universe. We will support you in whatever you do, for we care about you just as you care about us." His optics closed for a moment before snapping open once more.

Can you get up off your knees?

"Do not leave the base," Soundwave ordered the assembled Decepticons in his usual monotone. "No exceptions." With that he turned and marched out of the door, letting it hiss shut behind him. It didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter that he was disobeying a direct order: he was going to Earth, and he was saving Frenzy. Silent encouragement filled his chest as Soundwave took off from the small planet they had been housed on. He never planned to return.

Are you brave enough to see?

Do you want to change it?

Maybe The Sacred Laws were wrong. Maybe they weren't so sacred after all. If he had to choose between following Unicron in leaving behind the weak and saving the ones (few as they were) he loved, Soundwave would step out of line. He would beam Unicron with a rock and run away, fearless, knowing nothing could stop him. And maybe, along the way, he would learn something.

What if this whole crusade's

A charade

But what of the war? He had fought, killed, tortured for his cause, and for what? To realize he was wrong? That alone almost made Soundwave stop. Everything, his entire life, his beliefs… gone. Just like that. Could he do it? Throw it all out the figurative airlock? Something cold wrapped around Soundwave's spark and wouldn't let go. Nothing could make up for what he had done. All those vorns, all those smudges against his person.… He had done horrible things, terrible things, and all for his cause. If Megatron ordered it, Soundwave did it. And Megatron was not merciful.

And behind it all there's a price to be paid

Soundwave was, though. He always had been. He said it was logical, that pointless cruelty only wasted time. His victims, when he could help it, met swift deaths. Shoot the spark. Crush the processor. Cut the main energon line. Don't just rip off the limbs and let the mech bleed to death, there was no reason. Nothing logical. Still, he had killed. His hands were stained with energon that was not his own, and he had caused unnecessary pain. It had been ordered. Torture the subject, find out what they knew. Soundwave had always insisted there were better ways to acquire information, but sometimes Megatron just didn't care. What did it mean? What punishment was there that could make up for all that Soundwave had done?

For the blood

On which we dine

He had seen great horrors, he had seen sparklings ripped limb from limb and femmes treated as no creature ever alive should be. He had seen the light fade from optics, and heard once strong mechs beg for mercy. He had seen rage, both just and that of a berserker in battle. He had seen mechs fight for nothing more than to quench the thirst of their own energonlust. The saddest, the worst part, though? He hadn't lifted a servo to stop it.

Justified in the name of the holy and the divine

Soundwave remembered how it had all begun. It was the Golden Age of Cybertron, but that didn't mean there wasn't still rust. It just meant the brighter parts got a new shine that took the attention away from the darker, nastier parts. Soundwave had been a scientist at the time, one of the few that had managed to rise from poverty into something more. He had been born into The Laws of Unicron, and he had never abandoned them. Never until now. The other followers were not as lucky as Soundwave. They had been born into poverty and it was likely they would die in it as well. Most of them hated the rest of Cybertron. They hated them for their good fortune, for their "higher standards," for their hypocrisy. But mostly they hated the higher classes for their view of the lower, for those that had to scramble for their next meal and steal just to survive. That was how the first seeds of war were sowed.

Just how deep do you believe?

Megatron had seemed like a gift from Unicron himself. Sometimes it was hard to remember when he had been so charismatic. Soundwave remembered his voice lifting up in the alleys and streets, and hearing the Unicron followers cheer. It was Unicron's will to start over again, he had said, to wipe away the weak and start again with only the strong and the worthy. Soundwave had listened, and he had supported. It sounded right, when spoken aloud, but somehow things always seem better when you're hearing them, instead of seeing them.

Will you bite the hand that feeds?

Will you chew until it bleeds?

Megatron had told them that femmes were weak, and so were their offspring. Soundwave had voiced his concerns, telling their noble leader how he himself was the child of a femme. Megatron had told Soundwave that he was an exception, and Soundwave had believed him. He had been blinded by faith and Megatron's proclamations that he was Unicron's chosen. He had watched as the femmes were murdered. He had overseen the youth sector's destruction. They couldn't know which were femme-born without a medical exam, after all, and that would have taken too long. Besides, they were too weak to survive a war, they would have only gotten in the way. There would be new sparklings when it was all over. When it was over, things would be wonderful, there would be no poverty, and everyone would be strong, because there would be no weak….

Can you get up off your knees?

In retrospect, Soundwave should have seen it. The question, "What if something happens to the Allspark?" had never arisen, or at least not where it could reach other's audio receptors. Soundwave himself had been told to "take care of" anyone who was becoming too nosy. Then there was the idea that there would never again be any weak. If all were strong, would the weakest of the strong still be considered weak? The poverty of the Golden Age wouldn't disappear simply because there were no more weak. All that Megatron was really doing was giving himself- and his closest followers- power. Hardly the noble ideals he had been telling his growing army.

Are you brave enough to see?

Do you want to change it?

The Decepticons hadn't really cared, though. The cold thing in Soundwave's spark gave a squeeze at the thought. They had liked this new freedom to do as they pleased. They had relished the ability to torture and kill without facing repercussions, nay, even being commended for the distasteful, to put it lightly, acts. They were fighting those that had splashed old lubricant in their faces before, and they loved it, every moment of it.

So naïve

I keep holding on to what I want to believe

How couldn't he have seen it before? It was as if, all of these vorns, the concept had been invisible to his optics, hiding just out of sight and just out of reach. It was too late to fix all that he had done, too late to save the femmes, the sparklings. Too late to tell Optimus Prime why his brother had suddenly turned away from him and why mechs previously unseen, unknown were crawling out of the cracks and pointing guns in his general direction. Too late to say he was sorry. Too late to lay down his weapons and say he wasn't going to do this, he wasn't going to fight. Too late to earn back the Autobot's trust.

I can see

But I keep holding on and on and on and on

But it wasn't too late to save Frenzy. It wasn't too late to save Rumble, and it wasn't too late to save his own spark the pain of loosing another symbiote. They were his- the few things in the universe he cared about, and he wasn't going to let them go. Maybe they could find some uninhabited planet and survive there for the rest of eternity. It would be lonely, but at least they would be online, and at least they wouldn't be causing any more harm. Maybe, when it was all over, vorns in the future, he could even return to Cybertron. Restore it, slowly, piece by piece. Nothing could save their planet now, but maybe he could leave it as a monument, a memorial to all their sins and all their glory. A museum of their past.