'on loyalty'

The repercussions of the market riots, as they came to be known, were many, and felt by mecha from every social layer on Cybertron. No one escaped completely unscathed, whether rich or poor, whether Decepticon or serf. It was the first major outbreak of violence in Megatron's reign, and the highest body count seen since the end of the war. Most of those deactivated frames were Iacon enforcers, those foolish enough to pick a firefight with Decepticons during the riots and consequently exterminated. Not all enforcers had been killed, but those who survived to see the next day were all simultaneously dismissed from their posts. Now they were let loose, jobless, amongst the very civilians they'd been regularly blackmailing, which in Soundwave's estimation was probably a harsher punishment than death. Their outcome would be interesting to watch.

Enforcement duties, meanwhile, had been transferred to the military. Megatron decreed all low-ranked Decepticon soldiers were now responsible for patrolling the city and suppressing crime, a decision shrewdly calculated to trim expenses and consolidate his power. No doubt it would achieve both goals, but now those Decepticons were pulling double duty for the same income, leaving Soundwave to wonder if they would eventually succumb to the same temptations the civilian enforcers did. That also would bear watching; their own commanders might not be up to the task. Blitzwing and Astrotrain had kept their positions, mostly due to the fact that Megatron had no viable alternatives to appoint in their place, but their estate had been severely slashed for incompetence and gross negligence of duty. Officially, Megatron was assuming that the triplechangers hadn't watched their subordinates closely enough; unofficially, everyone knew they simply didn't care. They still didn't, but the shock of their punishment might prod them into a slightly more alert state. That, and the fact that they now reported directly to Megatron.

Their former supervisor had temporarily vanished. According to palace gossip, Shockwave had finally emerged from Megatron's office nearly a joor after being summoned inside that night, looking crushed in terms both emotional and physical. Probably, unlike Soundwave, he had not been fast enough to concede his mistakes. Starscream had no doubt done a thorough job of furnishing Megatron with the sordid details of Shockwave's actions, and Megatron would have been furious. Never mind that Shockwave had only been trying to preserve the wealth of the empire, for Megatron's sake. Never mind that, until now, Megatron had given unquestioning support to all of Shockwave's policies. Now that the effects had been felt, everything was Shockwave's fault. Soundwave watched him take the fall without pity, knowing that he himself had only narrowly escaped the same fate. Life in Megatron's top command was not as easy as most footsoldiers assumed.

Technically, the only official result of Megatron's 'discussion' with Shockwave was that he'd been relieved of his command over Law Enforcement. But it was rumored (and his symbiotes were absolutely gleeful over the vast amount of gossip available for eavesdropping) that Megatron had 'suggested' to Shockwave that he take a small leave from work. Exactly how small that leave would be was yet to be determined, but in the end it might not matter. Whenever he returned, Shockwave would find the culture of Decepticon command very different. His influence over the new government, always reliant on Megatron's tacit support, evaporated practically overnight. Mecha made plans without him, didn't bother seeking approval for projects, skipped meetings or cancelled them altogether. Permit application lines vanished, because no one was bothering with permits. Starscream, who'd been sighted on several occasions skipping and humming in the halls, laid official claim to the grounds for his future academy. He was already nagging the Constructicons to patch the buildings into the power grid, bypassing Shockwave's supervision entirely. There was no longer anyone to stop him. Most importantly of all, at least from Soundwave's perspective, there was no more talk of his home being slated for demolition.

"I didn't even know about that one," Jazz remarked, interrupting Soundwave's flow of updates for the first time. His attention was outwardly focused on his task, massaging a medical salve into Soundwave's scrapes and dents, but Soundwave knew he'd been paying fierce attention to every word. They hadn't been taking their walk, due to the current state of the city, and his slave was starved for news. He looked slightly affronted that there'd been another threat he missed completely.

"Soundwave, disinclined to share upsetting news until it became urgent matter. Such news, very distressing to all inhabitants in this home, and liable to induce panic. Danger over now, and irrelevant."

"As irrelevant as Shockwave himself," Jazz said cheerfully. "Hope he rusts when he cries himself to sleep at night. I… don't suppose Megatron took away Chromia as part of his punishment."

"Negative."

Jazz sighed, and then shrugged. "It was a hope, but a small one. Megatron would have known that wasn't the best way to hurt him. Still, it's a good day's work. I am not unhappy with the results. I am sorry that it got so messy, though." Gingerly he dabbed cold salve onto a nasty scrape. "You took some hard hits out there."

"Danger, negligible. Civilian uprising, unfocused and amateur compared to Autobot resistance."

"Well I thank you for the compliment," Jazz said graciously, then tilted his head and narrowed his gaze a little. "But this looks really painful. How did any of those amateurs manage to get such a hard grip?"

Delicately he touched one of the damaged cables in Soundwave's neck, and Soundwave tried not to flinch. The damage was hardly lethal, but some very vulnerable wires had been nearly crushed and they were still tender. "This, result of Megatron's anger."

"Oh," Jazz said quietly, his voice noticeably subdued. "Ouch. He really got you good, didn't he? He was so mad; I couldn't believe it when he knocked you to the floor in front of everyone." He traced his fingertip down the neck cable and then abruptly scooted backward on the berth, putting more distance between them.

"How can you serve him?"

The blunt question surprised Soundwave, who hadn't been asked such a thing in hundreds of vorns. "Megatron, my leader."

"He's a cruel leader who tramples on his subordinates, blames them for his mistakes, and beats them when things don't go his way," Jazz argued. "He's almost worse to his own soldiers than he is to the enemy. I have to kneel to Megatron, because I am a slave and don't get a say in the matter. Why do you?"

"Soundwave, pledged loyalty to Megatron many centuries ago. His actions now, irrelevant. For this model, loyalty permanent." Soundwave pressed a hand against his chest compartment, conscious of the sleeping twins inside. "All carrier models, hardcoded for loyalty. Such loyalty required to protect symbiotes, fundamental to way of life. This loyalty applied to Lord Megatron as matter of course."

"Even if he does this to you?"

"Megatron has expectations of my performance. Soundwave, failed those expectations. Deserved punishment."

"Evidently you didn't feel like you deserved it that much," Jazz retorted. "Since you jumped through all manner of ethically questionable hoops to get me back."

Soundwave avoided that uncomfortable train of thought with some determination, keeping his attention firmly on the current subject. "Betrayal of leader, impossible for my kind. Jazz, not able to understand such loyalty?"

"Not for someone like that." Jazz hugged his knees to his chest, looking wistful. "If you were going to sell your soul on a first-come, lifetime guarantee basis, I wish the Autobots had gotten to you first. Things would have been… different."

"Autobots, nonexistent before rise of Megatron's revolution," Soundwave pointed out. "Revolution, largely dependent on my reconnaissance and surveillance. Your wish, impossible."

"Just like all the others."

Soundwave watched Jazz's gaze cloud over with sadness, and picked up the salve. "Jazz, your task unfinished. Attend to injuries."

"Yes, master." Jazz shuffled back into his place by Soundwave's elbow. He wasn't looking up, and didn't see it when Soundwave retracted his mask or leaned in close. His slave tensed, startled, at the unexpected kiss, but he didn't push away and he even opened his lips a little for greater access. His visor was glowing a richer blue when Soundwave pulled away, almost as if he were blushing, if Soundwave could ever believe such a thing.

"What was that for?"

"Reminder."

"Of what? That I had a moment of weakness, and now you think you can just drop in for a kiss whenever you want?"

"Affirmative. Also, that Jazz not completely unhappy here. Your admission: you fought to return to me when taken away."

"I said that, huh?" A wry grin flitted across Jazz's face. "I must have really been out of it."

"Jazz, prefers ownership by Soundwave."

"You know that's not exactly right."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave helped himself to another kiss, this one deeper and more insistent. Jazz accepted the kiss, doing his best to keep up with Soundwave's sudden urgency. At first he responded, pressing up against Soundwave's lips, humming deep in his throat, but when Soundwave pushed harder he hesitated and tried to pull away. Soundwave sensed the change and was about to release Jazz when an overly loud hack/cough, distinctly feline in nature, ended things anyway. Jazz shoved himself away from Soundwave and nearly off the berth, barely managing to salvage his balance just in time.

"Ravaaage!" In the doorway, Rumble and Frenzy's expressions turned from avid delight to exasperation, and they directed twin glares at their older brother. "You ruined it!"

"The one time you actually do make a noise –"

"Why do you hafta be such a killjoy?"

Unrepentant, Ravage ignored their complaints and shot Soundwave a disgusted scowl, plainly unhappy with what he'd just witnessed. "How long were you two standing there?" Jazz asked accusingly, and the twins' expressions switched back to smirks.

"Long enough, loverboy. Don't stop on our account, and don't stop on Ravage's account either. He doesn't get to decide these things for the whole team."

Jazz caught Soundwave's gaze and huffed. "I don't even want to know if you knew they were there. I'm surrounded by voyeurs on all sides in this house."

"Nature of symbiotic relationship – "

"Never mind. My hands are gunky with your medicine anyway; I'm gonna go rinse off in the racks. Paparazzi need not follow." He swiveled off the berth and picked his way through the cassetticons, taking care to exchange a nasty glare with Ravage for posterity's sake.

"Ravage, you really are such a slagger," Rumble grumped. "The boss was totally getting some, and it sure took long enough. Why do you always have to spoil everything?"

"Patience advised," Soundwave interceded, before Ravage could growl and snap at his glowering brother. "Jazz, at delicate stage in his training. Torn between affection for new master, and loyalty to former faction. Excessive fear or discomfort could result in regression." He held out his hands in invitation, and Rumble and Frenzy obligingly threw themselves onto his lap.

"But we're bored with your stupid patience," Frenzy whined. "You've been holding back ever since the night you brought him home, even though you didn't have to, and we're tired of waiting. What about us? Don't you care about your symbiotes? It's time for more, already."

"When Jazz ready, Jazz will come to me," Soundwave assured them. Reflexively he glanced at the windowsill nearest the berth. The folded red foil pattern was still sitting there, where it had been since the day Jazz placed it there out of harm's way. "Jazz, unable to resist growing feelings for me."

"Well I wish he'd hurry up about it."

"This, not your first concern. Today's surveillance report, your first concern. Prepare for uplink now." They scrambled up onto his shoulders when he stood, grumbling all the while, and he moved toward the doorway. Ravage, though, wasn't quite finished. He intercepted Soundwave with a hard push against the legs, tail gliding over the armor, his intent clear in his body language. Soundwave caught a drift of his quiet anxiety, and realized that Ravage had been holding onto something for a while that he was now determined to share. He was surprised, but he did not hesitate.

"Rumble, Frenzy, symbiotic upload delayed. Ravage requires preference in order."

"Aw!"

"Ravage gets everything."

Ravage snarled in warning, and the twins took the hint. "Fine, fine, we'll wait."

"We'll make Jazz scrub us down."

"Maybe start a soap fight."

"Either way, we'll have fun without you." They stuck their respective glossas out at their brother, then slithered off Soundwave's frame and scampered from the room. Seconds later Soundwave could hear Jazz's shouts of dismay as the twins invaded his shower. At least the three of them should keep each other adequately entertained for a while. Soundwave followed Ravage into his office and locked the door behind him, ensuring solitude and quiet. Now that Ravage wasn't trying to keep it under wraps, his distress was tugging more urgently at Soundwave. A wordless question from him prompted Ravage to send him three databursts, almost simultaneously: the first a timestamp indicating the day of the riots, the second a coordinates stamp for the head Law Enforcement Office, and the third, strangely enough, an image of the Autobot Bumblebee.

"Autobot, reason for concern?" Soundwave queried. "Autobot witnessed your infiltration?"

Ravage answered in the affirmative, without hesitation. But that was not the reason for his concern, Soundwave could feel easily enough. Ravage pinged the request for entry, indicating the full memory file would serve as better explanation. Obligingly Soundwave opened his chest, and Ravage transformed and docked.

The space below was silent. Ravage slithered easily through the ceiling's crawlspace, sacrificing caution for speed and not in the least concerned about doing so. The department was empty; every lawkeeper had been deployed to curb the growing violence in the city. Things were rapidly escalating out of control, from the look of his datastreams, but right now Ravage didn't care about anything except his mission. His master had been unfairly punished and humiliated today, and Ravage would see it undone before the day was through. Fluidly he eased through the ventilation gap along the edge of the ceiling, landed soundlessly on the surface of Astrotrain's desk, turned around, and found himself looking straight into Bumblebee's shocked blue optics.

Equally taken aback, the two stared at one another. Ravage wasn't capable of speaking a word, and Bumblebee wouldn't have been capable of hearing it. In the old days, during the war, Ravage would have simply attacked, but now to leave so much as a mark on the slave would give away his presence in the office. Of all the obstacles flung at Soundwave and his team today, a helpless slave was suddenly the most troublesome of them all.

A frustrated growl was just starting to vibrate in Ravage's throat when Bumblebee stood up unexpectedly. Not for a second did he take his gaze off Ravage, but his fingers tapped in rapid precision against the desk's comm unit, switching off the open channel. Then he booted up the main terminal, accessing it on what was obviously his master's password, and backed away. Silently as Ravage himself, the slave crossed the room and slipped out the doors, leaving them fractionally ajar. The slant of his shadow made it clear enough that he was taking up a lookout position.

The chrono was ticking, and Ravage didn't have much time. He put aside his surprise and concentrated on ruthlessly hacking Astrotrain's terminal, locating and copying the files. Open access through the owner's password helped speed things along. When he was done, he hid any trace of his intrusion, disengaged his connection, and sprang back up into the ceiling without so much as looking back. But he did hear, just as his tail vanished through the gap, the scratchy sounds of Bumblebee clearing his throat before Blitzwing burst through the door and stomped inside.

Ravage couldn't afford to worry then; too much had been at stake, and they'd all barely escaped that day intact. But now, Soundwave could feel well enough, the more he thought about it the more it bothered him. It bothered Soundwave a little too. He requested file replay, watching the scene again with careful scrutiny.

Bumblebee was a bot who shared a long history of mutual loathing with Ravage, the two of them being counterparts in both espionage and reconnaissance. If there was any Autobot least inclined to do him any favors, that was the one. Nor was there any way Bumblebee could have known why he'd come, let alone that he was coming at all, going by the shocked look on his face when Ravage dropped in so unexpectedly. But after that one hiccup of surprise, he'd moved seamlessly into a support role anyway. No questions asked, no protest made. He'd simply moved aside and let Ravage work. As an asset to Ravage's mission, he'd been perfect, and that was exactly the problem.

Ravage was still in his chest, content to rest for a little while. Alone in his quiet office, Soundwave shuttered his optics and started pulling more from his own memories. He considered Jazz, and his impressive flexibility on that day. Like Bumblebee, there was no way he could have known what was coming, yet he'd reacted with a clever counterstrategy and no hesitation. Or did he know? Did they both?

Soundwave's thoughts went deeper. They went back to the source of all the trouble, the mangled spy camera found where it was never supposed to be. It was his, but it was not from his current stock, since none were missing from inventory. When Starscream crushed it he'd destroyed any chance of tracing its ID code. It could have been stolen at any time, if the thief was willing to wait patiently enough. And on that count, there was no shortage of suspects. Soundwave considered their various motives, means, and outcomes.

Starscream was still the most likely candidate, in his view. He was the clear victor at the end of the day, politically speaking, and it would have been easiest for him to plant a stolen camera in his own home. It was also a scheme that, as his own symbiotes had rightfully pointed out, was exactly the sort of thing Starscream would do. But why now, after all this time? When Soundwave considered timing, his thoughts moved to Shockwave, who had a number of fairly recent reasons to hate Soundwave. He'd been so smug, that day in Headquarters. Yet Soundwave could see no way for him to get a stolen camera inside the Seekers' grounds, let alone into Starscream's personal chambers.

And then there was Jazz. He'd ended the day just as he began it, a slave, but in the meantime he'd orchestrated a riot that briefly crippled the Decepticon Empire and brought the hated Shockwave to his knees. He wasn't even trying to hide how pleased he was with the outcome. There was no way that Soundwave could see for him to plant that camera inside Starscream's chambers… but that didn't mean another Autobot didn't. Highly unlikely, Soundwave allowed, but not exactly impossible either.

This pattern was starting to feel familiar. Soundwave accessed older memory files, running simple cross references between them. Jazz – either accidentally or not – had convinced the Combaticons to raid Earth and steal Hound. He made a point of establishing daily alibis through his antics on the home monitoring system, just before that Autobot graffiti appeared on Megatron's statue. That crime of vandalism had yet to be solved. And now there was the crisis with the camera. In all three cases Soundwave couldn't quite find solid proof… but he couldn't quite prove Jazz was innocent either. Soundwave was not foolish enough to think this a coincidence. Jazz was playing some kind of game; of that much Soundwave was sure. He just couldn't fathom what it was.

So what was there to be done about it? Soundwave could watch Jazz more closely, and he could separate him from the other Autobots more carefully. But how could he keep Jazz separate from himself? Alone now, Soundwave couldn't delay admitting what he'd done anymore. Somehow, he'd let himself be convinced by his own slave to look the other way while Jazz inflicted deliberate sabotage on the peace of the empire – using members of his own team to do it, no less. Rumble and Frenzy weren't troubled by what they'd done; Soundwave knew that they didn't think of it as anything more than an elaborate prank. They could feel smug and clever about it, but Soundwave trembled to think what Megatron would to them all if he knew. What Soundwave had allowed – tacitly supported, even – was nothing less than treason.

How had it come to this? That Soundwave, Megatron's most faithful soldier, could commit such betrayal? Soundwave was a host carrier model. He was loyal, before all else. No one in the Decepticon ranks had thought to question that loyalty for hundreds of vorns. But something had changed when he brought Jazz into his home, somehow it became a better idea to hide certain truths from Megatron and not always completely answer his questions. That he hadn't lied was a fine line between semantics. Soundwave was aghast at all that he'd done, but he was also helplessly aware that each time, this last time especially, he would have done nothing different. The stakes were too high to consider anything else. Maybe, Soundwave thought, that was exactly how Jazz wanted it.

He was beginning to wonder which of them would undo the other first.

The line of prisoners seemed to last forever. It wound back and forth, folded up against itself, filling half the city square before it ended at the edge of the platform. Every other breem, a soldier uncuffed the next criminal from the long chain and pushed him up the steps. Half a hundred mecha had been chained to the post on the platform by now, tried to hold back their screams under the acid whip, and half a hundred had all failed. What space in the square wasn't filled by waiting prisoners was taken up by anyone else that could squeeze their way in, watching the unending spectacle in grim silence. Soundwave could not help but notice the quiet, which allowed each scream to carry so much further. When he compared this scene to public punishments in the past, it was visibly more subdued than the cheerful audiences who'd come before. No doubt this was due to the high proportion of criminals to watchers, and perhaps also to the certainty that most of the watchers were simply lucky to not also be in chains.

One way or another, everyone was here because of the short Autobot at his elbow, humming softly under the whirr of his systems. Soundwave had not been quite sure what to expect, when he brought Jazz along with him today, but his slave watched Blitzwing crack his whip against the backs of prisoners without so much as a twitch.

"Jazz, feels no concern for victims?" Soundwave asked at last, while the next prisoner was dragged to the whipping post. "Or responsibility?"

"I told you before, Soundwave, I am not a nice Autobot. I am the one who does the dirty work. If I stopped to worry about every clueless bystander before I work my magic, I'd get no tricks done at all. Besides, last time I counted, I don't owe those neutrals anything but several dents and a broken arm."

He flashed a humorless smile and wiggled the fingers of his right hand in demonstration, then turned his attention back to the platform. It was a convincing argument, but Soundwave hadn't forgotten the day Shockwave's enforcers raided the market on a permit inspection. Jazz had been so upset.

"Suspicion," he remarked, "Jazz lying at least partially."

His slave didn't try to argue, just grinned and shrugged. "And if I am, does it concern you?"

"Experience shows every lie of yours concerns me."

That got Jazz's attention, and he darted a quick appraising look at Soundwave that was returned in even measure. Neither had a chance to say anything else before a surprised shout went up from the crowd, and Soundwave looked up. Megatron had made his appearance, his unmistakable massive frame towering over anyone else close by. From the sounds of things, several of the waiting prisoners were babbling pleas for forgiveness and clemency, which Megatron seemed not to hear as he rounded the platform. Blitzwing paused in his task to bow, then hesitated, glancing from the mech that begged for Megatron's mercy back to Megatron himself. Impatiently Megatron nodded for him to continue. Begging turned back to screams, and Megatron turned from the platform. Soundwave had hoped he would not turn his attention to them, but Megatron was coming straight towards them in long strides.

"Reminder," he said quietly, "Jazz promised good behavior for Megatron."

"I remember," Jazz muttered tersely, and then Megatron was there. Soundwave bowed, checking in the corner of his vision to make sure Jazz did too.

"Lord Megatron."

"Soundwave," Megatron greeted, with an acknowledging nod. "It all seems to be going smoothly enough; good work today. I know you didn't have much time to organize it."

"Your satisfaction, appreciated."

"What of the crowd? They giving you any trouble?"

"Outward resistance, nonexistent."

An optic ridge went up at his choice of words. "And resistance not so outward?"

"Reports from symbiotes indicate strong resentment," Soundwave answered cautiously. It wasn't an answer he wanted to give, but Megatron had asked and it was the truth. "Large number of prisoners ensures that consequences felt directly by almost every mech in city. Popular sympathy, strong. General feeling: this punishment severe and unjust."

He braced himself, but Megatron just looked out calmly over the crowd. "Is that so? They don't know their leader well enough, then. But they'll learn." He grinned at Soundwave, in an ominous sort of way. "All my followers do. Isn't that right, Soundwave?"

Soundwave held himself perfectly still when Megatron lifted a hand to his neck, thumb absently brushing over the bruised cables. It hurt, but he managed not to flinch or show pain. He was not surprised by Megatron's casual display of dominance, but he was surprised when a low growl reverberated from within Jazz's chest. The engine inside rumbled protectively, and getting louder with every passing second that Megatron's fingertips lingered on Soundwave. Megatron shot Jazz a startled look, but Soundwave could tell no one was more surprised than Jazz himself. Discomfited, he promptly smothered the sound, but it was too late.

"Did you have something to say, Autobot?"

"No," Jazz answered after a second's hesitation, glancing swiftly at Soundwave. "… my lord."

"How unusual." The light in Megatron's optics kindled with interest and he took Jazz's chin in his hand, forcing his head to tip one way and then the other. Jazz's visor flashed with hatred, but he kept silent. "I'm impressed, Soundwave, you really are making progress with this one. Good work." Without warning he leaned a little closer to Soundwave, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll just borrow him for a minute."

Before Soundwave even had time to process the words, Megatron pivoted and marched right back in the direction from which he'd come, dragging Jazz alongside him. He heard Jazz squeak with surprise just once, before he clamped his mouth shut and scrambled to keep up with Megatron's long strides. Shocked, Soundwave stayed right where he was and tried to tamp down his panicking carrier protocols. Megatron pounded up the steps onto the platform, causing a surprised Blitzwing to back hastily out of the way, and threw Jazz down onto the flooring. The entire city square went from mostly-quiet to dead silent in an instant, every pair of optics locked on Megatron and the slave at his pedes.

"My Cybertronians," he began, his powerful voice rolling over the crowd without effort. Instantly Soundwave was reminded of the early days of the revolution, how Megatron could whip a crowd into a frenzy with nothing but words. He was the master of his audience and always had been. "It has come to my attention that this punishment does not please you," he was saying. "That you think it 'unjust' and 'cruel'. I was surprised to hear this, because I had thought I was being extraordinarily lenient. You are, after all, the mecha who rioted and ransacked my city, flouted my authority, and attacked my soldiers."

He paused to look directly at the prisoners nearest the platform, all of whom squirmed and dropped their optics. After letting the uncomfortable silence drag on for a few nanokliks, Megatron spoke again. "There was another group of mecha, once, who fought my soldiers. Claimed I was not fit to rule. Called me 'tyrant' and 'evil'." Unhurriedly he began to circle Jazz, who was still exactly where he'd been thrown and wasn't daring to move a strut. "Do you know what happened to them?"

Megatron met Jazz's wary gaze, snapped his fingers, and pointed expectantly at the floor. Another dreadful silence ensued, while the two of them looked at one another, and Soundwave froze all ventilations. He knew what Megatron wanted, and he knew perfectly well that Jazz did too, but he could not be sure Jazz would comply. Most of Iacon was watching, and if there was ever a time for Jazz to mock Megatron's authority this would be it. It would get him killed, but when did that ever stop Jazz? Unnoticed, his hands tightened into painful fists.

Jazz finally moved, stiffly, in a way that had nothing to do with Megatron's rough handling. Visor blazing with hatred, he rearranged himself on his knees and bowed, putting his face to the floor. Megatron smiled, pleased, and nudged his pede under Jazz's chin to force optical contact.

"What are you, Jazz?"

"I am a slave," Jazz muttered, too low for Megatron's liking. He pushed up a little harder under Jazz's chin.

"So they can hear you."

"I am," Jazz repeated, loud and clear, "a slave."

"And why are you a slave?"

"I am being punished for the crime of standing in your way."

"Very good." Megatron kicked Jazz aside and turned to the crowd again, basking in their terrified awe. "Now then, I say your punishment is lenient. Do you agree?"

"Yes!" the Iaconians hurried to shout, falling over themselves in their eagerness to agree. "Praise Lord Megatron!"

"Long live the emperor!"

"Glory to Decepticons!"

"All hail Lord Megatron!"

Satisfied, Megatron nodded, and waved a dismissive hand in Blitzwing's direction. "Carry on," he ordered, and hauled Jazz back to his pedes before dismounting the platform. Within a few nanokliks he was back at Soundwave's side.

"There," he remarked, looking quite pleased with himself. "I think that did the trick. As you were." He pushed Jazz back at Soundwave and kept moving, exhibiting total indifference to the cries of praise still falling all around him. His long strides carried him out of the square and out of sight, leaving the neutrals to their flogging. Soundwave could feel Jazz trembling, and automatically moved to hold him close to his chest.

"Niet," Jazz said quickly, and pushed himself back. "No, please. Everybody's still looking."

It was true, as soon as Megatron disappeared most of the crowd's attention had turned back to Jazz. He was still shaking a little, his voice included, but he clenched his denta and forced himself to stand tall. "Let me have this much."

He had kept his word; he'd been nothing but deferential to Megatron. And he'd done it for Soundwave's sake. Graciously Soundwave nodded his understanding, and they both turned back to the platform as if nothing had ever happened.

The hax set had seen more attention in the last four cycles than they'd been able to give it in a deca-orn. Even so, they were still no closer to ending the game. Few pieces had been captured, and Soundwave and Jazz were both so keen to execute tight, careful strategies that neither could even corner the other. Their armies had chased one another up, down, and around the set three times over by now, to no effect. It truly was the longest single game of hax that Soundwave had ever played. Jazz picked up a piece, idly twirling it between his fingers, then put it back again, either because he'd changed his mind or he just wanted to mislead Soundwave on the course of his plans. Soundwave had learned the hard way that either was equally likely.

"So can we finally go out today? Don't get me wrong, I do love this game, but it does involve a lot of sitting still." He fidgeted restlessly in his seat and smiled hopefully at Soundwave. "Surely by now it would be okay to leave the loft. Right?"

The reason the hax set had been getting so much attention these past four cycles was because Soundwave had put a temporary hold on their walks. The city was still so raw, after the riots, scarred and simmering with resentment. Soundwave was reluctant to walk alone in certain districts, let alone take his slave on a frivolous walk. However, now that the public flogging had been executed and the prisoners discharged, the atmosphere was improving. The Cybertronians were used to living in the gaps between violence, and swift to recover. Reports from his symbiotes the previous cycle indicated large patches of the market were back in business, cheerfully so even, now that word of Shockwave's fall from grace had spread.

"Condition of city, now found satisfactory," Soundwave answered. "Civilian activity, re-established. Public deference to Decepticons, sufficient to allow recreational walk again."

"Don't worry, master." Jazz reached across the table and squeezed Soundwave's hand. "If any of them give you trouble... I'll just explain that you're with me."

Soundwave's first instinct was to roll his optics. Instead, he wryly answered, "Offer of protection, appreciated."

Jazz, naturally, hadn't been expecting him to go along with his joke, and he lit up with a smile both surprised and pleased. It was the kind of smile that made Soundwave's spark spin a little faster, and want to move Jazz's hand to somewhere else on his body, but that would have to wait. An incoming alert had just signaled a comm from Megatron.

"Pause in game, necessary. Lord Megatron waits." He ignored the face that Jazz made, and retreated into his office to accept the comm on his console.

"Soundwave!"

"Lord Megatr-"

"The workers finally finished cleaning and taking restock in the reserves. It's worse than I thought. I've just sent you the file, and I want you to calculate how much longer our stored energon will last under current consumption rates."

Soundwave viewed the size of the new file with some apprehension. "Calculate fuel consumption? This task -" Normally Shockwave's, he nearly said, but didn't just in time. If Megatron did not want to assign the problem to Shockwave, then it was his prerogative to do so. It was Soundwave's duty to accept it without complaint, not ask questions.

"... this task, accepted. Results will be delivered in tomorrow's cycle."

"No, you will have the results ready in one joor. I'm calling a meeting to address the shortage and I want your numbers at hand. This is not a problem that can wait."

Inwardly Soundwave wilted, but his only reaction was to bow. "Understood, Lord Megatron. Will be present, with report, in one joor."

"Good. Dismissed." The screen flickered to black, and Soundwave cycled a weary vent. Fuel consumption for an entire government - and for an entire city - was not something he'd ever calculated before, and he was not familiar with the formulas Shockwave had always used. This was going to take every available klik of the next joor, and there was no time to spare. He returned to the common room.

"Jazz, new circumstances require my presence in Headquarters immediately. Extensive preparation required for new meeting."

Jazz's easy smile vanished from his face, his dismay obvious. "But what about our walk? It's been cycles, and you promised! You said we could!"

"Apology offered; walk can be taken tomorrow. Megatron must take priority."

"So what else is new?" Jazz asked bitterly. A scowl flashed across his visor, which was training itself on the two little symbiotes on his couch. "Actually - can Rumble and Frenzy take me out?"

"Gaming here," Rumble said flatly, not taking his optics off the screen.

"Oh, please? Pleeease?" Jazz danced lightly to the couch and bent over its backside, fixing both twins with a desperate smile. "Have some pity, I haven't been outside this building in three cycles. You guys get to go out every day!"

"Which is exactly why we're here now, catching up on the important things in life, like Assassin's Creed."

Jazz's engine whined piteously, not a normal sound, and Soundwave recalled Hook's warning. Jazz was a vehicle model, he said, they required frequent mobility or would suffer emotional distress.

"Rumble, Frenzy, order given: escort Jazz on walk."

"What! But boss, we're in the middle of -"

"Hey, Frenz." Rumble poked his brother in a mid-torso seam. "Let's just put it on pause. Maybe taking Jazz on a walk through downtown will be fun."

Something passed between them, and Frenzy's optics took on an enterprising gleam. "Oh yeah - fun. Okay Jazz, we'll take you."

Alarms were already blaring in Soundwave's mind, and he plucked both twins off the couch to face him directly. "Rumble, Frenzy, you will remain on regularly preferred route through main commercial district. You will not take Jazz into any suspicious areas. You will not engage in any activity other than taking walk. You will not allow any interaction between Jazz and any Decepticon. Or Autobot." He thought about it and added, "Or anyone."

"Can we do anything?"

"Walk."

The shoulders of all three mechs, Rumble, Frenzy, and Jazz, slumped. "Well gee, how could this not be fun?"

"Arguments, futile and unnecessary." Anxiously he checked his own chronometer. "My departure, overdue."

He turned towards the balcony doors, but paused by Jazz and took his chin in hand. When he was quite sure he had Jazz's full attention, he said just one word.

"Behave."

Knowing full well the history that prompted Soundwave to say it, Jazz smiled guiltily and crossed his spark. It would have to be enough; Soundwave had no more time to delay. He gifted Jazz with a final warning look, made for the balcony, and fired up his thrusters. Already he could hear Frenzy asking Jazz if he would do a backflip off the market square wall.

"It's worse than we had thought," Megatron started, without preamble. "When the riots hit the city, security forces at our energon storage reserves were overwhelmed. The mobs used confusion and their temporary strength in numbers to overrun some of the facilities. Thirty-six out of our seventy-five reserves were attacked. A dozen of them got cleaned out. The others lost anywhere from ten to seventy percent, depending on quickly our infantry could get there for backup. Soundwave has calculated that, at our usual rate of consumption, we will have exhausted our reserves in just over two deca-orns."

The other Decepticons in the room received the news in grim silence. Everyone had known there'd been some fuel theft, but thanks the mess left behind it hadn't been clear just how bad it was. Two deca-orns was a frighteningly short time away. "I've called you here to discuss," Megatron added, after the news had sunk in, "whether we'll be reducing allotments."

That was the end of the silence. An instant outcry filled the room, contributed by every Decepticon who needed and deserved his full allotment, and in fact probably needed more. Scrapper started listing every ongoing project the Constructicons were working in the city, and Astrotrain babbled about the repairs his department had been made responsible for, while Starscream howled about his academy.

"- just got the site for it, after all this time waiting! I'm not going to delay its progress now, not when I've come so far!"

"Well what do you suggest we do?" Megatron asked archly, looking entirely unsurprised at the reaction and not very pleased either. "Your precious academy will have no fuel at all in the near future if you don't scale back your consumption now."

"Can't we step up production on Earth?"

"I've already given the order. But I doubt Motormaster will be able to wring much more out of the slaves than we've already been getting. We just don't have enough of them – which reminds me, Scrapper. That minibot I lent you for your crew? He's going back."

Scrapper's mouth fell open. "But- my lord! I need him for demolition; we won't be able to clear out sites half as fast without him. If you need another slave on Earth, why not send Starscream's? He spends all his time complaining that he never wanted him."

Perceptor happened to be in the middle of pouring a refill for Soundwave just then, and though he kept silent Soundwave saw the telltale tremble in his hands. Starscream, though, slapped his palm against the table with a snarl.

"That doesn't mean I don't need his assistance in my labs! That bot knows more about chemical compounds than any of you Constructicons put together, and I will not have him drilling crude oil from the desert like some common laborer. I need him in my new academy."

"If there is an academy," Megatron reminded him. Nobody else but Soundwave saw the astonishment and gratitude that flashed across Perceptor's face.

"Wait," Starscream said desperately. "Just- wait. Instead of all this talk about scaling back our needs, why not just raise the price of the energon? The public will buy less, and our consumption rate goes down. Simple, right?"

Soundwave was instantly wary. If he was unfamiliar with Shockwave's projected use formulas, then he was even more so with Shockwave's methods to determine the price of energon. All he did know was that it was very complicated, and Shockwave was extremely careful about initiating changes.

"Consideration," he spoke up cautiously, "effects of such abrupt price raise unknown. Perhaps consultation with Shockwave…"

He trailed off at the look on Megatron's face. Starscream's expression immediately turned both smug and condescending. "Oh, I think Shockwave's contributed enough to this situation. Don't you, Soundwave?"

"Only concern, more unrest among population."

"Then it's a good thing I can rely on your surveillance to root out dissidence," Megatron asked, hard edge in his voice, "isn't it?"

Unhappily Soundwave watched his optics kindle with a warning, and bowed his head in silent agreement. Megatron accepted the concession by leaning back in his seat and relaxing his glare. "Maybe I'll make a few more public appearances too," he added, and patted the cannon on his arm. "It can't hurt. Very well – we'll raise the price of the public's energon by twenty-five percent. Your allotments will be cut by ten percent."

"But you said –"

"Be grateful, Starscream." His voice turned hard again. "I was going to cut them by thirty percent. And Scrapper, the minibot goes back, at least until we've reestablished our former level of reserves. I suggest you make your peace with it."

Unhappily Scrapper bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."

"I believe we're done here. Everyone, dismissed."

Soundwave spent the entire flight back home scrolling through Iacon's newsfeeds. There was no sign of the city having burnt to the ground, or any similar disaster. No explosions had been reported, nor floods, nor power outages. No patrolling Decepticon had logged any disturbance of the peace. When Soundwave shamelessly hacked a number of civilian comms, there was not even a mention of the dancing slave. Somehow Soundwave found none of this to be reassuring, and it was in a severe state of trepidation that he touched back down on his balcony. The doors slid aside at his arrival and he entered his home, to find the twins parked on the couch and fixing him with big, shiny grins.

"Hey boss!"

"How was the meeting?"

"As expected. Jazz's location?"

He got his answer in the next nanoklik when a heavy weight dropped abruptly onto his back and shoulders, almost toppling him to the floor. Soundwave stumbled and regained his balance just in time, while a pair of black and white arms encircled his neck and held on fast.

"Guess who!" Jazz crowed into his audial.

"Jazz?" Soundwave was so startled he could not help but state the obvious. Unsuccessfully he tried to reach behind him to get a grip on his slave, but his build was not made for flexibility and Jazz was quicker, squirming and scrambling to keep his perch on Soundwave's back. He laughed and said something about a lucky guess, darting his head to the far side every time Soundwave tried to look back over his shoulder.

"Can't see me! I am the master of shpies – I am invishible!"

"Jazz, get down now."

This provoked more laughter. "Thought you'd never ask! You know me, Shoundwave, I'm always ready to get down. But firsht we have to do a little dance… make a little love…"

He tried to plant a sloppy kiss on the plating of Soundwave's mask, which gave Soundwave the chance to finally peel off Jazz's clasping arms. He couldn't move fast enough to catch Jazz, and his uncharacteristically clumsy slave fell in a heap on the floor. For some reason, this just tickled him even more and he erupted in hysterical giggles.

Soundwave looked at the twins again, who suddenly found other parts of the room absolutely fascinating. "Rumble," he said flatly. "Frenzy."

"You always blame us!"

"Fault, always yours," Soundwave pointed out impatiently. "Confess actions. What harm inflicted on my slave?"

"It's not anything that's gonna hurt him," Frenzy said defensively.

"Define 'it'."

"It's hardly nothin' – just a little Street Fizz." They cringed at the fury and blame rolling from Soundwave's end of the link. "Well, things between you were moving so slow! And you weren't gonna do anything about it. So we figured that we'd help by giving him something that loosened him up a little."

"You know, made him more comfortable."

"And now he's comfortable."

"So get busy with the bot already."

"And do us a favor and stop slamming your end of the link shut before the fun happens."

Jazz, meanwhile, had been determinedly if not very swiftly picking himself up off the floor. Using Soundwave as a crutch, he eventually made it to standing. This put him at optic level with Soundwave's chest glass, which gave him another idea. "Knock knock!" he sang, rapping against the glass. "Anybody home? I've got a lovely assortment of vacuum cleaners to sell you!"

"I... might have given him a little too much."

"I thought I was supposed to drug him!"

"Enough," Soundwave snapped, exasperated and attempting to fend off Jazz's wandering hands. "Twins' actions, reckless and foolish. Both of you, fortunate that Jazz not yet seriously injured. Your punishment, no video games for one orn."

Instantly the twins let loose with a stream of dismayed whining and supplication, which bore a curious resemblance to the whining of Decepticon officers in the meeting earlier, and which Soundwave ended with a peremptory warning through the link.

"Quiet. And dismissed. No time for concern with you now, Jazz requires full attention." He scooped his slave up into his arms and turned his back on the cassettes, trying to carry Jazz into his berthroom without letting Jazz squirm out of his grasp and fall again. Jazz wasn't inclined to make it easy. Obviously it had been a long time since Jazz's arrival in his home, because he'd forgotten just how wriggly Jazz could get. With a squeal he thrashed and slithered out between Soundwave's arms, just when Soundwave had managed to get him to the berth. Somehow he managed to land without hurting himself and simultaneously roll away to better face Soundwave.

"Throwing me on your berth now?" He propped his head up on one hand, batting the light within his visor. "Mr. Soundwave, you're trying to seduce me."

"Negative."

"You want me to seduce you. Okay, I can do that! Jazz never fails to please." He pushed himself upright, uncurling into a slightly unsteady standing position. Human music started thumping from his speakers. "You want me to give you a show, don't you? I wanted to dance for you tonight, but you weren't there. I'll dance for you now, lover. Nobody can resist the power of my dancing!"

"Jazz, dancing not advisable -" Soundwave stopped short when he realized what Jazz had said. "Clarify circumstances of 'there'."

"Shh." Jazz placed an admonishing finger over his mouth. "Don't talk over Barry."

"Jazz, come down." He was starting to sway, tipping dangerously far in each direction, and Soundwave kept tensing in preparation to catch him. "Actions, unsafe."

Jazz ignored him, crooning along with the human singer, but then paused mid-sway with a glimmer of lucidity in his visor. "Hey," he said abruptly. "I think those little twin devils drugged me. Oh I am going to make them very sorry for that. But in the meantime… I've got some energy to burn. C'mere and help me out with that."

"Negative. Exploitation of this compromised state, not intended. Soundwave, not in need of chemical assistance to establish control over possessions. Desired goal to see Jazz willing -"

"Too many big words!" Jazz declared, and launched himself at Soundwave with a speed and determination Soundwave had been unprepared for. For the second time that night he was nearly knocked off balance, and managed to stay upright only because Jazz was so comparatively small. His hands were everywhere, crawling into the gaps between armor, rubbing sensors, fondling wires. With considerable effort Soundwave pushed back against the assault, staggering back to the berth and tipping them both onto it. "Now we're talking," Jazz announced with satisfaction, when Soundwave had him pinned firmly to the berth. "Let me see, now, it's been a few years but they say you never forget…"

Languidly he trailed the tip of his glossa under the edge of Soundwave's facemask, moistening a minor sensor, and then blew lightly. Immediately and entirely without Soundwave's consent, his mask popped open. "Bingo!" He lifted his head and claimed an enthusiastic kiss on Soundwave's mouth, wrapping his legs around Soundwave's waist when he tried to pull away.

"Jazz, no. My victory, inevitable. Your future willingness, certain. These circumstances as first time, not desired."

"Thish is why everbody calls you the killjoy," Jazz complained. "Forget the future. I need you now. Ooh, my wires are burning hot." He writhed unhappily under Soundwave's grip, thrusting his hips against Soundwave's. "I'm so hot for you, lover, I want you hard. I want to drive this electricity into your wires and make you burn with me, want to light this whole berth on fire. Take me! Take me now!"

It took some considerable self-control, but Soundwave held his ground. "Jazz, answer is no."

"But I'm dying here!"

Wearily Soundwave vented, and tried to remind himself that this situation was not Jazz's fault. If he didn't get relief soon, he would be in terrible pain. "Jazz, compromise offered."

"I don't want compromise, I want you to bang me all over this room!"

Soundwave nearly choked on his next words, and had to concentrate to get them out. "Soundwave, pleased by your eagerness. Order given: touch yourself, for me. Bring yourself to overload, for my watching pleasure."

"Just self-loading?" Jazz looked disappointed. "You won't take me?"

"Order given." Soundwave dropped a light kiss on Jazz's lips. "This, my desire. Jazz, intending to disappoint?"

"I would never disappoint you, my love. I would do anything for you."

Soundwave's spark ached to hear those words, however chemically induced they might have been. Jazz's visor was glowing a lush, deep blue, his vents panting, his armor hot to touch. It was so easy to believe it was genuine. All it would take was one word, and Jazz would be completely his.

… for one night. And then tomorrow Jazz would remember none of it, or worse, remember all of it and retreat from what progress he had made. At worse Jazz would be hurt and betrayed, at best Soundwave would remember a night that was nothing but a meaningless blur in Jazz's memory. Either way, it wasn't what he wanted. Excruciating though it was, Soundwave released his grip on Jazz's wrists and rolled away, putting distance between them. "Then begin. Touch only yourself; contact with me, forbidden."

"As you command." Jazz batted his optical light at him again, his palms gliding lightly over the curves of his chest armor. Fingertips traced the seams between plates, teasingly, as if Jazz wanted to taunt himself. He rolled a moan down his throat and arched his back, thrusting his hips into his hands. His legs spread, to open the gaps between plates, and he nudged his fingers inside. Within he would be rubbing his own wires, goading his own sensors into a rush of pleasurable input, and Soundwave's own wires heated up in empathetic response. Jazz groaned and thrust faster, working furiously with his right hand, while he moved his left hand back upstairs. Slowly, deliberately, he inserted one finger after another in his mouth, licking and sucking at them. He never looked away from Soundwave. In and out, he glided his fingers in so deep, almost to the point of gagging on them, mimicking the timing of his other hand as fingers plunged between armor. Soundwave's fans had begun to spin, whirling excess heat out of his body, but they couldn't hope to compete with the image Jazz was presenting to him right now. Oh but his slave was gorgeous.

Jazz heard the fans and grinned. Soundwave had assumed an overload was imminent, but Jazz was a performer. Just when it seemed he might go over the edge he stopped, vents wheezing, and traced his moistened fingers down along the exposed wires and cables in his neck. Here too he moaned, and wiggled his fingers between the wires, eliciting fresh bursts of heat and sensory input. His palms ghosted down over the glass of his headlights, then under the curve of the bumper, while his body rocked and then tipped to one side. Smoothly he rolled over and up onto his knees, keeping them well spread, and lowered his chest to the berth. Soundwave had an excellent view of both his hands going back to the gaps between hip armor, thrusting with redoubled vigor. The small moans and grunts became more frequent, and he could hear Jazz's engine revving to a higher pitch with every new push of his fingers. His head was turned to the side, so as not to break optical contact with Soundwave, and a wicked smile spread across his face when he heard his fans kick up a notch. With great care, and obvious delight, Jazz extended his glossa and licked the berth.

Soundwave stifled a gasp, and that was enough to send Jazz over the edge. His visor crackled white, and tiny gold sparks flew out of every seam. He shuddered, from head to pede, and collapsed in a heap to the berth.

Except for the breathy ventilations on both their parts, the room went silent. After a few kliks, Jazz rolled partway onto his side to face Soundwave again. His smile was wan, but content.

"Did I satisfy, my love?"

"Affirmative. Task, performed well."

"May I kiss you?"

"Contact, allowed." Soundwave nodded, and Jazz picked himself up enough to crawl the distance between them. The kiss was short, but tender and affectionate. Jazz dropped back onto the berth again when they were done, visor already dimming.

"Only one round... but I'm so tired already."

"Jazz must rest. Effects of chemical interference, physically exhausting." Soundwave helped turn Jazz onto his back and cradled him in the crook of his arm, stroking the curve of his helm. "Jazz."

"Mmm?"

"Escape from first slavery, accomplished how?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you that," Jazz mumbled, light flickering uncertainly behind his visor.

"You can," Soundwave pressed gently. "Tell me. Trust me."

Jazz hesitated, and Soundwave wondered if there was enough of his consciousness left in there to put up a fight. But then he spoke again. "They were never gonna let me go... so I had to do it."

"Do what?"

"Use their trust. I took turns whispering into their audios, tricked the three of them into hating each other. Then they killed each other."

Something in Soundwave's spark chilled, as he gazed down at the sleepy slave that was anything but harmless. "Soundwave, will not allow you to do same to us."

This prompted some chuckling, and Jazz cupped the edge of Soundwave's face with his hand. "Oh Soundwave. I could never hurt you. You... are my everything." The light behind his visor sputtered out for good, and Jazz dropped into recharge.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters