The longest chapter so far. :):) Thanks for the reviews/favs/follows for the previous chapter! :) I have no warnings for this one... be ready for everything. ;)

IV.

"Are you sure this is the right magnitude?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes! We've done it before, I know how high it should be."

A young mech's laughter rang to their audios, "A CNA extraction is too boring for Shockers there, Dean Jhiaxus." Wheeljack grinned at them and turned back to his calibrations. Jhiaxus chuckled. Of course he knew that his students were both above such simple tasks and he could tell by Shockwave's expression that he considered it a waste of time.

"I know you know all this." the older Cybertronian said, "But I want you to be one hundred percent sure in the routine. Wheeljack, are you sure you don't want to join us?"

"Nah, thank you, sir. Engineering is good for me."

"Alright."

With that, Jhiaxus and Shockwave turned back to the computer. The stabilizers had been ready and the computers only required the setting of the final calculations. The young Shockwave tried to make his expression as neutral as possible as his digits hit the numbers on the screen and tried to accept that his professor only wanted him to be sure of himself before he let him take the next step. After all, it had been just the start of their doctorate cycles, but still... Shockwave wanted to do something more.

It was a task a first-cycle intern could do without problem. It is the start of every analytical procedure; you have to be at home with the basics to be able to improve your world, his teacher would always say. Shockwave was just starting to feel that wasn't enough for him anymore. He wanted to improve already...

"What will be our specimen today, sir?" he tried to hide the boredom from his voice, but even he felt that he failed, "An energon tank? A processor?"

"A spark."

Shockwave stopped when he heard the answer. He turned to look at his master with raised optical ridges, "A spark? A direct extraction from a spark?"

"Exactly."

"B-but... we have to get special permissions for that... and it's only done for specific reasons, not for a simple school task!" Shockwave exclaimed, failing to notice that Jhiaxus' features did not move in the slightest, "And where is the robot, anyway?"

"There is no need for that." Jhiaxus replied calmly and he pointed at the device's cabin, "The spark had already been separated."

Now Shockwave's optics widened. He looked at Wheeljack, but his partner didn't even turn to them. "No. Why would you..." he stuttered, "Ignicular CNA can only be extracted from a living robot, only if the body is in deep stasis and... They don't just give sparks to student labs!"

"That is right." Jhiaxus was still calm, too calm for the situation, Shockwave thought. However, he wasn't ready for what the older geneticist was about to say, "But you need not worry about anything. We aren't harming anyone."

"The spark is mine."

For a moment, Shockwave thought he had to reset his audios, but there was no mistaking his teacher's words. He had heard it right. The young robot took a step back with a deep frown on his face, his optics were turning frightened, "What did you say?"

Jhiaxus turned to him fully and took a step forward. Shockwave looked to Wheeljack for help, but the other mech wasn't there. He had just vanished, as if he had never even been there. Before he could have wondered where he had gone, Shockwave found himself face-to-face with the dean and he almost jumped when he heard and saw Jhiaxus' chest plates split and open. Shockwave's optics widened at the thought that his master was about to bare his spark to him, but then he remembered what he had said...

...and froze to his core.

There was no spark. Jhiaxus' spark chamber was empty.

Shockwave found himself shaking his head, his whole body trembled like a fragile lilleth in the sunlight. It was impossible. It defied logic... science itself. A Cybertronian could not exist, could not be conscious and walking without his or her spark! H-how? Just how...

"How...?" Shockwave whispered. No, he wasn't seeing this. It couldn't be real.

"All of us have to pay the price, Shockwave." Jhiaxus said, taking another step towards him, chest plates still wide open. Shockwave couldn't move away from him anymore, "It is done for the ultimate purpose. One mech doesn't matter. Sacrifices must be made for the good of our race... In the name of Cybertron's glory... with science's lead...

Logic dictates us to improve. To evolve. If we do not evolve... we'll be defeated. We will grow weak. Degrade. We will cease to exist...

We all have to pay the price." Jhiaxus stopped, his hands moving upwards to grab his student's shoulders, "They don't understand it, Shockwave. Only you do. They are all ignorant..."

Shockwave did not hear anymore. His optics were glued to the empty space in Jhiaxus' spark chamber, and he didn't even notice that the hands grabbing him were becoming thinner, sharper, more edged. He gasped when he saw the plates turn a dull, dead grey and jumped when he heard cracks. Bits of the grey metal were falling down Jhiaxus' body, holes appeared on him and grew bigger, more and more overwhelming until there was nothing left of his plates. Shockwave stood shocked, unable to move an inch or tear his optics from his master's crumbling body, his mind just numbly registering that the mech was falling apart in front of him.

The digits, those metallic, skeletal digits dug into his shoulder plates. The remains of the face, the naked cranium, the gaping black holes of the optics were growing too vast for him, almost enough to swallow him whole...

They did this to me, Shockwave...

Shockwave wanted to shake his head, wanted so desperately to get away from the corpse of his teacher, his old friend, but he was frozen. Frozen as the emptiness came closer, the soulless body, the sparkless chamber, the empty space that took up the whole world and devoured everything living like a dead end that left no more path to go on. The corpse was grasping his shoulders. Didn't let go.

And Shockwave screamed–

The young dean of the Tarnian Academy woke with a start. Intakes heaving and chassis shaking, Shockwave sat up in his berth. He pulled his legs up to his chest, folded his arms tightly around them and waited for the tremors to cease. It hadn't been the first night he had this flux, yet it was so distorted, so horrible that he needed time to calm down afterwards. He let his head fall to his knees to help relieve the dizziness. He ignored the warnings flashing before his optics about his increased spark-rate and overheating systems and activated his comm. link, calling the one mech he felt safe enough to talk about what happened.

It was an actual memory file. He and Wheeljack both obtained their doctorate under Jhiaxus, Shockwave of genetical robotics while Wheeljack did physical robotics, therefore it was Shockwave who had spent more time with their master. Jhiaxus was a great mentor to him and then a fair colleague when the young mech started working alongside him. By the end of his studies, Shockwave came to consider the older 'bot a friend, though even Shockwave didn't think at first the igniculicist would trust him so much as to give his experiment to him.

The experiment that led to his demise...

"Shockwave?" Wheeljack's voice, on the other side of the globe, sounded very much awake.

"'Jack... I'm sorry to bother you, just..." Shockwave took a shaky vent.

"What's wrong? Something happened? Are you unwell?"

"No, it was a... flux." Shockwave answered, "I can't tell Flamewar about this, she... still refuses to talk about Jhiaxus."

Wheeljack was silent for a moment, then Shockwave heard a whooshing sigh from his former partner, "What was it about?" his friend's tone was tired but soft, and Shockwave breathed a sigh of relief that at least Wheeljack was willing to listen to him.

"We were students... we were at the lab. Jhiaxus told me to make a CNA extraction from a spark and said that... the spark was his. He opened his chest plates and his chamber was empty. T-then... his body started to fall apart and he died before me, only the skeletal structure was left..." he had to stop for a klick and shake his head to get rid of the memories flashing before his optics, "He said we all have to pay the price. That sacrifices must be made for the common good of..."

He didn't finish. Anyone who vocally agreed with that of Jhiaxus' publications - even though, Shockwave knew, they were scientifically right and undeniable - was suspicious and Shockwave didn't need any more surprise investigations. Even there, in the safety of his own room, he bit his lips before the words could have slipped through them.

However, he wasn't expecting the answer he received from Wheeljack, "Shockers, you... maybe you shouldn't think about him so much. You are sounding like you're growing depressed. It's haunting you, and... you're dean now, you can't let it distract you. Look, if you're not ready to take on the Academy, take a break."

"I can't do that, Wheeljack. The Academy is my responsibility now."

"Okay, I know you take it seriously. But really, it's not normal that you have such fluxes... you know I mentioned that psychologist I know, maybe it would help a little to get over all that happened."

Shockwave frowned and anger welled up in him before he could have stopped it, "What are you implying?"

Wheeljack sighed again, "That you can't let go. You... changed, Shockwave. You hardly talk to us, and it always seems like you're not even in your body. It's growing over you. I know it's hard for you, it's hard for all of us, but we have to go on."

Shockwave sat up straight in his berth, "You mean we should forget it? Wheeljack, he was our m–... our friend!"

"I'm not saying we should forget him, on the contrary!" Wheeljack hushed his voice, "I'm saying this to help you. It's not weakness if you ask for help. You'll be just as good a dean as Jhiaxus was despite–"

"But I still can't live in his memory?! You should know best that he was right!"

A sigh broke from Wheeljack's end of the line again, and his tone grew even quieter now, "In his theories, he was right, of course I know that. But Shockwave, let's admit those experiments that he made behind our backs were... you can't say he was right in that!"

Shockwave's digits curled into a fist before he knew it, "What was he supposed to do?! His publications had been prohibited, he wasn't allowed to speak, nobody listened to him when he only stated facts everyone else ignored or tried to hide, so he chose to act... he just wanted to help! Improve our race! Don't you think the least we can do is honor his memory and follow in his steps?"

Silence was the only answer he received from his former partner for a long moment, and even then, Wheeljack's voice was nothing more than a disbelieving whisper, "Shockwave, you... aren't going to continue, are you? Don't make the same mistake he did!"

"Mistake... No, I'm not making a mistake." Shockwave murmured and got up from his berth, his tone again quiet and flowing with inner hurt, "I thought you would understand, Wheeljack. I called you because I can't trust anybody else to help me relieve the pain somewhat... but I see you won't give it to me. I'm alone with this."

"Shockwave, wait! You're not alone, I only meant that it was wrong Jhiaxus started experimenting on those mechs and femmes. You mustn't do the same, okay? We can talk if–"

"No, you don't want to remember him." Shockwave walked up to the window of his room, "If that is your way of dealing with the grief, so be it. I apologize for bothering you."

"Shockwave–"

The young dean cut the link and opened the window. He took a deep vent from the cool night air, the smells of the city filled his olfactory sensors. Tarn at night was quite a sight to behold. The constant faint, light-blue glow of the ground bridge at the periphery of the city state added to the coldness, but the low buzz of nightly traffic and the city lights warmed it all up somewhat. Shockwave let his optics wander around the tall buildings, the figures moving between them that seemed miniature from that high up.

The ignorant lot entrusted their lives into the hands of those above them and in turn they imprisoned them with laws and rules under the false promise of safety. Shockwave shook his head slowly, feeling the charge dissipate from his circuits and he finally calmed down somewhat. He drowned away the new surge of anger that threatened to course through him once again at the thought and sight of the robots on the streets and he closed the window. These illogical outbursts of emotions just distracted his attention from the more important matters. Made him push away his best friend...

But even Wheeljack couldn't understand. Shockwave shook his head once more and made his way to his computer, cursing softly while he wiped away the tiny droplets of coolant from his optics. He cursed just how weak these conflicting emotions made him, but he quickly drew in another deep vent to chase these thoughts away. It was useless to think about it anymore - what was done couldn't be undone. Only if he concentrated.

The roboticist cast a fleeting glance at the datapad entitled "D-16" on his table and turned back to the computer, switching the machine on. He could not and didn't want to go back to recharge for a while after that flux, and he felt the turmoil of emotions still hadn't subsided as much as he wanted - Shockwave hoped a little work would help him focus and get his concentration back.

All the data scrolling down on the screen brought the tiniest of smiles to the young dean's face. After all the data he had recovered, gathered, added and analyzed, he had an almost complete outline of the planned project. A few more studies needed to be done for it to be ready and really be put into motion. The last step, Shockwave knew, would be the riskiest of all - the tests. But it needed to be done in order to discover and sort out all errors and bring the project to perfection. And if he had to do that alone, then so be it.

There will be no mistakes this time.

The Deltaran Medical Facility was a rich hospital. One of the most sought-out by the higher class and nobility of Rodion and even from Iacon and Kalis, therefore it was rare to see robots from low or even lower-middle castes entering. Those who could not pay the bills only received the poorer treatment of small infirmaries and often not even that was enough. One of the reasons Ratchet was grateful to have been offered such an important position - it allowed him, from time to time, to override such rules.

It really was a privilege he had been called to fill the place of the head of diagnostic medicine. From there, he had access to numerous files and reports from the various diagnostic machines and laboratories and could even decide who to admit in certain circumstances. Ratchet sometimes still cursed himself for accepting the position, despite already having a firm job in Iacon at the Central Infirmary, but there were things he wouldn't have taken back. The wider access he had to patients, the more of them he could treat - even those who otherwise wouldn't have been able to afford it.

And while the surgeon fully believed he was in control and would manage to balance it, just as he had been doing for stellar cycles, things were beginning to take their inevitable toll on him.

As he and First Aid walked down to the central terminal of the Facility close to the entrance, Ratchet spotted a mech standing outside the glass doors, holding a small sparkling to his chest. The mech was of short stature, his paint job unkept and he was turning his head in all directions, seemingly looking for help. All the while, he clutched the sparkling close to his chest, both hands spread over the little one's back as if the carrier wanted to shield his creation from something. Ratchet frowned, but noticed quickly his concentration slipped too far, just in time to readjust his sensors.

However, there was a moment hesitation, a tiny sway in his steps that Ratchet managed to correct in less than a klick, but it was still enough for First Aid's keen optics to catch on and reach out to his mentor. Ratchet ignored it and continued his way to the terminal at the same steady pace, casting one last glance at the mech with the sparkling.

He could not fool First Aid. Ratchet was sure that he noticed the signs, he saw his partner's careful glances towards him, but until then, the young diagnostician fellow knew better than to say anything. Did not mention it because First Aid trusted the older medic knew what he was doing and he would take care of himself because he was aware, painfully aware, what could be the outcome of this erratic lifestyle. Yet even his co-workers, even his friends couldn't tell - just First Aid.

And it seemed he had finally gathered his courage to open his mouth.

"Ratchet..."

"I know what you want to ask and yes, I am alright and I recharge enough."

"Yes, yes, of course." the younger medic shook his head and sighed, "You're denying even before I asked anything. You know what's sign that is."

"That the patient is an addict." Ratchet finally turned to him, his expression neutral, "You can say it, First Aid. I never berated you for saying your thoughts out loud."

"I only wanted to say that I hope you know where your limits are... and aren't doing anything careless." he added in a murmur, "There's a constant buzz in your EM field. Faint, but... it's there. I know you're drinking high-grade again, and–"

"Have you ever noticed my hands shaking?" Ratchet interrupted him with a question, this time he stopped altogether before the terminal and faced his young fellow.

First Aid stopped as well, his optics widening a little bit in surprise and he shook his head, "No."

"Have you ever noticed my optics flickering or my speech slurring?"

"No, but–"

"Has my behavior ever been improper or incorrect to indicate I have any kind of problems? Have I ever made the tiniest of mistakes in treating a patient?"

First Aid released a frustrated vent, "Ratchet, I'm not accusing you! But you can't say you're doing it right!"

"No, I'm not doing it right." Ratchet grumbled, his optics travelling outside again, "But I know when to ask for help and as you see, I am perfectly capable of performing my tasks. Do you have any more doubts?"

The younger medic frowned and lowered his head, "No."

"Aid... I appreciate that you are worried, but I'm a big mech, okay? There's no need..." Ratchet's tone turned a tad softer, but his expression soured into a frown again, and finally getting frustrated enough seeing that everyone was ignoring the mech with the sparkling, he turned around with a grumbled "continue later". First Aid looked after him, then, with shoulders slumping, he made his way to the terminal to fill in the latest reports.

"Excuse me... can I help you?"

The mech almost jumped when he heard Ratchet's question, the sparkling squirmed uncomfortably in his arms as he gripped him too hard in his surprise. Now from up close, Ratchet could see how degraded the mech's condition was, but he quickly focused on the sparkling instead. The protoform was a dull colour and the little mech was small, Ratchet couldn't immediately guess at first sight whether it was because he was so young or because of malnutrition. However, the first thing that took his attention were small dark spots on the sparkling's back visible only through the cracks between his creator's digits.

"I-I..." the mech stuttered, shifting on his pedes, and looked down at his sparkling, "My son, he... I don't know what is wrong with him."

"It's alright." Ratchet used his gentlest tone and reached out to the mech, "Let me see."

The mech hesitantly unwrapped his arms from around the sparkling and turned him around to face the medic. Ratchet noted the dark spots on his abdomen and upper limbs as well as the tired look on the small face, he activated his scanner. The sparkling's optics widened and he let out a frightened keen when the red light swept over him, but otherwise didn't move in his carrier's arm. Ratchet carefully hid the frown from his face upon meeting the mech's optics once again.

"Metal degradation." he announced quietly, "Most likely Corrodia Gravis. It is an early stage still, but we need to make some tests to be sure. It would be best to examine you as well–"

"No, I'm-I'm alright." the mech stammered and looked down at his sparkling again. He bit his lips and slowly, with trembling hands, he reached out his arms to give the small robot to the medic, "Take him, please. I cannot afford it."

Ratchet sighed, but didn't move to take over the sparkling from his creator, "I know, but you don't need to worry about the credits, the hospital will pay your bills. Come, the sooner we–"

"No, you don't understand." the mech interrupted him again, his tone and optics almost pleading to the older Cybertronian, "I can't afford him. As much as I want to... I cannot raise him. When I noticed he's ill, I knew it was over... I want you to take him in. I-It's still better than an... orphanage."

Ratchet watched the mech with a frown. He had seen this kind of desperation before, and while he could afford the medical bills, he wouldn't have been able to give continuous support to every homeless robot who came under his care. Even after all this time, there was still a stinging feeling in his spark that, he knew, would never fade, no matter the profession and experience. He finally reached out and took the squirming sparkling in his arms with a great sigh before asking, "Has his sire agreed to this?"

The mech lowered his head, "My mate was deactivated a deca-cycle ago, just when I noticed the first spot on Wheelie."

"Sparkmate?"

"Endura." the mech replied quietly and watched with teary optics as his sparkling squirmed and whimpered in the strange mech's arms, away from the familiar pulsations of his carrier's spark, "I... will you find him a good family?"

Ratchet took a moment to answer, "If you are absolutely positive about your decision... then we'll do our best."

"A heated debate between teacher and student?" First Aid almost jumped when the familiar voice spoke up. The young medic, after watching Ratchet walk up to the stranger, finally walked up to the terminal where two of his colleagues, Ambulon and Hoist were already filling reports. The medical engineer sent him a gentle smile as a greeting while Ambulon's sun-coloured optics seemed to follow First Aid's every movement. The fellow tore his gaze away and began typing instead to distract his attention.

"We were just talking." he murmured.

"Yeah, we saw that." Ambulon threw the sarcastic reply at the younger 'bot, "You're fooling no one, Aid. Ratchet is on the edge lately. Maybe having two jobs is proving too much at last."

First Aid fought the urge to curl in his digits, "At last..." he whispered and shook his head, turning to Ambulon, "Ratchet's here because they wanted him."

"Yes." Ambulon nodded, turning back to the terminal, "And you're here because Ratchet wanted you." he voice grew quieter as the emergency medic continued, "I wanted you, too. With your cycles as a traumatologist, you would have made a great fellow. But no, you have to follow the Hatchet like a turbo-puppy."

"Ambulon, we had this conversation countless times!" agitation crawled onto the normally quiet First Aid's faceplates, "It was my own choice!"

"Alright, guys, calm down." Hoist left his terminal to stand by First Aid's side, he put a hand on the young medic's shoulder when doctors, nurses and patients standing nearby were starting to look in their direction curiously, "There's no need for you to prove anything. And Ambulon, leave Ratchet alone. He works hard, that's why he's tired."

"Of course. I know that." the Head of Emergency grumbled and turned to the door, seeing Ratchet converse with the short mech, "And just how does he do that? Head diagnostician here, surgeon at the CII... why does he need so much at the same time?"

"You don't know?" Hoist asked, raising his optical ridges in surprise, "He doesn't keep the credits to himself."

"What do you think, why does he live in a simple apartment?" First Aid murmured, refusing to look at Ambulon while he typed his report, "He doesn't keep all those credits he earns to himself. He has taken in many robots from low castes with serious diseases and is paying the medical bills for them. He's been doing this for stellar cycles. It's perfectly normal for some mechs, you know."

Taking a quick glance towards the door in time to see Ratchet enter with the sparkling in his arms and a frown on his face, First Aid finally saved the file and turned fully to the trauma surgeon, "He knows what he's doing. Just like me." he said and strode away to his patients, taking slight satisfaction at the dumbfounded expression on Ambulon's face.

"Hey, Crash!"

Crasher looked up from her tinkering and sighed, shaking her head, "You again."

"You can't get enough of me." Rumble grinned and sat down next to the mini-con without waiting for an answer, putting down the two small cubes of energon.

"As you see, pile-head, I'm busy." Crasher turned back to the deactivated datapad and cursed quietly as a tiny spark erupted from the device. However, the femme froze, taken aback, when a purple hand landed on hers to brush it aside gently and in her surprise, she let the mini-mech take the datapad from her.

"Not that wire." Rumble said casually and held up the datapad, pointing to its middle where Crasher was trying to find a pattern of the various wires and cables, "You almost fried it. See? This one connects to the magnetic disk. The drive will then communicate with the reserve circuits in case of an overload. You overloaded it?"

Crasher stared at him for a klick, "Ehm... yes. Yes, I did, but... how can you tell?"

Rumble flashed that grin again, "Studied mechatronics." he announced proudly and turned back to the datapad, "Give me that lug."

"You went to school? What a surprise." Crasher gave Rumble what he asked for, one optical ridge raised and a smirk playing on her lips, she leant a bit closer to see what he was doing, "And did you actually finish it?"

The smirk was replaced by a frown on Crasher's face when she saw Rumble's cocky smile fade a little. She intended it as a joke, just a sarcastic tug-of-war, but she didn't think it would affect him. That was probably the first time she saw some depth in the mini-mech who just shrugged, refusing to stop his tinkering, "Junior degree." he finally mumbled, "Didn't have credits to continue from then. But t'is good enough for me." Rumble's tone grew defensive, "I can do minor repairs, so..."

"Okay, I get it. Fate was cruel." Crasher said and opted to watch the mini-mech's hands move around the datapad for a few more klicks until he closed it and announced "Finished!"

"So... you gonna drink that energon with me?" Rumble picked up one of the cubes he brought, the goofy grin returned to his face and Crasher couldn't help laugh at the sight.

"Why not?"

Maybe having the persistently annoying idiot of a mech next to her wasn't such a bad thing.

Soundwave sipped quietly from his energon as he watched the purple twin and the young mini-con Crasher talk over their energon. So far, he had seen nothing wrong in the femme, he often found her next to Megatron and could feel that the champion gladiator was quite fond of her; like a sister. Soundwave hadn't dwelled much into any individual minds in the arena more than necessary, but he couldn't help notice, even without his telepathy, the interest Rumble had shown towards her... and how it unnerved him.

"He did it!" he heard the other twin whisper in disbelief and Soundwave looked down at Frenzy.

"Did what?"

::Get Crasher to drink with him.:: Laserbeak answered from his shoulder, ::He's been trying for a while.::

"And you bet him?" Soundwave raised an optical ridge, though it couldn't be seen through his visor. He felt more comfortable wearing it when they came to the common room for energon rather than their rations, even though they always came early when just a few robots lingered around. The visor helped focus on one thing at a time and gave him a sense of security.

"Yeah." Frenzy made a face, "Now we can listen to his bragging all night long..."

Soundwave noticed the strong, domineering presence even before he entered the room. Now that he had spent some time in the arena, Soundwave could pick out this signature from a thousand and he watched calmly as Megatron walked up to and sat down opposite the telepath and his creations, both giving a nod in greeting. Soundwave could feel the mech had something on his mind, under the layer of cool calmness there was a slight bit of agitation. However, he couldn't - and didn't want to - see more about his thoughts; he wanted the mech to say them out loud.

"You know," Megatron began and leant towards Soundwave across the table, causing the other to fight the urge to back away, "we may not be the Grand Imperium, but we still have our set of security here."

Soundwave nodded, and already knew what would come next. But he let the gladiator continue his confrontation, "I knew you were a specialist at the InfoCore, but I didn't know you were a hacker as well." Megatron stopped for a klick, seemingly studying Soundwave's calm features, "I may not be one, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't notice you had been tampering with my computer."

"I did." Soundwave said, "But I can assure you, no irreversible damage had befallen your files."

"But you sorted them." Megatron went on, "Even encrypted files."

"They were in an anarchic state. I merely made order among them."

His creations - now complete with Rumble who had since returned to their table - listened to the conversation in dead silence. Soundwave had told them what he went out to, in order to see all the things that the champion wanted to put them into, even the things he had not shared with his fellow gladiators yet. He needed to know everything, to be ready for anything, it was like an instinct for him he couldn't shed like a simple bad habit. Soundwave did not regret any of it, though - his knowledge of getting into places where no other could had granted him respect from his colleagues and bosses at the InfoCore once. Even when he sneaked into things he shouldn't have...

"You are one brave mech." Megatron said, his voice steady and his optics shining brightly, Soundwave could feel a wave of appreciation from him, "I usually don't tolerate this kind of thing... others I considered trustworthy going behind my back." he paused again, leaning forward again on his elbows, "I guess you could have deleted or modified the sign of your presence as well... or altered the files, but you didn't. You wanted to be seen. You wanted me to know you were there... and how much you know."

Soundwave did not answer to that. Of course he did - he wanted Megatron to know what he was capable of, that he could gain control of the arena's whole network with a few types and precisely calculated switches, a thought. Maybe that was the reason his whole behavior was so calm and controlled.

"And?" Megatron asked, seeing that he wasn't going to receive a reply, "What do you think?"

Soundwave took a deep vent to clear his thoughts, remembering all the things, the plans, the numbers, the force behind them all he had seen in those files, "It is... as of yet still a little... overwhelming."

"The idea of the rebellion, or the preparations in plan?"

"Both." Soundwave replied and shook his head slowly, "You want to take your revenge on the Senate... and then what?"

Megatron leant back and hummed, "Revenge... hmm... it may be part of the reason, the only reason for some, but it is rather about bringing forth a change. With fists and guns if necessary. If words no longer work."

"So, in your opinion, fight is inevitable?"

"In my opinion, in my experience, it is time for the people to take matters into their own hands. To make a difference, not just wait for someone to do it for them. That is what I was trying to invite you to. And now that you have seen it all... what do you say?"

Soundwave studied the mech before him, the scars on his plates, the fading letters on his chest, the helmet of a miner, the optics that burnt with the brightness of the sun and he took a deep vent, "You need me?"

"To make it all possible..." Megatron's voice was again its usual calm richness, "I do believe I need robots I can trust... robots who see the whole picture, and can control the events around them. Robots who can be dedicated to a cause."

"What would it mean for my creations?"

Megatron looked around Soundwave's creations, meeting each pair of similarly crimson optics before saying, "They are adults, aren't they? Maybe you should let them decide for themselves."

At that, Soundwave frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Ravage beat him to it, having decided to use his real voice for once, "We will consider everything in time."

Megatron's optics shot to the telepath's eldest in surprise, "Oh... I wasn't aware you could talk."

"We can." Laserbeak's light voice floated from next to Soundwave's audio and he couldn't help the tiny smile upon hearing his daughter's real voice, "It is more comfortable for us using a comm. link. Safer."

"Safer if others underestimate you? Hmm... the element of surprise." Megatron gave a nod, "Then I am glad to know you trust me enough to talk to me."

"I will tell you my decision in time." Soundwave replied and put an arm around Frenzy and Ravage, surprised at how even a mere suggestion made him feel protective over his creations.

"Alright, we're not hurrying. You have much to consider." Megatron stood up from his seat, "Anyway, about the fights... You had good moves, but they were still crude. I'll train you for your next match."

Soundwave watched him leave and he soon left with his children as well. Megatron was right; he had much to consider. After all he had come to know... he was finally willing to give it all his time to think.

I know, I know... but... a little review...?