![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixBehold! Dreamwave influence!
Special thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meallanmouse for being my beta and littlecafei for prodding me to finish this.
Title: Do You Know What it Feels like ~Chapter 1~
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4168
Characters: Arcee, Jhiaxus, Thunderwing, Micromasters, Duocons
Summary: IDW 'verse. Mad scientists, gender bending and creating one's own downfall. The new test subject and the ones that were tossed aside.
~*~*~*~
“Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, because it’s okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you’d love to know what it’s like, wouldn’t you? What it feels like for a girl?”
-Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Cement Garden
~*~*~*~
Thunderwing met the newcomer at the main entrance of Jhiaxus’s lab. Curtly he instructed the mech to follow him into the central lift where Thunderwing popped open a panel and coded in something his large shoulders blocked from view. It didn’t take Thunderwing’s companion long to realize he was being taken to a place that- if one’s existence was limited to all that was marked on maps –didn’t exist.
The young mech fidgeted. He was nearing the end of his fledgling years, had learned all his basic skills and probably would have a fairly promising future in the Autobot Security Force as field intel. He was old enough to have developed a sense of self but had yet to even be given his first upgrade, still small and slender with nothing more than his bare protoframe. Thunderwing couldn’t recall his own days in a similar configuration, couldn’t even remember what the rudimentary designs of a protoframe’s alt mode looked like. He had long ago deemed the memories unimportant and deleted them in order to make room for more pressing data.
“Sir,” the young mech asked with a voice like his stature- thin and tight with anticipation, “I’m not entirely certain why I was called here.”
“You were called here because Jhiaxus believes you would be most useful helping him with a new project.”
“What kind of project, exactly? I was under the impression I was going to be fitted with one of the new triplechanger transformation cogs.”
Thunderwing barely held back from scoffing and instead smiled indulgently. “The triplechanger cogs will be predominantly for infantry units once it’s been perfected. The Security Force has a full roster of volunteers for that particular piece of tech. Exactly what it is you will undergo I am not yet at liberty to say. But rest assured- if it is as successful as we hope, it will drastically change the way we categorize each branch of our race.”
Such a simple, vague lie that Thunderwing had told every new subject as they came down this very lift and it worked now as well as it had every time prior. The small mech’s optics brightened and he stood tall, practically thrumming with excitement as the lift finally slowed.
“You are permitted anywhere on sub-level 4.” Thunderwing told him. The doors opened and the newcomer stepped out. Thunderwing didn’t. “It will be some time before Jhiaxus calls to meet with you. I suggest you take that time to settle and acquaint yourself with the level. There are plenty of empty rooms for you to choose as your quarters.”
Blatant hesitation at the thought of being left along in a strange new place gleamed dully behind his optics. “Is anyone else here?”
“There are a few other subjects. You may interact with them or not, as you choose. That’s your decision to make.” With a smile that wasn’t meant to comfort, just to be there, Thunderwing said before the lift doors slid shut, “For now, welcome to your new home, Arcee.”
~*~*~*~
It was several cycles before Arcee was finally called in to meet with Jhiaxus for the first time. The scientist was just as intimidating and distant and cold as Arcee had imagined and the young mech sat quietly as fluid samples were taken to be analyzed. For the most part Jhiaxus merely asked Arcee questions about some of the details regarding his construction and specialized skillsets he was programmed with. Just as precisely, Arcee answered each as best he could.
Until Jhiaxus finally asked, “You’ve found a room to serve as your new quarters, correct?”
“Yessir.” It was the first empty room Arcee had come across. He wasn’t looking for much. Doubted he’d even be down in the lab for too long anyway. He had his training to begin soon, after all.
“I suppose you explored your new surroundings a bit as well.”
“I did look around a little, yessir.”
“Did you come across anything you had questions about?” Cybertronians were curious by nature, many seemingly having trouble recognizing when to leave something alone. Jhiaxus didn’t ask because he wanted to show off any of his work (though it was an added bonus) but because he recognized this curiosity was what made advancements and deemed encouraging it was the only way to further themselves.
Arcee hesitated, optics darkening momentarily. “I… I did see something rather odd…”
“Ask what you want. I’ll answer as best I can.” It wasn’t as if there was anything dangerous or abhorrent on sub-level 4. It housed all those that would have the easiest time reintegrating with common society. The levels below, however, held much darker, dire creatures that could only be called ‘abominations’ out of kindness.
“There- I saw… these tiny mechs. They looked like any other Cybertronian but they were,” Arcee brought his hands together, trying to pantomime their tiny stature, “they were so small!”
Jhiaxus smiled lightly to himself. “Ah, the Micromasters.”
“Micromasters?”
“That was Thunderwing’s naming convention.” Jhiaxus thought it was a rather silly name that made little sense at all. “They’re an attempt in energon conservation.”
Arcee cocked his head to the side. “I was not aware there was an energon shortage.”
“There isn’t. This is more of a safety measure. If it should come to pass, we now have the technology to deal with it instead of struggling with both the shortage and finding a solution.”
“The construction plans for Minibots was just recently approved, though. Would they begin construction on Micromasters so soon?”
Jhiaxus moved behind Arcee, opening up a panel along his helmet and plugging in some strange device the young mech couldn’t identify. “They weren’t created, they were transferred.”
Arcee’s optics widened. “Transferred?”
“They were all once full-sized mechs.”
When Arcee tried to turn around, Jhiaxus made a sharp, threatening noise, keeping him still. “They really are mechs? Fully functioning mechs?”
“Yes.” This time Jhiaxus’s reply came out somewhat terse, annoyed that Arcee didn’t seem capable of understanding such a simple concept. “Their bodies and internal functions were reconstructed into smaller versions. Asides from physical ability stemming from the change in size and mass, they are nearly as fully capable as they were before the change.”
“To be able to fit an entire cranial unit into such a small feature. With all that information and intricate workings-“ Jhiaxus couldn’t see it, but he could hear the excited gleam in Arcee’s vocalizer, “all the things that could be allotted to! The possibilities to advance our tech is astounding.”
Ah, now that was something that got Jhiaxus smiling thinly to himself. Knowing someone else could see the potential in all that he did, could understand what he did was to further knowledge and inspire change. He unhooked the port to Arcee’s head. “You may go.”
The young mech stood up, none of his sensors returning any notable change. “Yessir. When will you need me again?”
He just waved a hand, indicating Arcee to leave even as he turned away to busy himself with his equipment. “You will be called.” The conversation now over, Arcee had little other option but to leave.
~*~*~*~
Arcee’s steps were careful and measured, moving slowly enough for his sensors to pick up any potential movement at any given size. His objective ended up finding him instead, barreling down the hall and heading straight at him in streaks of black, orange, green and white.
“Hey!” He called to the four tiny roadsters, moving in their collective way. “Hey! Hang on a klik!”
In reply, the green and white vehicles slammed into the side of Arcee’s foot hard enough to make him yelp and jerk back. The other two shot around him unhindered.
“Wait!” Arcee yelled, stumbling after them a few steps. “I want to talk to you!”
To his surprise, the four swung around and drifted to a stop. “Yeah- well we don’t wanna talk to you!” The green one shot back.
“You made it pretty clear what you thought of us the first time around.” The orange growled, engine roaring in the hall. “So why don’t you save us your redundancy and get slagged?”
“I want to apologize.”
The engines lowered to a dull, curious rumble. Arcee took this as encouragement to continue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were mechs, I didn’t know anyone had that kind of technology to do something so… impossible. I mean, when I thought you were simply well-constructed automatons I was impressed, but now that I know what you really are I’m… well, I’m awed, really.”
The four stayed quiet and Arcee could feel them eyeing him with a measure of distrust. Eventually the black vehicle eased in front of the others. “Obviously you’re new.” He told the mech. “We know that much, so we can forgive you for that. Only this once.”
“I’m Arcee.” They already knew this, just as Arcee already knew who they were. Their sensors had picked up the designations and functions of each other the instant they were in range, but formally introducing themselves was an acknowledgement, allowing the others to be more familiar or to ask questions. ‘I give you permission to know who I am’.
“Big Daddy.” The black one said. “These are Greaser, Trip-Up and Hubs.” The orange, white and green cars behind him rumbled in turn.
“How long have you been down here?”
“Too damn long.”
The bitterness and angry rev of his engine told Arcee he didn’t want to press on that line of questions. “Is there anyone else on this sub-level besides us?”
The four Micromasters seemed to confer for a moment, Trip-Up chuckling darkly through his engine.
“There’s two others that are on this level.” Big Daddy said. “The Duocons, Battletrap and Flywheels. You want to keep thinking you won’t be losing your sanity, don’t talk to Flywheels. You want to keep thinking you’re not going to regret ever coming here, don’t talk to Battletrap.”
Before Arcee could ask another question, Big Daddy spun around and led the other three away.
~*~*~*~
Arcee had been called into the labs three more times, once within five cycles of the last and once by Thunderwing when Jhiaxus wasn’t available. Arcee preferred dealing with the assistant; the scientist was too detached, too intimidating and most of Arcee’s questions were answered in short, clipped tones if they were deemed important enough to answer at all.
“You weren’t brought here for conversation,” Thunderwing explained once, “but to participate in an experiment. All questions you may have regarding what’s being done to you will be explained in due time. Jhiaxus prefers to focus entirely on his work.”
While Thunderwing would explain the basics of what he was doing as he worked on Arcee, he wouldn’t talk about what was going on beyond the underground lab. The young mech couldn’t understand why he was so cut-off from current events but when he asked Jhiaxus, the scientist would just glare in that icy-stone way of his. Thunderwing explained that outside information was an uncontrolled variable that could corrupt the delicate chemical levels in the cranial unit. With how ready and even the answer was, Arcee had to wonder how much of that was true and how much was a stock response.
Outside the lab, he and the Micromasters tended to steer clear of each other. Not out of hate or fear, Arcee didn’t want to insult them anymore than he already had by following them around (no matter how much he wanted to talk to someone not elbow deep in his head) and the Micromasters straight out distrusted him as they did all full-sized mechs. They didn’t want to be involved with anyone who they didn’t know the end results of their modifications. From what little they implied, it almost sounded as if there were others inaccessible on the lower levels.
Arcee, however, didn’t feel any differently. All his diagnostics hadn’t changed since his arrival and he still felt in full capacity. He didn’t even know why he was there at all.
“Of course not,” Big Daddy had told him once, “do you think we volunteered to be shrunk to this size?”
“Then why would he do it?”
The tiny black mech gave him a long, measured look. “Why does anyone do anything? Because they can. Or, in his case, to see if he could.”
Arcee had shaken his head vehemently. He may not be certain of Jhiaxus’s motives, but he refused to believe there wasn’t an actual reason behind what he did. “No. I’m sure the things he does are for an applicable cause.”
“If you want to call it that.” Came the sarcastic retort. “Minibots didn’t come first. How’s that for application?”
And so, Arcee didn’t talk to the Micromasters much. Big Daddy was the only one that was in any way willing to hold a conversation, Greaser and Hubs were good for short exchanges and Trip-Up would just rumble angrily until Arcee left. The few times he spoke to Big Daddy, questions kept surfacing which Arcee didn’t want to think about, so he kept his distance.
His natural curiosity however, had Arcee seeking out these Duocons that Big Daddy had mentioned. On occasions his scanners would flicker momentarily, just long enough for him to sense someone was there, but not enough for his sensors to return with any information on who it was. These Duocons seemed to be hiding from him and when he asked Thunderwing how many mechs stayed on sub-level 4, the assistant told him:
“You, the four Micromasters and the two Duocons. That is all.”
“And who stays on the levels beyond?”
Thunderwing watched him with cryptic, impassive green optics. “That is of no concern of yours.”
As time went on Arcee began noticing that the momentary blips were reoccurring more and more, just long enough for his sensors to pick up a hint of information. The Micromasters, by then, stayed as far away from Arcee as they could and threatened him when the young mech followed them, trying to get someone to answer him.
“But what does this mean?”
“It means you’re being toyed with,” Big Daddy had snapped when Arcee finally managed to corner him. “Stay away from us. We’ve had more than enough of that crazy slagger!”
That ‘crazy slagger’, from what mismatched information Arcee’s sensors picked up, was one of the Duocons, the name coming back as ‘Battletrap’. He didn’t know what a Duocon was and Battletrap never stayed in range long enough for the information to be filtered to him. Mostly Arcee would read just one signal, yet sometimes he’d read two, both of them coming back with the name ‘Battletrap’.
“What are these Duocons?” He demanded of Thunderwing, his time away from the labs being filled with phantom blips and the sound of blades churning through distant air in one direction, squealing tires from another and the same name coming from both.
“Prototypes.” Thunderwing said simply, keying something into Arcee’s cranial unit. Jhiaxus, it seemed, was being called away more and more often by Nova Prime. “They were Jhixaus’s first response to the demand of having a mech with two alt modes.”
“So they are like triplechangers?”
“No. Duocons have two modes like us: standard and alt.”
Arcee growled in irritation. He’d been getting less and less answers the longer he stayed, the more he asked. “You said they had two.”
“Whereas triplechangers can change between three different modes, Duocons have two different alt modes that, when joined together, form one complete mech.”
“They split into two separate alt modes?”
“That’s correct.”
Arcee’s fingers tapped out a rapid tattoo against the surface of the chair he sat in. “The Micromasters do not like them.”
“The Micromasters don’t trust normal sized mechs.”
“Why are they here? The Micromasters and Duocons?” He asked tersely. The changes in Arcee’s chemical balance made Thunderwing frown, unable to continue with his inputting while they kept fluctuating the way they were. “What’s their purpose? If there are applications for the technology they were experimented with, what about them? Why are they still here?”
The assistant stifled an annoyed rumble of air in his vents and instead unplugged the input cord from Arcee’s cranial unit. With the increase in internal pressure and temperature, he wouldn’t be able to do anything more without running the risk of corrupting data. Had Jhiaxus been present, he would’ve berated Thunderwing for allowing Arcee to get worked up- that was why Jhiaxus limited uncontrolled influences to his test subjects as much as possible. “They’re here because they’ve not been perfected. Jhiaxus still needs to observe and correct any problems they may have.”
“Then why does he keep creating more of these experiments?” The young mech watched Thunderwing putting the tech in their proper containers with angry optics. “Should he not perfect one experiment before starting another?”
“If that were the way science worked,” came the clipped retort, “then wouldn’t all scientist work on one problem at a time instead of spreading their talents on different ideas?”
“That is not the same thing-“
“That is very much the same thing.” He turned, optics narrowed and expression impatient. “That is all for now, Arcee. You may leave.”
For a stretched moment he hesitated, words floating behind his faceplates and wanting to escape and bite out the frustrations that were slowly building up inside. But he kept them lashed back, slide out of the chair and out of the door. As Arcee moved down the hall, he transformed and went off to find this Battletrap. Though his protoframe alt mode was still so small, fragile and slow without any upgrades, it was still quicker to traverse distances on wheels than by foot. The halls were set in long, sloping corridors, wide enough for construction-sized mechs to drive through and completely dwarfed Arcee. The echo of his engine hummed off the pale, sterilized walls, washed-out by the overhead lighting. Though he knew he wouldn’t be able to run down a fully upgraded mech, Arcee wouldn’t stop trying even though the slight fluctuations in his perimeter scans made it clear Battletrap was playing with him.
Arcee had never been down to this end of the level, mainly because the Micromasters refused to go there. But now he charged in headlong, wanting someone to answer his questions, slaggit. Battletrap continued to flicker in two different grids of Arcee’s sensors and the young mech could’ve sworn he heard laughter drifting out around him.
He didn’t even know how he was supposed to catch Battletrap, or even what exactly he’d do once he found this Duocon. There was surely a reason he didn’t stay down around the labs. Maybe he wasn’t a stable as Arcee hoped.
And then he saw it. Not Battletrap, but the other one. The other one. Arcee’s scans came back with the information that would’ve had him recycling the data feed if he hadn’t already known what to expect.
Duocon Flywheels. A jet and an armored vehicle. The rest of the information was nothing but an incoherent jumble of words. Most of what he got were angry stems of ‘useless’, ‘arrogant’ and ‘wasted on that scrap heap’. It nearly drowned out what almost felt like a distress signal. Arcee revved his engine and tried to press faster than he was already rolling. Whatever was going on, Flywheels was in trouble and Arcee wasn’t programmed to ignore someone he could help.
Flywheels’s energy signature was coming from one of the many rooms lining the corridor. Arcee transformed as he came upon it. The door was windowless and didn’t open to his presence. He tried to key the lock, but was denied at every attempt. He tried to comm Flywheels but his pings weren’t being accepted, tried pounding on the door, but the only noise he could strain to hear was some faint shuffling sounds and whimpered pleas. Arcee pounded harder, desperate to get inside.
“He won’t come out.”
The mech jumped, whirling about to see a huge blue and white mech behind him, an unstable leer under a blue visor that seemed hungry and disgusted at the same time. Battletrap, Arcee’s sensors said. He’d been too determined to get to Flywheels to pay attention to his scanners. He had finally found Battletrap and now that he had, Arcee was too wary of that twitching smirk to want to know anything more about him.
“Open the door.” He said weakly. He couldn’t see Battletrap’s optics but he could feel the way he was being sized up. It actually reminded Arcee that, without his first upgrade, he was still very much a fledgling. He wanted to get away from Battletrap as fast as possible but could not, in good conscious, leave Flywheels alone. “If you know the code, open the door.” The Duocon leaned in, tilting his head in a way Arcee would’ve deemed impossible given the placement of his rotary assembly. “Please.”
“He won’t come out.” Battletrap repeated, vocalizer tight and high and crackling around the edges. “You’ll only make it worse for him.”
“Worse how? What’s wrong with him? Open the door.”
Battletrap continued to look at the other mech in that strange, tilted way of his and Arcee thought he’d refuse to unlock the door. Surprisingly he went to the control panel and his quick fingers danced over the combination. He smiled wide to himself, as if he were about to show Arcee the greatest joke he’d ever known.
With a subtle hiss of hydraulics, the door opened. Arcee quickly stepped in to assess the situation. All he saw was a mech- Flywheels –slouched on a berth with his hands clamped tight over the curve of his helmet. His optic visor flickered rapidly and small, almost soundless pleas fell from his mouth component. “Shut up,” he whispered into the empty space between his arms, “shut up shut up please shut up.”
“Congratulations.” Battletrap’s words were more of a hiss through his intakes than purred through his engine. “You’ve caught him in one of his more lucid moments.”
“What do you mean?” Arcee asked, horrified at the site of a mech clearly on the last vestiges of sanity. “What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s his different components. They don’t mesh together.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
Battletrap merely peered into the room from the doorway and Arcee slowly approached Flywheels, uncertain what to do. “His jet and armored vehicle modes. Their separate processors don’t mesh. They’re arguing. Inside his head. Constantly.” His grin spread even further over his faceplates. “They hate each other. The only way to get them to stop fighting is to transform. But if he does, his two halves will probably never rejoin and then what’s left of him will be lost.”
Arcee whirled around. “Does anyone know about this? Jhiaxus, Thunderwing- they can-“
“Do you really think they care?” His expression turned bemused. “They were the ones that did this to us. We’re just experiments to them. Whatever doesn’t work out the way they want just gets tossed aside- outright destroyed or left to rot in this jail.”
“This isn’t a jail.” But Arcee’s voice wasn’t certain of itself. They were the same words Big Daddy had told him more than once, words that Arcee didn’t believe because he didn’t want to. Neither did he want to believe in them now.
“Oh no?” Battletrap shifted his weight, as if he was about to step in but he made no move forward. “Have you ever been back up to the surface since you were brought down here? Or contacted anyone. Or told about what’s going on out there? We’re not just failures and prisoners down here. We’re freaks. And we’re below Jhiaxus’s attention.” He lifted his head, jutting his chin towards Flywheels who was now crying softly to himself.
“Flywheels was here before me. Instead of trying to fix his warring components, Jhiaxus got annoyed and bored and decided to start the process over again.” A grin fluctuated over his faceplates again. “But I wasn’t considered stable enough. Because I couldn’t perform to expectations, Jhiaxus scrapped the Duocon project all together. And he just left the two of us to wander around on our own until we decide to junk ourselves.” Battletrap tossed his head like a shrug. “That’s the only existence you can look forward to from here on out. You can live as a useless freak, locked away from prying eyes, slowly going mad. Or you can kill yourself and end it all.”
Arcee shook his head, unable to accept that. “No. You’re wrong. The Micromasters are capable enough to survive on their own.”
Battletrap’s engine roared with laughter. It caused Flywheels to jump and shrink further into himself. “They’re not going anywhere. They’re utterly useless. The only reason why they exist at all is because Jhiaxus wanted to see if he could do it.”
“I don’t believe any of that.”
“You don’t have to.” Battletrap grinned widely as he stepped back into the hall. “But it’s still the truth.”
Special thanks to
meallanmouse for being my beta and littlecafei for prodding me to finish this.Title: Do You Know What it Feels like ~Chapter 1~
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4168
Characters: Arcee, Jhiaxus, Thunderwing, Micromasters, Duocons
Summary: IDW 'verse. Mad scientists, gender bending and creating one's own downfall. The new test subject and the ones that were tossed aside.
~*~*~*~
“Girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short, wear shirts and boots, because it’s okay to be a boy, but for a boy to look like a girl is degrading, because you think that being a girl is degrading. But secretly you’d love to know what it’s like, wouldn’t you? What it feels like for a girl?”
-Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Cement Garden
~*~*~*~
Thunderwing met the newcomer at the main entrance of Jhiaxus’s lab. Curtly he instructed the mech to follow him into the central lift where Thunderwing popped open a panel and coded in something his large shoulders blocked from view. It didn’t take Thunderwing’s companion long to realize he was being taken to a place that- if one’s existence was limited to all that was marked on maps –didn’t exist.
The young mech fidgeted. He was nearing the end of his fledgling years, had learned all his basic skills and probably would have a fairly promising future in the Autobot Security Force as field intel. He was old enough to have developed a sense of self but had yet to even be given his first upgrade, still small and slender with nothing more than his bare protoframe. Thunderwing couldn’t recall his own days in a similar configuration, couldn’t even remember what the rudimentary designs of a protoframe’s alt mode looked like. He had long ago deemed the memories unimportant and deleted them in order to make room for more pressing data.
“Sir,” the young mech asked with a voice like his stature- thin and tight with anticipation, “I’m not entirely certain why I was called here.”
“You were called here because Jhiaxus believes you would be most useful helping him with a new project.”
“What kind of project, exactly? I was under the impression I was going to be fitted with one of the new triplechanger transformation cogs.”
Thunderwing barely held back from scoffing and instead smiled indulgently. “The triplechanger cogs will be predominantly for infantry units once it’s been perfected. The Security Force has a full roster of volunteers for that particular piece of tech. Exactly what it is you will undergo I am not yet at liberty to say. But rest assured- if it is as successful as we hope, it will drastically change the way we categorize each branch of our race.”
Such a simple, vague lie that Thunderwing had told every new subject as they came down this very lift and it worked now as well as it had every time prior. The small mech’s optics brightened and he stood tall, practically thrumming with excitement as the lift finally slowed.
“You are permitted anywhere on sub-level 4.” Thunderwing told him. The doors opened and the newcomer stepped out. Thunderwing didn’t. “It will be some time before Jhiaxus calls to meet with you. I suggest you take that time to settle and acquaint yourself with the level. There are plenty of empty rooms for you to choose as your quarters.”
Blatant hesitation at the thought of being left along in a strange new place gleamed dully behind his optics. “Is anyone else here?”
“There are a few other subjects. You may interact with them or not, as you choose. That’s your decision to make.” With a smile that wasn’t meant to comfort, just to be there, Thunderwing said before the lift doors slid shut, “For now, welcome to your new home, Arcee.”
~*~*~*~
It was several cycles before Arcee was finally called in to meet with Jhiaxus for the first time. The scientist was just as intimidating and distant and cold as Arcee had imagined and the young mech sat quietly as fluid samples were taken to be analyzed. For the most part Jhiaxus merely asked Arcee questions about some of the details regarding his construction and specialized skillsets he was programmed with. Just as precisely, Arcee answered each as best he could.
Until Jhiaxus finally asked, “You’ve found a room to serve as your new quarters, correct?”
“Yessir.” It was the first empty room Arcee had come across. He wasn’t looking for much. Doubted he’d even be down in the lab for too long anyway. He had his training to begin soon, after all.
“I suppose you explored your new surroundings a bit as well.”
“I did look around a little, yessir.”
“Did you come across anything you had questions about?” Cybertronians were curious by nature, many seemingly having trouble recognizing when to leave something alone. Jhiaxus didn’t ask because he wanted to show off any of his work (though it was an added bonus) but because he recognized this curiosity was what made advancements and deemed encouraging it was the only way to further themselves.
Arcee hesitated, optics darkening momentarily. “I… I did see something rather odd…”
“Ask what you want. I’ll answer as best I can.” It wasn’t as if there was anything dangerous or abhorrent on sub-level 4. It housed all those that would have the easiest time reintegrating with common society. The levels below, however, held much darker, dire creatures that could only be called ‘abominations’ out of kindness.
“There- I saw… these tiny mechs. They looked like any other Cybertronian but they were,” Arcee brought his hands together, trying to pantomime their tiny stature, “they were so small!”
Jhiaxus smiled lightly to himself. “Ah, the Micromasters.”
“Micromasters?”
“That was Thunderwing’s naming convention.” Jhiaxus thought it was a rather silly name that made little sense at all. “They’re an attempt in energon conservation.”
Arcee cocked his head to the side. “I was not aware there was an energon shortage.”
“There isn’t. This is more of a safety measure. If it should come to pass, we now have the technology to deal with it instead of struggling with both the shortage and finding a solution.”
“The construction plans for Minibots was just recently approved, though. Would they begin construction on Micromasters so soon?”
Jhiaxus moved behind Arcee, opening up a panel along his helmet and plugging in some strange device the young mech couldn’t identify. “They weren’t created, they were transferred.”
Arcee’s optics widened. “Transferred?”
“They were all once full-sized mechs.”
When Arcee tried to turn around, Jhiaxus made a sharp, threatening noise, keeping him still. “They really are mechs? Fully functioning mechs?”
“Yes.” This time Jhiaxus’s reply came out somewhat terse, annoyed that Arcee didn’t seem capable of understanding such a simple concept. “Their bodies and internal functions were reconstructed into smaller versions. Asides from physical ability stemming from the change in size and mass, they are nearly as fully capable as they were before the change.”
“To be able to fit an entire cranial unit into such a small feature. With all that information and intricate workings-“ Jhiaxus couldn’t see it, but he could hear the excited gleam in Arcee’s vocalizer, “all the things that could be allotted to! The possibilities to advance our tech is astounding.”
Ah, now that was something that got Jhiaxus smiling thinly to himself. Knowing someone else could see the potential in all that he did, could understand what he did was to further knowledge and inspire change. He unhooked the port to Arcee’s head. “You may go.”
The young mech stood up, none of his sensors returning any notable change. “Yessir. When will you need me again?”
He just waved a hand, indicating Arcee to leave even as he turned away to busy himself with his equipment. “You will be called.” The conversation now over, Arcee had little other option but to leave.
~*~*~*~
Arcee’s steps were careful and measured, moving slowly enough for his sensors to pick up any potential movement at any given size. His objective ended up finding him instead, barreling down the hall and heading straight at him in streaks of black, orange, green and white.
“Hey!” He called to the four tiny roadsters, moving in their collective way. “Hey! Hang on a klik!”
In reply, the green and white vehicles slammed into the side of Arcee’s foot hard enough to make him yelp and jerk back. The other two shot around him unhindered.
“Wait!” Arcee yelled, stumbling after them a few steps. “I want to talk to you!”
To his surprise, the four swung around and drifted to a stop. “Yeah- well we don’t wanna talk to you!” The green one shot back.
“You made it pretty clear what you thought of us the first time around.” The orange growled, engine roaring in the hall. “So why don’t you save us your redundancy and get slagged?”
“I want to apologize.”
The engines lowered to a dull, curious rumble. Arcee took this as encouragement to continue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were mechs, I didn’t know anyone had that kind of technology to do something so… impossible. I mean, when I thought you were simply well-constructed automatons I was impressed, but now that I know what you really are I’m… well, I’m awed, really.”
The four stayed quiet and Arcee could feel them eyeing him with a measure of distrust. Eventually the black vehicle eased in front of the others. “Obviously you’re new.” He told the mech. “We know that much, so we can forgive you for that. Only this once.”
“I’m Arcee.” They already knew this, just as Arcee already knew who they were. Their sensors had picked up the designations and functions of each other the instant they were in range, but formally introducing themselves was an acknowledgement, allowing the others to be more familiar or to ask questions. ‘I give you permission to know who I am’.
“Big Daddy.” The black one said. “These are Greaser, Trip-Up and Hubs.” The orange, white and green cars behind him rumbled in turn.
“How long have you been down here?”
“Too damn long.”
The bitterness and angry rev of his engine told Arcee he didn’t want to press on that line of questions. “Is there anyone else on this sub-level besides us?”
The four Micromasters seemed to confer for a moment, Trip-Up chuckling darkly through his engine.
“There’s two others that are on this level.” Big Daddy said. “The Duocons, Battletrap and Flywheels. You want to keep thinking you won’t be losing your sanity, don’t talk to Flywheels. You want to keep thinking you’re not going to regret ever coming here, don’t talk to Battletrap.”
Before Arcee could ask another question, Big Daddy spun around and led the other three away.
~*~*~*~
Arcee had been called into the labs three more times, once within five cycles of the last and once by Thunderwing when Jhiaxus wasn’t available. Arcee preferred dealing with the assistant; the scientist was too detached, too intimidating and most of Arcee’s questions were answered in short, clipped tones if they were deemed important enough to answer at all.
“You weren’t brought here for conversation,” Thunderwing explained once, “but to participate in an experiment. All questions you may have regarding what’s being done to you will be explained in due time. Jhiaxus prefers to focus entirely on his work.”
While Thunderwing would explain the basics of what he was doing as he worked on Arcee, he wouldn’t talk about what was going on beyond the underground lab. The young mech couldn’t understand why he was so cut-off from current events but when he asked Jhiaxus, the scientist would just glare in that icy-stone way of his. Thunderwing explained that outside information was an uncontrolled variable that could corrupt the delicate chemical levels in the cranial unit. With how ready and even the answer was, Arcee had to wonder how much of that was true and how much was a stock response.
Outside the lab, he and the Micromasters tended to steer clear of each other. Not out of hate or fear, Arcee didn’t want to insult them anymore than he already had by following them around (no matter how much he wanted to talk to someone not elbow deep in his head) and the Micromasters straight out distrusted him as they did all full-sized mechs. They didn’t want to be involved with anyone who they didn’t know the end results of their modifications. From what little they implied, it almost sounded as if there were others inaccessible on the lower levels.
Arcee, however, didn’t feel any differently. All his diagnostics hadn’t changed since his arrival and he still felt in full capacity. He didn’t even know why he was there at all.
“Of course not,” Big Daddy had told him once, “do you think we volunteered to be shrunk to this size?”
“Then why would he do it?”
The tiny black mech gave him a long, measured look. “Why does anyone do anything? Because they can. Or, in his case, to see if he could.”
Arcee had shaken his head vehemently. He may not be certain of Jhiaxus’s motives, but he refused to believe there wasn’t an actual reason behind what he did. “No. I’m sure the things he does are for an applicable cause.”
“If you want to call it that.” Came the sarcastic retort. “Minibots didn’t come first. How’s that for application?”
And so, Arcee didn’t talk to the Micromasters much. Big Daddy was the only one that was in any way willing to hold a conversation, Greaser and Hubs were good for short exchanges and Trip-Up would just rumble angrily until Arcee left. The few times he spoke to Big Daddy, questions kept surfacing which Arcee didn’t want to think about, so he kept his distance.
His natural curiosity however, had Arcee seeking out these Duocons that Big Daddy had mentioned. On occasions his scanners would flicker momentarily, just long enough for him to sense someone was there, but not enough for his sensors to return with any information on who it was. These Duocons seemed to be hiding from him and when he asked Thunderwing how many mechs stayed on sub-level 4, the assistant told him:
“You, the four Micromasters and the two Duocons. That is all.”
“And who stays on the levels beyond?”
Thunderwing watched him with cryptic, impassive green optics. “That is of no concern of yours.”
As time went on Arcee began noticing that the momentary blips were reoccurring more and more, just long enough for his sensors to pick up a hint of information. The Micromasters, by then, stayed as far away from Arcee as they could and threatened him when the young mech followed them, trying to get someone to answer him.
“But what does this mean?”
“It means you’re being toyed with,” Big Daddy had snapped when Arcee finally managed to corner him. “Stay away from us. We’ve had more than enough of that crazy slagger!”
That ‘crazy slagger’, from what mismatched information Arcee’s sensors picked up, was one of the Duocons, the name coming back as ‘Battletrap’. He didn’t know what a Duocon was and Battletrap never stayed in range long enough for the information to be filtered to him. Mostly Arcee would read just one signal, yet sometimes he’d read two, both of them coming back with the name ‘Battletrap’.
“What are these Duocons?” He demanded of Thunderwing, his time away from the labs being filled with phantom blips and the sound of blades churning through distant air in one direction, squealing tires from another and the same name coming from both.
“Prototypes.” Thunderwing said simply, keying something into Arcee’s cranial unit. Jhiaxus, it seemed, was being called away more and more often by Nova Prime. “They were Jhixaus’s first response to the demand of having a mech with two alt modes.”
“So they are like triplechangers?”
“No. Duocons have two modes like us: standard and alt.”
Arcee growled in irritation. He’d been getting less and less answers the longer he stayed, the more he asked. “You said they had two.”
“Whereas triplechangers can change between three different modes, Duocons have two different alt modes that, when joined together, form one complete mech.”
“They split into two separate alt modes?”
“That’s correct.”
Arcee’s fingers tapped out a rapid tattoo against the surface of the chair he sat in. “The Micromasters do not like them.”
“The Micromasters don’t trust normal sized mechs.”
“Why are they here? The Micromasters and Duocons?” He asked tersely. The changes in Arcee’s chemical balance made Thunderwing frown, unable to continue with his inputting while they kept fluctuating the way they were. “What’s their purpose? If there are applications for the technology they were experimented with, what about them? Why are they still here?”
The assistant stifled an annoyed rumble of air in his vents and instead unplugged the input cord from Arcee’s cranial unit. With the increase in internal pressure and temperature, he wouldn’t be able to do anything more without running the risk of corrupting data. Had Jhiaxus been present, he would’ve berated Thunderwing for allowing Arcee to get worked up- that was why Jhiaxus limited uncontrolled influences to his test subjects as much as possible. “They’re here because they’ve not been perfected. Jhiaxus still needs to observe and correct any problems they may have.”
“Then why does he keep creating more of these experiments?” The young mech watched Thunderwing putting the tech in their proper containers with angry optics. “Should he not perfect one experiment before starting another?”
“If that were the way science worked,” came the clipped retort, “then wouldn’t all scientist work on one problem at a time instead of spreading their talents on different ideas?”
“That is not the same thing-“
“That is very much the same thing.” He turned, optics narrowed and expression impatient. “That is all for now, Arcee. You may leave.”
For a stretched moment he hesitated, words floating behind his faceplates and wanting to escape and bite out the frustrations that were slowly building up inside. But he kept them lashed back, slide out of the chair and out of the door. As Arcee moved down the hall, he transformed and went off to find this Battletrap. Though his protoframe alt mode was still so small, fragile and slow without any upgrades, it was still quicker to traverse distances on wheels than by foot. The halls were set in long, sloping corridors, wide enough for construction-sized mechs to drive through and completely dwarfed Arcee. The echo of his engine hummed off the pale, sterilized walls, washed-out by the overhead lighting. Though he knew he wouldn’t be able to run down a fully upgraded mech, Arcee wouldn’t stop trying even though the slight fluctuations in his perimeter scans made it clear Battletrap was playing with him.
Arcee had never been down to this end of the level, mainly because the Micromasters refused to go there. But now he charged in headlong, wanting someone to answer his questions, slaggit. Battletrap continued to flicker in two different grids of Arcee’s sensors and the young mech could’ve sworn he heard laughter drifting out around him.
He didn’t even know how he was supposed to catch Battletrap, or even what exactly he’d do once he found this Duocon. There was surely a reason he didn’t stay down around the labs. Maybe he wasn’t a stable as Arcee hoped.
And then he saw it. Not Battletrap, but the other one. The other one. Arcee’s scans came back with the information that would’ve had him recycling the data feed if he hadn’t already known what to expect.
Duocon Flywheels. A jet and an armored vehicle. The rest of the information was nothing but an incoherent jumble of words. Most of what he got were angry stems of ‘useless’, ‘arrogant’ and ‘wasted on that scrap heap’. It nearly drowned out what almost felt like a distress signal. Arcee revved his engine and tried to press faster than he was already rolling. Whatever was going on, Flywheels was in trouble and Arcee wasn’t programmed to ignore someone he could help.
Flywheels’s energy signature was coming from one of the many rooms lining the corridor. Arcee transformed as he came upon it. The door was windowless and didn’t open to his presence. He tried to key the lock, but was denied at every attempt. He tried to comm Flywheels but his pings weren’t being accepted, tried pounding on the door, but the only noise he could strain to hear was some faint shuffling sounds and whimpered pleas. Arcee pounded harder, desperate to get inside.
“He won’t come out.”
The mech jumped, whirling about to see a huge blue and white mech behind him, an unstable leer under a blue visor that seemed hungry and disgusted at the same time. Battletrap, Arcee’s sensors said. He’d been too determined to get to Flywheels to pay attention to his scanners. He had finally found Battletrap and now that he had, Arcee was too wary of that twitching smirk to want to know anything more about him.
“Open the door.” He said weakly. He couldn’t see Battletrap’s optics but he could feel the way he was being sized up. It actually reminded Arcee that, without his first upgrade, he was still very much a fledgling. He wanted to get away from Battletrap as fast as possible but could not, in good conscious, leave Flywheels alone. “If you know the code, open the door.” The Duocon leaned in, tilting his head in a way Arcee would’ve deemed impossible given the placement of his rotary assembly. “Please.”
“He won’t come out.” Battletrap repeated, vocalizer tight and high and crackling around the edges. “You’ll only make it worse for him.”
“Worse how? What’s wrong with him? Open the door.”
Battletrap continued to look at the other mech in that strange, tilted way of his and Arcee thought he’d refuse to unlock the door. Surprisingly he went to the control panel and his quick fingers danced over the combination. He smiled wide to himself, as if he were about to show Arcee the greatest joke he’d ever known.
With a subtle hiss of hydraulics, the door opened. Arcee quickly stepped in to assess the situation. All he saw was a mech- Flywheels –slouched on a berth with his hands clamped tight over the curve of his helmet. His optic visor flickered rapidly and small, almost soundless pleas fell from his mouth component. “Shut up,” he whispered into the empty space between his arms, “shut up shut up please shut up.”
“Congratulations.” Battletrap’s words were more of a hiss through his intakes than purred through his engine. “You’ve caught him in one of his more lucid moments.”
“What do you mean?” Arcee asked, horrified at the site of a mech clearly on the last vestiges of sanity. “What’s wrong with him?”
“It’s his different components. They don’t mesh together.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
Battletrap merely peered into the room from the doorway and Arcee slowly approached Flywheels, uncertain what to do. “His jet and armored vehicle modes. Their separate processors don’t mesh. They’re arguing. Inside his head. Constantly.” His grin spread even further over his faceplates. “They hate each other. The only way to get them to stop fighting is to transform. But if he does, his two halves will probably never rejoin and then what’s left of him will be lost.”
Arcee whirled around. “Does anyone know about this? Jhiaxus, Thunderwing- they can-“
“Do you really think they care?” His expression turned bemused. “They were the ones that did this to us. We’re just experiments to them. Whatever doesn’t work out the way they want just gets tossed aside- outright destroyed or left to rot in this jail.”
“This isn’t a jail.” But Arcee’s voice wasn’t certain of itself. They were the same words Big Daddy had told him more than once, words that Arcee didn’t believe because he didn’t want to. Neither did he want to believe in them now.
“Oh no?” Battletrap shifted his weight, as if he was about to step in but he made no move forward. “Have you ever been back up to the surface since you were brought down here? Or contacted anyone. Or told about what’s going on out there? We’re not just failures and prisoners down here. We’re freaks. And we’re below Jhiaxus’s attention.” He lifted his head, jutting his chin towards Flywheels who was now crying softly to himself.
“Flywheels was here before me. Instead of trying to fix his warring components, Jhiaxus got annoyed and bored and decided to start the process over again.” A grin fluctuated over his faceplates again. “But I wasn’t considered stable enough. Because I couldn’t perform to expectations, Jhiaxus scrapped the Duocon project all together. And he just left the two of us to wander around on our own until we decide to junk ourselves.” Battletrap tossed his head like a shrug. “That’s the only existence you can look forward to from here on out. You can live as a useless freak, locked away from prying eyes, slowly going mad. Or you can kill yourself and end it all.”
Arcee shook his head, unable to accept that. “No. You’re wrong. The Micromasters are capable enough to survive on their own.”
Battletrap’s engine roared with laughter. It caused Flywheels to jump and shrink further into himself. “They’re not going anywhere. They’re utterly useless. The only reason why they exist at all is because Jhiaxus wanted to see if he could do it.”
“I don’t believe any of that.”
“You don’t have to.” Battletrap grinned widely as he stepped back into the hall. “But it’s still the truth.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 08:40 am (UTC)man, this is really good and well written. That impending sense of doom is pretty damn awesome.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 06:29 pm (UTC)I'm glad you like it and I'm glad the suspense works. I think that's one of the hardest things to do o.O;;
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 02:13 pm (UTC):D
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 06:30 pm (UTC)And I swear I'll get to your 'thank you' drabble... sometime <.< >.>
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 06:33 pm (UTC)Except when I decide to torment you and ask for more. ;)
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 04:49 pm (UTC)I agree that the impending sense of doom combined with Arcee's total naivety make a chilling but awesome read.
I can't wait to see more of this.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 06:37 pm (UTC)I'm glad you like it!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 05:47 pm (UTC)This is fantastic so far! I'm really feeling creeped out by reading this. Keep up the great work! :D
no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-06 10:52 pm (UTC)I'm also glad to hear that Thunderwing and Jhiaxus seem plausible as everyone knows what a characterization wh0re I am^^;;