Night.
He’s awakened by the sound of some tetrajets buzzing the district overhead. Hot-shot fighter jocks who should know better.
Clump clump clump clump.
Kitchen. Refrigerator.
*creak*
The light comes on, he takes out a can of 40 weight, heads back to the recharger, stopping to shut the refrigerator on his way, and finding peace in the way the light blinked out just before he closed the door.
And so it goes.
---
Across town, two very stupid robots are playing a dangerous game. Let’s call the first one ‘Bob’. Let’s call the second one ‘Starscream.’
Now, I’m not saying the second one IS Starscream, nor that Starscream is stupid, just that the second bot is acting in very much the manner that you’d expect Starscream to act.
...
Okay, maybe I AM calling Starscream stupid.
---
*bzzrt*
Morning. Brown out. Must be something wrong with the power relays.
Soundwave levered himself out of the recharging station with a heavy sigh. He couldn’t go on-line because he was fully rested could he? No, it always had to be something awakening him.
Clump clump clump clump.
Kitchen. Refrigerator.
*creak*
The light came on, he contemplated the dismal contents of the frige. He needed to go shopping.
The lights flickered again. There’s a sudden *pop* and the light in the refrigerator goes out.
Impossible, he has not closed the door yet. He must be mistaken. He eyed the lightbulb disapprovingly, willing it to light again. It stared back at it, its dangling filament mocking him... uh.... mockingly. ‘Not this time’ it seemed to say. ‘Not gonna light up for you.’ ‘Get a haircut.’
Smart-ass bulb, he should have replaced it last year, there was a sale... Soundwave let his mind drift back to simpler times. Times of shopping and sales and lightbulbs that didn’t talk back and lit up obediently when they ought to...
He considered closing the refrigerator. Then the light would be out, and the refrigerator would be closed, and all would be right with the world. Of course, if he did that, next time he opened the refrigerator the light would not go on, and that would be bad. He could always leave the refrigerator closed. But then he’d need someplace to store his perishables. Maybe Frenzy’s room. He could move all of the tape’s stuff out into the hall before he got back and later claim he didn’t know how they’d gotten there.
A light film of condensation was beginning to form on his knees from the open refrigerator. He stared at it menacingly. No result. He reached out and tapped the bulb hopefully. Damn. No, it was good and out....
The windows rattled as some tetrajets buzzed the district overhead.
The mecho-cabbage was begining to wilt. He frowned. No, he would not close the door. That would be a concession, and Decepticons did NOT give ground, not even to the inanimate. That was one of the POINT of the whole movement!
Rummaging in the cupboard, he found a ruler of the right size to prop the refrigerator door open and left a note on it. ‘Do not close me.’
Gently, he pulled the defiant lightbulb from it’s socket with a twist, and left his apartment.
---
Supply
The Autobot stared back at him blankly.
Soundwave once again produced the lightbulb, made a screwing gesture, shook his head, it didn’t work.
Had he tried tapping the bulb? Yes he had.
Because sometimes that helps. Yes, sometimes it does, it didn’t this time though.
You’d be surprised how often-
He walked out.
Morons.
---
Decepticon Movement District Headquarters
Soundwave jerked up nervously in front of the rec-room refrigerator as a pair of tetrajets walked in. Had then seen him eyeing the lightbulb in the refrigerator? Planning to replace it with his burnt out one? As casually as he could while eyeing the two jets, he took a package from the refrigerator and closed it, noting the crisp, wonderful moment as the light went out right before the door closed. He sat down at one of the tables and tried to look casual as he examined his purloined lunch. Ugh. Tuna.
One of the jets, the red and grey one, saw him and hushed the other, looking at him with arched brow. He casually made his way over to the table where Soundwave was eating, stopping to buy a refreshment from a vending machine with a practiced casualness that didn’t fool Soundwave.
He knew. The other one probably did too. Grimly, he calculated his odds of being able to kill the both of them, steal the lightbulb, and escape undetected. He’d need to erase any logs of his arrival...
The red and gray one sat down next to him with an easy grin. “Hello.” he leaned over to read the name written on the paper bag Soundwave had appropriated from the frige. “...Skywarp is it?”
Yes. He stared ahead with a studied indiffence. Don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact, don’t make- damn.
The red one gestured for his companion, a light blue jet, to join them. “Right, Skywarp... I was just telling my friend here about this morning...”
Oh?
The other jet sat down, noticed the name on Soundwave’s lunch, and glanced at the red one, who in turn shrugged in a ‘so what’ manner. He turned back to Soundwave. “Yes, this morning. Have you logged on to the cybernet today?”
He had not. He hoped he hadn’t missed something important. A declaration of war, a 50% off sale, John Tesh’s latest dissertation on the fundamental truth of the Decepticon way... he hated being out of the loop.
“Well if you had...” he exchanged a smirk with his companion, “You’d have heard about the latest egg on the face of the Autobot high command. It seems some as-yet- unidentified Autobot, let’s call him Bob, decided to commit suicide by jumping into one of the transmission towers at the district power relay. Caused system-wide brownouts and surges all morning. Quite messy.”
Curious. The sound of the bulb popping out as the lights flickered echoed in his mind.
The red and gray bot leaned forward, face resting in his hands and elbows on the table. “Howso?”
Soundwave finished his sandwich before replying. To jump into the Transmission Tower, one would have to be right above it. Autobots can’t fly. He paused. And given the kind of power involved, he wouldn’t think a positive ID, Autobot or Decepticon, would be possible.
The red one grinned double-wide, showing all his teeth. “Oh trust me, it was an Autobot alright. Screamed all the way down too.”
Soundwave considered this. Fascinating. He got up, moved to the refrigerator, removed the lightbulb from the door with the other two jets watching, and left- brushing by another black and purple jet entering the room as he left.
---
Frenzy returned home to find Soundwave sitting morosely in his chair, staring at the open refrigerator.
He looked at Soundwave, looked at the refrigerator. It appeared quite defrosted, and the mecho-cabbage was on its last legs. He scratched the back of his head.
---
“Ha ha. Very funny guys.”
Across town, the black and purple tetrajet got up from the table and headed over to the refrigerator. “Man I’m starved. Hhh. Light’s out.” A pause. “Who the fuck stole my lunch?”
---
Frenzy returned to the kitchen. Soundwave hadn’t moved, and the kitchen was starting to get a little chilly as the refrigerator motor chugged to work overtime with the door propped open. Frenzy shivered, looked at Soundwave, whom he noticed was holding a small lightbulb in his hand, rolling it gently and contemplatively between his thumb and his forefinger as he stared intently at the refrigerator.
Shrugging, Frenzy pulled up a chair and sat down to watch the refrigerator, this could take awhile.
---
Across town.
Shockwave, second in command of the entire Decepticon movement, entered the rec room with a critical eye, observing the three conspirital tetrajets eating lunch in the corner. Such intra-unit bonding was good for morale. He approved.
He opened the refrigerator. “Light’s out.”
A pause.
“Who took my lunch?”
On the other size of the room, Skywarp sank down in his seat.
---
Frenzy kicked his feet idly in the air, tired of counting the number of drips of water coming from the refrigerator. He stretched, looked at Soundwave, who was still staring intently at the refrigerator.
Frenzy blew out a breath and cleared his throat. “Uh, Soundwave? Do you know why my stuff’s all out in the hall?”
---
Suppply
The Autobot looked down at the lightbulb before him, puzzled.
This lightbulb is fine. Yes, of course this lightbulb is fine, this is the replacement.
The lightbulb seems to work sir. Yes, I know it works.
If you’d like, I could test it- make sure it works-
Soundwave reached out, grappled the Autobot by the collar, and threw him over his shoulder, achieving some nice air given the Autobot’s mass, getting him clear over to pet supplies.
Casually reached over and pinged the ‘please ring for help’ bell.
---
Bombshell walked into the rec-room, throwing off a salute for Commander Shockwave and a scowel for the three tetrajets decked out on the sofa who were watching him with intent interest. The insecticon mistrusted their interest, it made him nervous somehow.
Still nervous, he walked over to the refrigerator. Hhh. The light was out. He frowned, waitaminute...
“Who stole my lunch?”
Across the room, Commander Shockwave stood up and proudly proclaimed. “I stole your lunch.” He fixed Bombshell with his monocular glare.
“Oh.” Bombshell waited a beat, “Well, carry on then.” His stomach rumbled. He looked back into the refrigerator.
---
Supply
The Autobot’s supervisor looked at the light bulb Soundwave showed him.
“Hrm. This appears to be in working order.”
Soundwave showed him the other one.
“No, this one is burnt out.” The Autobot tapped it a few times. “Did you try jiggling it?”
Jiggling did not help.
“Hrm. A pity. You’d be surprised how often-”
It didn’t help.
“Yes, well, you’re rather fortunate to have a replacement on hand then, aren’t you?”
Soundwave pointed, first at one, then the other.
The Autobot stared at them for a long moment, then held them up to the light and sighed. “Oh my.”
The threads were going the opposite directions.
---
Frenzy walked into the rec room, and stopped. Arrayed at various tabled, couches, chairs, and in the back where there was no room, STANDING, were no fewer than twenty-seven transformers. He counted two tripple changers an insecticon no fewer than seven tetrajets Commander Shockwave, the entire Combaticon force, three Constructicons and eight various and sundry others. Not eating, not talking, just sitting, silently, and staring. First at him, then their gaze shifting, as one, to the refrigerator, then back.
Frenzy stopped, turned, and also stared at the refrigerator. It stood there refrigerating dutifully.
He took a few tentative steps towards it, feeling the eyes of the room on him. Nervously he grabbed the handle. Why were they watching him? Was the refrigerator booby trapped? Had they all planned this? This silent demonstration of social pressure, forcing him to open the refrigerator and thus meet his doom? Where they ALL against him?
With an anguished cry, Frenzy wrenched open the refrigerator door and dove to the ground, covering his audio- receptors.
He blinked. No boom. He looked up.
The room stared back blankly. Then looked at the refrigerator.
Frenzy couldn’t help it, he looked up. “Hey, the-”
“LIGHT’S OUT!” echoed back twenty-seven voices.
---
Supply
The Autobot snapped the thick parts manual shut with a satisfied nod. “Yup. You’ve got a Cosgrove Model 9 Refrigerator.”
Yes, he’d told him that.
The Autobot leaned forward, a sentimental smile on his face. “You know, only five of them were ever made. Modified to take military parts you know- thus the backwards threads- never find ‘em in civilian equipment.”
Yes, fascinating. And?
He blinked. “And what?”
Could he requisition one?
“Well, yeah... hypothetically. Wouldn’t have to actually, got some in back.”
Soundwave smiled hopefully. Let there be Light!
“Now now, it ain’t that easy!”
---
You know, Frenzy thought as he munched down on someone else’s lunch, he could get into this. The whole refrigerator-watching thing. it was fairly relaxing, and there was a certain intensity in a room so totally focused on the existential paradox of refrigeration that was compelling.
Frenzy finished his chicken kiev and chucked the bag in the waste receptacle next to the one with his name on it. At least he’d traded up.
Now he settled in for a nice long round of camaraderie- building refrigerator watching.
In retrospect, it was surprising no one had come up with this earlier.
---
Supply.
“Y’see,” drawled the Autobot supervisor, “technically, Cosgrove type-3 lightbulbs are military equipment.”
Soundwave stared back at him. This was beginning to get dangerous.
“I CAN’T sign out military equipment to a Decepticon! Not even the lightbulb!”
Soundwave stared back at him.
“It’s not my choice! Look, I’d LIKE to give you the part, I really would! But it’s regulations! Now id you had a Cosgrove Type-3 Concussion Cannon that needed repairing I could give it to you with the proper forms, but you don’t! You have a Cosgrove Model 9 Refrigerator, and that’s a non-military application! It’s not covered by the regs!” The Autobot tried his best to look genuinely sorry. “I’m sorry.”
Soundwave sighed picked up his lightbulbs from the counter.
The Autobot again smiled apologetically, and removed the burnt-out one from his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to confiscate this. Military equipment you know. Regulations.”
Soundwave’s faceplate twitched. Wordlessly he spun on his heel and left.
Dispirited, the supervisor headed over to Pet Supplies.
---
Megatron was in full lecture mode. “And THAT is why we shall triumph! through unity! Through mutual support! Through a oneness of vision! the Decepticon Army is a community, we care for one another, we share resources, and we do NOT steal from one another!”
Megatron had come into the rec room to find forty-odd transformers gathered here silently, like something out of Village of the Damned. His first reaction had been to scream ‘Junta!’ and wax the one in front of him with a fusion cannon. Oh well, it had only been an Insecticon, there were more where he'd come from.
He turned to face the room, his face grim, and asked in his best interrogator's tone, “Now, with all that in mind, does anyone know what happened to my lunch?”
The room fidgeted nervously, no one wanting to speak first. In the back of the room Shockwave stared studiously off into space.
“Well?” demanded Megatron.
Behind him, the door to the rec-room slid open.
Soundwave, oblivious to the spectacle before him, marched past Megatron and made a beeline for the frige.
The room held its breath.
Soundwave opened the refrigerator and, totally unaware of the tension around him, removed the lightbulb he had ‘appropriated’ earlier and screwed it firmly into place. The refrigerator lit up pleasantly as a result. Experimentally, he shut the door, finding peace in the predictable just-so way that the light turned off just before the door closed. Open. Shut. Open. Shut. Ah, bliss.
He turned, and spotted the room full of Decepticons staring at him. Megatron included. Without missing a beat, he stepped up next to Megatron, and began to speak.
“My fellow Decepticons. We are transformers. We adapt. Like any race, we move out, expand into new territories, find new niches to fill, and prosper. For millennia the Autobots have sought to override this natural inclination of out species, to halt expansion. They wish us to stagnate. To them, this is a ‘good’ thing.
“And stagnant we have become. A cold peace has reigned over a period of increasing military production. This is not natural. When the needs of the many come up against the desires of the few there should be conflict- not talk- not compromise. By playing at diplomacy we are not waging war by other means, we are handing the Autobots their victory- because we ARE stagnant, and rot has begun to set in.
“Look at yourselves. Look at each other. We have become soft, complacent with petty revenges, embroiled in infighting over locked-in territories. We are crowding ourselves out.” His voice lowered. “We are Decepticons. We can FLY, and yet we no longer have room to do so.”
Total silence reigned in the room. He continued.
“In two cycles I plan to check out a Concussion Cannon from the armory. In ten, I will walk into the Autobot Supply Depot shooting. Why? Does it MATTER? I refuse to remain as I am. I refuse to rot here. Right now I offer you a choice. I am going, now. I expect to be dead within fifteen cycles. Choose wisely.”
He turned to leave, and was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Black black metal on a gray arm.
Megatron’s hand.
---
Soundwave’s apartment.
Dirty, battered, but for the first time in too long, unbent, Soundwave entered his kitchen, in his hand his prize. A Cosgrove type-3 lightbulb.
Reverently he reached into the refrigerator and screwed the lightbulb in, counter-clockwise.
The inside of the refrigerator lit up with a beautiful beautiful light.
Hhh. The mecho-cabbage had turned. It didn’t matter.
With a moment of joy in his heart, he closed the door, and found peace in the way the light blinked out just before he closed the door. He opened it, closed it, opened it.
Satisfied, he closed the refrigerator and sat back in his rickety chair and shut off his optics, listening to the soothing sound of his Cosgrove Model 9 Refrigerator refrosting.
Yes, life was good.
And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard the motor die.
Sigh.