Disclaimer: Obviously any recognizable part of the Transformers universe isn't mine. I'm not connected to Hasbro or Takara in any way.
Note: I'm still busy, and yet I very much want to write again. It feels like too long. However, I'm afraid I feel like I've lost my rhythm and become rusty. So instead of tackling the next prompt for my Wheeljack stories, I decided to try writing a few music-inspired short stories to get back in the writing habit again. I'm not entirely satisfied with how these came out, and they could certainly use an editor's eye. Each song isn't an exact match for some of the themes covered, but it's where my muse went after hearing the music.
- Dividing Line - Dividing Line -
Rockstar
—Nickelback
Character focus: Starscream.
"This is ridiculous! I requisitioned those supplies orns ago and we still haven't received them!" Starscream yelled, bursting into the lab in full rant mode.
"Perhaps they were backlogged with numerous requests from the other researchers. Or they may have forgotten about it," Skyfire suggested in a mild tone, an attempt to soothe Starscream's ire.
"Still backlogged? After all this time?" Starscream shrieked indignantly. "If they have forgotten, perhaps I ought to refresh their memory!"
Before Starscream could leave to carry out his threat, his quarry came to him. The door slid open sedately while Starscream and Skyfire looked up expectantly. Finally the department head leaned into the lab, radiating pompous officiousness.
"I've noted several requests from you, Starscream, and not all of them were polite. As you are well aware, we have only a limited quantity of supplies to hand, which is becoming increasingly harder to restock every day. From there we must distribute our resources fairly."
"Ordinarily, I wouldn't dare to question your wise methods in this matter. And naturally, Roadblock, I should hate to allow you to display any hint of favoritism," Starscream crooned in a decidedly oily tone of voice. He placed one hand companionably on Roadblock's shoulder strut while he gestured grandly to the lab's interior with his other hand. "But there are extenuating circumstances of which you are unaware. And I implore you to please grant me leave to offer my humble hospitality while I clarify my position."
"I'll give you a moment of my time, Starscream. As long as you make it worth my while, of course," Roadblock said with a knowing smile. He sat down and took the energy rod Starscream offered him.
"Thank you. You won't regret it. I know that being such a busy and important member of this facility, taking the time to hear me out shows what extreme graciousness you possess," Starscream said, laying it on thick. His voice and manner were as sickening sweet as concentrated energon goodies.
"It's nice to finally meet someone who appreciates all that I do here." Roadblock made himself more comfortable on his stool as he said this.
Skyfire had turned back to his data pads when he realized that Starscream was going to handle things with their department head. However, he could not resist keeping an audio focused on their conversation. His interest increased when he heard about extenuating circumstances. Skyfire's helm jerked upward and he openly stared at the pair across the lab. He wondered what Starscream might reveal next.
Starscream's lip components spread into what looked like an evil smile. "Indeed. My proposal has the potential to deliver not only vast benefits and personal glory for you, but for this institution as well," Starscream promised.
Skyfire was puzzled. Since when did Starscream care so much about the research facility? Starscream was constantly complaining about them to him—at great length.
Roadblock's answering grin was full of greed. "Benefits? At last, some real benefits from your research? You have my complete attention."
"I appreciate the fact that the sciences can be…unpredictable at times. But I can assure you that your skepticism is unwarranted in this case. I've decided to head in an entirely new direction," Starscream said, pouring on the charm. His smile grew wider and even more sinister.
Skyfire's face plate registered his surprise. He hoped what he was now seeing in Starscream was only his imagination. This was the first time he had heard anything about their research going in a new direction.
"That's promising news, Starscream. I always thought there was little gain to be had in locating and examining new life forms."
"But there is an enormous amount of profit to be had in discovering new sources of energy. If someone were to help solve even a fraction of the energy shortage, why, it would be considered a heroic act. In these times of scarcity and uncertainty, he who controls the source of the raw energy can set the price as high as he'd like," Starscream declared confidently. He had his superior eating out of the palm of his hand.
"I like the way you think."
"Of course in such unsettled times, if someone were to develop a line of personal defense devices, that someone would become very rich indeed. Anyone who was forward-thinking enough to sponsor such a project would also become wealthy beyond imagining." Starscream leaned in as he spoke, his red optics gleaming bright.
Roadblock was entirely Starscream's now. His rapt expression held lust and admiration. "I can imagine a lot."
Starscream's voice shifted to one of deep regret. "Unfortunately, none of this can proceed without those little supplies I asked for." Starscream shook his helm in disappointment. "And that would be such a shame."
"Now that I understand what you want them for, I'm sure I could find some way to get you anything you require. I regret the previous delay, but there are certain priorities that I must take into consideration. But for a project such as this one, well, this changes everything!" Roadblock stood and pumped Starscream's hand, eager to be off. "I'll be in contact soon," he said as he left.
"Oh, I know you will." Starscream smirked in triumph.
"But what about the project we were working on?" Skyfire asked in concern.
Starscream paced impatiently to the large wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. He waved one hand dismissively behind him. "Don't worry Skyfire; I won't abandon your precious project. I'm merely expanding my work to include more practical things. Things that will finally get me noticed."
"Yet if you still intend for those supplies to be used for our current research, then isn't mentioning new projects a bit…misleading?"
"Oh please! I merely told him what he wanted to hear. And if I have my way, he'll get to see something new from me very soon. Do you think after all this time, he was suddenly going to give us what we needed out of the kindness of his spark?"
"Well, perhaps eventually—"
"Eventually?" Starscream shouted in disgust. He finally turned around to face Skyfire as he paced about the lab. "Is that what you're going to spend your existence doing, waiting around for 'eventually'? I want more out of life. I'm tired of sitting around in this second-rate facility, unrecognized and forgotten, having to beg for every scrap that comes my way."
When Skyfire did not respond, Starscream went back to staring at the city spread out below him. He rested his digits against the cool transparent aluminum and observed with a critical optic the frenzied activity taking place. Cybertronians streaked by on the seemingly tiny roads, leaving trails of light behind them in the darkness. He then looked up to the even brighter lights of the grand buildings that towered above him.
Frustration boiled within him. He knew he was meant for greater things. His brilliance was wasted here. As researchers cowered in this miserable place, unrest continued to surge through the streets. Power, fame, and glory were his for the taking, if only he would do something about it.
It's past time to make some changes in my life. Greatness comes to those willing to seize it. I will be a star in more than name only. Someday.
-END-
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Wake Up
—Alanis Morissette
Character focus: Huffer.
Night and day traded places many times in frantic work; each megacycle was filled with the constant tweaking of their construction plans. Huffer no longer kept track of the passage of time. His processor was consumed with other, more important matters. Normally he would be entirely focused upon the job at hand. Every 'bot pulling their full weight, each cog design checked and doubled checked, the entire mechanism working together in well-oiled synchronization. Such was the life of a construction engineer.
Now the rest of the team had to pick up the slack when Huffer became disinterested in their work. Curious and resentful glances were frequently cast in his direction. They just didn't understand what was happening to their planet like he did. They would call him an alarmist if they knew all the fears that kept him from recharge. They didn't believe.
"Well, it's finally finished. We're ready to begin phase one." Huffer thought that Hard Hat's statement was rather pointedly directed at him.
Huffer glanced at the project's completed plans. It would be exceptional, if only they could manage to scrounge together all the raw materials necessary to construct it. Each circuit their glorious planet Cybertron made around its star brought further proof of its slow decay. Shortages were reported in every sector, so that teams had to search further afield throughout their solar system for enough energy to keep them going. Why didn't the others see where they were headed? Hopelessness settled within his spark. He knew he was out of sync with the rest of them.
"Don't even know why we bother with this. It'll just fail in the end anyway. Waste of time and energy. Energy we don't have. We're starving ourselves enough as it is." Huffer couldn't stop the whiny tone in his voice.
"Do you ever see anything ending well? It's a beautiful, bright new day; rain isn't expected for at least five more orns. The raids in the beta sector are nothing but a distant memory, and this thing we're working on can help. I feel good about this project," Top Load declared.
"Weather's too hot. Rain could actually fix that, not that the climate monitoring stations are ever right. Of course, whenever it does rain my gears seize up. And you mark my words; the raiders will be back in no time. I don't know what's worse; them being here, or worrying about when they're going to show up next," Huffer complained.
"I've heard one of the factions has become organized. They're calling themselves Decepticons," Hauler muttered. "How can we hope to compete with a well-supplied force?"
"Enough! That's defeatist talk. Let's get to work doing something about it." Hard Hat took command of the group once more.
Huffer just grumbled to himself. He gathered his worn out tools sluggishly. If they all wanted to bury their heads up their afts, then let them. The retreat from their beloved home was inevitable. He missed Cybertron already, and it hadn't even happened yet. With that to look forward to, how could anyone be cheerful or optimistic ever again?
-END-
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Who Wants to Live Forever?
—Queen
Character focus: Bumblebee.
The Autobots were headed out to engage the Decepticons in another battle over the humans' natural resources. Although it was bound to be dangerous, Spike and Sparkplug had insisted on coming along. Spike took his usual place with Bumblebee, and Sparkplug rode along with Wheeljack. Optimus Prime led the convoy steadily through the monotonous desert landscape.
It suddenly occurred to Bumblebee how predictable his existence had become. There were brief periods of peace, supplemented by rigorous training exercises. Then like clockwork the Decepticons would cook up some crazy scheme to harm the Earth and defeat the Autobots. An intensive battle would ensue, with the occasion injuries on both sides. The end result, however, was always the same. A win for the Autobots, with a clean-up detail for their damaged surroundings.
Bumblebee was one of the youngest in the Ark. Yet he still had clear memories of the time before this pointless, never ending cycle of war and recuperation. His memories of Cybertron included happier occasions, and some hope for an eventual end to the conflict. He'd never asked Bluestreak about it directly. Still, he always thought that his friend remembered the way it was before too.
Now it seemed after a crash landing on Earth and a four million-year-long nap, they'd brought nothing but strife to this planet. He'd quickly come to love Earth, and counted his best friends among its inhabitants. But the greatest thing he had going right now, Spike, was suffering because of him. Bumblebee knew, however indirectly, he and the rest of the Autobots were to blame. Would Spike ever again know peace in his lifetime?
That thought brought him to musings on Spike's mortality. Human beings were so fragile. Compared to Cybertronians, their existence was over in an instant. This very battle could be Spike's last. At best, even with a full human lifespan, Bumblebee would have eons to look forward to without Spike. He suddenly dreaded this latest encounter, as fear and sadness took over his normally cheery outlook on life. Bumblebee fiercely wished there was something he could do to prevent Spike's eventual demise.
The endless dusty trek through the sand began to wear down Spike, too. "Bumblebee, I'm beat. I think I'll catch a few zees before we get there, okay?"
"Sure thing, Spike. Just leave the driving to me!" Bumblebee declared with false enthusiasm.
"Yeah, all right. Thanks, buddy," Spike said with a yawn. He then curled up the best he could while remaining buckled in his seat. His eyes soon drifted closed.
Bumblebee couldn't get away from his depressing thoughts. Perhaps a fresh perspective would help. "Hey, Wheeljack," Bumblebee called over a private comm. channel, "you ever think about our human friends, ya know, dying?"
"What?" Wheeljack sounded as if he had been miles away, instead of mere feet in front of Bumblebee on the road.
"Spike and Sparkplug. Chip and Carly. Raoul and Astoria…they aren't going to last forever. And with luck, we will. You ever think about what life's gonna be like without 'em?"
There was a pause over the line as Wheeljack unconsciously reduced his speed and thought Bumblebee's question over. "Ya know, you never can tell about these things. Anything could happen. Besides, Spike is young, Bumblebee. He's got a long life ahead a' him, for a human."
"Yeah, I guess." Bumblebee sounded unconvinced.
Another few moments and Wheeljack was back. "Sparkplug wanted ta know what got me quiet all of a sudden. I told him about what you told me—the humans' mortality an' all. He said not ta bury him yet!" Despite Wheeljack's chuckle, Bumblebee thought he detected something a little less upbeat in Wheeljack's speech.
Before he could think about this further, Ratchet's voice came over the general channel. "Come on, what's the hold up? I thought your alt. mode was a race car, 'Jack. You guys are starting to fall behind. I expect it of Bumblebee, but you?" Ratchet's tone carried an unmistakable challenge.
"Oh, yeah? Maybe I was only slowin' down so you could keep up!" Wheeljack countered smartly.
"Uh huh. Well, don't dawdle on my account. Any pace you can set I'll match, pal," Ratchet goaded.
"All right, let's do it!" Wheeljack shouted as he suddenly gunned his engine and took off. Ratchet, true to his word, gamely increased his speed, although much less gracefully than Wheeljack.
Since everyone had heard the exchange, the channel did not remain silent. "We're right behind you, Wheeljack!" Sideswipe called out.
"Though not for long!" Sunstreaker promised. The twins roared past Bumblebee with a spray of sand.
"How long do ya reckon Ratchet'll be able ta keep up?" Jazz conversationally speculated to the group. The consensus was not good for the doctor as laughter filtered through the air waves.
The good natured joking could not penetrate Bumblebee's brooding. His precious, fragile human companion slept peacefully on, unaware of the turn of his friend's thoughts. Bumblebee trained every sensor he could upon Spike, trying to commit Spike's image to his processor's memory forever.
-END-
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Symphony of Destruction
—Megadeth
Character focus: Soundwave.
Megatron was in his element. He could be very charming and very charismatic when he wanted to. Soundwave understood that clearly. The communications officer also understood all about biding his time and doing whatever was necessary to achieve his ends, something that he personally thought Megatron excelled at. Not everyone held this view, but that did not faze him. Starscream had no talent for patience, but Soundwave would wait, no matter how distasteful it was to him.
Unpleasant didn't even begin to cover his current situation, but sacrifices must be made. Playing nice with the inferior flesh bags that surrounded him on all sides in the night club, no matter how disgusting, was just one example. He had to dance to their primitive, childish "pop" music and pretend to enjoy it. He had to watch Rumble and Frenzy adapt with incredible ease and apparent genuine pleasure to the humans' lifestyle while he could do nothing to stop it. Not to mention how he was forced to observe Laserbeak degrade himself pretending to be a parrot for the simple fleshlings' entertainment.
The entire thing repulsed him, but he would endure it with his usual stoicism. He absently noted one of the irritating Earth scum addressing him. Though he desired to ignore the entire thing, he blandly replied, "Your moves: most pleasing."
"You call that dancin'? I'll show you how ta really get down," Frenzy bragged. He performed a smooth back flip, easily landing on one hand and spinning in place. From there he flipped back over in the other direction and fell effortlessly into the splits.
The rowdy crowd of humans burst into applause and wolf whistles. "Hey, can you teach us how to do that?" one of them asked.
"Sure thing. Just watch and learn. Try to keep up," Rumble said as he broke into an elaborate series of moves across the club's floor.
Soundwave forced himself to watch it all dispassionately. For now they had to dance attendance upon the humans, pretending to be nothing more than tame alien pets to them. But soon the Decepticons would be pulling the strings, and the humans would be the helpless puppets. That was just as it should be.
-END-
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What I've Done
—Linkin Park
Character focus: Wheeljack.
In the beginning, all he could feel was pride and excitement when he made the decision to join the Autobots. With such a varied and useful skill set, he was accepted immediately. Ratchet had told him he'd be able to reach out and help more Cybertronians this way. Wheeljack was an instant convert. He'd do anything to really make a difference and improve the quality of life on their planet.
Then he was thrown into his first battle. He knew how to defend himself. Wheeljack had personally made all of his own defensive weapons. But theoretical knowledge was very different from actually shooting someone else in combat.
Things also changed in a big way when his superiors looked closely at his qualifications. Because of his vast, rather inventive engineering skills, they found the deadliest gun they could and shoved it into his hands. They told him to quickly make it bigger, better, and mass produce it for the war effort. They weren't interested in defense anymore. All they really cared about was offense.
He was beginning to realize that their outlook could be boiled down to kill, or be killed. It was a shock for him, when but a quartex before he was designing endless benign contraptions for use in day-to-day life. Now they wanted him to turn his craft solely toward warfare. In a single moment he went from engineer, medic, and energon-scavenger to primarily a weapons manufacturer.
That first night after the battle Wheeljack stumbled into his workshop. The remnants of more peaceful pursuits lay discarded around him. He pushed aside an unfinished plasma injector and collapsed against the counter top, laying his helm on his folded arms. He felt wearier, both physically and mentally, than he could ever remember.
Once he decided that he was stable enough, he shoved himself off the worktop. The sooner he got to work on their weapon of mass destruction, the sooner he could put it behind him. Until the next time, that is.
He immediately switched his focus to something else, before that train of thought left him incapacitated. Wheeljack figured he could use a trip to his wash rack before anything else. A glance down proved to be his undoing. Two perfect handprints glistened on the counter, formed with the vital fluids from another mech.
During the conflict, Wheeljack was forced to fire on the Decepticons and leave them, not knowing if his enemy would ever get up again. He also had to watch as those on his own side fell. He knew it was impossible for him to go to all of them. One that he did try desperately to save expired right in his arms. It seemed the horrors would drag on forever. Finally he had to just shut himself off from it all, just to keep functioning.
But now the numbness was beginning to wear off. He'd need to push himself to keep going a while longer so that he could finish the weapon. Then at last he could recharge.
Wheeljack shuffled to the cleansing chamber. A large red button on the metal wall activated the overhead spray. As the chemical solvents showered over his chassis, every little wound he'd ignored came alive with pain.
The stinging and aches woke up something inside him. His head fell forward against the wall. Bowed down with the burden of his memories, he let them come.
The problem with Cybertronian memory was that there was no diminishment. Unlike with human recollections, the passage of time was unable to blur the edges or soften the blow. It took a supreme act of will or direct physical damage to one's memory circuits in order to forget anything. For Wheeljack, it was as fresh as the first time it happened.
He was flat on his back, staring up at the face of his creator. Downshift welded one last part in place up near his neck cables. His creator then reset Wheeljack's pain receptors and sprawled out beside him.
'That went pretty well, I think. It looks like you'll have complete success with three fewer trials than last time. Way ta go, kiddo!'
'It was really a joint effort. Thanks, I couldn't have done it without ya.'
'Ah, nonsense. I was just an assistant. Someday you won't even need the extra pair a' hands. You're gonna do incredible things, Jackie. You'll pass up your old creator in no time.'
'No I won't. But I do wanna keep building stuff. Invent new things that'll help lot a' 'bots. Become a medic an' patch 'em up when they're hurt. Plus I wanna create another living being, just like you did. You don't think that's too much though, do ya?'
'Nothing's too much for you, if you set yourself ta the task. I've never seen you give up yet, an' I don't think you're gonna start now. You always succeed in the end.'
Wheeljack banged his helm against the cleansing chamber as the memory washed over him. His chassis was now clean on the outside, but he felt as if no amount of time in the wash rack was going to make him feel clean on the inside. He could no longer avoid what he'd become.
There in the center of the room was the gleaming blaster that seemed to stare back into him as he stared at it. Wheeljack lifted it gingerly from its resting place, turning it over and over in his hands. "Bet this isn't what he meant about my doin' incredible things. Is this just a little speed bump in my life or a permanent detour? From wantin' ta create new things ta destroyin' them…"
Concentrate on the science and mechanics of the problem rather than the morality of it, something inside him urged. It seemed like a weak compromise but it was the only thing he could do at the moment. Nearly anything he made might have a negative application in the wrong hands.
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The cheers on the battlefield were barely audible over the loud explosion. For now, the Decepticons had been driven out of Iacon. He was not moved to celebrate with the others, but no one noticed it.
"Excellent, Wheeljack. I didn't even ask for a bomb, but your unexpected ingenuity won the battle for us. You have my sincere thanks." Optimus Prime took Wheeljack's hand and shook it warmly.
Somehow, Wheeljack managed an almost cheerful, "It was nothin'," in response.
-END-
Another Note: I'm sorry about having to type out where the dividers should be, but for some reason the site won't register anything else I put there, including the usual long line across.