A/N: This, my friends, is pure crack. There is no other explanation. But I can attempt, perhaps, to justify why this story even exists.
I'm a photography major, and this semester, I'm taking an upper-level photography class that utilizes a light studio that's loaded with lots of expensive and advanced electronic equipment. A few weeks ago, our professor was giving us a run-down of how to operate the studio lights and introduced us to the power packs -- devices that pump energy into the flashes. This caught my attention for several reasons. The first was that he mentioned a manufacturer of power packs named Speedotron. This unfortunately gave me the mental image of Megatron wearing a bright-green speedo. I cringed. I then laughed because, in the horrible Australian dub of Headmasters, both "energon cubes" and "Matrix of Leadership" are mistranslated as "power packs." Our professor then mentioned it was possible to plug your camera into these power packs, but it was inadvisable todo so, as the energy could overload your camera's systems and mess with its circuitry.
This particular fact got me thinking, and my thoughts immediately gravitated to Reflector, who seriously doesn't get enough love in the Transformers fandom. And hence... this thing.
This is G1 but it takes place in contemporary times.
Warnings: Mostly plotless. Reflector gets lucky with high-powered photographic studio equipment. There is some occasional photographic mumbo-jumbo for the photo geeks out there (such as myself).
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and I certainly don't own Reflector. However, my Hasselblad camera is named Reflector 'cause it does split up into three separate pieces...
Um... enjoy...
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For once, the mission on which Reflector had been sent actually made sense. How many times had he been ordered to spy on the Autobots from places that were all-too conspicuous? An expensive-looking camera resting on a rock, in the middle of nowhere – now that was truly the epitome of hiding in plain sight. Such assignments were embarrassing as well as futile; Reflector was certain that Soundwave, with his immobile and useless alt-form, felt the same way about the various missions he was ordered to carry out.
No matter. For the first time in a long time – definitely the first time since the Decepticons had crash-landed on Earth – Reflector was finallycommanded to complete a job that was specifically suited his alternate form.
And that was why, several cycles after he'd been assigned to the mission, the Decepticon found himself stuffed in a photographer's camera bag, situated amongst memory cards, exposed rolls of film, and an inferior camera of the Earthling variety. The flesh creature who was transporting the equipment paid little heed to what he carried; pushing through endless doors in the human base, the camera bag slammed against this and that, jostling Reflector enough that the Decepticon begged Primus he'd arrive at the target destination soon enough.
There was a none-too-gentle thunk as the camera bag was dropped on what Reflector assumed to be a desk or a table – the pop-fissshh of a carbonated beverage being opened – the fading tap-tap of footsteps as the human walked away – the slam of a door. Several kliks passed as Reflector waited, and in the darkness of the sealed tote, he reviewed the point of why he was in this current position.
It was simple, really; the regional human government agency had found scrap metal at a nearby location, an isolated prairie where the Decepticon and Autobot forces had recently clashed. Not equipped with the proper implements to haul away their discovery, which, ironically, happened to be parts of Starscream's slagged frame, the humans had resorted to taking photographs of their find – and detailed, thorough photographs, at that. Reflector had observed as much; the humans left after an hour of surveying the alien scrap metal, probably with the intent of bringing back heavy machinery to transport it someplace safe.
Megatron wouldn't have such nonsense, though, and sent the heavily-damaged and very muchhurting Starscream to salvage the parts of himself he had left behind. The lead seeker hadn't been thrilled with the command –was he ever? Reflector asked himself – but carried out the order anyway – and that was when, on Megatron's instructions, that Reflector had sprung into action. His paint scheme, an obnoxious and usually conspicuous green-and-blue pattern, had even been changed to a far less suspicious black, specifically for this occasion.
And now – well, the flesh creature that had brought him here was long gone. Deciding it was safe, Reflector transformed into his three separate entities, bursting from the confines of the camera bag and sending its contents clattering to the floor. The room was dark, only a sliver of dim light streaking in from under the closed door. Reflector was very close to being too tall for the area, but thankfully, the building – whatever and wherever it was – had slightly vaulted ceilings and he didn't have to stoop to fit.
Immediately, he went to work. After vaporizing the camera bag in which he had been transported, one entity located a nearby desk and the several computers that accompanied it; another kept scout for any security devices; the third explored the room – it was larger than he imagined it to be, and full of all sorts of technological and photographic devices – all human, all inferior. Reflector wandered through the chamber, hyper-light-sensitive optics taking in all the darkened details. A digital darkroom, here – a table stacked with manuals and books, there… Reflector stealthily rounded a large, sturdy tripod, careful not to trip any potential alarms, finally finding himself facing a paper backdrop, several studio lights, and a table stacked with a multitude of electronic photographic paraphernalia.
Reflector felt one of his other entities sending a telepathic signal, and he accepted the message immediately. I have found the harddrive containing the images from today.
Excellent.
As one, the three separate Decepticons shared their next thought. I will erase the images – but carefully, so the humans suspect nothing. They will return in the morning and find all photographic evidence of the battle gone.
Reflector approached the table laden with photographic studio supplies. Most of the instruments were small compared to his bulky mass – an expensive-looking (not to mention primitive) light meter; remote, cable-less releases that he presumed to operate on radio waves; disconnected power cords that belonged to the many studio lights. The Decepticon then turned his attention to a pair of black boxes that rested on the table – each was no larger than the force-field cubes Soundwave produced to fill with energon. Reflector studied them carefully, observing the digital readout panel at the top of each mechanism, and the many buttons and knobs they possessed.
An internet search revealed that these boxes were photographic power packs – units that stored, converted, and transmitted raw energy to power the studio flashes. They could be set off with the click of a remote control – which the Decepticon soon located, resting a few feet away. Reflector cross-referenced the brand name with the identification number and was soon presented with more information – each unit could kick out 6400 watt seconds of electricity in a go. These small, unassuming, human-made boxes, the Decepticon realized, were quite powerful.
His curiosity was piqued.
Reflector switched both units on, simultaneously checking up with his two other entities to make sure all was well.
No threats detected. The flesh creatures are oblivious to our presence.
I have just initiated the wipe of this machine. I am going to erase all of the other memory cards, external harddrives, and computers, as well, in case they copied the files onto another storage device.
Pleased with the progress of his two other entities, Reflector turned his attention back to the energy generators. The power packs were humming to life, the digital readouts on each displaying 4800 ws. If he connected himself to these human-made contraptions, what would happen? There was a chance that the energy surge would knock him flat on his aft – but what if the sudden influx of power made himstronger? Even more probable was the likelihood that the inundation of unbridled energy would flood his systems and make him overload…
The Decepticon found himself grinning, the aperture ring on his chest dilating with anticipation – and perhaps something else. Reflector studied the control panels of the power packs and, making up his mind, set each to its maximum output of 6400 watt seconds. He summoned the entity who was on guard duty and promptly handed him the remote, at the same time instantly transmitting all he had learned about the energy-generating devices. A smirk was shared, and Reflector was soon unwinding cords from himself – one from his chest plate, another from his pelvic armor, and a third, smaller wire from a node in his neck. He made short work of connecting himself to the two power packs, which were now buzzing loudly with their potent, stored energy.
An unspoken command was shared – the button on the remote was pressed – white, hot,dazzling power surged into Reflector's systems. It was the briefest pulse of energy, but in that fraction of a second, all three entities had collapsed, their shared spark creating a feedback loop of singeing pleasure. The power pack hummed as it recharged – after a few seconds, it beeped, ready – the button was depressed again – a new blast of ecstasy shot through Reflector, this time offlining his optics. The entity on the far side of the room moaned, his job to erase harddrives long-forgotten.
Another pulse of energy, 12800 watt seconds – Reflector, all three of him, was writhing on the floor, circuits quickly flooding with a deluge of pain and pleasure. A fourth pulse – three identical, needy moans sounded from the Decepticons' vocalizers. A fifth pulse – someone's thrashing limb struck a lightstand and it crashed to the floor, softbox crumpling on impact. A sixth pulse – Reflector's olfactory sensors detected the stench of frying circuitry. With some trouble, he onlined his optics – smoke billowed from his connecting cables and the dual power packs.
Once more.
The remote was fired for the final time. Painful, wonderful overload plowed through Reflector's body – warnings flashed in the peripheries of his vision for a fraction of a second before his optics shut down again. Something detonated – one or both of the power packs, it had to be – but Reflector found his consciousness spiraling out of his control – his CPU readout flickered – and he offlined, hard, his body forcing itself into recharge.
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Several cycles passed.
Reflector onlined to the stench of blown circuitry and burnt electrical components. With a grunt, he switched his optics back into operation, only to find the room was still dark. The Decepticon's other two entities were also awake; one of them had kindly unplugged him from the power packs, their explosion having melted some of his circuitry. How in the slag would he explain this to Hook? Deciding to worry about potential consequences later, Reflector pushed himself to his feet, his systems still very shaky, and checked his chronometer – it was five o'clock in the morning, Earth time.
So much for stealth on this mission – one quick, sweeping glance of the photography studio revealed just how much it had been trashed – slag it all to the Pit, with Reflector's curiosity! Megatron would be displeased, whether or not the mission was a success – the key to this job had been stealth, and, at the moment, by the look of things, it was anything but. Reflector limped over to his brothers – one was hastily erasing the rest of the harddrives and memory cards stacked on the desk while the other was nearby, propping a lightstand back up to its rightful position.
I estimate the flesh creatures will be returning within a cycle, or less.
It's very likely. So much for subtlety, hm?
Megatron's gonna scrap our afts.
Reflector groaned. The center component of camera-bot ached all over; unlike his brothers, he had taken the full brunt of the electrical charge, and while it had been overwhelmingly pleasurable, he was almost regretting it now…almost. Still, no matter what sort of wrath Megatron brought upon him, the whole affair would at least be memorable. And, sadly enough, probably worth it, as well.
It was at that moment Megatron chose to signal Reflector – all three of him.
Report your status!
As one, Reflector responded. Lord Megatron, we are currently finishing our task. The mission has been a success. We shall send you a signal when we are in the clear.
Very good, Reflector! It's quite refreshing to know there is somecompetence in the Decepticon ranks.
The message was terminated, Megatron's parting words leaving Reflector both amused and deeply disturbed. There was no doubt the statement had been a swipe at Starscream – but what would happen when the Decepticon leader discovered that the mission hadn't been so covert after all? Reflector convinced himself he couldn't worry about it any further.
I'm detecting the presence of humans – fifty yards and closing in.
Very well, it's likely that it's the photographer returning to gather his camera equipment and memory cards. Reflector cast a final glance around the room – much of it was still in disarray, and there was no way to hide the fact that the power packs were very much slagged.A silent agreement was shared between Reflector and as one, they transformed and joined, shrinking from three thirteen-foot tall robots into one human-sized single-lens reflex camera.
Reflector had taken action just in time; nanokliks later, the door to the photography lab was unlocked, the lights were switched on, and a man's cry of "JesusChrist, what the fuck happened?" rang through the room.
He would be slagged, yes – but oh, was it worth it.
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fin
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A/N: I mostly wrote this to amuse myself. It was also a challenge to see if I could write a story concerning Reflector, who is freakin' confusing and lacks all sense of physics as we know it. Uh, tell me how I did? Mostly, though, I wrote this for the lulz. Thanks for reading!