Author's Notes: Welcome to yet another new plot bunny invasion! I must admit this story is rather experimental since it tackles a segment of Cybertronian society we don't see much in fanfiction: the pre-war entertainment industry. More specifically, I got curious about what would happen to an outspoken comedian on Cybertron during both the coppurt age of pre-Optimus primes as well as what the future would hold for one when the war officially ramped up. From this random thought Punchline was born. I hope you guys enjoy this story, and that you will be willing to leave a review :)
Also: I want to thank Impressionsguy for coming up with the title of this story as well as letting me use his OC Treadsmoke for a cameo :)
Chapter 1
Late Night With Punchline
On the planet Cybertron, in the city-state of Iacon, in a small broadcast studio, there was a plethora of activity going on as mechs and femmes prepared for their shows to air. One such show was a nightly comedy program called Late Night With Punchline, which specialized in the type of humor that the council deemed unsavory. By unsavory they of course meant critical of them and their corruption.
Shaboom, a purple cassette-carrier femme, shuffled through crowds and equipment with data pads in her arms as well as a cube of energon stacked on top of said data pads. She rushed around in preparation for the recording. They only had 20 breems until time to air, and everything had to be ready.
Shaboom found Punchline's dressing room and kicked the door open before rushing into the room and placing the data pads and energon on the tiny sofa that somehow managed to fit in the cramped room.
"Heya, Boom Boom!" Punchline, a red gun-former, greeted her jovially, "Ya got the news cycle downloaded for me, doll?"
"Of course, sir," Shaboom replied with a more professional air than Punchline gave off, "I also have notes from the executives, script ideas for future episodes, analytics showing our popularity over the course of the deca-orn compared to other similar content,and a cube of mid grade."
"Mid grade?" Punchline sulked.
"The vendor was out of high grade, sir," Shaboom elaborated, "The energon shortage is causing the prices to skyrocket as well. That cube cost 400 shanix, triple what a cube cost only half a vorn ago."
"Hm, the price goes up and yet the quality gets worse?" Punchline mused, "I think I can work with that. Give me a couple joors and I'll have a real zinger for tomorrow. Now, where's my makeup mech? I need my paint touched up and the polish matted before I go on set. Can't have my naturally shiny self messing with the film equipment."
"I'll see if I can locate Tarpaulin, sir," Shaboom replied before she comm'ed the mech in question.
While Shaboom searched for the makeup guy Punchline checked himself in the mirror to make sure there weren't any spots or signs of rust. He hated acting this vain, but looks were vitally important for his job, even if he was just a comedian. He had to stay popular, because if he dropped in popularity then no one would notice if Sentinel Prime's goons took him for a drive, so to speak.
"Tarpaulin will be here shortly," Shaboom informed him, "Also, I should inform you that I went over the analytics before coming here, and you've dropped by 13%."
"Scrap," Punchline swore in defeat.
"Apparently the most popular comedy show is Treadsmoke's stand up tour," Shaboom explained.
"I can see why," Punchline nodded in resignation, "Treadsmoke is the kind of guy you can watch with your sparklings. Just last deca-orn I made a joke about Sentinel Prime getting his aft stuck to Senator Epsilon Tau's faceplate. That don't exactly scream 'general audiences'."
"I'm sorry to say you're also no longer the most popular political show, either," Shaboom added sheepishly, "Oddly enough your competition isn't even on the broadcasts. It's some radio show called Truth Talk With Blaster. People are calling him the voice of the low caste of Cybertron. His people have the budget of a stray turbo fox yet somehow get mechs to tune in. How do we even compete with that, sir?"
"Who says we have to?" Punchline shrugged, "I mean, I get it. The low castes that actually care what's going on in the world are less likely to own a broadcast screen than a middle or upper caste mech. Radio can be transmitted directly into a comm unit, so it's cheaper to get your news and entertainment that way. If Blaster's keeping hope alive, then I have no reason to hate him. We're professional rivals, but I've met him and he's a decent mech. I'll just have to work harder."
A camera-former then poked his helm into the room and said "5 breems to air, Punchline."
"Be right there," Punchline replied with a winning smile, "Okay, no more doom and gloom until after the show, okay doll? I'd better drink this energon before it fizzles out. Tell Tarpaulin if he's late like this again he's fired. I'm giving him another chance because the economy is bad, but this is the third time this stellar cycle he's been late. Also I'm transferring my comms to your unit until I'm off-air. Thanks doll, you're a lifesaver!"
With those hurried words Punchline left the dressing room and speed-walked to the studio where he was to air. He had rehearsed his material all orn, and he was ready. Most mechs in his position used cue cards, and at one time Punchline did too, but he so frequently went off-script that his producers simply gave up on trying to get the red mech to stick to a program.
Punchline waited by the doorway where his studio was, and the camera-former transformed to record the show. Then the band started playing the music and his hype mech Ramrod shouted "Now, live from Iacon Studios, it's the one, the only, Punchline!"
The crowd started cheering wildly, and Punchline ran onto the stage as he did every night, full of energy and all smiles. He used both servos to blow kisses to the audience as was his typical routine, which made the crowd cheer louder.
"Thank you! Oh pit, thank you so much!" Punchline shouted until the crowd died down, "Oh mech, it is good to be back. Holy pit, would you look at this crowd? I haven't seen so many happy mechs in one room since the last time the taxpayers unwittingly gave the senators a raise for all their lack of hard work. Seriously though, have you seen the news lately? I can't wrap my processor around this one! Apparently the senator of Kaon, Epsilon Tau, went missing for over three deca-orns!"
The crowd cheered for that one.
"No, no, wait! That's not the good part!" Punchline held up his servos to shush the crowd, "It turned out he had taken a sabbatical to a ski resort in Kalis. Yeah, that's right! A Kaonite, one of the most hardened and argumentative peoples on Cybertron, needed a break from sitting around in a comfy chair and yelling all orn. Mech, where do I sign up!?"
The crowd laughed as Punchline shook his fist and pretended to shout like a senator. He then turned back to the crowd with a cheeky smile.
"Seriously, let me on the senate!" Punchline continued vehemently, "I can assure you I wouldn't need a groon long secret holiday retreat after yelling all orn. Pit, that's what I do for a living now!"
Shaboom watched as Punchline continued to rile up the crowd with his witty yet unflinching look at the world around them. Were there funnier comedians? Yes, definitely. However, none of them had the bearings to do what Punchline was doing; risking his life to challenge the system on planetary broadcast while at the same time being funny.
"Though I gotta tell you," Punchline went on, "I got a feeling there's a reason Epsilon Tau didn't tell anyone where he was going. I mean, after spending so long kissing Sentinel Prime's aft his lips probably needed all that ice and slush to kill all the germs!"
Shaboom winced, certain that one was going to result in more death threats. She cared about her boss, but sometimes Punchline just didn't know when to quit. She had already had to bail him out of jail three times. He paid her back of course, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the council was trying to figure out how to get rid of him permanently.
"I've also heard news about that radical group called the Decepticons, also based in Kaon," Punchline intoned, "Seriously folks, why does every crazy-aft story come out of Kaon? Is it something in the energon? I don't get it! I also don't get why people are taking this slag seriously. I mean, have you seen Megatron? He's a gun-former. Speaking as a fellow gun-former, I can tell you with absolute conviction that our frame type will never amount to anything, and I can even tell you why. It's the mobility factor. That's right! Last time I wanted to hitchhike to Polyhex, I had to ask every mech I met on the road to throw me in the air toward my destination!"
Every car-former and seeker in the audience was laughing, and even the other gun-formers managed to laugh at themselves. Shaboom was reminded in that moment of what a miracle Punchline's career was. Punchline was born in the slums of Iacon in the outer rings, and he grew up impoverished with many siblings living in the same house as him and his unbonded carrier. His caste and frame type indicated he would go into military service, but Punchline managed to escape that hopeless fate thanks to one thing that got him noticed: he was funny.
Punchline had been young when he was at a karaoke restaurant with some of his richer friends and they wanted him to sing for them. When the music began to play he started to sing, but stopped in the middle and went on a tirade about why there was enough money for karaoke machines but not enough money to fix the potholes around the restaurant's parking lot. That comical commentary got him noticed by a broadcast producer, and the rest was history.
"In other news, the taxation of the castes in the lower percentile within the limits of the city shall henceforth discontinue benefits pertaining to blah blah blah!" Punchline started that one in monotone but ended by shouting, "Yeah, that's how the elite caste gets you. They take a screwdriver to your crotch plate and grind it in, but they do it in such a slow, boring, and unsatisfying way that you don't even notice! For those of you that didn't catch that, the senate is going to raise taxes on the poor and discontinue medical benefits for lower caste workers. You know what that means, right? More jobs!"
The crowd seemed confused.
"No, really. More jobs!" Punchline insisted, though they all knew he was up to something, "You see, here's their real plan. When low caste mechs can't afford energon or medical care, they'll start dropping dead. Well now, the council can't have a bunch of dead guys ruining their beautiful city, so they'll hire mechs to clean up the streets, which will create more jobs. It's so genius you'd almost swear it was insane. You know, because it is."
There were some muted chuckles in the room, but Shaboom could tell that it hit too close to home for many in the audience.
"Oh, and speaking of death warmed over, Sentinel Prime was seen at a benefit cruise," Punchline continued in order to win back the crowd, "Oh no, it wasn't a charity, but Sentinel was quoted as saying the cruise really benefited him."
The rest of the performance went relatively smoothly, with more jokes hitting than missing. As the lights dimmed and the show ended, Punchline bowed and smiled wide for his adoring public. Shaboom could only hope that Punchline wasn't in over his helm with the way he went after Sentinel Prime the way he did. With the Decepticons out in full force, the council was quashing any opposition they could find, even harmless professions like Punchline's.
After the show Punchline, Shaboom, and Ramrod went to Maccadam's Oil House for some high grade and to listen in on "Comedy Open Mic Night". Many comedians were discovered there, and on really special nights the more famous entertainers in their society would show up to relive where they came from.
As the trio of broadcast rebels sat at their booth they talked and watched the performers go by. There was a math teacher named Gears that was the clear highlight of the night so far, joking about what it was like to grow up in a small town and how thankless a sparkling-grade teaching job was. Punchline added a memo to himself to try to get Gears's contact information. That mech was going places.
About a joor after Punchline and his crew got there the antique doors swung open to admit two more mechs, and the room went crazy. Punchline and crew looked to see what all the fuss was about, and saw that Treadsmoke and Blaster had shown up to see the show. Of course they were immediately bombarded to sign autographs, and Punchline smirked to himself. They should've worn a holo-watch like him so they wouldn't be recognized. Poor naive mechs.
"Wow, Blaster is a lot more handsome in person than I thought he'd be," Shaboom commented wistfully, "I didn't realize he was a carrier host like me. We even have the same type of speakers on our shins."
"Yeah, talk about lowbrow music," Punchline quipped, "We should invite them over."
"No way!" Ramrod protested, "These guys are stealin' yer thunder!"
"So? They do a good job," Punchline shrugged, "Besides, with the council acting like a bunch of turbo rats fighting for scraps, who knows if we'll even be here the next orn? I heard in Kaon they make rebellious mechs face off against their gladiators to entertain their officials. Now, can you imagine a couple of weak slaggers like Blaster and me trying to fight a fragging gladiator? The hulking giant would stomp on Blaster and then use me for a back scratcher!"
Of course Punchline was just blowing smoke for comedic effect. Truth be told as a gun-former he was built with reinforced armor and a cannon that was hidden in a panel in his right arm. He was rusty, but he could handle himself.
"Hey, I know that voice," Blaster suddenly said once the crowd had thinned, "Hey, is that blue mech Punchline wearin' a hologram?"
"No, it's Punchline wearing a holo-watch," Punchline corrected him with a mischievious smile, "Hey, sit yourself down here, mech! It's good to see you again. When was the last time we met, huh? That charity auction?"
"Yeah, it was goin' to benefit the orphans of that quake in Simfur," Blaster nodded nostalgically, "Hey Treadsmoke, I want'cha to meet-"
Treadsmoke, however, was already on stage. He was using his own hologram projector to make himself look like a bloated train-former for a bit he was doing.
"Never mind," Blaster said in a slightly quieter tone, "So anyway Punchline, you gonna introduce me to your friends here?"
"Of course, my good mech," Punchline replied before scooting over so Blaster could sit down next to him in the booth, "Across the table is the lovely, the beautiful, the desirable, Ramrod. And also over there is Shaboom."
Everyone was laughing since it was clear Shaboom outclassed the scarred up motorcycle-former Ramrod.
"Nice ta meet'cha," Blaster replied jovially, "So, you hear the big news yet?"
"Probably, my whole life is just reading newsreels and yelling at them," Punchline shrugged.
"Naw mech, the big news," Blaster said in an emphatic tone, "Sentinel Prime is dead."
There was a collective gasp from everyone in the booth, and now that Punchline thought about it there was definitely a celebratory mood in this room that wasn't usually there.
"Have they chosen a new Prime yet?" Shaboom asked apprehensively.
"Yep, Zeta Prime," Blaster nodded solemnly, "He was formerly Senator Epsilon Tau, but Sentinel named him his successor. Without the matrix of leadership I tell you, this whole system has turned into some sort of twisted monarchy."
"Monarchy involves family," Punchline pointed out, "No, my friend. This isn't monarchy or even nepotism. This is an autocracy, because the power lies with only one mech, and he gives it to whoever he chooses. This whole thing feels like an arrangement."
"Huh?" Blaster asked in confusion.
"Yeah, we have to live with Zeta Prime as our leader despite knowing nothing about his qualifications, and we get no say in it if we don't like him," Punchline explained, "It reminds me of the ancient legends of Alpha and Beta, where they fought off the evil alien overlords that would sell us into arrangement and force the ancient machines to serve cruel masters. That's what the Primes believe themselves to be, our masters. To them we are property, and the world exists to serve them. Well, Sentinel couldn't get away with nothin' with you and I on the air, and if Zeta tries to pull the same slag we'll be there, pointing out his every transgression and laughing in his face plate. The people will have a voice."
The rest of the evening was spent with companionable conversation and laughing at the new talent on stage. Blaster and Punchline actually had a lot in common when it came to their views and their worries for the future, so they decided to hang out together at Maccadam's every deca-orn. Between Blaster's impassioned speeches and Punchline's crude humor they would keep hope alive in the people, and perhaps one day things would improve for Cybertron.