Chapter 2:
A week later, Megatron had not called or gotten back to Shockwave yet, and the purple Cannon-Former was beset by all his responsibilities, and the crushing cost of the memorial shrine.
The construction crew, a gestalt of orange Constructicons from Helix, were threatening to walk off the project. The foremech was a dimwitted Front-Loader named Steamhammer, and he was rumored to have broken a few legs with that fist of his that transformed into a mighty shovel.
Said foremech stood in front of Shockwave's desk now, giving him an ultimatum, "If we don't get our next payment of credits by next Thursday, we're gonna walk off the project."
"That wouldn't be necessary," Shockwave answered in a calm manner, "you will receive your payment on time, you have my word."
"If we don't get our credits next Thursday," the Front-Loader flexed shovel arm, "you're gonna know what real pain feels like." He turned and walked out, "Cause that's for work already done!"
Shockwave was very depressed; his report regarding the serious lack of credits he needed to finish the memorial shrine had fallen by the wayside in the wake of Megatron's impassioned pleas for recognition for a retired Gladiator.
In the weeks that followed, Shockwave burrowed against Decepticon company credit cards—eight of them in total—to gather the credits he needed to pay the Constructicons. But now, he would have to pay off those credit cards at a high-interest rate, and he didn't know where he would get the credits for next payment to the Constructicons, which was due in ninety days.
Another worry was that his bodyguard, George, was going on vacation to Greece for a month, leaving the President even more vulnerable.
Unable to recharge in his berth, Shockwave lay on across the sofa now, looking for something on television to distract him from his troubles. He needed credits; he didn't have enough in the account for the next payment. He knew he needed to ask Megatron and Soundwave for a transfer of funds, but he hated the idea of asking. He didn't want to face the fact that he couldn't take care of his projects financially without burrowing or asking for help. It always killed him to ask for their help in any way.
Shockwave stared at the framed photo of himself with his long-deactivated best friend and mentor, Darkmount, who happened to be Megatron's Sire, and signed heavily, "What am I going to do now, Darkmount? I can't burden Megatron and Starscream now…"
The fact that Starscream was carrying triplets also prevented the President from wanting to burden Megatron with these worries; he had to think how to carry Cybertron by himself.
He sat up, finished his Energon-tea, and began to work out a budget. He decided to utilize the resources that Cybertron already offered and raise funds that way. Thinking outside of the box, he came up with some tourism ideas.
"You gonna be alright alone, boss?" George asked as he carried his suitcases out.
"I'm thinking positively, George," Shockwave's nervousness gave him away though, "I've already signed a contract with the Emperor, and the Martians should be arriving shortly."
Shockwave contacted the Emperor of Mars and worked out a tourism deal: Martians were granted visas into Cybertron and offered package deals that included hotel, transportation, and meals, with Shockwave and the Emperor splitting the profits.
"And I've already sent the location photos to Paramount Pictures," Shockwave added. He offered some of Cybertron's historic locations to the Earth film studio at a drastically reduced rate, in order for some young filmmakers to be inspired to shoot on their planet and pay the location fee.
"I was never even worried about ya, boss," George slapped the older mech on the back and was on his way.
Privately though, Shockwave was still wringing his good hand about having enough credits for the payment. The Earth dollars were a bit slow to come in, and the exchange rate for those Mars Cookies (the preferred Martian currency) was so high, it was barely profitable. Also, the checks from Bay Productions had been smaller than he had expected. Shockwave knew he needed to do something more drastic.
That night, Shockwave walked around his living room, Energon-tea cup in his hand; a huge stack of datapads and bills sprawled across his coffee table. That next payment to the Helixian Constructicons was looming large. The darkness of the night only added to his feeling of bleakness. He oh so did not want to ask Megatron for help; the President had never Bonded and had no sparklings and lived alone all his adult life. His Creators were long gone, and he had no siblings. No one to confide in. His only true companion was his hired bodyguard, George, and he was on vacation for a mouth.
Shockwave was feeling not only depressed and desperate; he was feeling so low and vulnerable. He sat on the sofa and held his helm with his gun hand, "I've never felt so horrible in my onlining," he keened.
Trying to distract himself from his depression, he turned on the television. It was late, and nothing good was on, so he flipped through the channels further, into the terrestrial channels, the ones from Earth, which he usually never watched.
That's when he first came across the Travel Channel.
There was a show, hosted by a human, showing the audience an exotic location, where he sampled the food and interviewed a local chef. This show was followed by another, a similar show, only with a different host, again showcasing local culture. The next show featured another human, again, on location, giving a history tour and interviewing a historian.
"This is so fascinating," Shockwave was so enamored with the programs, that he began to hold a bit of hope for the future. What if one of these hosts would travel to Cybertron? The fees they would pay for their filming, not to mention the tourism their episode would attract could be the solution to all his financial problems.
There was a public service announcement, with a man and a woman looking straight at the camera, giving the website address and phone number to contact the network, "and we'll help if we can."
It was still daylight on Earth, so Shockwave immediately went for his phone, "Hello, Travel Channel?" he had a renewed sense of hope, "I'd like to speak to your casting department."
Three days later, Shockwave paced around his office nervously; that human femme he spoke to at the Travel Channel had been very nice to him and more than willing to help him, but she was having trouble finding a host willing to travel to Cybertron. The celebrity chefs were reluctant to do intergalactic travel; another host expressed interest but was booked up for the next three years. On their most recent phone call, Shockwave had nearly broken down, telling her, "Oh please, ma'am, I'm desperate! I'm begging you to find someone to help me!"
He sat down at his kitchen table, putting his helm into his arms; his depression slowly returning.
Then in the nick of time, blessings reigned on him. By His grace, the phone rang.
Shockwave grabbed the phone, his vocals dripping with anticipation, "Yes?"
The casting lady said, "We're hiring!"
That's when Shockwave knew he was saved, "You are? Who is it?"
"Well, I called all the cuisine hosts, but like I told you, none of them could do it," she explained, "however, I found a host that is thrilled to be able to film on Cybertron."
"He's willing to film his television program here?" Shockwave was so excited.
"He's not only willing," the casting director told him, "he's crazy to go! He said he and his crew wouldn't miss it!"
"Oh, this is wonderful news!" Shockwave couldn't have been happier, "Which show is it?"
"Only our most highly rated show on the network," she chipped.
"Oh!" Shockwave was excited; This solved so many problems, "What kind of show is it?"
The casting director told him, "Our paranormal adventures show!"