No specific time in mind, though it definitely takes place after Renovationklok. One of #476's assigned jobs is the upkeep and procurement of the various lamps and light sources in Mordhaus, and this is one such incident that involves that duty. Modified and expanded from its original GearDQ incarnation.
As usual, I don't own Metalocalypse or any canon characters. I do own #476 and can lay claim to #8503.
#476 hummed softly to herself as she moved down the hall. It was a trip she'd taken several times for various purposes, mostly lamp-related. Today, her expertise had been requested to deactivate certain changes her masters had made to the Commander's office during his absence. She remembered the tone of his voice as he had given her that order. He'd sounded quite frazzled after that little discovery, and he'd pinched the bridge of his nose as he'd described it, as if even the memory tired him. She knocked softly on the door as a courtesy, then hearing no response, slipped inside.
The office was deserted. That would make it a little easier, at least. Soft footsteps brought her to her target - the lamp, a very expensive Tiffany model she had procured sometime in the last year. She was sure she still had notes on it, but she had left her clipboard behind. She removed her hood, placing it in her belt. She could see better without it, and she would need her sight for this. The gloved fingertips of one hand gently ran up the curved surface, her eyes checking for tampering. She hadn't completely grasped the concept of this "scream-activated lighting" her masters were obsessed with lately, so she silently took a breath and voiced a fairly audible shriek.
As the room seemed to explode in colored light, she swore. This would be more trouble than just one lamp. "Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit. Fucking goddamn bloody hell!" Each word, loud and venomously spat, just made the lights shine brighter. Finally, completely blinded by the flashing lights, she bit her tongue and laid her gloved hands on the desk, bending down to completely hide her face against the smooth wooden surface and squeeze her eyes shut. I swear to all that is unholy that I'll somehow get back at them for this. She silently swore to herself, as she watched colors dance across the insides of her eyelids. I am going to be elbow deep in wiring for days! She had been specifically barred from indulging any homicidal urges, but she could easily enlist some of the other Gears in creatively returning the favor. She would need to ask permission first, however.
Once the lights had faded to normal, she quietly left the room so they would not go off again. Outside, she leaned against the closed door and keyed up the comm that all Gears wore. She waited a moment until she heard the line pick up. "Sir?" "Yes, #476?" "The lighting is going to take more than a few minutes to fix." "I expected that, #476. I trust that you will be able to fix it." "Yes, Sir. I will not disappoint." "Good." "Sir?" "Yes, #476?" "May I have permission to...get back at the masters for this?" She heard him chuckle. Privately, she treasured it. There hadn't been much to laugh about lately. "Granted. You know the rules, #476." "Yes, Sir. No injury, nothing permanent. Cilantro is not to be used, nor are the yardwolves. And I am not allowed to run Master Pickles' underwear up the courtyard flagpole again after what #8503 has termed the "Salute Your Shorts" incident." "Indeed, #476. You will be required to fix the lighting, first." "Of course, Sir. Work before revenge. I will proceed now." "Inform me when you are finished." She heard the click in her ear as the line hung up, and smiled an evil smile as she proceeded back into the room. She would gather the Gears closest to her later, after she fixed the lighting. They would love to help, she knew. Then the fun would begin.