A/N: I was totally channeling Chromie's Frenzy in the writing of Reflector. Not even gonna try to deny it.

Sometimes I Hate This Job

"So..." Megatron glanced down at his datapad, "Reflector."

Three nearly-identical gray, purple, and green transformers looked up at him in unison. "Yes?" said the one in the middle, the one with the round camera lens embedded in his chest.

It was a bit unnerving. Megatron had never quite known what to do with Reflector: three bots all powered by a single life-spark, who transformed into one combined alt-mode... A fragging camera. For a while, he'd tasked him – them – with surveillance. But Soundwave and his minions had proven themselves far superior to a simple camera in that regard; and as the Great War dragged on, Reflector had largely been left to his – to their – own devices.

Now, as the quartex lengthened into years and the Ceasefire still held, Megatron had at last worked his way down to the last few names he still had on his list of pending interviews. And here he'd found Reflector. The little trio sat before him now, as enigmatic as they – he – had always been, swinging their short legs on a bench too tall for them, and staring without speaking up at the Commander.

Megatron rolled his shoulders. "How are you settling in?" he asked. It was almost always his opening question.

Reflector shrugged his shoulders. In unison, of course. "Well enough, I suppose," the center bot replied. "I don't have much to do, but that's no different, really."

"Any problems with the Autobots?"

The center mech shook his head; and both the others followed. "They mostly don't notice me," he said.

"...And with the Decepticons?" probed Megatron. He always asked these questions; but he seldom felt so uncertain about how he would be answered.

"They mostly ignore me too." Reflector shrugged.

"Who are your friends?" asked Megatron.

Reflector shrugged again, in triplicate. He said nothing. His lack of real response was starting to get frustrating. Megatron was used to getting answers more along the lines of "What's it to you?" or "Who died and made you Prime?" But even being sworn at was preferable to this tripartite apathy.

"You must have some mechs you hang out with sometimes," he prodded, trying against his nature to be patient.

"I suppose I get along OK with Rumble and Frenzy." He looked off into the middle distance, at something over Megatron's right shoulder. "There never was much love lost between Soundwave's tapes and me, but we littler bots have always sort of stuck together..." His voice trailed off, as if he weren't quite present in the room. "Haven't seen either of them in quite a while, though..."

"Spend any time with the Autobot mini's?" prompted Megatron. "Or with Blaster's Cassettes?"

Reflector shrugged. "Why would I?"

"Because they're... small, like... Never mind." The gray Commander dropped his datapad onto his desk, and did not even bother to make sure that it was straight. "Assignments, then," he huffed. "Have you found any work you like?"

"Not really. I've been mostly bounced around from place to place, doing odd jobs here and there... It's not like I have a particularly useful alt-mode, and I'm not as strong as most bots. I end up getting underfoot most of the time, and told to leave. "

It was more words at once than Megatron expected. He decided to take this as a good sign, because otherwise he'd probably be putting his fist through this little soldier's faceplates in a nanosec or two.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?" he asked.

Reflector shrugged.

Megatron excused himself, instead of throwing the three-fold bot out the window. And Optimus would be so proud of me, he thought facetiously.

What could he do with this aggravating minion? The triple-pest was right: he had no vehicular alt-mode, so transport for him was limited to what he – what they – could carry in their arms. At least the little scrap can fly, thought Megatron. But what in the Smelter do we need a slagging camera for?

He pinged Shockwave. The purple, one-eyed mech hailed back on the first pulse. "What is it, Lord Megatron?"

The gray mech rolled his optics upward, appealing to whatever god might now be listening for the patience to deal with sycophants and weirdos. The one thing that could with certainty be said in Shockwave's praise was that the single-minded bot would always know where every resource was, and have a plan to use it. "What can we use Reflector for?" he asked.

"Reflector?" Shockwave's nasal vocals returned the name as a question. "Which one is he, my Lord?"

Megatron swore. He stamped. He imagined several ways of disassembling both his newly-chosen Second, and the little bot(s) back in his interviewing room. "The triple-minibots who transform into one fragging useless camera!" he yelled.

"Oh, that one..." Shockwave's weary recollection came through the comm as clearly as if he'd been standing in the room. Megatron could almost see the purple mech whacking his polygonal head against the business end of the cannon he had in the place of a left hand.

"Yes, that one! Well done," Megatron stormed. "We need to find something for him to do that keeps him engaged. Because the way this quartex has been going lately, if we don't, he'll probably incite a three-pronged revolution on his-" he swore; "On their own!"

Shockwave hemmed and hawed. Megatron plotted his mutilation.

"Could we use him in some sort of planetary identification program?" The purple lieutenant asked. "He could photograph each bot for his or her file in the global database..."

"Do you think I want them knowing that we have them all on file?" Megatron stormed sourly. "That's the most useless suggestion you've given me in vorns! And this from a bot who claims to be intelligent!"

Megatron halted his tirade, and forced himself to be calm. The last thing he needed – well, one of the last things; there were many – was for Shockwave to decide he was unfit for Command. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said coldly. "I'll pursue other options at this time." He ground his dentals. "Megatron out."

A lilting laugh sounded incongruously from his workroom. "What in the Smelting Pool was that?" he asked the air around him. The air wisely said nothing. It did that a lot, he'd noticed. Megatron shook his head, and stalked back to his office.

"What's going on in here?" he demanded.

"Oh-" A black and purple femme rose hastily from the cheeky pose she'd struck for the benefit of the gray camera sitting on his desk. "Nothing, Sir. We were just having a little fun. I'm trying to get some stage-time down at The Hub from Spangle. But she's really big on what she calls 'stage presence,' so Reflector here was giving me some pointers..." The femme broke off, realizing she was babbling. "It's nothing. I'll just go."

"Wait up!" the little gray mech(s) called, sounding for all the world like newlings at the start of an exploratory outing. "Let me come with you! I've got some ideas for your advertizing campaign..."

Forgotten, Megatron watched them go. Unlike a certain snobbish Autobot, the Decepticon Commander was unused to becoming invisible. The sensation was a bit unsettling, and he wondered briefly if his powers might be failing.

But as he listened to the two excited voices echoing away down the metallic corridor, he felt a smile begin to tug at one corner of his mouth. His problem seemed to have been solved, and without any effort on his part. True, that meant it had also been settled in a manner that would not be under his control. But... He shrugged.

Yes, he'd shrugged just like that little pest Reflector.

But right now, he could not entirely bring himself to care.

Megatron turned back to his docket. "Who's next?" he asked the air.

"I believe I am," an invisible Mirage replied.