Author's Notes: This fic is the closest to improv I'm ever going to get. Each chapter will involve either a specific Decepticon or a specific Autobot, and the characters chosen will be decided by reviewer suggestions. This chapter of course is Megatron's chapter since he should be first :)

I'll just tell you, I've wanted to do a Reflector fic ever since I wrote my very first Transformers story on this site, but it took me until last October to even think of a good angle for a story about them. Hopefully this will turn out being a good one since I waited so long to do it right. Sadly there are still Transformers I can't think of a unique story for (Why must Tracks be so hard to write?), but this fic shows overcoming mental blocks is possible so yay! Please favorite, follow, and review to see more, and I hope you guys have a great week :)


Chapter 1

Megatron

The city of Nuon fell before the might of the Decepticons like a stack of blocks fall before a rambunctious sparkling. Everything was in ruins, and the empties were all scurrying to find hiding places before the might of the seeker armada caught up with them and tore them apart. It was a time of famine, fear, and uncertainty.

Standing in the window of an abandoned apartment building was a small minibot with keen optics. He was white, blue and green, and had a clear round zircon lense in the center of his chest. He recorded the destruction on his hard drive, and he looked to the future with dread. This small mech's name was Viewfinder.

[Are they going to find us, Viewfinder?] Viewfinder's brother Spectro asked over the bond.

[Not if I can help it,] Viewfinder replied grimly before leaving his post at the window.

[You can't help it,] Spyglass pointed out pessimistically from his place in the corner of the room; never stopping his task of digging through a waste canister.

The three brothers, Viewfinder Spectro and Spyglass, always spoke to each other over their spark bond. Speaking to others aloud was unnecessary since they were merely empties that no one cared about. When they were forced to speak to others, the triplets had a habit of speaking in unison since they could never figure out which one of them was being addressed. Most mechs found it annoying and therefore left them alone to collect garbage and any spare energon they could find.

The three minibots, a set of combining split spark triplets, were supposed to only be one mech when they were sparked, but something went wrong. For whatever reason they separated when leaving Vector Sigma, and they became three parts of what should have been a single being. They forever mingled in their spark bond; their processors always linked. They had no privacy, but they needed none from each other, because they were practically the same mech.

Often the triplets would get into arguments about who was the original and who were the clones. Viewfinder insisted that since he was the only one with a lense that he must be the original. Spectro and Spyglass would often try to list their various skills and unique parts to prove they were the original. In the end they never agreed, and in the end it never really mattered. With the world going to the pit arguing simply gave them something to do.

As Viewfinder pondered the Decepticon pillaging and destruction, the others could feel that he was forming an idea.

[Please tell me it involves energon!] Spectro whined, [We haven't refueled in five orns.]

[It actually involves the most valuable thing in the world,] Viewfinder said conspiratorially, [Decepticons value two thing: strength and information. We do not have strength, so we must find information so useful that the Decepticons will have to accept us. If we can join the Decepticons, then they will have no reason to want to kill us. Information is our ticket to survival.]

[Hey, I heard Megatron and his posse are in Nuon with the raiding party!] Spectro added; his enthusiasm growing as hope entered their sparks, [Isn't one of the top Decepticons a master spy?]

[You are referring to Soundwave,] Spyglass supplemented, [Yes, which means Megatron already knows everything. There's no way three pieces of gutter scrap like us will ever get into the Decepticons. They hate minibots. They see us as servants at best and target practice at worst. Whatever we find will never be good enough to get into the good graces of the fiercest mech alive. We might as well dig a hole and hope no one sees us.]

[I think they'll notice a freshly dug hole,] Spectro snarked playfully, [I say let's do it! We just need to combine into Reflector and hide ourselves someplace real good!]

Viewfinder smiled at Spectro's eagerness. He understood why Spyglass was cautious about getting too close to such violent mechs as the Decepticons, but there was no way they could survive on their own anymore; especially now that their home city-state was trashed. No, if they were to survive the Decepticons, then they would have to become the Decepticons.


Getting into the former town hall was a rather daunting task. The Reflectors hid behind recycling cubes, shimmied around the building, and were nearly caught twice when they got too close to landing seekers. Fortunately though they were never caught, and now a tiny camera sat unassumingly perched on a flat light fixture on the ceiling. At one time this fixture had held a chandelier, but ever since the sacking of the town hall anything that had once been beautiful or valuable was gone.

Reflector waited patiently for someone, anyone, to come in and give them something they could use to curry favor with the Decepticons. They got their wish 4 joors later when a small mech snuck inside the building looking for all the world like a hunted animal as he wrung his servos nervously. A few breems later he was followed by a yellow and brown jeep-former that Reflector recognized as Swindle; a Decepticon profiteer that sold the treasures he looted to richer mechs. The little camera didn't have to be told to keep silent as it/they watched the scene below them unfold.

"Hey kid, I see you got here in one piece," Swindle laughed as he spoke to the turquoise colored car-former.

"Shh! Not so loud!" The other mech hissed quietly, "I don't want anyone else to hear us."

"Sure, sure. I get it," Swindle replied easily, "Now, from what I understand you want a ticket off Cybertron before the goin' gets rough, eh?"

"You've got to help me! I don't want to die!" The mech choked out pitifully, "Look at what's happened to Nuon! The Autobots can't stop Megatron, and soon he'll come for Kalis! My home will perish and there's nothing anyone can do! I need to get out of here, please!"

"Calm down, Autobutt," Swindle smirked casually, "You got my credits?"

"Right here," The other mech replied hastily as he shoved a data pad in Swindle's servos, "How far will this get me?"

"Well, when I factor in the hazard pay the rush delivery service and the contract fee..." Swindle pretended to calculate the distance in his processor as he touched his chin with a digit, "I'd say this should get you as far the New Stranix colony. Here's your flight pass. Blast Off will be waitin' for you at the old drive-thru theater on the north end of town. Be there in three joors or he'll leave without you."

"Why do I get the feeling New Stranix was where Blast Off was going anyway?" The mech asked skeptically.

"Hey, if you don't like New Stranix you can always stay here," Swindle shrugged indifferently.

"No, no! It's fine! Thank you, Swindle," The mech exclaimed desperately, "I'm just glad there are Decepticons out there that are willing to help Autobots."

"Yeah, just don't spread it around," Swindle warned him, "What I'm doin' is treason, so you have to keep quiet. You got me?"

"Of course, thank you," The Autobot bowed slightly to Swindle before rushing out of the lobby with his ticket to freedom.

As Swindle left the meeting place Reflector couldn't believe their luck. They had caught a traitor! This information could be the key to their salvation!

[Viewfinder,] Spectro called out through the bond despite their still being combined, [Maybe we shouldn't go to Megatron with this.]

[What are you talking about? This is our chance!] Viewfinder insisted.

[But what if Swindle is our chance?] Spectro pointed out, [We trade him our evidence in exchange for a ride away from the war. We have nothing against the Autobots. Why not just leave?]

[Even if we leave we'll still be destitute,] Spyglass pointed out, [Viewfinder is right to do it this way, Spectro. We're dead if we don't get a steady source of energon soon. If the Decepticons take us in then we'll get energon every day. We need this.]

[What about the Autobots?] Spectro asked, [Maybe we could join them.]

[They don't have energon stored up like the Decepticons do,] Viewfinder explained to him, [Besides, if Autobots are abandoning their cause then they've already lost. This recording will ensure our future. We're going ahead with the plan.]

The Reflectors disengaged then and landed one by one on the floor of the empty room. If they were to get their evidence to Megatron then they needed to hurry.


Megatron sat on his throne in Darkmount hearing out his officers' latest battle strategies and tending to any business that could not be delegated to anyone beneath him (Starscream). So far the Decepticons had taken over Polyhex, Kaon, Vos, Nuon, Praxus, and Simfur. Their next targets were Kalis, the Sea of Rust, Iacon, Altihex, and Helex. Other than Iacon it didn't seem that their other targets had any real defenses to speak of. Foolish council, believing no one would gather the support and the might to challenge them. Megatron couldn't help the bitter grin that crossed his face plate at the thought.

Megatron was conferring with Soundwave and Shockwave about triple changer recruitment and weapons distribution when he heard a commotion outside the throne room. A moment later the Rainmaker seekers came in; each carrying a dirty little minibot.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Megatron bellowed; causing the minibots to flinch in their captors' grasps, "We are in a meeting! How dare you disturb me without so much as a comm signal?"

"Forgive us, my lord," Acid Storm replied formally, "We captured these nuisances on the Polyhex-Nuon border, and they claim that they have important information regarding a crime committed against you. What shall we do with them, Lord Megatron?"

The Reflectors watched in dread as Megatron stood up from his throne and approached them; his tall imposing stature and large fusion cannon making them reconsider this endeavor. It seemed to have a similar effect on the seekers as they each took one cautious step away from the warlord.

"You!" Megatron shouted as he pointed to Viewfinder, "Speak!"

"Um...uh..." Viewfinder was shaking, and was having trouble finding his voice before such a menacing figure, but after a few astro-seconds he finally said, "Swindle and Blast Off, two of your Decepticon soldiers, have been aiding Autobots for profit, sir."

The room was eerily quiet for a moment as Megatron simply stared down at the quivering wretch, but then...

"You really expect me to believe that?" Megatron growled softly, "What proof do you have of this treachery?"

"W-We have a t-tape of their meeting, my lord," Viewfinder stammered, "If we may combine, we'll show you."

"Combine?" Megatron asked in mild surprise, "I didn't realize minibots could form combiners."

"We're no Devastator, sir," Viewfinder replied humbly as he hung his helm to avoid optic contact, "We merely transform into a camera and listening device. Permission to play the tape, sir?"

"Very well, but if this is fabricated you will pay for it with your sparks," Megatron warned them.

The seekers put down the bedraggled minibots, and they combined into their camera form. A few barely contained snickers could be heard from the crowd as the tiny thing sat innocently on the floor. Decepticons never accepted minibots into their ranks because Megatron demanded a powerful army, so to see one as pathetic looking as them in the throne room was a real novelty to the Decepticons.

They began to play the audio, and the mirth died down as the crowd realized the Reflectors were telling the truth about Swindle and Blast Off. Megatron's brow ridge creased in anger as he thought about those two betraying him and helping his enemies escape. If they could do that, then what was stopping them from selling weapons to the Autobots, or even defecting if the Decepticons no longer suited them? This outrage could not stand!

"Rainmakers, find Swindle and Blast Off! I want their sparks removed and placed in permanent containment!" Megatron ordered furiously, "A conscious death is far more effective a punishment than mere termination. Go!"

The seekers ran out of the room to comply with the wishes of their master, nearly bending their wings on the door frame, and Reflector separated into their three parts. They dared to look up nervously at Megatron, and Megatron scowled back down at them.

"You empties obviously want something for this information," Megatron mused, "Let me guess, you want high grade don't you? Something to forget your troubles as you lay in the street like the scrap piles you are."

"N-No sir," All three replied before Viewfinder expressed over the bond that he should so all the talking, "Lord Megatron, sir, we believe you are the rightful ruler of Cybertron, and we would like nothing more than to join your forces as spies. If you accept us, we promise to give you loyalty, respect, and hard work. No job is too lowly for us, Lord Megatron. May we join your ranks?"

Roars of laughter followed their statement after the Decepticons heard their words. They were minibots, and they were empties. There was no way Megatron would let them in, and the very idea made a few 'Cons laugh until they leaked transmission fluid.

"Report to the wash racks," Megatron abruptly ordered; causing all laughter to cease immediately, "You smell of the gutters. When you get out report to Thundercracker for your orientation. Dismissed."

No one understood what just happened, but no one was willing to question him. Megatron had let the Reflectors in? Just like that? The three minibots feared it was too good to be true. Then again, you didn't ask your victim to shower before you murdered them, so maybe he was serious. The Reflectors left the room with as much dignity as they could manage feeling like they had just won a grand prize. This was the beginning of a life with purpose and energon.