Chapter 17 - On The Local News

Galaxy ran a metallic thumb across her chest plates, admiring the fine repair work of the half-blind Flashpoint. His optics were slowly on the mend, thanks to a two-hourly routine maintenance check, but he knew his sight wouldn't be like it was prior to the torture that Krusher had put them through. True, he could get his hands on replacement optical components, but Cybertron was so far away, and those particular components were incredibly difficult to come by. He let out a soft sigh and replaced the fine headed screwdriver he'd been using back on the table-top.
''You gonna give Raid another try?'' Galaxy asked quietly.
Flashpoint shook his head solemnly.
''I could, but I've probably done more damage to his optics by trying to repair them.''
Galaxy gave him a look.
''I could try and perform an optical replacement on him, but it'd take years for the new optics to get here, even with the aid of the Space Bridge. And then, there's the question of whether the new set would be compatible with him, also there's the amount of intracacy involved in such an undertaking....'' He trailed off.

''He spurred that one, didn't he?''
Flashpoint nodded slowly.
''Yeah. He can be right stubborn sometimes. He's adament that his vision's comming back, but....''
''But...?''
''I really doubt it. My optics were desgined to withstand such a performance, but his weren't.''
''Basically, he's permanently blind.'' Galaxy grumbled and folded her arms.
''In my medical opinion; Yes.''


Tucked snugly beneath a sideboard, in an almost forgotten kitchen somewhere within the suburbs, a washing machine sat, patiently awaiting a call that it was sure would never come. Three out of the family of four currently sat at the now cleaned up dinner table that dominated the small kitchen - cum - dining room. The two children and their vixen mother, a plump woman in her mid forties, who seemed confined to living the life of a housewife, unhappily bound by a delicate gold band and the law to a man who found more interest in his work and his booze; for to work is to earn money, and to earn money is to earn the right to spend it however and where ever you wish. According to him, anyway. The washing machine sat and watched, a practise for every night, as the three ate. A pea was then launched across the table by the boy. The girl whined, and a pea was shot back, toward her brother with an imprecise aim from a flimsy knife. More peas were launched, some hitting home and others skittering and rolling across the table, some landing on the floor.
''Lee! Polly!'' The mother snapped angrily. ''Eat your tea nicely! Otherwise no desert.''

The brother and sister whined simultaneously, then promtply went quiet and instantly behaved when the front door clicked open. George wandered absent mindedly into the kitchen. A glare was exchanged between the two adults. It was eight thirty, and he was late. They'd started eating their tea without him, something that wasn't uncommon.
''How many times do I have to tell you?'' He growled. '' Wait until I'm home, that way, there won't be any complications.''
His wife's brow furrowed, then a look of understanding crossed her face. She nodded slowly. The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke drifted across the table.
''You've been to the damned pub again, I see.'' She mused half heartedly. ''Serves you bloody right. Your tea's in the oven. Three minutes in the microwave, or eat it cold. Your choice.'' She grumbled and lay her knife and fork next to each other on her almost empty plate.
A low growl contorted his features and he stepped forward. Forks full of food paused halfway to the children's mouths as they stopped to watch what their easily angered father was about to do next. Sometimes he'd leave it, most, he'd take up the looming argument and take it further.

A fist slammed down on the table, jerking the glasses full of liquids, small amounts of coffee and lemonade dribbling down the side of the tumblers and the single mug, pooling around their bottoms and soaking into the blue gingham print table cloth. The washing machine looked on, ignoring the low murmering of the nightly news on the small TV that sat on a small table beside the back door. Things here were getting interesting yet again.
''Unlike some people,'' He growled angrily, leaning over the table ''I have to work for a living! It's me who keeps this roof over your heads and food on the fracking table!'' He hissed angrily.
The children looked on, forks full of food slowly lowering back down towards the plate. The muscles in their legs twitched, signalling for them to run. They looked slowly over at their mother, who sat still, not making eye contact with him. Then something else caught their eye. The news. Nothing ever catches their attention on the news. But this time, it was different. The camera man was shooting one of the weirdest things anybody on Nyxen 3 had ever witnessed. Possibly the scariest too.
''Look at th' telly!'' Lee blurted, pointing furiously at the small screen that sat in the corner.
''Not now, Lee!'' George snapped.
''But daddy! Look! There's giant robots fighting each other on the news! Mummy!'' Polly whined, tugging at their sleeves to try and garner their attention.

The unexpected mention of giant robots drew everybody's attention toward the small, battered TV, including the washing machine's. The reporter, a Doe, was perched in the open door of the news station's chopper. She was babbling excitedly, raw fear tinging her husky voice as she tried to fight for vocal dominance over the noise of the chopper and the explosions and growls and shouts and sirens that came from below. Her eyes were wide, and glued to the small screen beside the camera man as she too, spectated what was unfolding in the streets below.
'' --- why are these monsters here? Where did they come from? Who created them?!'' Her tone was almost frantic now and she let out a yelp as she fell over forwards and onto her knees as the pilot evaded a stray white-hot streak of self-regenerating plasma. ''The government are now ordering a full scale evacuation.'' She stuttered, with a finger pushed against her ear piece. ''The army is moving in to subdue these creatures--'' Another yelp, this one turning into a scream and both the camera man and pilot swore violently as an ugly, deep military green chopper soared close by, Earth based rotar blades nearly colliding with the much smaller triplet set of rotar blades that the news chopper bore.
''What in the hell was that?!'' She howled in dismay, thankful that she was firmly strapped to the interior of the craft.

The Furmans watched in silence at the events unfolding on the TV.
''We told you we saw a giant robot!'' The little girl protested excitedly.
''Get yer bags, we're staying with yer aunty Mavis for a few years!'' George gibbered and moved swiftly toward the stairs.
A familiar electronic grinding noise stopped him dead in his tracks. He slowly looked over his shoulder and at the washing machine.
''I'm gonna kill 'im! I'm gonna rip his Spark out and sell 'im for spares!'' Spinner howled angrily, yet not the least bit surprised, at Carjack's sudden change of mind.
The children were practically scooped up by their mother and hauled protectively towards the wall as the washing machine changed, taking on a new form, one that had become all too irritatingly familiar to George. She screamed, the children cried out in utter awe and George nearly died on the spot from sheer terror, as the words that were uttered by the sentient machine seemed to be aimed directly at him. A flood of dirty water gushed out like a mini tidal wave across the kitchen floor as the small amount of laundry was discarded from its chest cavity, and water pipes retracted, wrapping around both spindly arms.
''Oh my God! It's gonna kill me!'' The words came all to easily and rang out all too familiar.

But right now, he really didn't care about the repeated words. He just cared to keep himself intact for as long as possible. He dove off to one side as the Decepticon lept clear across the table and landed neatly on the otherside. His head swung from side to side, taking in the mixed looks that were etched upon the faces of the family. He hissed something in his own language and sprang towards the front door.
''Oh cool! Vox is alive!'' Lee squeeked excitedly and squirmed from his mothers grip, his sister following suit swiftly, leaving their stunned mother standing up against the wall as if she were still clinging to the children.
Polly and Lee sprinted to the wide open front door and charged to the bottom of the drive.
''Vox!'' Lee shouted after the washing machine. ''Where're you goin'?!''
''Ain't it obviouse? He's going t' help his friends defeat that monster!'' Polly squeeked in excitement.
The two stood in silence for a moment as the sound of metal hitting pavement echoed into the distance.
''Getcha arses in 'ere now!'' George howled after his kids and appeared at the front door.

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