Ep1 - 'Hot Tin Roof' - Closed - Finis

[Deleted]

<<For Ravage! Set immediately after 'Catalysis'.>>

The Neutral base in Africa was a liability, its potential benefits only narrowly outweighing the risks. Megatron had ultimately sanctioned the demiliterized zone because of his familiarity with the helo' who'd sought it. Cleaver was as staunchly unaligned a Neutral as he'd ever known, unbiased as to who would have her favour or ire. Furthermore, she operated on a solid barter system -materials, labour or credits- and was always fair. Predictable.

If Optimus had any sense, he would be as watchful over what his mecha were trading on their jaunts to Haven as Megatron was. Supplies, both from the ship's inventory and personal stock, had to be logged. Soundwave was building a comprehensive list of what the Neutrals possessed, supplementing the reports of how their former mine was being modified. The energon vault converted to a medical center. Excavation caverns into living and storage rooms. The small equipment store into a bar, of all things, which was (unsurprisingly) the destination of most traded items. If nothing else, it was good for morale.

The rules of what couldn't be traded out were as strict as they were within Haven, though 90% of what was bartered was of no significant value to the Decepticon army: Earth trinkets, replenishable raw materials and physical labour. Unless Soundwave flagged it, the Decepticon Commander paid it little mind.

So long as duties were carried out, fraternising wasn't taking place, and pertinent intelligence was being forwarded on (and never disclosed within Haven's stone walls), Megatron left the business of his mecha during their downtime alone.

What business a specialist such as Ravage would be conducting at the DMZ did capture Megatron's interest, however.

The cassette was pinged a summons to the Commander's office as soon as the groundbridge had closed behind his articulated tail. Situated adjacent to the bridge, the office was sparse and utilitarian. There was a solidly built chair on either side of the desk console, though Megatron preferred to work standing.

There were nicks and scratches on the top of both, signs of regular use as a perch.

[Ravage]

Ravage had planned on heading to one of his favorite places; that girder atop the main concourse outside of the Eradicon refabrication plant. Already he was thiking about lying along the metal, belly to the cool, smooth surface, forelegs folded over each other. Stretch out his neck and rest his chin on his paws.

That place was the place where the dark mech often came to settle his thoughts. Sometimes he would find Fairwinds up there; her humor and random chatter about things going on in the base were welcome distractions from his work. All the latest gossip about this and that and who was where and who was doing what and likely some random experiment with some sweet she'd been making in her cupboard. She was sharp though; clever and enthusiastic about her work, and he appreciated that. It meant things got done and they got done right. Sometimes with a few body parts in the recycler, but ah, that was an everyday part of this conflict.

The whirr and puff of the Nemesis' air vents blew across him as he padded out of the ground bridge. It brought thousand scents to his olfactory sensors. Absentmindedly, Ravage sorted through them like he always did put them in place. Nothing dangerous, no major issues. Hmm, it appeared they were working on that rough-running engine again, yes, and elecrical wiring had shorted and melted.

Underneath it all was a scent that was so familiar he barely gave it a second thought. It was a constant chemical smell swirling inside of the great ship. It came from the banks of atmosphere scrubbers that dried the air and recycled it inside. The treatment trapped nearly all of the moisture that Earth's atmosphere constantly poured into the vents. It kept the rust down, and made sure many of the most delicate components from being compromised.

Somewhere then, the Eradicons were talking. His mind flicked back to the last conversation he'd heard when he was up in that nook. New friend, old friend; hey, you're back, wow, I remember you -- how have you been. Cheerful things; companionable things, before the darker things drifted up to Ravage's audials; yeah, well, I heard that Grip never came back from that patrol- did you hear they found just enough of him to know it was him? Yeah, well then these guys never came back and all there was was a smatter of fuel. Not me, uh uh, I ain't going out there... that's it, you'll just never know until it's too late. Truth.

Ravage twitched his ears. Yes, the patrols and disappearing mechs, he really needed to get back to that. Unfortunately, right now it is was secondary to -

The summons came exactly at that moment to interrupt Ravage's thoughts with a quiet ping. Immediately the spy lifted his head. His paw lifted up in mid-stride. The cat froze; the only motion on him for a moment the smooth ripple of his outer plating along his flanks.

There was not even the slightest moment of hestiation; immediately he answered that summons with impeccable, respectful politeness. His ping back was as smooth as a dip of his head, a bow of his forepaw. He was on his way. After that, the dark cat broke into a lope through the dim halls as he headed straight for the Commander's office; one did not leave the Warlord waiting.

He slowed though when he reached the office door, and then shook himself from nose to tail, as if settling the rest of his thoughts. Then he padded into the office. It was as sparse and utilitarian as he remembered, and he approved. Work spaces were for work; it reminded him of an office far, far in his past - smooth corners and only what was needed. No distractions; no gory trophies on the walls or expensive, over-wrought furnishings. Those were merely attempts to make someone believe you had power.

The Warlord had no reason for that sort of display. None at all.

Ravage stopped, paws just so. His tail draped quietly behind him, the tip did not flick or twitch as he halted on the opposite side of the desk. He did note the scratches on the chair. Fairwinds' talons, of course, worn into the furniture with time and landings. She was here more often than not.

"Lord Megatron," Ravage murmured, his ears pricked forward. "How may I be of service?"

[Deleted]

The warlord swept a claw across the surface of the desk, the refinery statistics for the mine they were approaching for pick-up cascading down as the hologram deactivated. Soundwave had sent the data packet over comm.s a short time ago, and though it was faster to process internally, Megatron still preferred to 'read' in the basic sense when there was time. It was a long-lingering habit from Kaon; data he could see just felt more real.

Though Megatron looked down at most Cybertronians (and in the case of Autobots, down upon), cassettes were a particular extreme. Fairwinds compensated for this by alighting upon any convenient surface that would bring her to at least chest height with the warlord. Ravage had more than earned the right to speak from wherever he chose, be it the floor, chair or desk.

Megatron regarded the mecha over the desk, the uncanny stillness in him. It had been some time since he'd spoken directly with Ravage; in some peculiar way, he'd forgotten that cassettes could keep still.

"As the majority of Decepticons who visit the DMZ are going for its bar," Megatron began, "I have heard little analysis of the situation there."

One talon flicked out as he tipped his hand, elaborating. "Details on equipment, structural layout and what can be laced with High Grade, but not of the Neutrals and their... engagement, with the wider world. And the Autobots."

Ravage was an ideal mecha to provide a reflective analysis of this. Where Shockwave was meticulous in concrete detail and statistics, nuance often escaped him. This cassette, however, was a specialist in details - a talented spy and analyst.

"Tell me, in your professional opinion: how are things faring at the Neutral base?"

[Feldspar]

Ravage's ears rotated to focus entirely on Megatron. There was not even the slightest twitch to listen behind him or around him. The spy was always cautious when he spoke in open places; his audials and olfactory sensors on the alert. But here, in this office, no - there was simply no reason to be. Megatron's spaces were the most secure on the entire ship, and if he wanted to discuss something there would be nothing leaked into the wrong places unless he desired it to be there in the first place.

The spy glanced at the chair, at the desk, and yet he did not hop up on either of them. He was most comfortable on the floor in this case. Unless he was asked, the floor was perfectly acceptable by him. He rather found it a preference for a personal reason. It was pleasant to be treated as any other Decepticon would be. Starscream would not hop up on a desk to look Megatron in the eye; nor would Ravage. The thought did amuse the spy for a moment though.

There was of course a difference when it came to Fairwinds - her bond allowed her far more liberties, and Ravage could respect that as well. Around Soundwave, he often did go to a high perch, stretch out and allow himself to relax; well, as much as he was able to.

Ravage settled himself back on his haunches and curled his tail along his forelimbs, settling the tip just so along his level forepaws.

A chuckle at Megatron's comment. "Ah, yes, you are absolutely correct, Lord Megatron. I sadly do believe as well that the majority of all Cybertronians find the bar the most interesting feature of the place," he agreed.

However, the questions presented were far more interesting ones to Ravage. The cat tipped his jaw, his red optics dimming slightly with thought.

"At the moment? I think things are comfortable. Not to where they had hoped, but comfortable. They have achieved their goal of safely allowing traffic from all factions in and out without conflict; which allows them to be able to profit from transactions and trade. They have been bartering tangibles for trade skills, allowing them to expand their situation and upgrade their living conditions. Layby is hardworking and straightforward, but Cleaver is quite clever, but that has always been a given, has it not?"

A flick of his ear; if he was a humanoid mech, Ravage would have been shrugging his shoulder.

"Both factions have been relaying to the unaffilated they run across that there is a refuge of sorts there. Word of mouth ensures that this being spread rather rapidly, my Lord. I have scented more and more mechs in the space each time I have passed through."

"It is interesting. I would not have suspected that there were so many wanderers from our world, nor that they would end up here of all places, given their choice of all the other places they could go."

"That said, my Lord... while they are doing exactly what they had planned and it is succeeding well for them so far? It may lead to an incredibly dangerous situation for all," he murmured, shaking his head. "The patterns are there."

[Deleted]

The warlord could gather what Ravage was inferring - there were only so many potential futures for a DMZ, and increased traffic and occupation set the course that much more firmly. Megatron knew that Cleaver would not sway towards either faction, and was clever enough not to be manipulated by more aligned agents, but she was not representative of every mecha's ideology and agenda within the DMZ.

A ban on weaponry only made things superficially safer. Some would even see that as a challenge.

Megatron would have moved on from the comprehensive answer, and inquire about information going in to the Neutral base and, by extension, the reason for Ravage's visit. However, one phrase had snagged a processing thread, and how the cassette had shaken his head with something between regret and exasperation...

An incredibly dangerous situation for all.

A status report from Breakdown flashed in the corner of his HUD. Optics narrowing, Megatron dismissed it immediately, trusting Starscream or Soundwave to act should one of the mines be in trouble.

"Do you have a specific cause for concern in mind?" he asked, returning his full attention to Ravage.

[Ravage]

There was no hesitation. Ravage's ears pricked forward, and then the cat lowered his head in a nod. "Yes," he replied. "MECH."

The tip of his tail flicked slightly, curling back and forth. "We have already had one incident with them. The Autobots as well. They are intent on capturing Cybertronians for their own purposes, most of which seem to be the typical intent of a lower-technology species looking to find a way to one-up their wealth and social status..."

A faint lift of his shoulder. "That said, those encounters don't concern me in some respects. We - and the Autobots for that matter, will notice if someone is missing, or gone, or does not report back. We would know exactly who they have and how to take appropriate counter measures, the Autobots would stop at nothing to get one of their own back from the humans, and I do believe the human government that they deal with would not appreciate that technology falling into the wrong hands, either."

"My worry is this, Lord Megatron," the cat murmured. "The neutral population is building up. Every time I go there, there is another set of scents that I cannot place or put a face to. The honest truth is that the DMZ is not hidden from Autobots or Decepticons, and it is a place where there is a concentration of Cybertronians that have abilities or weapons systems that we do not have on record. If it was to fall..."

He trailed off and shook his head.

"It could be troublesome for all of us. Not to mention that having neutrals go missing? There are a distinct lack of mechs who may notice one of them gone for a very long time. There is no one they report to, no one keeping tabs on them. The humans having more than short access to a Cybertronian frame bothers me, because that would allow them to branch off into being far, far more dangerous."

[Deleted]

"So long as Cleaver remains present and cogent," Megatron replied without pause, "there will always be a record. And it would be noticed if one were to disappear."

The sweeping plates of his optical ridges drew together, thoughtful. His optics darkened minutely, their focus turning elsewhere. "The medic is predictable, whatever rut she finds herself in, and though her pride is substantial, she will come to her strongest allies if she is in need of aid. If they understand MECH's capabilities, if they are aware that people have already been taken and dissected by them..."

Megatron's gaze snapped back to ravage, the gloomy light behind his optical crystals sharp once more. "She would turn to Prime or myself - either way, in all probability we would know if MECH comes into possession of a Cybertronian through the DMZ."

There was a short silence - as long as two ventilation cycles for the warframe. Two steps took Megatron around the wide desk, removing the physical barrier between himself and the comparatively tiny cassette.

"Did you impress upon them this danger, or were they already aware?" he asked, a leading question that Ravage could sense was a prelude to another. The movement of information outside of faction was precarious business, and there had to be at least a balance of data in any exchange. Preferably a significant gain.

Whilst this colony of Neutrals were not Autobots, they still interacted with the enemy faction. Information gained from Decepticons would not necessarily stop in Haven if the Autobots had something to train. Cleaver, and presumably Layby, knew better than to traffic in such a way: it was, ultimately, lethal business. But, as Ravage said, there were mecha in that old mine that they didn't know; potential collaborators and mercenaries.

As much as it was in their shared interest to be aware of and alert to the threat MECH presented, there were particulars that could be damaging. That a frontliner had been dissected. That the Decepticons had not mounted a rescue. That Vehicon patrols were being targeted.

Megatron did not insult the cassette's intelligence by asking the obvious. Softly, the massive frame still, he asked, "Did you give them intelligence?"

[Ravage]

Ravage's ears turned to follow the mech as he paced back and forth. Finally, he politely tilted his head upwards to look at the towering form above him. The cat did not flinch, nor did he move. He sat, just so, quietly, at perfect attention, his tail curled around his dark forefeet.

"Only the intelligence that is already available to them within a short conversation with the Autobots," he said, because that was the honest truth, and if there was one person that Ravage did not cat-foot around, it was his Lord.

"They will no doubt move quickly to verify my words, and the scent of Autobot security is thick on that place. In fact, I am betting on the fact that they will, and banking on the fact that in return we no doubt will learn some things we did not know."

His ears flattened back; Ravage had no love for any sense of Autobot security. Unless it was chuckling inward at the fact that he'd adroitly avoided everything they'd set. He quickly regained himself though; and his expression was calm and smooth once more.

"I simply relayed what the Autobots at this time no doubt know to be fact. That we were targeted in Russia. That they did not keep their captured mech and that they did get some study and perhaps technology in that short time. I had to make the danger real and urgent to them, to tip them immediately to take steps to look into it. They interact with humans far more than we do and it would be far too easy for that to come back to bite before they had no inkling."

He flicked his ears and slightly opened his mouth. Fangs gleamed in the low light. "They trust the humans far too much. I feel that when humans are involved, they may balk at what must be done. We will not, and we have the sense and enough crew to be subtle and swift about it."

"As for Cleaver, you are as always correct. She keeps excellent records," he agreed quietly, his red optics never blinking. "Of those who visit, of those who arrive. It is all the ones that never have crossed paths with their DMZ that makes me shake my head. The ones that never make it there, so that Cleaver might not know they exist."

[Deleted]

"We are not here to police interactions between the native populous and unalligned Cybertronians," Megatron intoned, his conviction as manifest as his authority. "And I will not begin a war with the humans for the sake of protecting a possible handful of unalligned, nor will I see our resources spent safeguarding them."

Though a direct conflict with the human population on Earth would be an assured victory, they had determined that it would be a pointless exercise within days of coming into orbit of the planet. They were tenacious despite their primitive technology, and the Decepticons would suffer at least some material and personnel losses. If they turned to their nuclear armaments, which Soundwave predicted with 97.03% certainty that they would as a final act of desperation, then the Energon caches would be contaminated. Such weaponry also posed a real threat to the Nemesis, and he would not risk the warship outside of a direct attack upon the Autobots.

No, the decision to function without the human's notice as much as possible still stood. There was no significant gain to be had in eradicating an irritation. MECH had ascended to being genuinely problematic, but the small agency still did not warrant the war that taking heavy action against them would incite.

The gathered Neutrals were alert to the risk, and would contact one or both factions in the event of an incident. Those unalligned that came here alone, however, would remain as at-risk as they had in deadly solitude amongst the stars.

"Your warning was more than adequate - it was generous, and hopefully they will have the sense to take heed of it and act accordingly," Megatron said, the dim light catching the chipped edges of his plates as he turned out one hand. "If not, then so be it, and we will deal with the fallout."

The warlord moved back behind the desk, indicating that he was almost done with the cassette. "Stay in contact with them, Ravage. As you were the one to offer this information freely, for their benefit, then you may hear from them again. If they ask for information we do not have, inform Soundwave. They interact more with the humans, as you say."

[Ravage]

Ravage's ears turned as the heavy, measured tread moved past him. He kept himself completely still other than that, quiet and respectful. Lord Megatron's words were completely agreed with, because what he said made sense. They had no time to police a war besides their own, and nor did they want to start a war with the natives of this world over a handful of foolish mechs who chose to make their way in the galaxy by themselves. It was a dangerous place, and even more so without any sort of support system. Those that chose to make their own way without help- also chose to die their own way without help, and he felt no remorse. Their choice. He had chosen his place long ago; and even if he was to have a chance to go back to when everything had started...

He would not have changed his path.

Lord Megatron's very discreet warning hung between them. Ravage accepted it, and he knew and agreed that he had stepped a little too close to what he himself deemed safe boundaries. The problem was that well, surprisingly an Autobot might have been more inclined to believe what he had to say without thinking deeply about it. The neutrals would take that information and rightly wonder if they were being led to a position where they would be used as-- a barrier, perhaps, or even a decoy. He had given them the information because - he knew, it would be checked, it would be listened to. It would be added to, and then the patterns would lead it back to him, and back to the Decepticons, and they could take those patterns and use them for their own safety.


He glanced up at the massive mech, lifting his jaw. His tail curled and flicked across his forepaws. He noted the distinct lack of Fairwinds now - she was not here? Out on a mission then, out on patrol. Or perhaps she was simply tucked away in her cupboard, creating whatever candy-like concoction she was working on this week.

"Yes, Lord Megatron," the black cat-mech murmured. "Understood. Ah, I do think I will hear from them again. If they are to ask for that information, I shall inform Soundwave first, and wait for your response before I continue forward."

[Deleted]

Megatron nodded, endorsing the proposal as sound. He would not offer the cassette praise or direct vocalisation of his approval for his sense of initiative. Like his carrier, Ravage did not require compliments or affirmations of having served well to be confident in his position. Starscream needed praise like he needed punishment - recognition, and to manage his ego. Soundwave and his cohort were far more secure in their value.

"You are dismissed, Ravage."



<<OOC: Short tag, but feels like a wrap! Unless you have a closing post? =)>>