Ep. 1 [AR] - Working Hard, or Hardly Working - Closed

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[For Krax, with Layby <3]

Halocene had looked at Red Alert with nothing short of skepticism when he had told her there was a demilitarized zone. His passive explanation did nothing for her, though when he had debriefed her on her job and handed her the required data slate, she had gladly accepted any chance to wander off base, even if it was on official business. Primus, she hoped she would get to test her new alt. mode somewhere.

Requesting ground bridge access twenty four hours beforehand was a polite, pleasant affair, and it only boosted the defunct frontliner's hopes for how the meeting would go. She was told she would be speaking with one Layby for matters of security, and that was that. Halocene delighted in meeting new bots, provided they didn't immediately point a weapon in her direction, and so her excitement at both the opportunity to socialize, and a trip off base compounded together.

As it were, when she sauntered out of the ground bridge in Africa, she had immediately thought somebody had fragged up and put her down a gully back in Nevada. The mountain face to her right cast a heavy shade over the red rocks, and even then, the heat sweltered at approximately 34 degrees, her internal readings told her.

No, this wasn't Nevada. The humidity was the same, low, but it smelled different here.

The desire to wander off was strong, but she needed to get her duties completed before anything else.

Ratchet had been nice enough to explain to her that the neutral base was located in a cave, so she assumed the large, gaping maw in the rock face was the entrance. It was much cooler once she stepped past the lip of the rock overhead, so Halocene vented the hot air from her systems, the stark difference in temperatures making the air around her sides quiver deceptively. Her internals lulled from "oh god, heat" into "holy slag let's go!" with the refresh of the air.

"Heeey, anybody home?" The black and yellow femme called cheerily as she started forward, her hulking form moving farther into the interior of the cavern. Her voice echoed back at her, and she couldn't stop the snigger that escaped. She was tempted to start playing some of her newly-acquired Earth music at a high volume, just to see what would happen.

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Visitors to Haven were becoming more regular as the months passed, with at least one aligned mecha a day crossing the into the DMZ. Decepticons were the more frequent faction due to the sheer number on their ship's roster, and where all visits for the first few days had been surrounding trade, now the majority were coming to socialise. Or to simply spend their off-duty shift somewhere else. A handful of Autobots were becoming familiar sights, though there was still a lot of open scrutiny and anxiety in those visits. Layby honestly hadn't been surprised when another request to enter and discuss security had come in

There were no cold callers, and each request to enter was screened and logged. As a courtesy, notification was sent if there was a member from the opposing faction currently in Haven. No names, of course, but Layby had found that a little warning could defuse a lot of ugly before it started.

It was a slow day, and only the Neutral residents were inside the old mine - perfect conditions for a tour. Layby had locked up the bar and stood waiting in the Atrium for Halocene to arrive. From what little he'd determined, she was relatively new to the planet and not long put to work. The DMZ may have been something to cut her teeth on, else she was making herself personally familiar with the situation here.

Hopefully her outlook was a bit more optimistic than Fortress Maximus's and Red Alert's had been...

The sing-song hail from the entrance corridor was promising. Layby found himself smiling even as he pushed old joints off of the sofa he'd been leaning against and made for the doorway. Installed into the rock on the left, the status ring on the weapons vault glowed a steady green.

"Yeah, keep on coming," he called back as he walked. "Entrance is a bit longer than you'd expect. Follow the turn 'round and - there ye go."

And there she was: all seven and a bit tonnes of her. The radio whips atop her shoulders swayed as she moved, and Layby looked up at her even as he'd stopped a respectable distance away. Tall. Solid. And those tires looked more off-roading that patrolling asphalt.

"Halocene, right? 'm Layby."

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Slightly disappointed at losing the opportunity to disturb the silence inside the caverns, Halocene strolled – because there was no other way to describe the frontliner's exceedingly casual walk – further into the cave at the vocal prompt, and cast her gaze up toward the ceiling of the cave, which was hard to spot in the darkness that pooled beyond the reach of any light, artificial or natural. The dark form of a mecha emerging from behind a sloping wall in her peripheral sensors engaged her attention.

Nothing less than a slag-eating grin split her lower face before the femme thrust one large, steel-cast fist into the air in a blatant gesture of some sort of triumph:

“Score, I was scared I was gonna' have to look down at someone the whole time. You, my friend, are special.” Halocene greeted, mildly, though, from the way her field was throwing 'hi, hello, hey, friendly', she probably wouldn't have been too torn up over someone substantially smaller. The word 'score' was new for her, a human term she'd pulled from the internet, but she liked using it.

“Yessir, here to meet all your security and safety needs.” She returned, that grin still plastered across her face as her visor reflected brightly at the Neutral mech. He was a living picture of a soldier, or ex-soldier in his case, with pits and repair scars flung like splattered paint across the entirety of his frame. The scar across his face reminded her of Gnasher, who had been KIA not long before the decommission of the rest of her team. That was where the similarities ended, however, because where Gnasher had been a grump, Layby seemed to be outgoing and friendly, which she appreciated vastly. Good Autobots they might be, but Red Alert and Fort Max – the two mechs she dealt with regularly on duty – were about as inclined to engage in conversation as they were to shirk duty, which was to say, never.

“Not to jump ahead of you, but Red said you'd be doin' a weapons check, so I left everything sharp and explosive at home.” Halocene offered. And indeed, there were gaps in her hefty forearm armor where the coupling device she used to deploy her stinger blades usually resided. Likewise, she was sans rocket launcher and ammunition. There wasn't anything she could do about her servos. She hoped he didn't take offense to her distrust of leaving her weaponry unattended with strange bots, but she'd picked up some very bad habits from her former cohort.

“Seems like you've got a nice setup here. When boss told me there was a DMZ, I wasn't so inclined to believe him. How long you been here?”

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Layby returned her grin with a crooked one of his own, instantly relaxing into her friendly and confident field. She possessed the same easy, rough-and-tumble attitude as every soldier had had in his squad in the Defense Force.

When Halocene took his offered hand in a solid grip, he flicked a quick contact-scan to confirm that her weapon systems were cold. Layby had no reservations about ensuring safety where weapons were concerned, and he doubted that she would be surprised by the scan. It was SOP in all DMZs not to take anyone's word for anything.

"Clocking on 6 months, now," he replied as he released her hand. "'ppreciate you stripping yer kit before you came. Wouldn't think many would be too rankled 'bout having to disarm when both faction leaders have signed on the line, but still get a few who make a fuss. Most've been easy enough with the place so far. Haven't had any complaints, t'least."

Layby caught himself then, realizing that he was holding Halocene up at the threshold; not exactly welcoming. He raised a hand with a wince. "Sorry, 'm running on, here. Ah, honestly not sure what you want to see, here. Fortress Maximus and Red Alert were-" what was a non-paranoid word? "thorough."

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"Very nice." Halocene replied, and, true to her nature, was completely passive as she felt Layby take a quick look at her systems. There was no offense meant, just precautionary measures, like her mistrust of leaving her gear in a strange place, and it was over immediately. Releasing the mech's hand, she popped the data slate Red Alert had given her out of subspace and gave it a cursory look.

"Unfortunately, they're not done being thorough yet. I got the impression from the boss that he just wants a follow-up. Address any concerns, or any possible breaches that might have occurred, that sort of thing." The frontliner intoned in a speculative way as she deftly entered the time and location, as well as the name of who she was speaking to.

Halocene's mood sobered slightly as she went into "work" mode, but her EMF remained open and affable, as it always was.

"Do you have any concerns about security here? Weak spots, or any suspicious activity from any faction that might compromise security? I assume you'd be the first to contact Red if you did, but I need something official to enter into the report." The crooked grin on her face gave away that she would have winked at Layby had she not had her visor in place. The sudden camaraderie between them could have been persuading her, but the femme got the impression that the Neutral was earnest and reliable. If anything had occurred, he would have reported it to the security officers of both factions. Privately, she wondered if the Decepticons were as concerned with the DMZ's safety, but thought it best not to bring it up. Keep things professional.

"I'd actually really like a tour, if you'd prefer." She offered good-naturedly. Best not to stand in their doorway, lest anybody else show up, in any case, and she could always take the opportunity to do a cursory look over the place, for the sake of being thorough.

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Layby jerked his head in a short nod, stepping back and sweeping one blunt hand up to usher the Autobot inside properly. ""No one's courting any grief, but then it's early days, yet. Place is so new, most folk are on their best behaviour whilst they scope it out. Could be a while yet 'fore anyone starts pushing their luck, seeing what they can git away with."

The Atrium was the central cavern of the old mine, repurposed from the site where the Nemesis would bulk-bridge refined energon straight up into the ship's hold into the social hub of the DMZ. Bracketed by the entrances to the bar and medical bay, and the tunnels leading off to living quarters and the sublevels, the space was wide and sparsely furnished. There was a casual seating area with a large television in front of Cat's domain (kitchen, dining area, miniature living room and the door to her shuttlepod), a clear area where most trade took place, and the sturdy archway of their own groundbridge.

Layby came to stand alongside Halocene as she took in the immediate area. "Defense-wise, being inside a mountain nullifies a lot of risk right off the bat, and there's bin a lot of work done ta safeguard the generators and fortify the security down below. Access to Haven's guts're restricted."

The old soldier rested his hands on his hips, mouth pulling into a grimace as he took in the Atrium with darker optics. More critical and with an unfortunately necessary negativity. "Got the usual weak spots of any DMZ, most of 'em being that we put a lot of reliance on trust. Trust that the leaders will hold to their word. Trust that folk who come in here will mind their manners and not create an incident by killing each other. Trust that neither faction's gonna see the DMZ's presence as too dangerous to stand and 'bridge a bomb through."

There was a short silence as Layby entertained that simple, terrible thought. When he spoke again, it was with forced energy. "Would love to have an anti-groundbridge field generator so we can control who and what comes in, and when as well. But we ain't got the equipment or expertise here to build it, nor the barter to trade for it.

Anti-groundbridge technology was invented shortly after the first groundbridge-delivered bombing, and was essentially disrupted and scattered the vortex before it could form. Highly valued during the war, but they were difficult to maintain on a continuous basis, and required a phenomenal amount of fuel to operate. Even if they did gain the technology here in Haven, they would become wholly reliant on the Decepticon mining operations to run it.

Thinking on the impracticality of an anti-groundbridge field soothed down the barbs of coding that wanted one. It would keep folk safe, to an extent that he couldn't.

Layby shrugged off the niggle of anxiety, resettling the blast plates that had crept outwards as he thought. "Most DMZs've gotten by without, though. No one expected us t'have one here."

He finally met Halocene's visor once again. Primus but he'd rambled on more than he ought to have in the short window between her arriving and coming to stand some twenty meters from where they started. His field conveying an apology for being distracted.

"Should probably show you what we have got rather'n talking at you 'bout what we ain't, I suppose..."

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For once, Halocene shut her mouth and listened while Layby spoke, nodding when appropriate. It was...tricky, maintaining a DMZ; aligned mecha circling like wolves, waiting for the other side to put one toe out of line, and the badge you wore always mattered, no matter what anybody suggested about neutrality, or peace. Layby reported no incidents, but he was correct; it was only a matter of time. Personally, Halocene hoped it never came to that.

The suggestion of someone actually using a space bridge to transport a warhead sent a wave of unease through the usually stolid Autobot, and a lopsided frown drew one corner of her mouthplates down as she tapped in a note on the datapad. There should have been an outlaw on space bridge warfare, but the Rules of Engagement had...well, they had fallen apart, and it was crapshoot as far as what they'd see next. The thought made her frown again.

Layby must have been following the same disturbing train of thought, because Halocene had to lean slightly to avoid being nudged over by the armor pulling away from his frame. It would have been funny if it hadn't implied what it did.

Several seconds of thick silence passed before a warbling sound rippled through her vocalizer -- the Cybertronian equivalent of a throat clearing --, and her smile came back, field mild and repentant in response to his own, for an entirely different reason.

"Phew, got grim in here for a minute. You know best, Layby, show the way." She gestured, before turning sideways to glance back to the entrance, visor flashing brighter for just an instant.

"You'll have to show me around outside, too, if we get the time." The frontliner suggested, thumbing over her shoulder as she turned back to the mech with a solicitous grin.

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Oh, there was something positively mischievous in that little flash, and Layby was certainly game with the mood he'd been fighting off as of late. He'd not left the mine since running a patrol of the outside perimeter not long after the DMZ was formally sanctioned. The thought of taking on the rough terrain with another equally suited to running it was entirely too appealing.

And since Halocene had been the one to bring it up, suggesting - no, requesting that that be part of the tour, then he'd be a poor host not to go.

Cleaver wouldn't have swallowed it, but Layby was quite satisfied with his line of reasoning. He grinned at the femme, something much lighter and brighter coming into his field. "Y'know what: that sounds like a fine place ta start. Move in from the perimeter to cover the ground - basic efficiency. Gonna end up back in here for the rest of the tour, anyhow."

The old soldier nodded to the thick off-road tires she bore above her pedes. "Got a five mile border that's safe... ish. Dunes an' big rocks, mostly." With a grin, he added, "You up to that?"

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That grin only got bigger the more Layby talked; rock crawling and getting her tires hubcap deep into some sand? Sounded like a veritable playground.

"Mech, I live for 'safe-ish'." The frontliner crowed with a chuff of laughter. Red Alert couldn't possibly object, they were simply diverting their attention to making sure the perimeter was secured, and they'd be back in the caves to finish up in no time at all.

It was Halocene that turned first and began walking back the way they'd come, helm still tilting this way, and that, because she was still trying to take in every inch of what she had seen so far. With the cool underground temperature, and apparent sturdiness of the rock around them, this was the perfect place for a neutral zone, at least from a comfort standpoint.

Vents sighing the last of the cool air away, Halocene stepped out into the relentless sun once more, data slate already thrown back into subspace. Visor dimming, she took a quick look to either side, noting the heatwaves wavering in the distance; were there even any humans living in this area? Her temperature gauges read uncomfortably hot, how could the fragile organics even exist here?

Thirty feet of Cybertronian folded down into a civilian-grade truck in the blink of an eye, and the diesel engine sat, rumbling in idle while the femme waited for Layby to point the way again. It was rude to leave behind one's host, after all, even if you were excited as slag.

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Layby didn't leave her waiting long, pinging a note to Cleaver that he was going out as he was heading out the 'door'. The dirty growl of the M1200 reverberated out of the entranceway and rolled to a stop next to the truck on the small plateau. It was a steep, loose-rock slope down to the desert proper that deterred just about anyone from approaching on foot, including Cybertronians.

That just meant it would be a hell of a slip'n'slide drive down.

::Don't go beyond the scrubs:: Layby comm.ed on an open channel, and sent over the map and coordiates of the agreed perimeter of the DMZ. Technically only a fraction of the entire mountain fell within the green zone, but unofficially they had the whole set of inhospitable slopes and dead drops as well as this small band of flat earth to call their own.

He rolled forward to the edge, and even in the cooler shadow of the mountain that rose behind them, the earth was warm and dry against his tires. Layby gunned his engine. ::Up 'til there, everything else is just how solid yer bearings are.::

Then he was gone, roaring over the edge and down the slope like a mech half his age. His field reeked of laughter and pure, unadulterated delight.