EP 1 (AR) Board and Rent (Wheeljack, Red Alert, Closed-ish)

[Deleted]

(This is open to anyone who would like to puppet Optimus Prime for this discussion. Otherwise, just Red Alert will be fine. Set end of week 1. Wheejack's at a random generic crash-site since those are all over the place.)

Wheeljack eyed the pile of salvage he'd recovered from the wreck. Then he eyed the Jackhammer. Then the sad remains of the spaceship.

There was still more to go, he'd stripped the plating and the wiring. He'd started with all the interesting parts, disassembled the power core and engine, as well as the thrusters. As much of the ship's onboard computer and navigation systems, he'd recovered, there was a side project he'd slowly been fiddling with over the past hundred vorns and he needed as many processing chips as he could get.

Unfortunately, he was pushing the Jackhammer's cargo limits even now. There was still so much he could recover from the wreck and the wastage stung at him. Spare parts were in short supply and not so easily acquired on this planet. Pits, anything from Cybertron was valuable, full stop. But Wheeljack couldn't be every where nor could he store everything fron the wrecks that he did reach. And the Autobot recovery/clean up teams didn't have anything near his skill or knowledge and it drove him a little crazy that the they were disposing valuable material so that the Decepticons or humans couldn't get their servos on it.

As much as he hated to even consider it, they needed an engineer.

And as he hated to consider it, he needed a place to dump all the components he was collecting.

It would seem that both he and the Omega base were in need of each other.

Wheeljack scowled and pried loose some more wiring. The Autobots wouldn't turn away his help, he knew that. There had been a reason why so many units had been desperate to get him assigned to them back when he was a fresh cadet out of basic training, despite the insubordination record half a mile long. His fusion core, the one design that had last after multiple rounds of explosions/tests where his many others hadn't, was being incorporated into newly constructed starships at the time. Wheeljack had just presented a modified energon distillery with an increased 10% efficiency rating, which quickly became the norm for decavorns to follow when the war had broken out. The engineer had left his cohort during the peak of his career and the weight of their disappointment had sometimes felt like a tangible thing.

It had followed him into the Autobots. There had been scientists amongst the ranks that were always so eager to meet him. That eagerness always turned to disapproval when they saw what he'd been doing with himself.

Wrecker.

Destroyer.

Spark cold killer.

A waste, they'd declare, of Wheeljack's talents and processor.

Like they had any right to judge him and his merry band of fellow lunatics. What they failed to understand was that Wheeljack did not work in a vacuum. He built machines or streamlined designs for a purpose. He did not pursue science simply for the sake of knowledge itself. He'd done some of his finest work during his time as a Wrecker. Nothing quite gave you inspiration to figuring out a solution to a problem and getting it right the first time when you were two astroseconds away from dying from said problem.

Still. He was good but he couldn't work without the right material. And that material was going to waste as things were right now.

Could be modifying his inbuilt guns, improving the Jackhammer's fuel capacity, improving its design, increasing the power output to its canons...there were many possibilities and they were all swirling around in the back of his processor. The Wrecker straightened up and peered at the horizon.

Shockwave was up there somewhere. In the Nemesis or wherever his lab was located.

The Autobots would not support him in his pursuit for revenge. Optimus Prime didn't have the spark for organized murder. If they happened to terminate a Con during a random encounter, so be it but he'd baulk at deliberately hunting down a Decepticon for the sole purposes of extermination. Which was why Wheeljack was out here by himself and nowhere near the Omega base. To get to Shockwave was going to require more than the resources Wheeljack currently had at hand, so he couldn't afford to ignore the wastage of materials. That was one Decepticon that had gone on existing for way too long.

There were vorns worth of memories missing from his processor, his memory core had been in pieces at some point and he'd certainly been used as some sort of experiment for an extended period of time. Wheeljack would say that you don't just forget something like that but whatever Shockwave had done to him, apparently it was so traumatic that he had. It was more than concerning that he couldn't remember what experiments had been conducted on him -look at what Shockwave did to the Dinobots- though so far, the only damage he knew of was to his memory core. If Shockwave had done more -of course he'd done more, this was Shockwave after all- the effects were either minor or they hadn't manifested yet, neither options were particularly comforting. He'd known his frame inside out before then, had overseen and designed each and every upgrade and conducted enough of his own repairs when there hadn't been a medic in the near vicinity. But ever since he'd woken up in the remains of Crystal City, there had been this nagging sense that he was a stranger in his own frame. No matter how much Wheeljack had checked, then double-checked or replaced parts because of a lingering suspicion about them, that feeling had never gone away.

That was just the stuff Wheeljack had no hard evidence on. His memories from his life before Shockwave's lab were shattered. If they had been a glass mirror, then Wheeljack's recovery had involved gathering up the pieces and trying to glue them back together to make them whole again. The cracks were always going to be there and the picture was never the same, but it was enough for him to function normally.

And he wasn't the only one. There was other, far too many other mecha that had gone missing in Shockwave's laboratories. As far as he knew though, Wheeljack was the only survivor to claw their way back to sanity.

It wasn't just for him he was doing this for.

The desire to put Shockwave down had been slow burning in his spark for a very long time. The joy he'd felt exploring the stars had once been enough to bury these thoughts deep in his processor and forget about it. But never had he been so close to the Decepticon that he could actually act on those buried impulses of vengeance. It was consuming his focus, every thought directed to hunting the scientist down.

First, though, he needed a place to hold all his stuff. Wheeljack loaded the Jackhammer up with the more...sensitive components aka the stuff that would probably get confiscated by the Autobots if they knew he had them. It'd take precious little to convert the salvaged core into a powerful bomb. Wheeljack should know. After all, it was based on his fusion core design.

He set the autopilot to move the Jackhammer to a secluded cave his scans had picked up on the way down. Wheeljack rested one pede on a rock, gazed at the work he still had before he exvented roughly and activated his comm systems.

::Wheeljack to Omega base:: he pinged cheerfully. He knew that this visit was going to get under the plating of more than a few mechs and he was determined not to be one of them. ::Requesting groundbridge to my location. How do you Bots feel about a business proposal?::

[Deleted]

One of the things Red Alert found particularly vexing about Outpost Omega One, aside from its pitiful construction and lack of anything resembling proper equipment (Terran technology was so frustratingly primitive), was how terrible short-staffed they were. Their numbers were small, distressingly so, and they had more positions that needed filling than they had mecha with the training or capability to perform them. They needed communications officers, medics, engineers--they needed more of everything, truth be told, but Primus, what Red Alert wouldn’t do for a few more mecha with medical training. Or better yet, a master of telecommunication, so they could broadcast another message out across the galaxies to request the presence of their allies.

One would have thought the first message would have had a more fruitful turnout, but alas. Apparently the presence of the prime was not enough incentive in and of itself to call mecha to the planet - that, or the message simply didn’t reach as far as hoped. Considering they were stranded on a mudball in the middle of nowhere in an uncharted galaxy at the far end of the universe, he didn’t doubt the latter.

What they needed most were numbers, to balance the scales between themselves and Megatron’s army of eradicons, but Red Alert wasn’t holding his metaphorical breath while he waited for those numbers to increase. He knew all too well how difficult it was to transverse the stars in search of the planet, and how much time it took to reach it. It was so far off from any other inhabited star system that just making it to the planet required one to stock up on fuel, lest they run out and find themselves stranded in uninhabited space, lightyears away from the nearest source to contact for help. It was possible more mecha actually had tried to make their way to Earth, but simply couldn’t forge through the great distance, or they found themselves hopelessly lost.

Either way, the likelihood of a stray Autobot making their way to the planet and reporting for duty was low. It wasn’t something that happened every day, which just made Wheeljack’s sudden ping all the more unexpected. Red Alert had been working away at a set of blueprints, as he was wont to do, when the call first reached him. He paused in his work, examining the unfamiliar frequency of the comm. with a curious expression, before answering the call. The moment the mech revealed his designation, Red Alert felt his jaw click, his teeth grinding together briefly as he smothered down a wave of preemptive frustration.

It was Wheeljack. The little lone wolf who thought it was perfectly acceptable to operate outside of the chain of command. Primus, but he could already tell he was going to dislike whatever this conversation lead him.

::That depends.:: He replied, flatly. ::Does this proposal involve you returning from your unauthorized absence and falling back under the Prime’s command?::

[Deleted]

Well. That didn't take very long. Only two astroseconds into the conversation and already it was breaking down. That was a personal record. Wheeljack was proud.

Decepticon patrols gave warmer welcomes than the Autobot on the other side of the line. Really, he wasn't even trying and the other mech sounded peeved. Wheeljack didn't let the other Autobot bother him, he deliberately relaxed his posture as he gave the wreck in front of him a bemused look, arching one optic ridge. ::Maybe when the Pits freeze over, I'll consider it,:: he answered flippantly. ::That bridge coming anytime soon or should I just start walking?::

Maybe he should have asked to see Bulkhead instead. Team Prime was all about warm hugs and feelings and they wouldn't have begrudged him the chance to catch up with an old friend, right? Well, it was too late now to backtrack. And since he'd already gotten under the plating of the mech manning the comms, he might as well keep chipping away at him.

::Or, better yet, I'll fly there,:: Wheeljack drawled. He wouldn't, the risk the Omega base security if his flight-path was tracked by the Cons was far too great. But the Autobot on the other end of the line didn't know that and Wheeljack was banking on his reputation as a Wrecker to lend some weight to the suggestion.

He could always wait for a shift change and see if the next mech on the comms would be a lot more agreeable if this didn't work out. C'mon mech, let's see what you've got.

[Flatline]

((I did a thing))


Lacking

That was the common theme on base, and one that was not lost to the Prime in the slightest. Lacking the proper technology, lacking the proper tools, lacking the personnel needed to make it work to its best capabilities, and lacking in just straight up Energon at times. It was a less than enjoyable reality they all had to face and cope with in their own ways, it often landing on the shoulders of everyone on base to try to perform outside of their trained capabilities to fill the gaps and holes. But they always managed, and they always pulled through when it came right down to it. Individuals got to learn new skill-sets through this trial, skills that at times? Overlapped one another to create a webbing of support should one fall, an added boon just to make this small miracle of a base occur.

The only major hitch? Was the Human tech that tended to need to be spliced in to fill gaps they could not manufacture on their own. This technology almost threatens to drag everything else around it down to its own primitive levels, which is... less than ideal...

But they managed, and would continue to do so.

Dull clunks of footfalls rung out as a large figure moved at a leisurely pace down the hall. Each step, almost resonated in the metal and stone enclosure of the base's interior, making it difficult NOT to know when such a figure was approaching. But such was the curse of all mech that were sufficiently large, the weight that had to plant down, creating recognizable footfalls. Stealth was not his goal though, and even if it had been? It wasn't as if he could even get near such levels as to be 'stealthy', especially with Red Alert who was likely aware of him being on the move since he exited his quarters.

Nonetheless just how small the base itself was ended up being another sad truth to their predicament. Oh sure, to human standards? It was immense, capable of holding much in its almost cavernous rooms, however to theirs? It was modest at best with the amount of Autobots coming in. They were lucky to be able to even have a place for recharge let alone house the computers and technology needed to make it all function. They would need to think about expansion and utilizing the hanger soon. Because of this reserved size, Optimus was upon the primary room in just moments.

The frame of the Prime halted in the doorway upon his arrival, blue optics sliding over the contents of the room a moment to make sure if he even WANTED to venture within. If the crew was being rowdy at all? Or if even the humans were present and seemed to be in an excited state of mind? He would simply turn and head the other way again to not have to deal with such a raucous at this current point. He didn’t mind the children, but at the same time he was not particularly fond of some of the questions they could ask or the attempts to make him laugh that always fell flat. It was then he saw Red Alert, stationed as usual like an ever vigilant guard over the communications array.

Optimus moved forward into the room after this observation, catching the tail end of what was said by the other mech, noting that it seemed to be something he should at least listen in upon. He was not about to cut in, no, he was not rude enough to just assume because he was here he could take lead. He was definitely not arrogant in the slightest, and as such, merely moved to stand behind and to the side of the other mech at a polite distance, listening in quietly.

His stance, field, and expression, all relayed a bit of curiosity... or... as much as the Prime did... His expressions of such things were painfully subtle, to a point to others? He looked dismissive, just standing there with no fluctuation of emotion, his field flattened into a near even stagnant line. However Red Alert was ever observant, and the two seemed to at least agree on some core levels, thinking upon some similar wavelengths. It is because of this, he knew the security officer would likely note his curiosity, and not mind his presence.

The voice on the other end of the line, was recognizable to him, and even if it was not vocal? The phrases that he said? Would be familiar as well even in text, the amount of sarcasm so ingrained and venomous it could probably be felt through glyphs alone. Because of this it was simple to know now what the issue was, and why things were possibly going to go south quickly. This just hit home when Wheeljack spoke of flying straight here.

Two hands.

In one? Wheeljack could be that ignorant he actually thought that was a good idea. He could simply be mechanically savvy, but blind to external issues such as Decepticons tracking such a piece of technology to their base. It would cause complete decimation to their stability, and could end with them all getting bombed before they knew what happened. Wheeljack was a Wrecker, and Optimus was not blind to how... ambitious and impulsive they could be... Bulkhead seemed to be quite level minded compared to a few others that had been on that team. Being solo for so long? Could also make one forget the subtle intricacies of how their actions could affect others.

On the other hand? Wheeljack WAS a clever mech. Anyone that could survive out on their own, actively hunting Energon and Decepticons, and STILL be alive? Knew just what they were doing. They had cunning capabilities, skill, adaptability, and resourcefulness. Lace this together with mechanical skill, swordsmanship, and a general boldness? And Wheeljack was no fool. And as solo as he did run? He was no traitor. This meant that such a statement? Such a blind comment? Was likely merely a stab in the side of Red Alert to try to spur a kneejerk response in his favor.

Manipulative.

Optimus remained silent, permitting Red to have his say, perhaps a bit curious if the officer would pick up on the trap. Though... who was he kidding... this was Red Alert... Though he could go into 'panic mode' prematurely. As such his blue optics looked at the Security Officer a moment, before settling upon the screen layout that had an icon of Wheeljack. The information array had a fluctuating sound bar when he spoke, also displaying known location, and other technical glyphs that were not really pertinent to the current situation.

[Deleted]

Red Alert knew very little about Wheeljack - he had never met the mech, but from what he had been able to gather from those who had met him, he had the distinct feeling he was not the sort of person he would be particularly fond of. Now that he was finally speaking to the mech himself, he could already tell that his hunch was going to prove correct. He should have known the moment he heard the word “Wrecker” applied to him. The Wreckers, a special task force made up of trigger-happy adrenaline-junkies who lived up to their name with frightening accuracy. Their ranks were filled by the most reckless, hell-raising, rule-breaking mecha ever to filter themselves out of the standard Autobot chain of command.

What were the chances that this Wheeljack was one of the few who wasn’t completely and utterly off his head? Trick question. There were no sane Wreckers. At least, not if you asked Red Alert. He was very much of the opinion that mecha who so freely and frequently threw caution to the wind and plunged head-first into hopeless situations, guns blazing, had to have a few screws loose. Especially since it was well known that they burned through their member roster at an alarming pace, due to all the suicide-missions they assigned themselves to - no one joined the Wreckers under the impression that they’d live for very long afterward. Not unless they were gratuitously over-confident in themselves, that is.

Given the flippant tone Wheeljack spoke to him with, Red Alert had the feeling he fell into the latter category.

“If you’re going to make thinly-veiled threats about revealing the location of our outpost, then yes, you can start walking.” He replied, his tone as dry and cool as a desert at night.

He glanced over his shoulder then, having heard the Prime approach. He nodded in acknowledgement, pausing a moment to make sure the mech had nothing to say to him, before returning to the call, waiting to see whether or not Wheeljack would be any more cooperative now that he had made it clear he was not about to let his hand be forced by an idle threat.

Somehow, he doubted it.

[Deleted]

The Bot had struts, Wheeljack could give him that. He liked mecha with a bit of steel and conviction to them, it was something the Wrecker could respect and admire in a bot. He really did.

Just not when those bots were standing in his way and preventing him from getting what he wanted. Still, Wheeljack had known what he was getting himself into the moment he activated his comms. Snubbing the command element of an outpost tended to upset the rank and file and it'd eventually get back to him. The stonewalling was annoying but expected and, dare he say it, amusing on some level. It was like the mech was just asking for Wheeljack to continue messing around.

The general consensus amongst the Autobots that it took a special sort of stupidity and insanity to join the Wreckers. Wheeljack had no intention of correcting this impression as it could be extremely useful in pulling all sorts of stuff. Just look at the amount of slag the Dinobots had gotten away with over the vorns during the war. Grimlock had mastered the art of appearing nothing more than a dumb brute, hiding away just how smart he really was and the general army had swallowed the act whole.

::What. I did no such thing,:: Wheeljack protested in an offended tone, because clearly he was a violent simpleton and delivering veiled threats required a level of subtlety that was beyond him. ::I was just weighing up my options here. What the slag mech? What is your problem?::

[Flatline]

Oop... yeah no... This was going to go bad fast now.

Red Alert really was not the type to be played with like that. Optimus was under the impression he was much like himself, sarcasm and forced humor not winning any points for others. Such things? Were more akin to drive the mechs away than garner any sort of positive response. However Optimus had an outlandish amount of patience to counter and tolerate the actions of others, while Red? Would probably hang up the call and cut off all connections with Wheeljack just for being messed with.

If it was intentional.

There was that balancing act still in place, trying to judge if Wheeljack was truly ignorant, or just overly antagonistic. Were his following words meant to convey that he truly did not consider this threat? That he didn't even regard how flying the ship there could be problematic? Or was he using sarcasm and manipulation? Optimus simply couldn't tell at this point. He hoped Wheeljack was smart enough to know how flying the ship there was bad, but... Primus... that would mean he was intentionally provoking Red Alert for some reason, which was no way to open communications and remain on civil terms.

He was not SURE if Red would end the call, but he felt he needed to intervene before things led to such a point. He needed to find out what Wheeljack wanted, for he was not the type to call just to 'chitchat' as far as he assumed. There had to be something wrong, some information to offer, or other notable things that they should likely get to the point of and stop provoking one another. If it was particularly valuable information? Optimus could take it and go get to work integrating it with current plans and ideas to prepare, leaving the two to finish out their proverbial 'pissing contest' if they truly felt a need to.

As such, Optimus moved.

Long legs took only one and a half steps to close the short distance to stand beside Red at the console that was currently serving as a link between them. His stride was calm still, not in any particular hurry, his field not relaying his inner need to try to intervene before stuff spiraled down towards chaos. Once he was within range, he spoke with a bold tone. He projected his voice a bit, trying to make it so that the communications receiver could pick him up clearly, despite being a good deal taller than Red Alert and most everyone else that spoke into it. He Made sure to keep his calm tone, and pronounce everything carefully, so that it didn't sound like he was yelling over Red's shoulder from across the room due to the height difference.

"Flying your ship to our current location would permit Decepticons to track your trajectory, and subsequent vanish from radar, thus betraying our location within a three mile radius."

Optimus chose to cover this issue right away. If Wheeljack was being truthful? And had been offended by the accusation? Than this would relay just what had been the issue. It would elaborate why he could not do such a thing, and hopefully open his optics to the backlash of such actions. Hopefully it would also smooth any ruffled 'feathers', understanding just how serious it was and why one such as Red would go up in arms instantly.

If he was fibbing? And simply being antagonistic? Well, he could just tolerate this small lesson and know that Optimus was not going to bite at the lure to confrontation. Either way he had to make sure Wheeljack understood the risks. It is because of this he continued to speak in an even controlled tone, cutting right to the point.

"What is it you seek Wheeljack. You are not injured I assume?"

If he was injured, the Prime doubted the Wrecker would be going on as he was and not just straight up stating he needed medical aid or at least listing a replacement part he'd possibly attempt to install himself. But he wanted to cover this immediately, slicing through the nonsense that had been going on. While Wheeljack was not an active member of the team, Optimus felt they had to at least make sure he was ok, as in a time of dire need? He was counting on the Wrecker being on call.

Nonetheless, Optimus wanted straight up answers.

[Deleted]

And just like that, Wheeljack somehow managed to make himself go from “mildly annoying” to “grievously vexing” in three seconds flat. It was almost impressive, really, how he managed to perfectly manipulate his tone and word-choice to produce a reply that was so perfectly aggravating to Red Alert. His defiant, disrespectful attitude, his sarcastic tone and ignorance-feigning, the mocking smile he couldn’t see but just KNEW had to be on the mech’s face---they all chipped away at his already low tolerance for dealing with difficult people.

His left optic twitched faintly in annoyance as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the console in front of him as if it were a board-room table, and Wheeljack was standing on the other side of it, instead of out in some far off location miles away.

“My problem is you.” He shot back, his tone taking on a somewhat sharper edge as his annoyance began to show. “You, thinking you are in any position to negotiate when--”

He cut himself off mid-word as he heard the Prime’s footsteps behind him, turning his head once more to allow him to glance over his shoulder and watch the other mech approach. The Prime apparently decided he wanted to say his piece. Red Alert wasn’t about to interrupt him.

Sobering, he took a small step to the side, allowing the larger mech the right of way, should he decide to take over the call completely. As the highest authority in the entire Autobot chain of command, his word carried far more weight than Red Alert’s own did. With any luck, Wheeljack would be more inclined to behave whilst speaking with the Prime himself, rather than with a lower-ranking officer, though Red Alert wasn’t about to bet on that. They had barely exchanged words, and yet already he was convinced the rogue ‘Bot’s recalcitrant, devil-may-care attitude applied even to the leader of the army he supposedly was aligned with.

He frowned slightly at the screen before him, eyebrows knitting together slightly in concern as he listened to Optimus speak. The mech was handling things cordially, playing along with Wheeljack’s feigned ignorance and giving him the benefit of the doubt just on the off-chance he really was as dense as he was making himself seem. Red Alert wanted to protest that the Prime was wasting his words, and that Wheeljack was just being a sarcastic little menace, but he held his tongue out of respect.

Instead, he simply shook his head at the floor before glancing over to Optimus and dry commenting, more to himself than the other mech: “I envy your patience.”

Why, no, he didn’t bother to turn his head away so Wheeljack couldn’t hear him--because he, quite frankly, didn’t care if he did.

[Deleted]

Aaaand just like that, the mirth was gone. Soon as Prime's voice came over the line, any joy Wheeljack was deriving from needling the comms mech -Primus, he'd gotten so indignant at Wheeljack's feigned ignorance- dried up faster than you could say Ultra Magnus. Wheeljack's empty servos flexed as a surge of hot resentment bubbled up from deep inside his spark. The immediate unvoiced accusation of You took Bulkhead away from me conflicted with the rational thought of Bulkhead chose to leave me as it always did whenever anything about Optimus Prime was brought to the forefront of Wheeljack's processor.

Envisioning blasting a few nearby rocks and/or Vehicons calmed him down marginally. He knew this was coming. He knew that there was no way out of getting what he wanted without talking to Prime. It had to happen. That didn't curb Wheeljack's immediate desire to make something explode violently as soon as he heard Optimus's voice.

He hummed noncommittally as Prime outlined why flying over would be a Bad Thing, so it looked like they were buying the dumb Wrecker act. Wheeljack kept humming for quite a bit longer than was necessary before he decided to respond because it had to be annoying the comms mech at the very least and he could not pass up such a chance.

::Thanks for clearing that up Prime:: Wheeljack said, buoyantly cheerful and lying through his vocaliser. There were times he hated the dumb Wrecker act and, at this very instant, Wheeljack was loathing every bit of it. Still, he'd made his choice to use it and now had to follow up and reap all the consequences, which included Prime talking to him like he was some green recruit.

What did he want? His best buddy back. The Wreckers together again. Shockwave's helm on a pike. Optimus Prime on the other side of the galaxy. Cybertron restored. A long list of things and nothing that Prime could give him. But at that very moment-

::In case you missed it, I was asking for a groundbridge to the Omega base,:: Wheeljack replied shortly. He did not elaborate further. This conversation was hard enough as it was on him, requiring him to swallow no small amount of pride and he was going to make it equally difficult for everyone else involved. ::Don't know why your mech on the comms has such a problem with it. Does he speak to all your Autobots like that or is that just his way of making a mech feel welcome?::

[Flatline]

This was going to end up the most ridiculous version of 'good cop bad cop' imaginable at the rate things were going. The way Red Alert spoke over the comm, caused Optimus to grimace internally. The aggression behind the words had been laced so thick, that the densest of individuals would pick up on it. But he had stepped forth and intervened, luckily cutting it off before it continued to escalate between the two in some echoed challenge of who could claw harder. It didn't matter that he was a killjoy for whatever amusement Wheeljack was getting out of it. The fact was? There was no room for games of that caliber.

When Optimus had stepped forward, he did not try or even imply any intention to completely takeover the call. He merely wished to have a say and as such remained one step to the side from being directly in front of it. Red Alert would still be mostly in front of the console, and he intended to let him remain as such. Nonetheless, when the security officer then spoke of patience? Optimus couldn't help but let some of his frustration at the situation ebb away. There was a faint fluctuation of his field, perhaps some amusement, as the corner of his lip plate pulled up an ever so faint amount.

Patience... He had so much of it sometimes he impressed himself... as boastful as that may be... While this current scenario didn’t really scratch the surface, he has been faced by trials in the past that would have caused the most devout of pacifists to want to swing a backhand to try to knock some sense into a mech. This well seemed to be frustratingly deep, though... he never wanted to find out what would happen if he reached the end of it.

In reply, he ended up turning his head a faint amount towards Red Alert, his tone dropping down enough to fly below the receiver that would have transferred his voice. As such the reply was for Red himself, not projected enough to filter through to Wheeljack. But if the Wrecker somehow overheard? It would not be some travesty.

"One must simply pick and choose their battles."

It was a bit of a cryptic reply, but the implication was there. Mostly? That he was not stupid or blind to the shenanigans. He was counting on Wheeljack just being antagonistic, but Optimus wasn't going to throw all his cards down on that fact. Always keep a watchful optic out for anything that could go amiss, and always be wary of things that could go wrong. Even if you thought you knew someone? Even if you were convinced you could anticipate them? Don’t. Have backup plans.

Nonetheless, his focus pulled back to the relay, and what exactly the Wrecker was requesting. He was vague, with no implication as to exactly what he needed. Was he medically in need of help and had to come there? Was he looking to seek out Bulkhead? Did he want to use one of the machines? Or what else was in play here? The dismissal of such specifics was a bit frustrating but alas... he had to look at it the other way.

What could Wheeljack actually do WRONG?...

He was not going to come in there and hurt anyone. He was not going to steal something. He knew where the base was already, and he could have easily just driven here upon his own will without seeking a bridge. In fact? Requesting the bridge was a far more secure path of entry, and had some forethought to it... Or he was lucky and Optimus was reading too far into it... Nonetheless, letting him come? Was not going to hurt anything but perhaps waste some time. If stuff really hit the fan? Then he could be shown out, but getting to that point? Was not likely in the slightest.

Optimus contemplated for some time, completely dismissing and ignoring the other mech's final words that were an obvious jab to try to re-instigate the banter from before. His blue optics flicked across the screen to see where Wheeljack was currently relaying from. There was a bit of an extra pause in this, as he had to formulate how he was actually going to say his next request.

'Red Alert, open a ground bridge' Would be easy to say, it would be how he would state such a request to any other mech, but Red? Was not standard, and had the Guardian coding. It greatly disturbed Optimus that any statement he could say if worded the wrong way, could be seen as a direct command that robbed them of their free will. It made his tanks churn, and as such? He always had to be far more... wordy... then he desired to create loopholes to dance around this issue. Even if he wanted a Guardian to do something? He never felt right stating a flat request.

"I believe it will cause no fault to permit him to Bridge here."

[Deleted]

Red Alert couldn’t help but grind his teeth as Wheeljack spoke, his field prickling with vexation as the other mech continued to play things off as if he was truly ignorant, and just didn’t know any better. But he did. Red Alert knew he did. The fact that Optimus was entertaining the mech’s act only made him all the more annoyed with the Wrecker’s behavior - only the Prime was benevolent (and patient) enough to give the mech the benefit of doubt, on the off-chance he truly was as as naive as he claimed to be, and Wheeljack was taking advantage of that. Taking advantage of the Prime.

Or at least, that’s how it felt to Red Alert. No one else would entertain the Wrecker’s nonsense, and the mech probably knew that. No harm was really being done, Wheeljack wasn’t actually doing anything “wrong” per say, it just rubbed Red Alert the wrong way. The thought of someone’s kindness being exploited, even in such a small and relatively harmless way, just made his metaphorical hackles raise in distaste.

The Prime’s comment about knowing what battles to chose earned him a faint snort, a pale imitation of a sound of amusement. The advice was sound, but it was far easier on paper than it was in practice. Especially when applied to mecha like Wheeljack, who were deliberately antagonizing.

When Optimus turned to address him once more, Red Alert found himself wanting to protest, just on principle, that they not bridge Wheeljack onto base until they ascertained what it was he wanted from them. However, he respected Optimus and his judgement, and withheld his own personal opinion on the matter, seeing how the issue he was giving into wasn’t anything worth kicking up a fuss about.

Besides, the Prime had been kind enough to word his request in such a way that left him room to back out, to protest, if he truly wanted to. Red Alert appreciated that, more than he would ever admit aloud. To show this appreciation, he did as Optimus suggested, with the most minimal amount of sighing he possibly could manage.

“Wheeljack.” He said the name with just the faintest hint of distaste, as if he were already regretting what he was about to do. “I’m giving you a klik to make certain you are alone. I will hold you personally responsible if anyone follows you through the bridge.”

He swore to Primus if so much as a rabbit hopped in after the mech, he would never let him hear the end of it.

[Deleted]

Finally, they were getting somewhere. Wheeljack rolled his optics at the comms mech request.

"Wouldn't be here chatting to you if I had company," he snorted. "Trust me, it's all good on my end."

It took a few kliks but eventually a green glow appeared in the air in front of him and the groundbridge opened up. Wheeljack pushed himself off the rock he'd been resting a pede on and sauntered into the portal. It wasn't long before he appeared on the other end, in the familiar control room of the Omega base. His optics swept the room, taking in Prime's large bulk and the red mech beside him.

Instinctively, he almost slid his faceplate up but reminded himself that this was not a battle situation, no matter how much it felt like it. Wheeljack glanced back at the open portal behind him as he strode further into the room. "Don't shut the door just yet...Scarlet." Red had been the first name that came to mind but it probably would have been the first choice for just about everyone else. "Gotta half disassembled shuttle sitting out there and plenty of salvage if you bots are interested."

He came to a stop a reasonable distance away from the Prime and his subordinate. Wheeljack slouched as he turned a bored gaze upon Optimus. "Fact is, that's what I want to talk about. You've got starships falling from the sky and your salvage teams can't tell their trivavle accelerator from a flux convertor, Optimus. It's kinda pathetic really."

As were the sorry bunch of mechs who'd faceplanted those starships into the ground. How hard was it really to pilot a ship straight?

[Flatline]

The irritation skittering through Red's field was not lost to Optimus, though he did not comment on it nor push his own field out to try to take the edge off of the bubbling agitation. He merely cast the Security Officer a side glance, before looking back at the screen as he had been just a moment prior. In a way? He was almost anticipating Red Alert protesting. Perhaps some words of advice to not go through with his request, or a final question to Wheeljack to try to establish some things, but instead? The mech had folded his cards and rolled with his decision.

For a fleeting moment he worried if he had worded his request improperly, almost wanting... wishing... Red Alert had at least protested some to show that the Guardian coding wasn't interfering with the scenario. Even though there was that faint sigh of a sound, there was no true push back on the decision. Guardians were some of the few Optimus would enjoy having challenge his word, simply to confirm he was going around the protocols properly.

Alas... It was always a nagging worry, one he always had to push down and suppress. Point was? Their goals would line up at times and he would not always get that confirmation he secretly sought. In fact? Most of the time he didn’t get any arguing in any form on decisions. He just had to trust his wording, and trust that the Guardian would feel comfortable making it known if he had crossed one of those lines unintentionally.

While Red Alert went about the procedure to open up the Bridge, Optimus' weight rolled slowly into a gradual stride away from the console. Each step was cautious, mindful, carrying him with an almost regal air to stand now squared off against where the Bridge would open in the main room. His head rose up, and arms loosely pulled back to fold at his lower back. The panel of one broad fingertip tapped upon his forearm a moment before the bridge fully revved into formation and the Wrecker started to traverse through.

Scarlet...?

Brow Plates furrowed slightly at this.

"Red Alert."

He corrected quickly, or... as quickly as Optimus did. He spoke calmly and didn’t ever really rush his words, so despite cutting in? There was still that almost leisurely droll that uncurled as he did so. Nonetheless, he listened to what was said, cutting through Wheeljack's phrasing in his processor to get into the base details and information, lopping all antagonistic emotion out of the Wrecker's words. But even trying to get just to the details? It left out some information that was rather... needed...

Was Wheeljack simply handing over the scraps? It would be the first implication, as the shuttle was half disassembled already, the most valuable and dangerous of components most likely were stripped away. However the following words seemed to give the implication that he was offering some kind of aid, yet didn’t commit to it. Was he looking to show some of the Autobots that did salvage work what some things were? Or was he looking to actually work for their team and pick up such slack?

Optimus refused to make assumptions, he would not ask the loose cannon to work under him again, and he would not make it sound like they NEEDED him. It was a bit of a cruel game perhaps, as nice and kind as Optimus could be? He also knew he had to remain strong, and as such, convey that their team was strong. To imply they really needed aid? Was giving power to the mech that already had a solo complex and very likely had a self inflated outlook of their own value.

Wheeljack could help them if he so desired, the aid would be appreciated, and such input? Would go to good use in improving their lives at the base. Even just salvaging some of the more basic components that required a bit of finesse to do properly, could save them all time, not needing to try to build such things from scratch. Bit that was assuming such things are what he was implying to begin with. Optimus needed more information, more details, until he would come close to making a decision.

As such, the Prime's only reply was a single flat word that held no interest, no joy, no anger, no nothing. Just a droning utterance to prompt him to continue.

"Elaborate."

[Deleted]

Red Alert didn’t know what to expect, when Wheeljack walked through the groundbridge. He had no idea what the mech looked like, and the possibilities his mind supplied were all incredibly unflattering. He imagined some sort of pompous, cocky frontliner with a stocky build and an almost tangible air of self-satisfaction surrounding him like a cloud.

When the mech finally appeared through the bridge, he discovered his guess really wasn’t all that far off. Wheeljack was most certainly built like a bloodthirsty idiot , frontliner with delusions of immortality , reckless trigger-happy malcontent , Wrecker, with his thick plating and scarred mesh. The way he carried himself likewise boasted his status as someone who frequently disregarded what little sense of self-preservation he had left.

He didn’t like the mech any more in person than he had over the comms.

Especially not since his first order of business upon entering the base was to make backhanded comments about the crew of Omega One, and Red Alert had already tolerated the mech’s insults quite enough for one day. Wheeljack was pushing his luck. If he pushed much harder, he’d be pushed right back---out the door, back to wherever the hell it was he came from.

Crossing his arms, Red Alert narrowed his optics slightly at the other mech, helm canting fractionally to the side as he eyed him up and down. Yes, he was judging him. Blatantly so. No, he didn’t even bother to pretend that he wasn’t. Wheeljack had lost that courtesy the minute he mockingly addressed him as “Scarlet” - Red Alert was not about to show respect to someone who did not extend the same respect to him.

“Yes, Wheeljack.” He began, somehow managing to make the mech’s name sound like a pejorative.

“Please. Explain yourself.”

[Deleted]

Red Alert? Nope, his initial instinct had proven correct and it was Scarlet now. Wheeljack ignored the open aggression in the mech's very stare, sweeping his optics dismissively over the other mech and finding his thin build and light armor...mostly lacking, though that rocket launcher was certainly an item for later investigation. He'd heard of the mech, both from Bulkhead and the army gossip back during the war. The security director's paranoia was a thing of legend and just about every mech had a tale to tell about it.

Still. He had both the Prime and Scarlet's attention now and an opportunity to speak so he wasn't going to waste it. Optimus, he knew, was honest to a fault and fair. Being on the level with him was probably be the best way to go about it.

"As things stand right now, your bots are wasting a lot of the good stuff," the Wrecker shrugged. "I'm sure the good doctor does his best but he's a med-bot first, a science bot second and he sure as frag isn't an engineer or a mechanic. Been to one of your clean up sites, some of the broken components I was pulling out of the ground you could have used to upgrade the set-up you've got here."

One servo waved dismissively at the groundbridge controls. Oh, he'd noticed the human tech integrated in the Cybertronian machinery. How could he not? Machines were his life blood. "I don't think I have to tell you that Cybertronian tech is in short supply on this planet and those starships are currently the best source of it. I've been doing my best to keep as much from going to waste when I can. Thing is, I don't have the time to keep chasing after every moron who can't fly a starship. Jackhammer's got a cargo limit, too, so even when I do get to wrecks, I'm leaving half the good stuff behind."

"Which is where the Omega base comes in. You have the space and botpower. I want you to recover those ships and store them here. In return, I'm offering you my skills and services to strip those ships to their base components with maybe 10% of those parts reserved for my personal usage and will be stored securely here on base. The rest is yours to do whatever the frag you want with them. Additionally, you give me an area to work in, I'm willing to turn those components into anything you want. If Ratchet wants a new microscope, he'll get one with all the bells and whistles and a million vorns ahead of whatever he was making do before with all this human tech."

"But, just to be clear," Wheeljack turned his gaze on both of them sternly, servos folded behind his back. "I'm still not under your command. I'll come and go as I please, in fact, you probably won't see me all that much -bet that makes you jump with excitement, Scarlet. What you will have at your disposal is my knowledge, skills, expertise and general willingness to build anything that make life a little harder for the Decepticons and easier for the Autobots."

Piece said, the Wrecker's gaze locked onto Optimus's optics for an answer. He still had a few aces he hadn't laid down yet but he felt that what he was offering was more than enough. Pits, the Omega base was getting more out of the deal than he was. But it wasn't about him, it was about the frontline and the state of the Autobot forces on it. The Decepticons had a science division and plenty of Cybertronian tech that Megatron had stolen back in the war for Cybertron.

The Omega base had...Ratchet and whatever scraps the humans felt like offering.

As skilled a warrior Wheeljack was, he hadn't a hope of winning the war by himself. By extension, that did mean offering what he could, no matter how much he hated it and would rather otherwise.