Ep. 2 - Fathoms Below (Closed, Flatline, Roulette)

[Deleted]

Interesting.

Shockwave stepped back, mentally, to better examine the swiftly flying conversation between Roulette and Flatline. He was unaware of the context which had provoked her nickname of the mech, but knew enough of her mental gymnastics process to seek it out in the native databases.

Flatline was having no less than the usual response to Roulette. Shockwave had been served by a vast number of proxies, had seen just about every emotional response to them from new arrivals, from familiarity to utter horror. It was of no concern to him whether Flatline and Roulette got along or not, as long as neither interfered with such projects as he gave them. The big purple mech knew that most everyone who met him expected him to be served by a fawning horde of equally scientifically-minded subordinates, and for a brief period in time that had indeed been his preference.

The problem with fawning, scientifically-minded subordinates, however, was that they provided nothing new; they were too busy fawning.

Fortunately, Flatline did not seem the sort to fawn. Bait, yes, but not fawn. In his own way, he promised to be just as capable, and useful, as Roulette. Whether their usefulness could be boosted as a team, or suffer as the same, remained to be seen.

Or tested.

Until then, Shockwave silently watched, waited, and took in everything.

[Deleted]

This...wasn't a battle she was going to win. Now the question was: how much energy did she want to invest in the fight? The outcome was inevitable. When Shockwave wanted something, nothing was really going to deter his one-track mind. And with Flatline's aft-kissing, she had less wiggle room.

Venting a sigh, she made all the pains of looking very put out. She crossed her arms and looked to the side. She pouted. The whole act she performed with practiced ease. In truth, she didn't think Flatline would do anything to her. Why jeopardize his position with the one mech he was trying to impress? She just hated giving him the satisfaction of doing something right.

"You didn't hit me with the harpoon because you missed. It was a shite shot. But fine, you can perform the upgrades. Why stand in the way of progress?" With a squinty look at the other proxy, she went back to tooling around with her prototype.

[Flatline]

((omg, Flatline's inner commentary is so mean, I am so sorry Rumi XD forgive me))



This was delicious to watch play out.

Roulette was cornered, she was snared as far as Flatline could discern, and there was only so much she could wiggle on the metaphorical glue trap she found herself stuck on. While he didn't know her too well, he already knew enough about her to know he decidedly did not like her. This femme was going to be a thorn in his side for some time. Add in a dash of vindictive jealousy at her role? And he took way too much delight in what was happening. The huffing look she gave that was paired with crossed arms were dying thrashes as far as he was concerned, the last little bit of defiant action before defeat settled into place.

Or she was gearing up for something.

Heck if he knew how to anticipate the femme, for all he knew this wasn't the last actions of failure, and was instead meant to be gearing up for another rebuke or argument against him. It is because of this he eased back a bit, his sharp segmented brows hooking up with eyes half lidded, peering warily her direction. There was a bit of smug anticipation, trapped between a potentially false feeling of accomplishment, and an apprehension of what was to come.

What he got was both in a way.

"That is simply your opinion."

A secondary arm flicked out dismissively, while primary limbs lifted to plant over the arch of the wheels that comprised of his hips. A single slender finger tapped down against the rubber on its exterior, before arbitrarily plucking a bit of grit out from the ridges of its surface. This planet was filthy.

"Nonetheless, your opinion on my aiming capabilities plays no role here."

He wanted to debate further, he wanted to claw out at her in this little verbal spat to try to assert some kind of dominance, but Roulette had turned to go back to whatever task she was busying herself with. In Flatline's mind, the little guinea pig of a living test subject was probably just working on something to keep herself occupied more so than anything valuable. He would have to obtain one of those arbitrary toys where you place the square peg through the square hole as a present for her some day.

Letting out a slow ex-vent, Flatline detached himself from the burden, and instead turned to fully face Shockwave once more. In doing so, he retook the formal stance, his primary limbs removing from his hips to gently fold at his lower back in parade rest, while secondary's loosely curled under the 'pectoral' armor inert.

"Commander. I will begin work right away on manufacturing the proper materials needed for these upgrades. That is unless there is something more you require of me?"

[Deleted]

(I think we about done with this one?)

There it was, the Squinty Look. Which meant Roulette was up to something, potentially (and most likely) unpleasant. This was, to Shockwave, absolutely nothing new. The act was being put on for Flatline's benefit, he believed; more, Flatline was falling for it. Well, that would only change in time, when and if the medic had an opportunity to further share work with the Chief Scientist's primary proxy.

It was not for Shockwave to be concerned with the particulars of this social byplay, except on such circumstances as it would improve their production. The big purple mech had spent enough time working alone to know having proxies was a luxury, not a standard, but he also knew he could not coddle such proxies without them taking it as an opportunity to try and stab him in the back.

Ah, well.

Roulette dismissed Flatline, and the medic seemingly decided this was as good an end to their social tug-of-war as any. Shockwave shifted as Flatline's attention returned to him, his field vast and unmoving, unfazed by the verbal spate and whatever weight it might bring to bear on either mech or femme.

"There is nothing else at the moment. You may draw from my own supply stores freely, but any requisition to be made from the stockrooms of the 'Nemesis' must be cleared with me first. I will expect a precise timetable as soon as you are able to go through the appropriate calculations." There was nothing else to say. The mission had been given, the list of personnel provided; Shockwave had spoken and Flatline had answered. As far as the scientist was concerned, this was service to science, the same as any other cycle of his life.

Motion caught the very edge of his optic as Roulette fiddled at her work table and Shockwave focused intently on Flatline. The social mores escaped him, yes, but their tangible, measured effects on productivity did not. When he spoke, the words were drawn out slightly; it made him seem as if he were being unusually solemn about it, when in fact he was simply trying to figure out, as he sounded them, if they were the correct words for the situation. "Your prompt comprehension of the matter is... valued."

With that said, he turned away towards the work he'd been doing when Flatline first arrived in the lab, the matter all but dismissed from his concerns already.

[Deleted]

(Sounds good to me! I'll end Rou on this post)

Was she hearing this right? Was Shockwave trying to compliment someone? She actually had to stop in her work and stare at the purple mech and his other would-be proxy. No doubt Flatline was likely hearing nothing but a romantic version of gratitude because he was a sycophantic suckup. But all Roulette was hearing was the strain Shockwave was putting himself through trying to say something normal. Something any mech could do if they didn't have some malfunction.

"Primus, Shockwave. That was painful..." She shook her head just the slightest. "You need to practice that kind of crap more often if you're going to be trying to pep talk your lackeys. Just because we're starved for attention doesn't mean you can dole out terrible pap."

She went back to her work, waiting for the indignant huffing from Flatline. Shockwave wouldn't care what she said to him. He knew her too well by now. But the other medic didn't know her from a stationary object in the lab. He didn't know of the dynamic between her and her boss. Hell, Roulette wasn't even sure what they were. Not friends. Not enemies. Just...they just were.

[Flatline]

((Agreed))

Everyone had their own way of translating the tones in others voices. Some read it at surface value alone, some look a bit past it to try to figure out what was actually going on or any secondary elements. It is because of this he had looked past what Shockwave had said, and picked up on the strained overlay. Using this he applied it to the words to then spin it into something that was part compliment, part backhand to the other Decepticon in the room.

Flatline's instantaneous bloomed rivalry against Roulette played a huge role in fueling this, making the commanders words read almost as frustrated relief that he could actually comprehend it. It made it seem that perhaps Roulette needed to be told things again and again and again at different angles before she would grasp anything, her 'comprehension' capabilities throttled. Flatline being the smug bastard he very well could be, clutched this and refused to believe it was anything other. this caused the corner of his mouth to twitch slightly in a desire to peel back into the biggest shit eating grin he could cast at her.

He refrained.

Somehow...

It probably helped when she spoke with disrespect.

Reeling to gawk, the indignant huffing she anticipated was not a possibility so much as a guarantee. The sound choked out from his vents in a failed attempt to process words that could appropriately retort to her brashness. This was paired with his turrets crooking up sharply with a clunk, the barbed ends of the posts flexing out momentarily as if they had struck an object and were trying to root themselves.

'you should not speak to a commanding officer in such a way!' was right at the edge of his processor, but he couldn't really get that much out. All he could manage was a fierce glare that somehow tried to bore through Roulette as if his optics could shoot laser beams, before he turned and departed out of the room. He tried to walk at a casual pace that held purpose, not lazy, but not rushed, professional in a way... but no... he ended up plunking his peds down too hard and just clunk rushing away in disbelief at her brashness.

He should have aimed better with his harpoon.