Ep.2 - I am Become Death(Closed) - Soundwave+ Flatline+ Rota

[Deleted]

Week 4, Day 2

It was good to be sociable and helpful. Soundwave kept telling himself that.

Though not exactly knowledge he'd share regularly (or at all) the Decepticon 3IC did not enjoy casual socializing. Oh, he worked well enough with his peers among the senior command. His liege lord was always a welcome puzzle, and in the rare occasion when Starscream forewent treachery long enough to let his keen intellect shine through, he could be nothing short of fascinating. But overall, Soundwave found the vast majority of Cybertronians very stressful. Half of them marked his silence as a challenge, and the other half as an invitation. Not that he minded them spilling whatever unguarded data they spewed out when they confused silent with deaf, but still.

This latest bit of truce-enforced socialization, however, was inescapable. He was the foremost communications expert planet-side; it would be nothing short of churlish to refuse to provide that expertise to their joint efforts against MECH, even if it meant he had no graceful way to bow out of finalizing calibrations to the joint station settled upon the DMZ.

He pre-set the ground-bridge coordinates and waited for authorization before triggering it. At no point in time would he allow that particular bit of safety to become lax, at least not while he were on the bridge of the 'Nemesis'. As much as it protected the DMZ from receiving unauthorized guests, Soundwave never forgot that a bridge worked in two directions; he had no intention of finding the 'Nemesis' breached from that direction. After receiving permission, he stepped into the swirling light-vortex, lost in brief, but critical thoughts.

He had to admit it rankled him; he'd considered, and discarded, the tactical advantage of bugging the joint station machines. For one, the consequences of such tampering being discovered were far, far beyond the value of any information he could glean from it; for another, he expected the Autobots would be nothing if not forthcoming... inasmuch as they could be. Secrets would be kept, of course; that was the way of things. But not nearly as many, he rather thought, as the Decepticons were likely to be keeping.

He was also honest enough to admit a share of his vexation was just new-system-irritation. He'd spent so very long getting used to the systems of the Decepticon warship; he had digital shortcuts, backdoors, booby-traps everywhere. He had come to know every glyph, every pattern, every software twitch. To start anew, even with this humble and piecemeal setting, was... annoying.

But unavoidable.

He stepped out of the ground-bridge onto the receiving area of the DMZ, already moving with his usual, long-limbed gait, making a bee-line for the comptroller room. One quick mental note told him Flatline was currently filling that position for his faction - a good mech, solid enough, perhaps a little nervy, but then again he was working with Shockwave. That tended to make anyone jumpy sooner rather than later.

As for the Autobots... who was this Rotary?

Well, time to find out. He sent the briefest ping to the system, hoping it would be calibrated enough to at least tell the joint comptrollers of his arrival, job and approach, but who knew. Without breaking stride, he stepped into the room.

[Deleted]

Working with the Decepticons in an even more unfamiliar place (though really? Earth as a whole was one big 'unfamiliar place'). Rotary could easily admit that she was...Rather excited about seeing the DMZ, leaving the base, and meeting new faces – even if they were Con's. The former dancer had always been a mecha sort of femme, and the truce meant getting to know others and to experiencing something different.

Though it was also easy to say that she was nervous, a nervousness that she felt akin to her first 'big dance'. That feeling, was at least a familiar among all the unfamiliarity that was presented to her. At least she was in a 'safe' place, where it was frowned upon fighting and at least, she was not the sort to cause trouble. She was easy going and rather calm for the most part – though she would count her landing and the panic that had settled across her mind to be an anomaly in her calm nature. Because who wouldn't be filled with panic with a crash and 'greeting' like that on a strange new world?!

Either way, she found her way to the control room and was soaking in every detail she could of the place. Visually it was rather interesting, though she was quick to realize that she wasn't alone – it put a stop to her curious looking at the room and soon her eyes were fully fixated on the mech. For a moment, her helm tilted as she stared at him with curiosity for a moment or two. Or rather, until she kicked herself for being so rude and a flustered wave flickered over her.

The mech might have a different frame, and he might have a Decepticon symbol plastered over the symbol of a medic, but he was still a Cybertronian who likely didn't like being stared at! “h-Hello.” The femme spoke up. “I am Rotary, I suppose we will be working together?” If not, she was curious to who she really was going to be working with. There was a ping across her own communications of an arrival of Soundwave along with his 'job' and of course, when Soundwave stepped into the room, her bright grey-blue optics shifted way from Flatline to him.

There was a brief moment of nervousness but, it fizzled out as she slowly gave the mech a polite nod in greeting. If anything, that nervousness was more or less the realization that she was outnumbered by two mechs who looked like they could rip her apart. Okay, so it was more Soundwave who looked like he could do such a thing but still! It wasn't like she had a lot of armor.

She just had to remind herself that there was a truce in place, and that she was (hopefully) not in some immediate danger.

[Flatline]

Why couldn't he get a real job that played to his skills?

Working for Shockwave had its prestige, and he had done a few tasks for the lumbering Cyclops of a mech, but... Flatline felt underused. He felt like a cog sometimes, but that was probably just his ego speaking. He wanted to be of great help and contribute something to the war cause, and yet he was stuck patching upgrades onto drones, and applying water sealant to more drones. He missed the days of being a medic, while simultaneously being grateful it was over so that he could focus on side projects that had been appointed to him ages ago.

But no... no... today was a new low. Something lower he felt than Shockwave telling him to check the beacons. Ok no... maybe not THAT low, that had been an awful day that he would rather purge from his memory than humor, but this was still bad.

The primary console for the Control Room had been set up, powered, and connected to all of its vital functions, leaving a fresh new system ready to be utilized. This was all fine and dandy, if there was an actual task appointed to do on it. Instead, Flatline was stuck just... waiting... and waiting... watching the monitors and hoping that something would come up, while at the same time really not wanting to deal with that fallout.

This was drone work again.

Flatline stood before the monitor. There was a few crates still nearby that he could opt to sit down upon, but he really didn’t feel inclined to do so at this point and time. He had his hand raised, sliding a long nail across the keyboard to plunk down a few keys almost absentmindedly, while then sliding the talon gingerly over the controls to move folders and organize some things. It had no impact on anything whatsoever, and honestly was just trying to set up the system to be a bit more aesthetically pleasing to the eye, when someone spoke.

Gradually, his hand pulled away from the monitor and he eased fully upright, the spines down his back flicking idly in thought. He could not place the voice to a name or frame, and upon turning around he was shown why. It was a femme, not one he has ever seen before and she had the air of an Autobot about her. Meek, polite, though that last one was probably linked more to her newer styled frame and more crafted appearance that he could only pick up because of the fact he built the foundation pieces for these sort of things.

"Flatline."

He said abruptly back, unsure how he felt about all of this. He was still a bit bitter that his big plan had been foiled because of the Truce, though it was not this girls fault in any way.

"I suppose you are the Autobot appointed to work with me?"

He just got this question out when he received the notification, and a red eyed critical gaze broke away from Rota to look at the monitor, before peering upon the entryway where the Commander was entering just a moment later.

Flatline was loyal, and understood that people earned their ranks for a reason. Other than Roulette who he thinks somehow belly drug herself to where she was now, he assumed the best of others and their positions. This was easy when it came to Soundwave, who just seemed imposing and a threat despite having a more lithe frame time and at ease pace. It is because of this, he raised his right fist, and planted it over his spark in a sort of salute, showing respect to the higher officer that was earned.

He knew better than to directly ask a question, waiting for Soundwave to possibly cryptically relay what was expected of them, or just send a file over. There was also a possibility he could just walk on, but considering this was a dead end, there had to be some reason for him to be here.

[Deleted]

Here they were, then.

It was still somewhat jarring, for all that Soundwave thought he'd braced himself as he should for the occasion, to find an Autobot not just in such close quarters, but working with the Decepticon's own monitor on duty, instead of involving weaponry into the situation.

Ah, well, one could get used to anything. For a brief while, anyways.

He moved further into the room with measured grace. Here, in this system emptiness where no parameters had been set and no endless buzz of communications cluttered the space between them, his field was a piece of smooth glass: it was there to be sure, but it might as well not have been for all the response it gave to any of the most common, most blunt of environmental inputs. His empty faceplate turned to frame the Autobot, a faintly distorted reflection of herself moving to a brief nod from the Decepticon 3IC.

His steps however, brought him to stand by Flatline, stopping a step behind and two steps to the side of the medic. Unlike most Decepticons, the slender mech knew that proximity among frames was not an issue of comfort, or even of camaraderie; it took a tremendous amount of trust to let someone get, and stay, within touching range. Otherwise you ended up stabbed, more often than not.

With utmost respect, he gestured to the console, helm tilting in the clearest of questions. It was a mark of courtesy that he would wait for Flatline's permission before he touched the controls and keyboard at all, as well as making a very clear point: this was Flatline's station, and he would have to shoulder both the rights, and the responsibilities of it.

Should he be given such permission, and in truth Soundwave did not foresee being denied, the slender needles of his talons would flick over the controls. It was a matter of seconds to bypass the non-existent (at the moment) security between the consoles, and slave out Rotary's station. Screens and prompts began popping up. Soundwave had discovered that most mecha did not realize the sort of difference that calibrating one's station to one's preferences made. Efficiency went up, response time got cut down, stress and the subsequent propensity for making mistakes were lowered.

He stepped back only when the biometric parameters came up, prompting both Rotary and Flatline to create their own protected setup: everything, from a favored keyboard pattern to projections for incoming data, could and should be customized.

[Deleted]

Politeness, was something that had been taught to her since the day she could understand what it was. Her cohort would not have tolerated back talk, they were strict – in a loving sort of way, but those teachings were what helped formed her personality. Of course, there were times she was rebellious and plenty of times she was not meek, but that was back before the war – when she protested against the unfair treatment of the lower castes. That had taken, as the humans would say, guts. She was certainly not a meek little thing back then, but she also felt she had to fight for the mech she cared tremendously for – with him gone? She couldn’t help the quieter personality she had taken on.

She shifted slightly on her two feet when Flatline spoke, and she was ready to answer him that yes, she was the Autobot that had been assigned to work with him, when Soundwave entered the room. She knew of the Decepticon’s rank, and while he was not her commanding officer (or even her side)? He still deserved respect, which she gave it to him by nodding her head when his eerily empty faceplate turned to her. He nodded in return, and she shifted as she quietly watched the seeker move towards the stations that had been set up.

After a moment of his fiddling, she watched him step back when the screens were prompting both Flatline and herself to create their own protected setup. She glanced towards the two, before slowly moving towards the station that Flatline had not been using earlier. “Thank you…” She mentioned softly and really? She was grateful for him stepping in to get the ball rolling – it left less room to be awkward about this whole thing, and she was already getting her station set up in a way she found it comfortable to look at. Her fingers were quick in their movements as she got things set up and despite her former profession being a dancer? She wasn’t unfamiliar to these actions.

The keyboard pattern wasn’t tweaked too much, but the projections was what she more heavily tweaked, so that what was most important would take the forefront – that being when they were received. Honestly, she hoped that a file would pop up, giving them just a little more information on what they could tell their respected teams. She wasn’t sure if she simply wasn’t told more details on this mission, or if Flatline was in the dark as much as she was.

[Flatline]

It seemed that any forced pleasantries that were going to be formed between himself and the Autobot, were systematically cut short due to the Commanding Officer's arrival. It seemed to nix what Rotary intended to declare, and drew her to silence along with him. The upgrades medic was not sure if this was a good sign or not from her, but chose not to think too much on it.

Flatline continued to hold his stance of respect, the fist curled over his chest and helm held high yet faceplate downcast slightly in a display of submission without being subservient. He knew rank and file were a lot more ridged and meticulously structured in the Decepticon fold than it seemed to be for the Autobots, and this response he had made was a very cut and clear example of this divergence between the factions. It also helped that Flatline was very clearly shown his place when he was integrated into the Nemesis, and while he doubted Soundwave would resort to such... brash actions... it didn’t mean he wanted to challenge. Any punishments from him would be far deeper cutting mentally and long term than a swift strike would be, and that fact was scary.

It is because of this, when Soundwave approached, Flatline took a measured step in reverse to give him the space he needed, and not be too close to the other mech. This retreat away from the station was paired with his hand uncurling from over his spark, the limb motioning down and over to the system in a silent response to the subtle inquiry of the higher ranking officer.

It wasn't even needed... Soundwave didn't even need to ask...

But? The motion was appreciated.

Watching with a critical eye, Flatline observed just what was happening, and he graciously took it as a silent reprimand. He had been moving things around, yes, but he had thought that it would be nothing but grunt work and beneficial for others. A ton of information had been hastily... vomited... onto the server, and hadn't been categorized or anything yet. Alas, with the prompting of specific logins, he was shown clear as day that what he had been doing wasn't exactly the help he thought it was, and he dipped his helm down a bit further in reply to mirror Rotary's words.

"Understood, thank you."

Stepping forward once the commander had moved back, Flatline was quick to log into his station, and swiftly made some harsh changes now that he knew this setup would be his, and his alone. All of the prompts and commands were redistributed to one side, and the keyboard pattern was altered to one he favored that wasn't as difficult to use if his primaries were full and he was tasked to type with his secondaries that had significantly shorter fingers. This meant when his primaries draped over the keyboard, he barely had to move his palms, lengthy fingertips making all the motions themselves essentially.

There was more that he could do, but it would be busy work and he didn't want to waste time tweaking up more fiddly preferences and shortcuts. They could be done when waiting for updates later on. So with the major changes completed, Flatline turned his frame again to be partly facing the other two, showing his attention was caught and that he was looking for anything else the Commander may ask of him.