[ti]Ep 2[/ti]The good, the bad and the awkward... [closed/Steelstrike]

[Deleted]

EP: 2 – Week: 3 – Day: 4

Location: Nemesis Hallways/Corridors
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The large and dark corridors of the Nemesis Flagship seemed to be less populated than the security officer first had anticipated, and the two chatting Vehicons he´d passed on the other end of the hallway didn’t seem bothered that an unknown individual roamed the area, barely even noticing him. Even in front of the more important looking doors were no guards, no troops on stand-by or other indications of armed soldiers patrolling the ship, just those lonely glowing lights across the ceiling that kept watch to what would lurk around, accompanied with the low hum of the ships engine.

The ship itself was certainly an impressive one, much bigger and with far more options to wander around, exploring new areas and offering enough space for each individual onboard. Privacy was rare to accomplish, due to the cramped spaces a ship normally hold and compared to the one he´d boarded before? It was a welcoming change.

Occupied with the data-pad he´d received from one of the storage rooms he continued his way down the corridor, the schematics on it helped him to navigate his way through the endless crossing paths and intersections, walking slowly as to remember which turns he´d made to find the way back to where his exploration started. And from what the officer could see, there were many more floors that needed further inspection, getting to know someone’s environment was important, to know where which workshop, which storage room and which laboratory was located could help in the future and would definitely avoid inconvenient situations.

Blackframe took a left turn, watching the screen of the data-pad before he stopped, frowning lightly as he swept his servo over the screen. The data-pad didn’t react, instead, it froze. The same print was still visible on said screen, just not responding to the commands that the mech gave it. “Aww hell nah, you kidding me?” Annoyance crept onto his face as he shook the device rapidly, trying to get that damn thing working again. The data-pad flickered for just a moment at the sudden movement before it went offline, screen turning black. “What?” Now more confused than annoyed his gaze darted over the pad, wondering at what he´d done wrong as he turned it from one side to another, trying to find out how to restart it.

Whatever he tried, the pad still remained offline. “Well frag my life, this is just great…” Blackframe eyed the pad once again, thinking on how to resume to his tour as his optics slowly shifted to the wall on his right, then back to the data-pad and to the wall again. With one quick movement he´d thrown the pad towards said wall, a loud noise that disturbed the silence with clangs and clatter as the device scattered on the impact, screen cracking and small bits of metal and glass falling to the ground, adding even more sounds that seemed to join the first ones. He shut his optics just to reopen them again; the noise was louder than he´d first thought and the tumult he´d caused could be noticed if someone had to be nearby.

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Eight days- Steelstrike had naturally adjusted his internal chronometer to match the time cycle of this oddly organic planet- and the flier had already decided on an alt mode, as well as the fact that Earth avians were *horrible*. Nor were the halls of the Nemesis all that different from the blackness of space; he much preferred patrolling, as at least then, he might feel the wind on his wings. 

Earth.... Earth was nothing like Cybertron, before or after his homeworld had died. For one thing, where Cybertron had been metallic, everything on Earth was *small*, *organic*, and genuinely unpleasant. 

He just was grateful that there were *Autobots* on this rock, as well as a sizable force of other Decepticons. Even if they were primarily Vehicons and Eradicons, and there was a 'truce' currently, well... no peace lasted forever, and he'd rather be on Earth (where there was bound to be an opportunity to shoot at some Autobots) than still lost and drifting as just another sad piece of debris around Cybertron. 

Why in Primus' name had the Decepticons even suggested a truce? 

Humans were creative, he supposed, but when it came down to it, any Cybertronian was both larger, stronger, and more intelligent. All they would really need to have done was squish a few, and the rest would cower and hide- wouldn't they? 

Currently, as he made his way toward the energon dispenser in the main part of the ship, Steelstrike was lost deep in thought, wings canted back, optics slightly unfocused; he relied on the last seven days of going to the same place to guide him now. 

And then he came around the corner, stopping short at the sight of the smaller ground mech in front of him, arching an optic ridge. Another new face- not that he knew many beyond Vega yet. 

Before he could even speak, however, the datapad broke. 

Steelstrike's wings flicked a moment in scorn/amusement before he spoke. "Having trouble?"

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An unknown voice suddenly spoke as the black and white mech turned around, slowly facing the source of said voice as he found another mech standing in front of him. Looking up just briefly he could see that the taller mech with its dark blue color was certainly someone with an aerial type of altmode; the wings on his back were unmistakable, a jet? A plane? At least no helicopter, that much he could tell. Blackframe searched for some indication of who the unknown mech could be, optics darting around quickly before they met the other ones gaze, staring at the yellow faceplate. He stood proudly with his arms crossed behind his back, attention shifted towards the one in front of him as he answered the question of the dark blue mech.

“Trouble? No, just merely enjoying smashing innocent data-pads around the corridors.”

A hint of sarcasm weaved behind his words, still watching the other mech carefully as his helm rose gradually. First impressions were important; they could influence someone’s appearance, in how they would be treated and viewed in many contexts, and for Blackframe they meant another opportunity to gain the upper hand, to seek some power and control over others. The officer wasn’t very fond of those judging by appearance ´cons as they seemed to forget to read between the lines, missing the details that could only be seen by those who payed attention to what would lay beneath the surface, but still he acted, showing off some authority and exploiting every chance that would lay in his grasp.

“I hope you realize that asking questions without a proper introduction is seen as rude?”

A deep vent escaped the officer, followed by a low huff of hot air as Blackframe threw a stern glare towards the blue mech, waiting patiently for his excuse.