We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Rattrap was still angry, the kind of anger he once would have freely taken out on his own favorite 'signia switcher with good odds that he couldn't do any damage and Siege wouldn't do any lasting damage in return. It boiled through his tanks, slammed into his self preservation protocols, and and wound up coming out of his vents as nothing more than a chittering hiss.
"Eh, whatever." It came out more sneer than challenge, though he couldn't quite ease the glare off his faceplates. "I ain't no spy, if ya gotta hear me say it. Ain't a fan a Megatron, ain't a fan a bullies. Ya happy now?"
Well, Jazz thought, that relationship was going to take a lot of mending. Not that he and Rattrap had been great friends to begin with (and not that Jazz couldn't understand Rattrap's anger), but still....
It gave him peace of mind to hear it, from vocalizer pattern to the spike of actuators and systems in all the right places.
Jazz nodded, easing longwave and restricted regret into his field. "Sorry to prickle your plates, mech. Just doin' my job. No hard feelings, I hope?"
He leaned his chin on one propped-up hand. "Oh, and can we get back to you plantin' cameras in personal quarters? Because I'm not a big fan of bullies, either, and you're kinda pushin' the line."
"Just don't do it again," Rattrap grumbled, waving off the apology with one servo. He could - even if he'd never admit it out loud - see why Jazz needed to ask the question. Keepin' 'em all safe...slag, he would have done way worse than just ask questions, if it meant keeping the Axalon safe.
Jazz's followup comment, though...
"Cameras ain't hurtin' anyone," he said automatically; he'd had this discussion with Rhinox plenty of times. "Most mecha ain't gonna know they're there 'less you tell 'em, and th' ones who do are free ta make me stop." He smirked a little. "Ya may a notice, I ain't exactly th' intimidatin' type."
Jazz vented a sigh. "So that's a good reason to torque folks off until someone pounds you into the deck?" He tossed up his hands a bit. "Whatever, mech, I'm not your creator. You wanna court a wrench to the helm, that's fine by me."
He leaned forward, elbow joints resting on his knees. He had a feeling that if he laid out the issue to Rattrap that the mech would probably get it...at least enough to give Shadow some privacy. But that wasn't Jazz's story to tell, and though Shadow wouldn't question his right to it, Jazz didn't want to go there. "Look, mech, you're gonna have to just believe me: some mecha don't have a good sense of personal boundaries. They think they don't have a right to tell anyone to stop when something makes 'em uncomfortable. You spyin' on them--and yes, there's been complaints about the cameras--is gonna hurt them more than anyone else, because they don't know how to deal with it and they don't think they SHOULD beat you up to make you stop. And those mecha are the ones that need their own space the most...because they're really used to not havin' it."
Jazz leaned back. "Now, now that I've heard you WANT to be beaten into scrap for it, I'll pass that along. But there are still mechs who HAVEN'T complained who might be in the same spot. So by all means duplicate my work with the rest of the base. Can always use more eyes around. But really...please...pretty please...with an energon gummy on top and I'll throw in your own personal washrack show if you want, but knock it off with the personal quarters, a'right?"
Rattrap was not an entirely insensitive mech. Yeah, he thought there were a whole lot of mecha who needed to learn to loosen their plates and have a little fun, and a bunch more who ought to manufacture a backstrut and fight their own battles, but he'd seen plenty so broken they didn't have a choice, both before the war and since.
So halfway through Jazz's explanation he was already making a list of which cameras he was willing to give up. Most of them he wouldn't feel bad about; weird as it seemed, the mecha on this base didn't seem to have much going on in their personal quarters, and since he and Jazz were having this talk he doubted he'd be getting any more fun times from Ironhide's room.
Shame, that.
He could probably get away with leaving the cameras in Bluestreak's quarters, since Jazz hadn't mentioned those. And the cameras he had on Dipper were practically a public service, making sure the poor little glitch didn't trip over his own pedes and sever some primary relays or something. I Spy was too slagging good at the game to give her a break, even if she did play too rough for his cameras' sake (though the pieces usually wound up in Rhinox's junk bin, which was as good as giving them back). And Big Green and Wings knew him well enough that they'd worry if he didn't have cameras on them.
"Pretty big ego ya got there, thinkin' a one time show'll make up fer all th' fun yer askin' me ta give up," Rattrap smirked. "Ya put on a pretty good show when ya don't know yer bein' watched, though, so I'll, uh, consider thinkin' about it."
It didn't escape Jazz's notice that there'd been absolutely no concrete pledge to do or not do anything in there. He'd known streetmechs who'd made their living hustling in Kaon who'd been less slippery than Rattrap. (Which Jazz considered a compliment, really.)
But Rattrap was of a breed of mech that lived by intention rather than word anyway. His response was probably the best Jazz could hope for and thus was filed under Good Enough.
Jazz flicked a wry glyph of recognition at Rattrap, just to make sure that they were both on the same page. He sighed...and stretched, reaching his arms up...leaning to the right...then the left, letting his plates loosen with the stretch to show just a peep of wire here and there.
Then he did the same with his legs, stretching out everything down to the tips of his pedes before reaching back behind him to backflip...slowly, and with lots of plate wiggling...to his feet. He grinned at Rattrap. "Yeah, you consider thinkin' about it, mech. And until then, any cameras I see that I didn't put up are gettin' used as target practice. A'right?"
Rattrap leered, and made no effort at all to conceal the fact. No reason not to let Jazz know that this little preview was being properly appreciated, after all.
"It's th' ones ya can't see ya gotta worry about," he said, glyphs all confidence...if only because he was fairly sure that Jazz wasn't planning on searching everyone's quarters. He gave the larger mech a cocky grin of his own as he sauntered toward the exit, though he did make a point of not being in easy reach when he added, "Guess ya can consider it...incentive...next time yer in here alone, huh? An' th' next time...an' th' time after that..."
<<fin? Unless Jazz wants to facepalm forever at the obnoxious little glitch.>>
Give an inch, take a mile, as the humans say, Jazz thought wryly. Greedy little glitch. Obnoxious, too.
Jazz kinda liked him.
He vented a sigh, checked off an item or two on his internal to-do list, and started composing a message to Shadow and a few choice others suggesting that they do a thorough sweep of their quarters, and if they need any help, by all means let him know....