Ep. 1 - "Hax" - [Closed]

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<< For Layby -- can be placed at any point on the timeline for Cat. I'll leave it up to you, Krax. <3 >>

They were out of coffee.

She was out of coffee.

Upon the shelves of her little makeshift kitchen sat no less than three (count ‘em: 3) tins of pre-ground coffee, one pack of The Good Stuff (ridiculously expensive but effective coffee beans meant for special occasions), and a small little box of the instant stuff just for emergencies. All five of which now sat upon the counter with their tops strewn about in front of a very confused Catherine with a very hopeful spoon looking for some sign that a god was real.

Alas.

She was either being punished or damning things with the power of a nonexistent entity, and neither of which would refill the poor little mug that hadn’t seen a wash in… far too long. Suppose, then, that this could also be a sign that she might need to stop and do something other than sit in front of a computer screen. Like sleep.

Unlikely, she knew. Even as she pillowed her head on bags of frozen things and stood in the gust of the cool air from the freezer her head was still pounding from information overload. Were she a mech, her processor would have forced a reboot and left her standing motionless while it went into cool down. …Were she a mech, she’d also have more efficient wiring to deal with this bullshit (surely aches weren’t caused by consuming God only knows how much coffee over 36 hours). Head aches aside, her skin was left crawling far too much to sleep. The said bullshit just so happened to be of the extremely disturbing variety — adjectives that tended to be associated with bot-napping organizations that attempted to dissect mechs.

The sooner these fraggers were dispersed, the better. The sooner she helped dig up some useful information, the better she could sleep.

She sighed as she stared long and hard at her last pint of ice cream, finally reaching her hand to drag the thing out for consolation for her empty mug. It wouldn’t keep her awake (she shouldn’t have been awake for as long as she had), but it’d keep her from flying into a caffeine addicted rage. And it’d calm her enough so she could actually prepare for some kind of a nap — at least, she reasoned, she had dispelled and confirmed some information Cleaver had given her just two days prior. It was enough to give her the strength to withdrawal from the freezer and shut the door and, settling into the dairy induced calm, also add two more things to her grocery list (an expedition that would need to be made very soon) before reaching for the next most important thing.

A quick glance at her phone told her it was morning (early ass-crack of dawn morning), which meant James would be looking for her soon.

But somehow she managed to talk herself into doing just a little bit more digging. Seeing as to how Layby and Cleaver might not even be up yet, she may as well try and solve one more snippet of information. She’d only work until she was finished with her pint, which was perfectly reasonable (right?). Besides, it would be easier for James to find her. ”Jaaaames.” She called as she walked back to her work area, repeating the name until she heard the jingle of his collar and his eager meow. He followed at her heels with intrigued glowing eyes. ”I know, you didn’t even have to slap me this morning, aren’t you proud?” She said to a satisfied meow, setting his bowl beside her work station before spinning back into her seat.

<< Set this up so you can enter however you like. Enjoooy! In Mic. Rooms because idk wherever. also first thread here omg>>

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It was dim inside Haven, the lights turned down to an ambient glow reflective of the hour. As the Cybertronian residents of the base saw on a much wider band of the spectrum, the adherence to night and day was for Cat's benefit more than anything else. James, the only other organic currently living here, slept whenever he damn well wanted, which was most of the time, wherever he wanted.

Layby ambled into the Atrium still stretching his hydraulics, plates flared out to their farthest reach and clanking back down to his mesh in sequence. It had been a long couple of days with a lot on his processor. Ravage's visit had given him a lot to mull over, and he was scrap at mulling and recharging.

He was up early because it was dark and cool out, and he wanted to go burn around for an hour without rousing Cleaver's ire. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt, and he needed to get outside the caves for a little while. He'd not been expecting anyone else to be up at this hour, but it wasn't a complete surprise to see Cat's diminutive silhouette appear against the light from inside the fridge. James bounded across to her area moments later, bell jingling.

"Morning, Cat," he rumbled, his mouth lifting into a crooked smile. He stopped as he was passing, having intended to leave her to her devices but catching sight of the heavy shadows beneath her ocular cavities. The pint of ice cream also did not bode well.

"You alright, darlin'?" He lowered himself to a squat, arms resting on his thighs behind the thick, protruding armor of his knee guards. "Look to be running a bit ragged, yeh don't mind my sayin'."

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Cat knew she was really fucked up when she didn’t even notice Layby until he was practically looming over her. There was no denying it anymore. Regardless of this epiphany of mental and physical health, she didn’t look up at first when the shadow of his figure overtook her screen. Instead she waited until she’d pulled to one of the doors she opened in the digital realm, covering her tracks, before she flopped backwards in her seat dramatically. “We’re out of coffee.” She said… the words holding such a weight as if it explained everything. One another day it might have, but this day, well…

She let that sink in a moment, drawing in a deep breath before exhaling all at once, “And this is the last pint of ice cream. It’s also breakfast. Or dinner.” Picking up the tub, she dug in her spoon, continuing in a conversational tone. “I stayed up a bit…” Skirt around for just how long she’s been up, “…and finished looking at some of the info Cleaver forwarded — sent it over to the data pads so you two can take a look at it whenever…”

But her words trailed off, as if there was more to follow, even if she took a bite and mulled it over around her spoon before she continued. With brow raised, she looked sidelong at Layby again. “MECH’s kinda fucked up, ya know? Who knew there’d be a legit threat to you guys here.”

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Determining that he was going to be sticking around a little while, Layby locked the hydraulics in his knees and thighs. He released a low rumble, like a Harley cruising through a long tunnel, and shook his head. "Ah know. An' for the Cons to be worryin' 'bout them, with their flagship and Megatron here, ain't a good sign."

Cat's obvious exhaustion was a testament to how much a part of their mismatched little family she was. Though their species were about as far apart as they could get without shifting dimensions, MECH had become her concern, and in the digital realm, even her fight.

Layby wouldn't tell her not to worry, to expose herself to danger or to fatigue herself excessively like this. She was an adult among her kind, intelligent, brave and had no qualms with telling someone to shove it up their tailpipe. He watched her eat her ice cream, and though she couldn't feel the appreciation and affection in his field, he broadcast it anyway.

He'd take her grocery shopping with his holo for all the coffee and ice cream she wanted later.

For now, Layby slid the datapad Cat had wireless access to out of its cubby. The gesture was for Cat's benefit; he could download from the device wherever it was. "So beyond fragged up an' a legit threat, what'd'ya reckon about these guys?" Her human perspective was a valuable asset where other humans were concerned, and Layby was genuinely interested in her opinion. "Is this a local power play by a government agency, or are they scared of us and mounting an offensive defense?"

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The iced cream in her cup began to soften around the edges, making it easier for Catherine to stir it round and round — somehow having something to stare at that mimicked the way her thoughts were flowing made it easier to keep them from spinning out of control.

“Government doesn’t… doesn’t feel right, ya know? Two reasons: One - I know the way they work, the gear they use, and the li’l shit’s they hire. Unless they went and got like a massive… super duper top-secret update, it don’t sit right. Which leads me to two - I feel like if it were a division inside some government Fowler would be having a better time sniffing it out, but…” She shrugged. “Government bodies are slippery snakes, so who can say really.”

She sat up a bit straighter, actively sifting through her own information giving her an extra jolt of energy that her sweet tooth just could not give. “What I’m wondering is where they’re gettin’ their funding from. I mean these guys can’t be operating on one person’s budget. Unless there’s some majestic Bruce Wayne I don’t know about they have way too many toys for that - helicopters, henchmen, cars, weapons, fucking tech masters that whole shebang, so… while I don’t think this is some action movie government plot, I don’t think we should rule out that they’re being employed by someone bigger and meaner, either.”

“As for their motives…” She paused here to run a hand through her hair, loosing an exasperated sigh that managed to float some bangs that escaped. “I dunno. But I don’t think they’re scared. They’re too good to be just scared - they’re not acting like a caged animal, they’re playing the part of the hunter. My best guess is they want Cybertronian tech. Which.. of course brings us back to who is pullin’ the strings. I mean you don’t just get a fucker wakin’ up one morning, discovering aliens, and being like ‘I want that’, ya know? Not with the shit these guys have at least. There’s gotta be a bigger agenda here, but God only knows who wrote it.”

At this point Catherine leaned her head over in her heads, rubbing at her face and eyes as she spoke. “I just… it’s buggin’ the shit outta me. How fucking good these guys are. Between me, Raf, Fowler’s crew… not to mention the fucking Autobots and Decepticons and no one’s found the main Op yet? That’s… that’s…” The scariest thing she’s ever encountered. And her friends and family were on the target list.

“Auuuuugh,” She sighed into her hands, her voice muffled. “All I can do is speculate right now - fucking educated guesses. I dunno.” Frustrated, she grabbed her pint a little more roughly than necessary and began poking at it until she pulled up a large glob to bite at. “Didn’t someone from the ‘Con side stop by a little bit ago? They sharin’ any of their stuff with Haven?”

<< Most of it will just be Cat's speculation - I didn't want to toy with any actual info until I know what either side knows about it because I think it'd be... not plausible for her to break down code walls before Cybertronian hackers did. XD Let me know if any edits needed, though! >>

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"Little bits," Layby hedged, unwilling to bet at this point just how much or little of Decepticon intelligence Ravage had divulged. That anyone wearing a badge had come and given such information away at all had set his plates on edge. The old soldier was pretty sure some of his ventral plating was still a little fluffed up...

He echoed Cat's sigh right back at her, running a blunt finger up and down the groove carved into his faceplate. His optics darkened at the edges, the apertures narrowing.

"The Cons're rightly worried 'bout our tech -hnf, our bodies- falling inta MECH's hands, cuz they're learning on the job off our frames how ta bring us down. Autobots do their own headcounts, Decepticons do theirs, but Neuts an' anyone runnin' solo wouldn't get noticed as missin' so easily. Was less about sharin' intelligence and more of a warnin' to see no one gets caught."

Layby made an expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "Given how altruistic that Cons ain't, that warning says more 'bout what MECH are capable of than any info they might've been willing ta give."

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Little bits, but not enough. The image of Layby came with a feeling of reassurance and comfort, like most of the big mechs that managed to wander through Haven. Though unlike Dusk (who Cat had labeled something like a mastiff) and Fort Max (who she affectionately imagined as a very serious, very large doberman - of course she would never say this to anyone outside of herself and possibly Windy), Layby always managed to take up an entire space with complete control without intimidation or excitement. It was just... calm. Which is why, after the 'Con Base Cat took their leave, Catherine had noticed that little bit of edge. Subtly enough that it had her uneasy in a way that didn't register until she sat down to think.

"Well that's nice of them to keep us from sleeping at night." She muttered, hand coming up to mimic Layby's rubbing of the temples. If she were to be perfectly honest, she didn't much care about other Neutrals. Would she be sad, afraid even, if one had been caught? Sure. But deep down, she had to question whether or not it would be more because one Neutral caught meant they could capture any, including Layby and Cleaver.

Her brows drew over her glasses when she faded into silence, her muscles tense in the way she tapped her finger on the chair, her jaw tight when she ground her teeth when her mind landed on the idea that destroying MECH outright with brute force might not be a bad idea.

"So what?" She said slowly, trying to lure her mind away from the thoughts of mass violence to something more immediately productive. "What now? I mean if I were MECH and found out about a Neutral presence, Neutrals would be what I went for. No faction relationship means no organized retaliation, if there was retaliation at all. That's relatively easy pickin'."

God damn it but she could feel herself deflating into her seat, she could feel herself sliding past anger and into complete worry, hidden behind a blank face in an attempt to stay neutral, even if she couldn't hide it from her voice. "What happens if they get you or Cleaver?"

This was serious. Catherine was hardly ever serious.

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There it was: his exact worries and the logic behind them, all laid out bare in front of him, underlined with a question he had no acceptable answer for. It chilled his spark, tightening and flaring his plates with the painful shiver of it.

If MECH heard about the Neutrals, they would come for them.

And whatever Ravage had said, and however much it was in either faction's best interests to keep all Cybertronina tech out of this toxic organization's hands, they were still just Neutrals.

Layby put a hand to his face, intending to merely press out the torque that had gathered between his optics but covered them for a long moment instead. His mind was following the dark paths, the worst case scenarios that had to be agonized over, even if they couldn't be overcome.

The Neutrals were expendable fence-sitters when it came to extending resources or taking risks, and the 'brave soldiers' who worked for their faction deserved protection. Perhaps they would come if a distress call went out, but it wouldn't be the rapid response Layby knew would be needed, and it wouldn't be guns blazing. The DMZ was a liability - what would be lost if it was destroyed by the one major group on this planet who hadn't signed up for it?

He dropped his hand back to his lap, meeting Cat's gaze again.

"Aw well, that ain't ever gunna happen', lil' bit," Layby replied, his wheels twitching forward as he shrugged. His smile was over-tight, and there was something unsettling in that particular refraction of light through his optical crystals. Another Cybertronian, who would be able to feel the sudden snap-snarl of his field, may just have backed up a step.

"Cuz Cleaver ain't leaving these caves until the Decepticons have razed and salted MECH's facilities, and the Autobots have taken whatever long-term safeguards they feel are within their morals against the human personnel."

Frag but he needed a drink. Pushing to his feet, Layby continued his tirade whilst going to one of the sofas taken from Cleaver's shuttle. He set his pedes up on the shipping-crate table and pulled a cube from his subspace.

"For that matter, you ain't leavin' for anywhere that's inhabited by naught more threatening than bunnies; Deuce is gettin' a big ol' leash and his wings tied together, and every other Neut that shows up is gettin' one of them snazzy location-signal bracelets with a built-in self-destruct." He took a long draw of High Grade, then toasted Cat with the rest of the cube. "Got it covered."

A deep-base rumble poured from his chassis, and his vents chuffed out a hard blast of hotter-than-normal air. After a minute, the tension that had built in Layby's frame slacked out, the High Grade warm in his tank though he was a long way off being numbed by it.

"Primus, sorry, Cat." He held the cube between his knees in both hands, watching her with an expression thick with apology and weariness. "This is far from the first time a colony has been in threat, but 've never been stuck with so few fightin'-fight folk to look out for us."

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Her mouth went dry, and for some reason she couldn’t name she felt her back go stiff and her limbs loose as the not unfamiliar sense of distress gripped her gut. The way he dug his fingers into his optics, held them there for just a little too long, the tightness of his smile — she couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t move… and perhaps that was because of the realization dawning on her. Everything she had seen or thought or done for the past few days, hell, even the past few months she could just… shrug off. Partition it off to some backwards part of her mind where the command was Layby who could (the way she realized she’d been thinking now) deal with all things dark and mysterious in this still very alien world.

But the light that shined down from his optics was chilling in the way it threw all of her unwittingly childish thoughts into the sharp contrast of reality. MECH wasn’t some bent up bot. MECH was a boogyman who had everyone on edge.

She might not have been able to feel the electric snap of his Field, but by the look on her face, the way she held her breath, Layby’s general body language hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was only when he moved to the couch that Catherine realized the tension in her lungs, and released a sudden exhale.

Even still, she managed a small smile when he revealed to Cat the plans for her safety, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She hadn’t ever supposed that she might be on the Target List, considering she wasn’t what MECH wanted. That, and her tracks were covered - no one knew where she was, not even her own mother, and she was more than savvy enough to cover her tracks in the digital realm …right?. Layby, Cleaver, Deuce. Those were the ones in the danger zone. Those were the ones she wanted to help (even if she didn’t know Deuce half as well).

“S’okay.” She said at last, her voice hoarse with caught up exhaustion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… freak us out. Y’know? Just…” She trailed off… shoulders suddenly shrugging with a small smile. “We’ll be fine. We’re not in the spotlight anyway, they’ll glance right past us.” God but why did she feel like saying that just made it worse? This time her exhale carried her all the way out of her chair and across the space, until she could lean herself up against Layby’s pede and thunk her head on his plating. “I’d offer you another cube but I’m tiny and organic.”

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Layby chuffed a little laugh at that, genuine and relieved that she'd said something that actually made him laugh. Where Layby was all sturdy strength and quiet authority, Cat was light, and by Primus was that more important, sometimes.

"Appreciate the thought all the same, lil'bit."

He drained the cube, savouring the sweet burn of the super-charged fuel down his throat and into his tank. The plating about his pedes and shins were numb to sensations as faint an organic's fractional weight, and he took a second to lock the armou exactly where it was lest he twitch his ankle and do something horrific like sever her arm.

"'s a valid question," he went on softly, optics on the distant far wall though not focusing on any one thing. His gaze was circling the weapon's locker, though. "An' our best tactic right now is, as yeh say, ta get looked right over. Mutual agreements seems ta be that any of our tech in MECH's hands is bad news for everyone, Neutrals included, so the factions ain't gonna rat us out. Don't mean they'll protect us, but that makes for our usual points of likely attack and peril being on our side for once. Not often Neutrals are worryin' 'bout action against'em from someone other than Bots and Cons."

His mouth thinned into a flat line, pulled down into an unintentionally grimmer expression by the thick scar bifurcating one side of his face. Cat knew him well enough to wait, to leave him to think and settle with the outcome of his thoughts. It was ingrained into him that it was better to be right than fast.

Layby would never claim to be anything other than moderately intelligent, but his processor was practical and held centuries of real-world experience that he drew upon with an instinctive ease. It took several moments for him to gather his thoughts, but once he'd done so, his frame sat easier and his engine ran softer.

"We'll lay low, in our usual style, and get as much info as we can," he announced, his tone pitched towards both certainty and assurance. "More we can learn, the better we can protect ourselves. 's just a new enemy, is all. Different. Takes a while ta learn 'different' and how ta deal with it. But we'll manage. Be alright."

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The coolness from his plating seeped through Catherine’s head pleasantly, at odds with the unease that she could feel in the troubled rumble from his engine. But she got him to laugh, and that was enough to at least let her shoulders drop from the tension that was in her back. God, but her head throbbed. Filled to the brim and over clocked thinking about everything that wrong with events coming to light — everything it would mean. For them. Hell, for the human race. The thought of advanced weaponry sat in her gut like lead. If human tech had trouble harming Cybertronians before, they wouldn’t anymore. Whether or not MECH managed to directly capture any of them, the aftermath of MECH actually getting their way, what they wanted, could have a potential ripple effect on all of Earth.

Catherine only nodded her head, though, before letting herself sag against his foot until she was sitting with her back up against a flatter portion. Tension had eased from her entire figure more from exhaustion than actual reassurance — but she never said as much was on her mind. Not while Layby was thinking. Not that there was a need to, sure that Layby had the same thoughts on his own mind already.

We’ll be fine, she told herself again. They were hardly in as much danger as the Decepticons or Autobots — barely ever turning out in the open. …Right?

About that time, the change in the hum of Layby’s engine to something more calm roused her attention. She unglued her eyelids, blinked a few times to align her tired vision, and peered up through his knees to his face. There it was — that was what she had such an easy time falling into and trusting. That pitch in his voice, the calm but assured set of his shoulders. They’d be fine. They’d come out on top.

Nodding fractionally, Catherine seemed to be put at ease. Sure, she sagged, but now it was from something that might have been relief; her eyes no longer distant with the distraction of uncertainty but rather something more clear. “Damn straight.” She said. It wasn’t sarcastic, nor was it a cover-up like she so often used. It sounded solid, genuine, like something she truly believed. Though for her benefit or his, she wasn't sure. She just, Christ, just wanted to relax the tension she knew she caused.

She wasn't sure she'd bring it up again - they could discuss the details later, if he brought it up.

Tapping her knuckles lightly on his ped, she continued. “You still got time for a drive ‘fore Cleaver wakes up, y’know... I won't taddle, promise.” She smirked, winking, seeming more like herself now.

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That... rather rubbed against the 'protect everything in sight by keeping it in sight' code that Layby was fighting to throttle down.

Paranoia and over-preparation were poles apart in terms of usefulness, but almost overlapped in their obsessiveness and attention to the worst case scenario. Staying cooped up in the mine was a surefire way to send his processor winding away from keeping on top of the groundbridge logs and maintaining fire-readiness on his personal weapons, to shutting down all traffic and blasting threatening-looking shadows.

He needed to get out of his head for a bit. Get some dirt other than that which was hundreds of years from seeing the light of day under his tires. Pit, running his transformation sequence to make sure it still worked was a good idea. It was coming up on four years, now, since he'd dropped into his Earth-scanned alt. mode.

"Yeah," he groaned in a tone that made it clear that she made an irritatingly good point. "Not been outta the place in a while."

Layby sat forward, looking down at the top of her tiny hair-fluffy head. There'd been a note of longing underneath the friendly concern. Cat had asked about going out for a drive with him before, but he'd been too tunnel-visioned on his projects in Haven to actually take her out.

She looked tired, stressed out and drained. Stewing over MECH and the tenuous safety they lived in here was going to do nothing for that. They could both do with going out and doing something fun for a change, even if it was just bouncing around the sand talking about nothing.

Cat would be safe. Not only would they be within the boundaries of the DMZ, his armour was high-density blast-rated and his alt. mode didn't forcibly expose any vulnerabilities. She was probably safer inside his cab than in her escape pod, in fact, should slag ever hit the fan in Haven.

He made a little note of that for future reference.

Flicking out a proximity scan to make sure James wasn't hiding under the sofa and that she was clear of the moving plates of his foot assembly, Layby rose to his pedes. The look he cast down to her was positively mischievous.

"Yeh comin'?"

If he was going to risk torquing off Cleaver, he may as well go the whole pallet and invite an accomplice along for the ride.