Ep.1.5 - 'Reversing Maneuvers' - Closed

[Deleted]

<<OOC: Set Week 2, Day 1. For Flatline.>>

Megatron had taken to roaming.

Perhaps, as his conversation with Dart in the repair bay several days ago had suggested, it was because of an ingrained memory of having spent hours -days- trapped in confined places performing a repetitive task that drove him to move. But from what he had gleaned of the Commander of the Decepticons as he was without memory-inhibitions, he didn't walk a great many of the ship's corridors. Eradicons parted to the bulkheads at his approach, more dramatically in some areas than others. His presence was less unexpected near the engine rooms and energon vault, where he received little more than respectful nods and occasional touches to sigils.

This morning, early in the first duty shift, Megatron had found himself walking the corridors that saw relatively little traffic. It was predominantly drones he passed, in decreasing numbers the closer he got to the laboratories. The lighting was dimmer here, and the constant rumble of the engines more distant and smoother.

The quiet was welcome. It gave him the opportunity to mull over what he'd learned so far about MECH and their recent activities without the distraction of screens and reports. The acronym had come up time and again in his medically-mandated interactions with random selections of the crew, and Megatron had been pursuing the leads despite Fairwinds' insistence that he was off-duty and shouldn't be agitating himself.

Quite simply, though, he had little else to do. Hence the reading and the roaming.

[Flatline]

Silence.

It suffocated this part of the ship.

At least... most of the time...


Flatline didn't very much care for the quiet. He enjoyed the solitude to some extent, able to work effectively and get his tasks done for the day, but the silence is where he had to draw a line. It reminded him too much of when he was stuck on that transport shuttle alone, and the harrowing effects of the pure isolation in space for so very long. He had coped with it at first, the new sounds of the unfamiliar computers and machinery giving him plenty of unfamiliarity to cope, but once he was accustomed he had to find other means.

Least humans were good for one thing...

Slender peds tapped down against the metal flooring below, limbs carrying them in an uneven stride that moved to the beat of a tune that was truly foreign to their wielder. Each punch of the lower tones of the music, were accented by a footfall that carried the fast paced individual through the laboratory. Fetching a tool here, tweaking some wiring on a project there. When stuck stationary while working, the hoof like toes of the ped would click down a moment to take the place of each footfall from before.

Flatline reviled in just the noise of it all. He couldn't really care at this point and time what TYPE of music was being played into his lab, just that there was something to break up the unnerving quiet. Nonetheless, he was tinkering and working on a small side project, while waiting for the next round of miners or scouts to get their scanners or other tools upgraded.

It was part way into this task that Flatline realized he would need to get something from one of the storage areas in order to cut off a great sum of time from his goal. With this in mind, he grabbed hold of the steel plate that the component would attach to, and made his way out towards the doorway that would lead to the outer hallway.

The hallway was silent, the noise of the earth music not bleeding into the corridor in any way due to the thick panels of metal that composed of the door frames. It was only when they peeled back and apart that the sound pierced through for the briefest of moments. It was not particularly loud, but going from silence to some kind of sound could always be a bit jarring. It is in tandem with this, that Flatline had moved out of his lab striding along with the beats again while taking a turn of a twist, only for his back to ram up against something. The door panels slid closed in front of him to plunge the area back into the deathly quiet it had endured before, the medic easing about face to see who he had ran into.

Really, Flatline expected it to be Skywarp, probably to whine to him about being bored like it was HIS job to keep the jet of a mech entertained. In fact, he started to actually reply to the behemoth he had unintentionally ran into as he turned, expecting it to be the aforementioned individual.

"Look! I told you that it will be done-"

Silver. Much bigger. Giant canon about eye level.

Flatline was dead.

The medic rammed backwards away from Megatron as if just touching him would infect him with some kind of acidic plague that would start chewing away on his mesh. His back now pressed into the side hallway with a rattle, and his primary arms dropped the steel disk they had been holding. His right hand snapped up into a salute with fist across his spark, while left pinned down at his side at attention. His secondary arm scrambled outwards in a frantic attempt to catch the disk that had been unceremoniously hurled into the air, tiny fingers grappling at straws a moment before getting purchase and tucking back just under 'sternum' height.

"My Lord! I had not expected to see you here! How may I be of service?"

[Deleted]

The mech's reaction was so sudden, dramatic and unexpected that Megatron startled back a little, himself. His plating flared, hands furling and the stance of his pedes widening in an ingrained preparation for assault. The frantic movement of multiple hands was distracting; as was the unique overall build of the mech's frame. He'd seen no other like it on board.

The lighting did nothing to soften the strangeness of his sharp angles and curving planes.

Red optics seemed overbright, even with the heavy shadows. Megatron settled his stance back into a relaxed posture, hoping that the other -Flatline, his disjointed processor finally supplied- would do the same.

If anything, Flatline's posture grew even stiffer with nerves. His field, what little Megatron could sense of it where it was so tightly held, was cold with startled anxiety.

"At ease," Megatron said, raising a hand in something close to a placating gesture. His expression was bordering on concerned. This was the most extreme reaction he'd received since waking in the Medbay. "I haven't come here for anything. You needn't be alarmed, Flatline."

[Flatline]

He was going to be punched, or backhanded, or something. The stance his lord made looked like he was about to take one of the newly curled fists and acquaint it with Flatline's face. However no such strike came, no backlash. No angry growl or warning snarl. Nothing came, and it confused the medic to no end as he tried to figure out just what was going on here.

Red optics flicked across the larger mech's stance, taking note how the more combative momentary pose melted away into a relaxed posture. It didn't help Flatline's own anxiousness much, and only fueled it really. If he was not going to be physically struck for his carelessness that ended with him running into his Lord, than it meant something else had to be cooking up in the others Processor.

At ease...

The words seemed so foreign almost, as if his own mind couldn't put two and two together to equal what exactly it even meant. The raised hand did catch his attention though, and he glanced to it momentarily, half expecting to be strangled again, only for nothing of the sort to come. It truly was a motion to try to put at ease, paired with a concerned... expression?...

What?...

Flatline's features seemed to drop down to a cornered and puzzled look, still bordering along the edges of not understanding whatever language Megatron was saying. He understood it, technically, yet there was that extra layer of truly NOT that muddled everything into one unpleasant situation. Throw on there a dash of his Lord not actually wanting anything, and he was probably just as lost as the near amnesiac leader.

"I... see... If you change your mind I am at beck and call."

When he said these words, his optics shifted down to the side, paired with his helm dipping forward in a mild bow of sorts. He fell quiet then, just trying to bleed back into the shadows of the wall as best he could with his darker armor. Flatline was hoping that his Lord would either move on, or give a task to him. He... didn't know how to be social of all things with the massive mech.

[Deleted]

They stood in awkward silence for a further ten seconds as Megatron stared at the mech, and Flatline waited with all the tension of a coiled spring. The extremity of behaviour was unnerving, and he took no pleasure in the other's hyper-submissive body language.

Megatron wondered at the story behind that. The possibilities were of no particular reassurance to his recently raised concerns about the nature of his command. How his attitudes had been molded by the war.

It was painfully clear that Flatline had no idea of his present mental state. Whilst it would perhaps be easier to just move on and leave the mech to his devices, Megatron was uneasy with the prospect of leaving him like this.

"I've been relieved of command on medical grounds," he said in answer to Flatline's remark. "A new kind of artillery of MECH's design. My memories have been disconnected whilst it heals, thus..."

Megatron trailed off short of admitting that he had no idea of what had triggered Flatline's anxiety-ridden reaction. It could be that this was simply how the mech was around him, and that there hadn't been any kind of altercation in their past.

It was unlikely, given the evidence, but still a possibility.

[Flatline]

Ten seconds may have been ten seconds to him, but to Flatline it felt like the other's eyes were boring down into him with the intensity of a thousand suns for an hour. He had learned his place rather quick with their last encounter, and he wasn't too keen on making a repeat show of that endeavor right away. His plan was to keep as low as possible, and try to edge up gradually to learn ((or ideally observe others discovering)) where the lines were so he could speak more freely with his normal devil may care attitude.

Megatron began to speak, and Flatline's helm lifted from being downcast in order to look up upon the other. He made eye contact, if only to try to be respectful, but that was no sign of confidence from himself. He just tried to focus in on what was being said, and how it was said, more so than only looking at the individual themselves.

"Ah... yes... I have heard of your recent injury, but not that certain processes had to be disconnected for effective recovery."

That brought up some questions, and some frustration. The first was the main question if Megatron even recognized him now. Was this a new first encounter between them? By the distant sort of look his Lord had, it was a possibility, one that Flatline instantly felt a need to want to exploit. A second chance! A second swing at a first impression! Not many can get away with that. Granted... his second chance was already filled with terror and fear and awkward dancing... nearly dropping what he was carrying...

Secondary hands flinched slightly as if Flatline just became aware of them, the tiny claws clicking down upon the metal edge of the disk. They had been clutching the object high on his chest, hiding the tiny arms behind it in a way, but now lowered at ease, not directly fearing a strike to his face or torso any longer. Though... it isn't like the mechanical part he was carrying would really DO much by means of defense.

"I do hope despite this, you are finding no issues upon navigation?"

Hesitant offer. Baby steps. How much did Megatron know, and how much was he oblivious to? If there was anything Flatline could do to assist, he would do so. Try to be courteous and kind, understanding and of good service. If he could pull this off without being a blatant suck up, than it could hopefully make up for his casual taboo from before that had landed him in trouble to begin with.

What he REALLY wanted to do was ask if Megatron wanted a second opinion on his injuries, because... a disconnect of memories was somewhat extreme. This said, even he was not THAT bold at this point and time to offer to do so, but who knows how it may pan out once he learns more. He was arrogant, and he did feel he knew a good deal as a surgeon and past manufacturer, in his mind thered possibly be something more he could do.

Or he'd fry the brain of their Lord and be sentenced to the most unceremoniously brutal death imaginable...

FUNTIMES!

"It has to be quite discerning to... know a place yet... not."

[Deleted]

Megatron was still on guard from the mech's initial reaction. He held himself stiff, caution evident in his field and the set of his pedes. It was not a posture of combat-readiness, nor defensiveness.

Confidence and self-assurance was an integral trait for the warlord, and not lost despite the loss of the pertinent, victorious memories.

Rather he was uncertain of Flatline, and was conducting himself with deliberate care and attention until he had a better handle on the mech.

He nodded at Flatline's assumption of his current predicament, accepting is as quite a good summary of how he felt walking around the ship.

"It is," he said, gaze flicking down to that extra small arm. The design was a curiosity simply because he hadn't seen anything like Flatline's frametype on the ship until right now.

"I'm navigating via a map." It came out sounding like an admission. Megatron's plates flexed in sync with a wearied exvent. "And a perpetual sense of d déjà vu."




<<OOC: Apologies for the horrendously short tag, but it gets us going again.>>

[Flatline]

((No issues at all! but also... I just looked at the timeline, and I realized Flatline wouldn't have his secondary arm replaced yet after Adaptation. Can we just... slightly retcon him having two holding onto the plate and just assume it has been one this entire time? I don’t think he should be able to make an entire new arm and graft it on in a week, less it kind of removes consequence of losing limbs to begin with.))

Flatline tried to physically relax, to look more at ease than he was actually feeling. He reigned his field in respectfully tight, and shifted his weight from one tiny ped to the other in order to give himself a broader stance. It wasn't anything commanding or challenging, far from it. Instead he was simply taking on a more normal posture instead of being cowered with his legs tucked close to appear tiny and small. This was also paired with the digitigrade limbs stretching up a bit to make him a tad taller, also moving away from cowering.

He was anxious internally still, chewing over the scenario and trying to check and balance everything he did. He wanted to come off as helpful and courteous, without being a stuck-up. The last thing he needed was for Megatron's memories to return, and for him to remember nothing but the fact he was trying to garner favor too openly. Alas, he had a certain way of speaking around commanders, and being his Lord, Megatron would be spoken to with an air of formality despite trying to relax.

"There is nothing wrong with that. I still find myself looking at a map when I stray too far from my normal rounds."

Flatline's right primary lifted and flicked out a bit at this, motioning down the corridor in the direction he didn’t venture as much as the other. He really only went between four main places, his lab, Shockwaves lab, storage areas, and then the rec room to get fuel for the day. He knew the pathways between these points, and how to get from any one of them to any other one, but take him away from this area? And things could get a bit quirky. There was entire chunks of the ship he had not even bothered to visit yet, and others he wasn't even admitted to.

"Let's be honest, many of the halls look identical either way."

He smirked, a bit of a toothy grin that was half forced to try to seem he was more calm than he was. His teeth were a bit ragged, some areas flat, showing they had been normal dente before, but others were chipped and held points from being ground through years of anxious habits.

"Would you wish to be taken to a particular destination? Or are you merely exploring during recovery?"

He pulled back a bit, some insecurity showing for the briefest of fractions before he spoke again, trying to step forward metaphorically. Attempting to be bold.

"If you are simply looking for entertainment, I could show you what I have been making with the accommodations you have provided?"

[Deleted]

Megatron shifted his weight as he thought, his bulk rocking back onto his heels as the articulated base-plates towards the fore of his pedes flexed. His field was calm and thoughtful, considering the options presented. The motion was not a fidget, out as place as it seemed on the warlord.

As a Commander and public speaker, Megatron had honed the ability to stand poised and rooted for hours if required. The knack for standing as if his pedes were welded immovably to the decking had been developed against his instincts, which themselves had been honed beneath far harsher lessons. In the gladitorial arenas, remaining static was to court death. In the mines, there was never an opportunity to stand still.

Flatline was in a similar state of constant minor motion, providing clues to his mood and thoughts on the most basic level. It was far easier to observe than Soundwave's uncanny stillness, or Starscream's stiff posture.

The mech had piqued his curiosity with his invitation. It certainly seemed a better alternative to wandering aimlessly until he found himself back at the door to his quarters. And Fairwinds.

Flatline seemed friendly enough in a nervous sort of way.

"I have been walking without a destination in mind," Megatron said, carefully pitching the words to convey that that had been his intent. "It would be good to see something that isn't the same corridor replicated endlessly."

[Flatline]

Flatline was a novice on this ship. He was new; he was inexperienced with all of the individuals that roamed the halls. He only had a surface gleam off of a few personalities and archetypes, and didn't really have a solid foundational understanding of each individual at their core levels. This said, something about the way Megatron moved was surreal enough that even he picked up on it seeming out of place. The subtle mannerisms may not have been able to be pinpointed directly, he couldn't tell you if it was the arch of his shoulders or the angle of his helm, but whatever damage had befallen did make things seem... odd...

"Then I will be more than happy to show you something besides hollow passageways and blank walls"

He announced, pleased, feigning confidence again. He kept chanting to himself that this was a second chance in a way, while subsequently bashing and trying to bury his embarrassment from how this meeting even started. But such pleasantries were short lived as he turned and opened the door to his lab, only for the earth music to still be playing jarringly loud. The medic scrambled momentarily in alarm, before he could send the command to shut down the apparatus and slink into the now silent room like a wounded animal.

Flatline was quite thankful he had kept the place mostly clean. It was not so sterile and spotless that it could be used as an emergency surgical room, but it was well enough for him to do the meager tasks appointed to himself, as well as a couple... side projects. But Flatline was Flatline, and he would always have a bit of an obsession with trying to spit in the eye of Primus.

Most of the tables were cleared off entirely, making the room appear poised more for show than function, but one countertop held a myriad of tools that were scattered about. A few scanning devices were attached so some sort of component that looked better suited being internalized rather than external sitting upon a tray. A bit of oil was leaking out from one of the connectors on its side, and a light was softly flashing as an indicator.

Flatline walked right past this object, slowing only long enough for him to place the disk he had been carrying with his secondary hand down onto the table next to it. He then moved on to a locked wall storage, where he plucked a couple buttons on the control panel. The large hatch slid open after the code was inputted, and Flatline hastily snatched what it was he was looking for before the doors would snap shut in his wake. For the briefest of moments when the hatch was open, one would be able to see the multitude of projects that were in progress, some looking far more completed than others.

Slender digitigrade legs carried the Decepticon back in the direction he had come, working with a calculated grace one as oddly shaped as him should not be capable of. He made his way over to a table in which Megatron could stand where he pleased in order to view, only to then set the tray down and take the opaque cover off of it.

Clutched upright at a back slanted angle was a pair of limbs that looked as if they had been freshly cut off of some living Cybertronian cassette. They were slender, the posts wrapped in a delicate array of armor plates that could move with the new owner's transformation while the hinges were internalized and sleek, trying to protect them from external grit. The wrist was a sort of ball joint that sloped down into sleek hands that splayed out suddenly into a short palm. Three fingers branched forward from the center of this foundation, the middle one longer than the others with a bit of a hooked shape to it. Below these three, were two additional ball joints, where a thumb was nestled on both sides. The thumb that was settled where the 'pinky' finger would traditionally sit, held slat slices up the side of the hand, showing the channel where the digit could rotate and slide up to create a traditional hand, or look more 'owl' like.

While the forearm up looked completely fleshed out and finished, the connector where the leg abruptly ended was still ratted and torn. Tubes and pipes fed up into the mechanism, the subtle glow of Energon feeding into the apparatus, as well as coolant and oil. While the limbs would not need such systems while inert like this, the pipes for it were in place and being flushed through by the small pumps that sat on the tray.

"These limbs have been constructed from scratch for your cassette my Lord. They are ready for installation whenever deemed appropriate."

He sounded quite pleased with himself. In doing so, he reached his hand forward and lightly rested the flat edge of his finger into the palm of one of the hands. The hand twitched momentarily, before it clutched down with a cycling of components, trying to grasp and grip at the finger instinctively. This 'intelligence' to do so, was being fed into it via a small device that was also nestled into the tray. It permitted Flatline to run motor checks to make sure everything worked as intended.

[Deleted]

This laboratory was stunningly different to the last Megatron had ventured inside. Where Shockwave's projects twitched and glowed on every surface, Flatline's space seemed orderly and recognizable as a workspace. There was also a distinct lack of floating organisms swirling in laser-lit water. Even the air 'smelt' different; less astringent and cloying.

Megatron followed the scientist's lead inside, recognizing the slackening hydraulics in the unfamiliar frame that signaled the comfortable return to one's own territory. Gone was the meek and near-cowering mech from the corridor. Here, Flatline was master of his domain and proud to show his environment. The state of the laboratory was testament to that pride, and Megatron nodded approvingly.

Then came the meticulously crafted legs, and it was inevitable that Megatron lean in to examine them more closely.

Whilst the fine points of his talons made his hands dexterous enough to conduct most maintenance work, he lacked the skills for anything close to this level of craftsmanship. Fine tools and a delicate, micro-precise touch were required to create 'living' limbs as small and articulated as this. Megatron was, without a doubt, looking at a great many hours of work.

It didn't make sense until Flatline offered that these limbs were for his own cassette.

Megatron watched the talons grasp the mech's finger, underscoring further the comparatively tiny size and delicate articulations of the joints.

Primus. What was Fairwinds going to be capable of with thumbs?

"Most impressive," he murmured, straightening at last to regard Flatline once more. "I am certain that Fairwinds will be grateful for such fine work."

[Flatline]

Flatline tugged gently with his finger, which only caused the small legs to let out a tiny hiss and clench down even harder. It was behaving like a finger trap, and while Flatline could easily WRENCH his hand away, he didn't want to for multiple reasons, but the most prominent was the fact he didn't want to hurt and damage the hard work. He toyed with the mechanisms momentarily, before he pressed his finger into the palm which caused the fingers to cycle away and let go fully.

"I seek only your approvals to install them. I do not wish to disable your Cassette when she may be needed, even if it would be for a brief amount of time."

He was a little bit untrusting of Fairwind's words. He had a feeling that once the hyperactive little avian saw the legs, she would be pecking and clawing at him at any given moment to try to get them installed, whether this was accurate or not, he didn’t know. What mattered was what Megatron's plans were, as he really didn’t want to be mid surgery when the Warlord would break in and demand to know where his bird was. That would be bad on multiple levels, and could end with him in a deep pit of trouble once more.

"In addition, Fairwinds had made a request for something else."

He started, a bit more tentatively and passive.

"I don't know if she mentioned that she was interested in a differing paint job or not, but I wanted to confirm this was applicable to your desires before I proceed with planning anything out."

He looked down at the avian hands again, not thinking he would have the confidence to continue speaking if he was looking at his Lord right in the face. Even in an inert state, with no perceivable rage or anger, Megatron could appear quite... frightening... and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of such things. But just because he wasn't going to go through with anything until he had permission, didn't mean he didn't think about it during more mundane work.

He had a few ideas for Fairwind's paint, all of which were probably influenced in some way from his past work on Towerling's sparklings. Sophisticated, but with a flashy edge. He had done some research recently on some paints when he was waiting for calibrations to finish, and found a few iridescent ones that while not 'glittery' as requested, would have a classy yet showy sheen that could reflect different colors in different lighting. All of this could be painted on in ways that the main body could remain more drab so Megatron didn’t look... ridiculous when she was docked.

[Deleted]

It seemed fitting that Fairwinds' new appendages, even working autonomously in this environment, would be obstinate. Megatron watched as Flatline manipulated the little digits to free his finger of their grasp, tracking the fluidity with which they curled and retracted.

He looked up at the mention of a new paint job. Surely he couldn't even begin to imagine...

Megatron straightened with a huff, then motioned to the newly crafted pedes. "If your concern is solely of restricting my use of Fairwinds temporarily, then now is an optimum time to install them. I am not at liberty to give orders whilst medically relieved, and without direct access to my own knowledge and experience..." He shook his head with a frown, pensive. "It is best that I preoccupy myself solely with the present for now. The past will return to me, and the future will wait."

Sensing the return of Flatline's unease which still wasn't particularly subtle, Megaton granted the mercy of space and moved away towards one of the countertops of the lab. He feigned an interest in the assorted instruments there, his optics scanning over more needle-like devices than he was comfortable with.

"As for paint jobs," he went on, turning back to the scientist, "I would want to see some designs."

A rueful, conspiratorial smile. "I don't need long in Fairwinds' company to know I cannot blindly authorise her aesthetic choices. She has a certain... flair that transcends gaudiness."

[Flatline]

"Understood my Lord, I just didn't wish to remove from you access to your Cassette unknowing if your goals."

While it was a logical conclusion for him to remove Fairwinds from active function while Megatron was incapable of making guided orders and plans to further their goals, Flatline did not know her function during these times. With his luck the bird would have been acting as an aid for Megatron, and guiding him around most of the time. To remove her would have removed that safety net. Alas, this would work out well. He now had reasonable permission from the one mindset that mattered, and by the time Megatron was fully recovered than Fairwinds would ideally have her new feet mastered well enough for it to not impede him in any ways.

Win win!

"I will see about notifying her of the limb's completion. I am reasonably certain she will be excited."

He smiled at this, actually finding some joy here. It wasn't a meek forced grin, or an attempt to look confident, it was true and honest to his character. He liked it when people appreciated his work, and he was rather confident Fairwinds would like this. Maybe, MAYBE she would ask for another digit, but really who needs six fingers on each hand?

Before Megatron upon the tabletop was an array of tools that appeared to be just recently cleaned, awaiting storage. The gnarled metal hooks and abrasive scrapers varied by only the tiniest of increments, but it was these small changes that allowed them to be used in many different applications. A couple varying sizes of screwdrivers were cast into the batch, not fitting with the set but having been recently used. There was a good chance it was on Fairwinds limbs.

Behind this tray, were a few jars with an unknown substance lurking within its glass and metal sealed vessel. The chemical compounds were an array of varied colors, most of which being translucent to let the light shine through them and cast flecks of color down upon the tabletop around them. One of the containers was a solid opaque black though, the compound clutching and sticking to the sides of the glass in a webbing akin to a spiders. Above these jars was a strip of magnets, a few misplaced screws and bolts stuck on as temporary storage. The cabinets hanging over this were smoothed shut and likely hiding much more odd mismatched science tools and specimens that skirted the line between mechanic and medic.

"Of course, I think her dedication to want glittery was my tipoff of this fact."

Flatline spoke in amusement, and maybe threw the little bid under the buss a bit... but... he didn’t think Megatron would be upset by it, for he had to know her and accept her quirks enough to have her as a cassette. As such, was snitching really snitching?

Either way he plucked a fingertip down upon the other ped on the stand, watching as the fingers hesitated momentarily, before cycling down to try to grab a fingertip that wasn't there any longer. The upgrades medic would then continue to do this, plucking at different points and watching how all the mechanical parts moved to make sure there weren't any edges that needed to be filed down further.

"I am going to try to propose a couple... alternatives... that does not turn her into a disco ball attached to your abdomen."

[Deleted]

The Commander's hand twitched as if towards his chassis, unconsciously moving towards the minor augmentations that allowed the cassette to dock. She had only locked into his plates a handful of times since Knock Out had released him from the medical bay, and each time it had been equally disquieting. Certainly her noisy mind took some getting used to.

Fairwinds had been a helpful guide in the first few days roaming the ship, however. Even if her commentary was somewhat distracting.

From talking to her, Megatron knew that she didn't dock often, and rarely (if ever) left the ship situated in that mode. It was not common knowledge that he had been modified to accept the cassette into his circuitry, and their disparate personalities did a great deal towards quashing rumours amongst the Autobots.

In terms of their personal preferences, Megatron preferred the solitude of his own mind and Fairwinds thought her carrier a bit of a grump and a spoilsport. Neither of them could tolerate being connected as much as Soundwave and Laserbeak were. Docking was an act of synchronising their systems every few days, and of sharing information in absolute confidence and complete transparency.

As infrequently as he 'wore' the cassette, Megatron was still aware of the image he presented to the Decepticons - and agreed with Flatline's stylistic reservations.

"A wise decision," he affirmed, turning his attention away from the array of tools.

The array of equipment in this laboratory, and the atmosphere it fostered, was nothing like Shockwave's space. Flatline's workbenches held an air of creation and development, of building on what already existed. By contrast, Shockwave's various workspaces suggest deconstruction and cool examination. Taking things apart to see how they fitted together.

Megatron looked Flatline over in a quick glance, thoughtful. His attention was drawn to the extra set of hands.

"What did you do before?" he asked. "Before the war."