Ep. 2 - Downturn - [Closed]

[Zercon]

Episode: 2 | Week: 3 | Day: 7



Despite all the chaos that went into getting it put into place, the Control Room at Haven was now fully functional, and had already seen its fair bit of use since its establishment. It had worked well, functioned smoothly, but every time it had been utilized in response to an outside influence, reactionary. This time it was different. This time it was being used as a central hub to go on the offense. It was going to act as a place for everyone from either faction to gather together and prepare so that they can strike back against MECH.

This strike however, was going to be careful, surgical, a subtle move to gain an upper hand, rather than a bludgeoning strike to obliterate a facility. While the decimation of such an area would be beneficial, and lay a heavy toll on the vile organization, the building was located in a region with some population and what had been proposed and planned would be far more devastating in the long run.

Each participant had been briefed on what was going to happen. They all knew their collective roles, and they all were appointed the tools needed to execute it effectively. The goal was to infiltrate the facility and implant cameras and some monitoring devices that could pick up files and deliver them into Cybertronian control. The most ideal catch would be gaining access to anything that would betray where other buildings were hiding.

Eleanor and Bluestreak would be the aggressors, both having the necessary technology needed supplied to them. As much as Optimus disapproved, and tried to circumvent Eleanor being an active participant, the fact was she was a human, as experienced as any of them could get with their species, learning the ins and outs of what it was to be a human, it was hard to compete with one born and raised in this world. Bluestreak was a good second runner up though, and his help would be priceless inside the facility.

Jazz and Mirage were there to play backup. If things went tail up in the worst way ((where keeping undercover was the least of their worries)), than the two would be there to give a swift evacuation. Their understanding and experience with such missions would offer anything Nel and Blue may need in terms of advice.

Lastly, Fairwinds was given a very simple job of air recognizance and general support. As simplistic as it was, it was still of high value and would give a Decepticon a place in the mission. As such, with all directives laid down multiple days in advance, to let participants prepare appropriately, everyone should hopefully know what they need to do, and things should go smoothly.

Off to the side of the control room, having already arrived first was the Con support for the mission. Black armor, sharp edges, an angular frame, seething red optics, it was no question who held Flatline's allegiance, the medic settled down out of the way on a crate that served as a temporary chair. His long slender limbs were folded idly over one another, draped against his abdomen while waiting.

Up above the Decepticon, perched atop one of the lower server banks, was a flash of crimson that flicked and glinted. Fairwinds was settled down well, preening and cleaning grit from panels of metal while waiting, having arrived with Flatline a few minutes prior. It would not be long until the Autobots made their appearance, though one was already on scene and had been for many hours.

Optimus Prime himself stood tall as an imposing figure before the sea of monitors that were secured to the stone wall of the room. An icon, a figure of authority and strength, as well as ledged and lore due to the Matrix settled within his chest. He radiated a calm power that made it impossible to mistake him for any other while looking over some final files and opening references for the team.

Red tinted screens flickered and flashed in front of him, casting hazes of color that skirted over the silver and blue portions of his armor. Some of the monitors held satellite photography of the region they would be entering, and others held generic readouts they managed to scrape and peel from records of the building. Vague, not much to go off of, but it was something.

Either way, the Prime waited in silence, knowing the rest of his team would be there very soon as the ground bridge down the hall spiraled alive.

[Deleted]

Strategically positioned out of grabbing range and half-shadowed, Fairwinds was less 'preening' than 'making some use of a nervous twitch whilst also disguising it from stupid Autobots'. She was close to stripping the paint from her trailing wingplates, and was quite sure her joints hadn't been this grit-free in years.

It was their first offensive strike against MECH since their ceasefire began, and she was itching to get started. Days spent suffering through strategy briefings, intelligence updates, operation parameter presentations, collaborative mission protocol refreshers and weather reports had left Fairwinds yanking at her crest plates in impatient agony. Apparently the Autobots took planning far more seriously than the Decepticons did under Megatron's direct instruction. Her Carrier was good at military tactics and battlefield psychology, but wielded far too broad a bludgeoning weapon to plot 'spy stuff' and its ilk.

They'd made a big effort to work with the Autobots on this one, and Fairwinds was inclined to believe it was because of the human asset. They didn't have one of those, and the meat sack could potentially accomplish objectives that a Cybertronian couldn't.

And then there was the Prime, overseeing everything and utterly inscrutable behind his faceplate and with his steady, calm field. It had been made abundantly clear to Fairwinds the paramount importance of being a Sterling Example of a Decepticon today, and she'd successfully merged that pressure with one picked up from the Eradicons working in Haven: don't be the idiot who frags up in front of Optimus Prime.

Fairwinds tugged at the short plates that tessellated around the large air intakes framing her neck like a collar, wishing she cared less. She wanted to slip into her usual dippy-brag and bluster, playing the carefree card and faking it until she made it.

But Optimus had met her optics when she'd arrived -once- and the azure light had been unreal and penetrating and had cut through her crap before she'd even started. Ultimately she'd just bobbed her head in acknowledgement and perched up out of the way on the server banks.

At least there was another Con here, even if it was the neat-freak science dork.

Fairwinds straightened her neck out to peer at Flatline, who was looking far too relaxed about this whole affair.

"Yo," she trilled, studiously looking at the scientist and not the Matrix-bearer. "You ready to rock and roll? Kick back and watch the show? Netflix and chill?"

[Bluestreak]

That familiar feeling of trepidation was curling up around Bluestreak's main pump. It had started long before the green whirl of the ground bridge had opened up and every step he took along the whirling tunnel made him more and more nervous.

The silver mech attempted to keep focused. The fact that his rifle was clipped down behind his shoulder was a relief and frustrating. A relief that he was allowed to keep it, it had struck him late the night before that Haven meant no weapons but the fact he was going to Haven at all made him want the rifle with him even more.

I don't want to go to Haven, he thought to himself for what felt like the thousanth time since he'd been asked to go along on this mission. I never wanted to go to Haven, I don't- I just can't. I mean yeah I get asked and I politely say no thank you, got some stuff to do tonight, because that's the right thing to do. It's the right thing to say under the circumstances because the truth's not anything but awkward.

I guess I don't get it, I don't understand it, why some of them go and visit and hang out with Decepticons. I mean, to go there you have to nod and accept it. They are there, they have the same rights we do, it's a DMZ, Bluestreak, but ugh, ugh, ugh, there's something just not okay with it. Not to me.

Because you know they can all smile at you one minute and turn around the next kill someone I care about, or blow up a city, and it makes it even worse. I don't know why it makes it worse, but it makes it worse. Maybe because they'd kill everyone in that base if the wind so much as changes. They can think it's a DMZ, but it's a DMZ because the Decepticons find it useful for now.

Can't do anything though. I mean, gotta respect it. Gotta think past it. They asked you for this mission and I guess in the end the thing is it's MECH and they're a danger to a lot of folks I care about and so just- think of that. Think how you don't want to let Prime down. Or the Autobots.

Think that. Think about how MECH has no problems hurting civilians and other humans right along with us and anyone who tries to help us, they'll kill to get their hands on us, think about Air Raid because he's your friend, and think about her-

Decepticons.

I have to work with Decepticons.

He fought down a grinding noise of frustration that tried to sneak out of his throat. Not that Nell would hear it. Ground bridges were weird. Holes in time and space and all that.

Bluestreak tried to focus his worry on her, make sure she was doing all right. He slowed down just a tad as they walked, careful to keep himself to her pace so she didn't have to run. He would have offered to pick her up or carry her, but... no. Unless she asked for his help the mech respected and knew she could take care of herself. Better than he could. In a fist-fight, Nell would probably give a good right hook.

He'd... uh, yeah, he'd do something. Probably something that ended him up in medical but hey, that was something, right?

With that, he stepped out of the whirl of light.

His second thought was to make sure his gun was tightly secured in the clips and the safety was flicked on. It was always on unless it was in his hands, he was neurotic about that. His fingers twitched nervously, even thinking about the rifle made it terribly hard not to shift it like he would normally in a situation like this, to set it over his shoulder at attention just so he could wrap his fingers around the stock and reassure himself.

A glance down at Nell, before Bluestreak gathered himself up and nodded to Optimus. He tried to not focus on anyone else there for a moment. "Prime, sir," he said, and lifted his hand to lightly touch his brow before he dropped it back to his side.

[Deleted]

While Nell knew about the details and the danger of this mission, she was not worried about it. Simply put, because if she worried about it? Well, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on this. She wouldn't be as good of a team player as she can be.

At least, that was how she felt, and it was something the brunette was not going to even entertain the mere thought of.

Instead, she was bullheaded. She spoke her piece when Optimus had his talk with Fowler, that she might be human, she might be a fleshy little meatbag compared to the Cybertronians, but so were those behind MECH. They were only human themselves, they were also the sort of people who had no remorse for ending anothers life (even if that other 'person' was not a person, but an alien), and they didn't have any problems bullying perfectly innocent people. That crap bothered her down to her damn core, and even if the Cybertronians weren't well, aliens and just other people? Well? She would be working with Fowler and help out, because for as rough as she was, Nell knew right from wrong – even if she could win at a fist-fight with a couple well placed punches.

So, here she was at the Autobot base, double checking her SIG Sauer p228, making sure she had an extra clip, and making sure her knife was secured to her ankle too before she smoothed out her pants. Her outfit? Was simple. Black slacks and a simple white shirt with black blazer – it was all in order to blend in according to the intel she had been given. A slow sigh left her and it wasn't long before it was time to take the groundbridge to Haven.

The human didn't have the same reservations as Bluestreak did, she walked with a purpose and she kept her mind on what will be done today. Quietly, she was grateful that he took smaller, slower steps so she didn't have to jog along side his larger form. The ground bridge was...interesting to say the least, even a little bit stomach churning and disorienting. Still, the woman kept walking until they were through the it and down the hallway to where they were meeting Optimus and the Decepticons were.

There was a small bit of nervousness, and she quietly wished she had a few drinks last night – oh well, it was business now and she was going to treat Optimus like the commanding officer he was (or at least he was to her on this mission). She glanced up at Bluestreak for a brief moment, before her eyes fell on the tall red and blue mech. “Sir.” She spoke, even giving him a proper salute like the good soldier she could be from time to time.

[Jazz]

     Jazz was scrolling through his datapad as he went over and double-checked his orders. Everything had to be in check and he had to at least have the outline of events down so he could make wiggle room if the situation called for it. It was the most focused anyone would have seen him, not even so much as looking up or conversing to anyone he may have passed form his quarters to the groundbridge. On the other side was his Commander who was probably sitting in wait in some dark room with piercing blue optics staring down anyone who came through. It was the perfect set up for a horror flick! Even Jazz knew he wasn't that terrifying, but that mentality probably just came from having known him before he was required to be so stoic. Having finished his review and saved what he needed to, he set the datapad down on the counter to his side and looked ahead at the swirling vortex.

     While at first glance humans didn't seem to possess the capabilities to go up against mechs that were constructed for war ( especially the Decepticons because, hey, lets face it... they were War Machines for the better part of their construction ), but Jazz had learned early on in the war to never underestimate anyone. From what he had heard of the kids who roamed around their base, humans had a quality unlike anything else Cybertronians had yet been able to run across, and certainly were up there with the most interesting group of entities that Jazz had met up with in his own travels. They could be valuable assets, or formidable foes depending on what side they stood for. From what he had gathered about MECH? If they were enough to bring Decepticons and Autobots together on a level playing field, it was something to take seriously.

     It didn't mean that he had to take the trip to Haven seriously. Or the arrival.

     Once he stepped through, it only took a moment for him to cut through and meet up with his destination and right away he made his presence known.

     "Wow! Yeah, I can see why some ain't too keen on them bridges. Instant travel can make someone a little weak in the struts if they ain't got the right warnin'! Gotta say, I miss the roadways on Cybertron. Now THAT's a way to travel; No stop signs or speed limits, and you can just... VROOM!" Jazz made a gesture with his servo that represented human's when they would try to visualize speed. Flat, fixed servos, and an almost swoop from his shoulder and... straight out really fast. "These bridges, though? If I had squishy insides, they probably would have ended up twisted around in weird places they don't belong. But... there ARE some things that can move around." Jazz hummed to himself as he walked forward, pretending to not be paying attention to the others as he hummed to himself. Then his visor flashed and he grinned, one that would only fall into a smile afterwards. "Alright! Scans say that everythin' is where it's supposed to be. Awesome!"

     Jazz looked over at the ones who had arrived. Couple he didn't know, couple he did. he spotted the familiar little bird from... well, yeah, that was some time ago. "Hey, there! Good seein' ya again, gal. You're lookin' just as fly as last I saw ya. All gunk free?" It definitely wasn't meant as anything derogatory towards Fairwinds, and he said it with enough of a chuckle to follow to hint to the others that he wasn't uncomfortable with this situation at all. Strange as that was. "Still makin' that card collection of yours? I never did get to see the one ya made on me. Gotta lemme peek at it later."

     He nodded in acknowledgement to the others, his index and middle digit of his left servo being brought to just at the side of his visor in a sort of salute. That smile never left, even as he stepped closer to where Optimus was, well... being his usual serious self. Whereas the others were careful to not look foolish in front of the Autobot leader? Well...

     "YO!" That was louder than anyone else should have been; definitely a 'hey there, sir, I'm callin' out to you and you're not going to be able to ignore me' kind of shout. "Mr. V-I-Prime-a-licious! M'man!"

     THUNK.

     He single-struck/patted Optimus on the arm like some sort of old friend in a casual meeting at a bar instead of a subordinate meeting with his Commander on a life-and-death mission. To the outside Jazz would have seemed to be that idiot that was called in to fill in a duty rooster who was either too nervous to shut up or didn't understand the seriousness of this mission. Jazz was far from either; he just didn't feel he should have to show such a straight face until he really needed to. "Got that killer poker face of yours on? Good, good. Jus' checkin'. You'd have me thinkin' somethin' was wrong if ya didn't, man!"

     Jazz was pretty much done after that, finding himself a spot to take a seat on some small crate stack as he waited to see if this was everyone who was supposed to be here. From what he remembered in the notes, there should have been one more set to arrive. Mirage? Yeah, that was the name. It was familiar somehow, but maybe sight would place it. Maybe not. Jazz wasn't the greatest with names sometimes.

[Deleted]

They crossed through the bridge one by one, with Mirage taking the rear, as was his preference. Being the last to enter not only gave him the opportunity to trail behind the others a bit and take his time observing the area, but it also afforded him the luxury of falling beneath notice. By the time everyone before him filtered into the room, his presence would hopefully fall by the wayside, and he would become little more than an afterthought.

Quiet and unassuming, out of sight and out of mind. Dawning this lack of presence is how Mirage had made a name for himself in his field - he was the mech one would least expected to be a threat, the mech one might even forget about entirely if not for the few quiet comments he made every now and again. Even without the use of his electro-disruptor, Mirage had a talent for making himself seem invisible even in a crowded room.

Not that he really needed to make use of his considerable talent when traveling in the company of the likes of Jazz. Mirage couldn't for the life of him understand how a mech as tactless and loud could have possibly survived this long as a special operative - subtlety was not his forte by any means, and he did not seem physically capable of remaining quiet for longer than two minutes. His dramatic introduction as he stepped into the meeting room only served to reinforce this point, along with Mirage's firm distaste for the mech.

The bombastic personality he could tolerate, but Mirage drew the line at being tactless and disrespectful in front of the Prime himself.

Curling his lip in distaste, Mirage did his best to think calming thoughts and smooth over his irritation so that it did not show on his face. This was neither the time nor the place to voice his personal grievances with the other special operative, and showing any signs of internal strife in the presence of Decepticons was just a terrible tactical move all around. Primus knew they would pick up on any signs of weakness like sharks discovering blood in the water.

Standing at attention, Mirage fell into step beside Bluestreak, nodding respectfully to Optimus as he folded his hands neatly behind his back. Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to himself, he chose not to speak.

[Zercon]

Flatline seemed to be off in his own little world honestly. He was quiet, reserved, he had nothing that he could, or would say without some kind of prompting or push. The medic was well aware he was here as a balancing figure, one to give the Cons a bit more presence in an otherwise Autobot run operation. He knew he wouldn't really have a role, so this mixed with the imposing presence of the Prime who could tear him in half, and he wasn't up to much talking... or... until Fairwinds spoke at him.

The slender plating and panels along his armor flicked up some when he realized he was being addressed, helm lifting to direct the red optics up at the crimson bird. He was already getting used to her odd speech and quirky ways, but he had no idea what her final phrase was, just like how Fairwinds probably had no idea what it really meant either. If she did? Than the conversation would be getting a thousand times more awkward or embarrassing in a fraction of a moment.

"I have no idea what Netflix and chill is..."

He said cautiously, as if it was a trap. Before he could inquire further though, he heard footfalls, and turned to view the others who were starting to file in. With a soft scraping sound his limbs untangled from one another and they placed palm down on the edge of the crate he used as a chair. He pushed just enough to scoot himself back a bit to be able to sit upright in a far more formal stance. Granted... upright for the curved hunched Cybertronian, still had him looking marginally vulture like as if he were mimicking the avian cassette.

"Looks like things are starting."

Things indeed were starting, as participant after participant entered into the Control Room for the final plans to be laid out, as well as present the latest information. The Prime had turned around the moment he heard their footfalls, to square off his stance with the doorway so that he would be able to observe and evaluate each that entered.

Serving as not only a leader, but a general back when Sentinel was still alive, Optimus had much experience with reading body languages of others just before a mission. He could try to pick out if someone was confident, or if they were second guessing things. He could claw and pull out the information of them being scared, or if they were so over confident they were going to get themselves killed. He planned to utilize this just as he always had before, but this time he was focusing to direct this upon Nel. The human element was so fragile, and was going to be the face of this mission with Bluestreak. He didn’t have a chance to do this however, for Jazz burst in with chaos at his heel to drown out other's words and actions.

This was completely unprofessional.

Jazz was a wild soul that hid his serious edge under banter and playful jokes, but there was a time and a place, and this was neither of them. The bold 'thunk' of the hand striking against their leader's forearm echoed in the stone cage of Haven's Control Room, cutting through everyone present with sharp punctuation. This paired with the name had been awkward enough, but the other Mech continued, commenting on a poker face that was very much still in play.

Unseen to them all, meshed behind resolute control and stoic power, Optimus' mind spun instantly on how to even address this slight. It would be dubious at best within the Omega Outpost in front of others, but the disrespecting motion had been done in front of Decepticons. To let such an act go would show how little his team respected him, or show how lax he was with letting them get away with such things. It would make him a joke, losing any imposing nobility and respect, and taking a chip out of the icon he was meant to be.

Optimus looked down upon Jazz with a calm expression, his features not appearing to change at all during the entire situation. His stance was powerful, looming, towering above the others with a subtle hum to his field that warned of the great strength of body and soul he wielded. The silence that followed was crushing, a quiet edge that made Jazz's last words hang in the air awkwardly as if they may not have even been mentioned. Cyan optics stared hard, and while his brow plates were not furrowed into a scowl, the sharp disapproving look surpassed such material expressions to drill down into the white and blue mech.

"You would do well to refresh yourself in decorum, Jazz."

The baritone rumble held a minor threat to it, a warning that the mech should check his surroundings and the effects of his words before just spouting them out. The Prime's stance may have even been geared ever so slightly more dominant than he would have been otherwise. He would not be belittled or teased in front of others, no matter how long he has known the individual in question.

Off to the side, Flatline was sitting far straighter, the quills on his back bristled up and brows hooked high in sharp arches. His broad maw that could twist back into the widest grin or sneer was pressed so tightly into a thin line it was nearly invisible. He had thought he was going to see a smack-down, and seemed confused it didn't come, glancing up at Fairwinds nervously before staring back at the others.

After his cooler words, Optimus waited, looking down at everyone to make sure there would be no further outbursts. His disapproval and disappointment was palpable.

[Deleted]

It was seldom occasion when Fairwinds was rendered speechless. She could be perfectly silent for extended periods of time, such as for a mission or if her master was in one of his more temperamental moods. But actually being stunned into a mute setting was another pallet of oil.

She'd witnesses Jazz's enormously unexpected entrance with a perfectly blank expression, automatically cringing for the strut-shattering thwack of correction from the Autobot Commander. It didn't come, which was the second facet of the whole exchange that surprised her.

Much as it definitely sounded like Optimus wanted to solidly acquaint Jazz's faceplate with the back of his rather large hand. His irritation and disapproval was tangible, weighing thick in the air.

It was delicious.

Lord Megatron had previously remarked that Optimus was running a sparkling crèche more than a proper army, and that it was only the diligence of other mechs who were keeping them all pointed in the same direction. Where Megatron demanded discipline, obedience and respect for the chain of command, Optimus made friends and worried about morale and feelings and other slag that didn't win wars.

Fairwinds peered down at Jazz a moment longer, then slowly raised her helm up (and up) to fix her optics on the Prime's. Her crest was flat in careful submissiveness, yielding to his authority, but there was nothing cautious in the slick grin that curved the edges of her beak and narrowed her optical shutters.

Oh, she couldn't wait to tell Lord Megatron all about this.

[Bluestreak]

Next to Mirage, the swept back doors behind the sharpshooter's silver shoulders lifted as his optics brightened and appeared to widen. He looked at the sleek blue and white mech next to him, glanced at Jazz, looked back again at Mirage with an incredulous, questioning expression on his face.

"Did he really just-" he blurted as that clang of the hand against the Autobot leader's plating still echoed. Then his brain caught up to his mouth and he immediately shut his mouth again.

Bluestreak was quiet.

No, really. He was.

It was honestly that stunned into silence quiet. Not the mech's normal I know everyone's sort of sick and tired of of me chattering about nothing so I'm going to go somewhere and talk to myself for a while quiet.

Prime's flash of disapproval swept over the room. Had their leader ever, ever looked at Bluestreak like that over something he'd said, Bluestreak would have probably found a way to crumple himself into a cube of metal and stay like that for the rest of his existence.

Wait, hold on, Jazz knows the Decepticon bird - hey, that's the bird from when those MECH guys went after the no I don't wear a tinfoil hat hermit. I think it's the same bird. Pretty sure she is, I mean not that all angry birds don't look alike - well except those you shoot at alien pigs, but no, seriously he knows that bird on a personal level and... what is that about? What, does everyone hang out here with Decepticons except for me?

Nell looking up at him right then helped before he went into some uncomfortable places with that thought.

Bluestreak offered her an oddly apologetic smile and a quick shrug as if to say I have no idea either, honest, and then edged over a slight step, putting himself a bit between the watching Decepticons and the human. It was an automatic gesture on his part, and he probably didn't even realize he was making it.

[Deleted]

While there was an overall sense of seriousness, that this mission should not be taken lightly, and maturity – there was one person in the room who had to to pop that balloon with a sharp ass needle. Jazz, was loud and he was acting like a downright idiot. A grown left the woman, her hand running down her face in a frustrated motion. “Jesus fuckin' Christ.” The words were uttered under her breath as she shook her head slowly.

She heard Blue start to talk, and her eyes lifted up at him, giving him the look of 'No, you are not hallucinating – he really did that. He's an idiot.'. At least he was as confused as she was at this very moment, and another sigh left Nell, or 'Rosie' as she would be called by the Autobots to help protect her identity when this truce was over. The human had enough to worry about when it came to her brother and father – what with MECH having looked into her file in the past, she didn't need the Decepticons trying to cause her more trouble for Pete's sake. Her hand moved to the back of her neck, rubbing the knot that was growing out of a mixture of frustration and stress.

Hearing Optimus's remark that Jazz could do with refreshing in decorum? Well, it wasn't the most soothing thing to hear given the stakes of this whole thing. Still, she gritted her teeth and when Blue edged over slightly? She moved herself, though she kept herself firmly on the other side of her partner for this mission. More or less, she had a feeling he had moved to keep himself between her and the Decepticons though really? She knew that they were the least of her worries. Besides, who was that stupid to kill the human asset when there were four Autobors (one being the guy holding some mythical codex or some shit) around?

Hopefully, with antics aside they were going to get down to business and get this show on the road.

[Jazz]

     'Well, this is awkward.'

     Jazz knew that there was a scolding to be coming the moment that Optimus made optic contact with him and all he could really do was sit right where he was and just return it. It had been a long while since he'd been under a direct chain of command- even longer since he had even heard an order directly from Optimus himself- and he'd completely screwed up. At least Jazz was quick enough to know when he was in the wrong and had no issue with being reprimanded for it, which, for now, was just the look and the rather easy words of warning. Jazz was silent and the moment he turned that look towards the others, Jazz lowered his helm and focused on the floor as he considered what he'd been told.

     'That was stupid.'

     The Elite Guards weren't this group of fellow bots... and Cons as well. This was a new group, with strangers of whom he'd never worked with before. They weren't family, they didn't share the same quarter space where they told some of the crudest jokes and strangest stories well after when lights should have been out. Even if it were the case, there were still a couple of Cons mixed in with the group so that definitely made everything else slightly more tense. This wasn't the time to be as loose with his words or actions as he could be back at base or when he was out on his own. This mech who towered over him was Optimus Prime, not Orion Pax, not the squadron Captain he was used to hearing his orders from. This was a new situation, a new team...

     This wasn't Cybertron anymore.

     Metal shifted and struts hissed as Jazz stood. With the room being quiet enough to hear a pin drop, him moving about would have been deafening. The last time he'd been on his feet he had made a fool out of his Prime, and now it was time to try and show that he could have some sense. Jazz folded his servos behind his back with legs as close together as possible, aimed to draw the attention back to himself as not to allow the others to receive the disappointed look meant only for him.

     In that instant it was like some weird switch had been flicked. Only a moment before Jazz had been unable to keep his trap shut and now he was just... standing there like a well trained soldier. Not even so much as his doorwings twitched- solidly fixed in place as every single one of his joints were. He was at attention; take a picture, because it would probably be a while before he would be that ridged again.

     "You're absolutely right, Sir. I... hope that you can accept my apology for my outburst and highly inappropriate actions in this situation while in the company of others. It was a poor representation of both your Autobots and your highly respectable chain of command. I was out of line, and it ain't gonna happen again."

     Clearly that statement had been used before, as Jazz had often found himself being scolded by his Captain in the past. With that said, though? Silence. Weird, awkward... deaf silence, from the usually loud and wild Autobot.

     And still with that stone-solid stance.

[Deleted]

Mirage was fairly certain if the spotlight was not removed from Jazz posthaste, every Autobot in the room was going to die a little of secondhand embarrassment. At the very least Mirage certainly was - he was nothing if not a proud mech, one who came from a long line of dignified mecha whose reputations were just as valuable to them as their lives, if not moreso.

Jazz's behavior reflected poorly on the Autobots as a whole, and Mirage did not like that. At all. Not in the slightest.

Clearing his throat, Mirage turned his gaze towards Optimus, intent on changing the subject so that they could move past this blunder before the Decepticons could revel in their humiliation moreso than they undoubtedly were.

"I beg your pardon, Optimus, but I believe we were gathered here for a reason, yes?" He asked mildly, pretending for all the world as if their meeting had not been so disgracefully waylaid by Jazz's unprofessional behavior.

If there was a slight edge to his voice, a hint of ice just beneath the surface of his cultured accent - well, could anyone really blame him for his annoyance? He was a mech of stature, after all. Such a social faux pas was beyond unacceptable in the social circles from which he hailed; were he a member of the social elite prior to the war, Jazz would have found himself blacklisted immediately for decidedly ungentlemanly conduct.

In the back of his mind, Mirage knew it was a touch unfair to hold the mech to standards which had never before applied to him, but he couldn't help himself. Mirage had been brought up with constant affirmations of what was Good and Right, and what Should and Should Not Be. One's manners were akin to their moral character in terms of importance, and neglecting one was just as terrible as being deficient in the other.

As a result, Mirage simply could not stand poor conduct. It was maddening at times, having to watch others conduct themselves in ways ill-befitting civilized beings. He swore, some days it felt as if he were the only mech alive who knew how to properly behave.

[Optimus Prime]

As Jazz spoke, Optimus' helm inclined slightly to look down upon him. He has known Jazz for many years, much longer than most others he now interacts with at the Outpost, and because of this the words that were said were taken with a grain of salt. If Jazz had remained far more at ease and apologized, it may have seemed more genuine to him, but this, this may be an act, something to swiftly pull back appearances in front of the others and the two cons. It was appreciated, even if he questioned its full validity.

He could be reading into it improperly however, eyeing over the white mech with careful consideration. Optimus was now curious if Jazz has changed much through the thousands of years of separation and subsequent arrival to the Outpost, and wondered how much validity his prior notions held. Alas, his thoughts where pulled back to the moment at hand, when Mirage spoke out.

Glancing over to the slender Cybertronian, the Prime shifted his stance ever so slightly, from one of focused calculation and reprimand, to the far more typical at ease stance. It was a subtle change, depicted mostly in the way his weight was carried and how he allowed it to rest down solidly upon the heel paneling. With this, he moved on to the subject at hand.

"Indeed Mirage, let us begin final preparations. Jazz, you and I may speak at a later time."

After these words, Optimus turned around and took a leisurely stride back in front of the monitors where he pulled up the first map. The abrupt disengaging from the situation showed that he would not reference the previous incident unless someone else was to push the subject. That was done, and this was now.

The images that were pulled up where scarce but just detailed enough to get a good view of what they were working with. The first showed an aerial shot that revealed right off the bat that this scenery was far different from their normal MECH locations. The change was... striking... Where there would typically be a mining operation or a desolate spot guarded by military personnel with visible generators and helicopter pads, there were worn down office buildings and thin ragged streets peppered around what once upon a time had been a busy area of Detroit.

The outer edges of the city were beaten down to such a degree it almost looked like war had struck them. Some buildings were dilapidated, some just holding on, while one lot of land was cleared entirely to show a construction site that looked like it had been inactive for years and left to rot as an open wound.

The next view Optimus pulled up to have side by side, was of a few scattered photos that were zoomed in a bit further. One showed the construction site with far more clarity, the large puddles of water lurking in the deepest points, and the old construction equipment that looked like it had seen far better days part embedded into the dirt. In addition there was also a close up shot of a sloping ramp structure at the side of the supposed MECH building, leading down into what could only be assumed was an underground parking garage due to the fact there were no external lots.

Not having any photographs of the interior of course, and not even having some ground level shots from the side, left a lot of things up to guesswork when it came to the visual familiarity that would have to be feigned by the operatives. What they could find out through datamining on the location however was a bit of information that could give a foundation and an idea of what to expect.

"Without the supplied evidence that cements this location as MECH, we may have never found this supposed facility."

Optimus spoke with a confident power that rolled out with an overlay of calm reassurance. His hand lifted to gesture idly at the provided maps.

"It is hidden well, in a scarcely populated region that renders a frontal assault implausible. Through inquiry, it has been drawn to light that it is moonlighting as an accounting firm with a reasonable amount of personnel given the downtrodden region."

He spoke casually and clearly, to be sure everyone was absorbing all of the information provided. He would not rush at all, for he didn't want any confusion to be bloomed in these final moments.

"Scans of the area indicate the possibility of lower structures, a reoccurring theme with MECH. This said, there is concrete evidence of an underground parking garage that affects this estimation."

When he mentioned this evidence, his grey paneled hand lifted to point at the spot on the surveillance images. The small opening was a very apparent start of a ramp down to lower regions. Optimus glanced then away from the monitors to look back at the others, peering over at the avian cassette.

"Fairwinds will be supplying aerial support, reporting any abnormalities in the region that could indicate mounting problems. She will also look over the construction site nearby, to search for signs of activity to further indicate MECH substructures."

Cyan optics then settled upon the two special operatives.

"Mirage and Jazz will be supplying intelligence and personal experience to help guide through any unforeseen trials. It is also expected they act as an emergency force if evacuation becomes necessary. I must impose upmost stress that you remain undercover and not betray our existence in the area."

He then turned to the two who were going to carry this mission.

"Bluestreak and Rosie. You are to enter the facility and play whatever role is needed of you. We do not have internal maps to offer, nor much more information, so this will be in part a challenge of wit and improvisation. You will need to use your best judgment, the judgment of your aids, and the counterfeit ID cards to navigate the facility. I have confidence in your talents."

Optimus was using the codename for Eleanor that she had chosen. He knew being able to see and interact with her, as well as know she is in military the Cons would be able to track her down eventually if they truly tried, but Optimus didn't want to hand them her true designation on a silver platter to be exploited when the truce eventually dismantled.

After he had said this, he removed a few small objects from his subspace, two of them being the produced keycards provided by Fowler which ideally would be able to get them where they would need to go. Carefully, he took a couple strides forward, before a hiss of hydraulics rang out to pair with him easing down into a part kneel. Lowered down, he held out his hand so that Eleanor could take her card key, and if desired take Blue's as well to keep hold until the holoform was produced. If not, he would stand upright to offer the other one to the Cybertronian. Paired with these two cards, were also the bundles of surveillance technology they could split however they saw fit.

"Primary goal is to implant devices to intercept data so that we may get a live feed of what may be occurring on site. Secondary directive is to locate other facilities, or names that can lead us to a proper path. Do not leave any evidence of tampering, or create a scare that compromises the validity of information garnered. Other than this, you are upon your own. I trust your judgments in doing what will be beneficial to our joined mission."

Taking a step back to regard them all once more, he spoke one last time.

"Are there any questions?"

[Deleted]

<<OOC: Optimus' speech written by Zercon>>

Fairwinds was sort of glad that Jazz had broken the ice for everyone. It'd be hard to look less professional and ill-equipped after that corker of a misdemeanor.

The cassette scuttled forward on the server case, deliberately down-turning the clawed tips of her talons so that each step was loud. It was a proxy clearing of the throat, pulling attention up to her unobtrusively.

Standing with her toes hooked over the edge of her perch, Fairwinds rocked forward to cast her optics over everyone assembled (even the stupid human) before nodding to the screens. Immediately, her own image captures sprung up over the displays that the Prime had shown. The Control Room here in Haven had a wireless frequency that any of them could use, and they'd all been able to consolidate their data here in advance of the meeting.

Fairwinds, under the weight of Megatron's expectations and her own desire to not be a Class-Jazz Frag-Up (new categorisation that was totally sticking) on the first joint Decepticon-Autobot venture, had already gone over the site with a fine tooth comb attached to a mass spectrometer.

Construction plans, gas, water and electrical work schematics and real estate documents were fragmented simply because of the age of the area and the reliance on paper-based records and reports. What there was that Fairwinds could get hold of was outdated, but it helped to embellish what they had to go on.

Police dash-cams, Flickr, Facebook and assorted other websites had given her a pretty solid population profile, and she could identify the two men photographed by Google Streetview and reliably guess at what they were selling (crack and a little bit of speed). Not useful information in itself, though it was somewhat telling that there were fewer drug dealers working this block than anywhere else in this area of Detroit. There was also fewer reported car-jackings or robberies - as if folk could handle themselves.

Nothing concrete - just interesting.

Fairwinds left the sociocultural data she'd gathered and just brought up the old building schematics. "MECH are totally about the underground, and even though these plans are too old to use, they do confirm an elevator shaft running right down the middle of the building. That's the freight elevator, and there are two regular human ones in addition to that."

The image zoomed out and panned down to focus on a rough underground shape - accentuated by the cassette's purple-line illustration. "There's definitely a three-storey garage beneath the structure, and without an underground railway line or any major power or water conduits by it, no reason it couldn't run deeper."

Fairwinds nodded her head again and the screen changed to a high-definition image of the building taken from a neighbouring building. "I'll be able to circle around a bit thanks to the weather report so long as I'm high enough to come off as a seagull or summut. Otherwise, I'll be perched up here where there's some renovation work being done in Snyder Wholesale. Gotta love scaffolding and tarpaulin. I can monitor the emergency service channels as well as watch. And, ah, that's it, I guess."

The cassette bobbed a little and stepped back, starting to retreat, then paused with a frown. She glanced down at Flatline, partially just to confirm the presence of another of her faction, then looked to the Prime's impassive faceplate.

"Team-work and treaty-sharey-time aside," she began, one optic narrowing a little, "Who's in charge of this operation? Who's making the hard calls?'

Optimus appeared to have expected such a question. "Each of you have your own tasks and objectives independent from one another, while providing support to your peers. You're varying perspectives, means command is split dependent on the situation. Since I know a hierarchy of control is what you desire, than I will be here to interject if things require my hand."

Fairwinds flicked her crest to acknowledge the answer, then ducked her head and hunkered back down onto her undercarriage. Quietly, though still audibly, she muttered,"Lord Megatron would've just said 'Me'..."

[Bluestreak]

Quietly, the sharpshooter listened to Prime.

"Will do, sir," he said after the Autobot leader had finished speaking. "We'll do fine. Rosie knows what she's doing. No one who can get us through there better under the circumstances, I'm sure of that. No, no more questions on my part, honest."

He glanced down at Nell. "You might think of better questions than me," he admitted to her. "Anything?"

Bluestreak's focus was drawn to that click and scritch of the bird's talons as she picked her way across the case and drew herself up. The gleam of the lights overhead reflected off of her plating, drawing down the sharpness of her beak.

Matilda looked a lot more intimidating in close quarters like this, he thought to himself. Yeah, I liked her better when she was outside and up in the air, I think. Sure she could be shooting everyone from a distance but close up she looks like she'd be happy to peck a hole in your optic and pull what's behind it right out. Lovely thought there, Bluestreak. Great thought. Really nice thought. True thought, but not a very nice thought.

That said, when she started speaking, he was able to switch his attention from her and to the screen around him. As schematics popped up, the sharpshoot just took in the situation, the buildings and corners. He honestly did better when he was there and he could see it in a tangible way; he knew that from experience. However, he could follow a blueprint, and what he saw her explaining, he wasn't too sure about.

Right. A freight elevator- that was good, and then the other human ones next to it. Interesting how when you sort of looked at a blueprint like this- well, a building one, how much human construction felt like basic construction back home on Cybertron. Basic, mind you. Not Las Vegas. Nothing was constructed like Las Vegas.

Well, okay, some things were but they weren't the sort of places you ever went in polite company.

The sharpshooter focused on the screen. it was easier than focusing on the bird herself, because every time he did that all he could think of was that a Decepticon was giving the weak points of buildings.

At least it's not bridges...

This time, a rattle escaped his doors. There was a moment when his trigger finger might have started to curl as his anxiety rose. Those were thoughts he didn't need right now.

Okay, okay. Rifle's here. Everyone's here. Nothing's going to happen. Prime's right here, he's right here if the ceiling falls down, he- he can handle it. He can fix it. He can fix anything.

As if to accentuate that moment, the Autobot leader's voice rose over the assembled mechs. It seemed like a very Prime thing to say. Command was split, on the situation, depending on the circumstances. Use your strengths to help the team on the whole, but...

Prime would be there. He always was. You could trust that, and Bluestreak did, wholeheartedly.

Feeling much more secure, the mech glanced down at the human next to his leg again.

"So, um, I'm following your lead," he murmured in an aside to her, but with it came a good-natured grin. "Probably best that way, huh?"