[ti]Ep 2[/ti]It's Perfectly Harmless [ Closed | Red Alert ]

[Jazz]

Timeline: 
Episode 2 | Week 3 | Day 1

Notes: Playing off that Red and Jazz had already become acquainted and now he's returning after inspecting some security system stuff. Probably to Red's chagrin, of course. 

---

     There was a loud whistled tune that echoed through the halls of the Autobot base and with it a full-body step beat that kept up with it. A pede step, then another, then the sound of one pede being dragged. More pede steps, several at once, and then a loud metal clank, a pede step, then two more metal clanks as servos were drummed against the wall. 

     Jazz was one of those mechs that really didn't favor sitting around quietly. Most heard him before they saw him ( most being just that, since when he was working he could sneak around without so much as a hiss from a hydraulic ) and he didn't mind that- even if he sometimes had poor timing when it came to unleashing his light-sparked nature. Sometimes he liked to forget that they were caught up in the middle of a war, and really? Who wouldn't. Unless one was sparked during it or created for it, or if they were just demented and enjoyed senseless offling of their own kind, they all had a taste of what peaceful times meant. For many it wasn't ideal, but at least it was better than going outside and not knowing if you would live to see another sunrise.

     Which was a perfect reason to keep security measures up and running smoothly. Ensuring that base was kept safe was a priority to all no matter what they on the side. Sure, kicking Decepticon tail was a good way to settle frustrations, especially when you could make it all the more embarrassing for them be it through a dented reminder or a parting message painted on their chassis- neither of which Jazz would know ANYTHING about- but it was all for naught if you didn't have a home to return to. 

     Checking security feeds and going out to inspect the set ups had pretty much been the highlight of this cycle. Jazz had grown tired of being trapped infront of a monitor the entire time and wanted to get out to stretch his joints. Thankfully, Red Alert had provided at least some avenue of escape. While the tone had been otherwise disapproving and probably forced to keep as professional as possible, Jazz had been able to pick up on 'make yourself useful' and then 'blah blah blah'. He'd only gone to check a rooster of their team and had ended up tapping around on satellites to make sure they were providing correct information. Sensors on the facility were functioning save for one, which Jazz had fumbled around with it ( meaning that he kicked it once or twice ) until it beeped in frustration at him and started working again. Red probably had his own way of handling malfunctioning systems, but Jazz did too.

     Somethings things just needed a swift kick in the aft to be operational again. Well, it had worked before and had been a proven fact on more than one occasion. So it was Jazz's go to first attempt, and if that didn't work? THEN he would get his servos dirty and start taking things apart.

     Now it was time to report back to Chief of Security and see if he had anything else to send him off to. Maybe there was something further out that required some attention. Either way, Jazz reached out and knocked on the door a couple of times with the knuckles of his left servo, while the right one held onto the datapad he had recorded his findings on. If it were any other mech, Jazz would have just knocked then walked in... but Jazz still hadn't figured out if he were faster than Red yet, so until he'd made the determination that he could for certain dodge something thrown his way, he would be polite and wait until he was told he could enter the Security Office.

     "Yo, Red! It's Jazz. Got them reports on your security thingies to drop off. Can I come in?"


     

[Deleted]

Security thingies.

The careless phrasing made Red Alert's optic twitch. He knew that was simply how the other mech spoke, that he was not intentionally trying to make the various sensors and cameras which kept the base safe and secure sound unimportant, but damn if his hackles didn't raise up in indignation anyway.

Security thingies. God. How two words could possibly irritate him so much was beyond his understanding.

Maybe he was just tired. He tended to become more irritable and quick to anger when he was tired - which, admittedly, was the vast majority of the time. One simply couldn't have Red Alert's particular cocktail of sleeping-problems and workaholism and regularly get a good night's rest in spite of it, after all.

But that was neither here or there.

The point was, Red Alert was already in a bad mood when Jazz walked up to his door, and through no fault of his own the other mech said something to further irritated the already-salty security director.

"I'd rather you didn't." He replied, speaking only just loudly enough to be heard through the door. "But you're probably going to insist on coming in anyway, so-"

Silence fell behind the door, before a series of clicks and hydraulic hisses filled the air as the door was unlocked. Several times. After about a minute, a final, heavy ka-chunk signaled the end of things, and the door finally slid open to reveal Red Alert still sitting in his chair, watching the monitors. He hadn't even bothered to turn around to look at Jazz to greet him, or even acknowledge his presence.

[Jazz]

     "Oh, nice! Red one, Jazz Zero. Ya already got me figured out!" Jazz replied with a wide grin, even if there wasn't anyone to show it off to. Sure, he probably wouldn't have broken down the door to try and deliver the reports he had, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have used the opportunity to try and break in to Red's secured little office space. 'I needed to deliver these reports and Red wouldn't let me in'. Perfect cover. What better way to weasel out of whatever trouble he would have found himself in if he were caught or something more dire would have happened ( such as a ceiling cave in, since the base CLEARLY would have NEVER had something like that go down ). 

     But, alas, the door was opened. 'Too bad.'

     "Nice rig ya got set up here, man," Jazz said, almost too suddenly at Red's side. For as bulky and old war-torn as Jazz was, he was an unusually silent mech. He could be spotted on one side of the room at one klik then be at the other without even so much as being noticed. It was a feat for sure, one that payed off when it came to his little talents of sneaking about. Now that he was at his intended spot in the room he was noisy again, now tapping the datapad against the hood of his alt mode as he looked over the monitors Red was seated in front of.

     "Guess you're responsible for settin' this u- OH! Right!"

     There was an abrupt snap of his digits. Jazz ALMOST forget his reason for being in this usually inaccessible room he had only moments before been thinking of how to sneak into. Almost. "Reports. Here you go. Managed to get one of the..." he paused, making a circling motion in the air with his index digit as he tried to think of the word. "...um. You know. They're around the facility... whatever, those things workin' after a bit of persuasion. Can't see from out there what else may need to be re-positioned or checked out so I figured you'd just point me in the right direction." Jazz put his servo down and stared to his side at the red and white mech. Sure, he could have just handed over what he had wrote down on the datapad but Jazz always felt he had to verbalize his observations ( even if it was like he was talking to himself sometimes ). The datapads only verified his account should there be something forgotten, but with Jazz there rarely ever was. Observing and reporting HAD been his job in a past life, so naturally he still kept some traits of his old trade.

     He had already been able to sense the irritation from Red through the door and figured that by being in his personal space would only further the issue, so instead of handing the datapad to him he just slid it towards him then took a step back. It was a safe enough distance that if Red spun around he at least couldn't swing his pedes out and take out one of Jazz's knee joints. Safe spot. 

     "Bad day at the office?" It was a question about the tone he'd heard, but at least even if the question seemed to be rather causal, it did have a genuine hint of concern behind it. So while he observed he crossed his arms and actually quieted down. 

[Deleted]

Jazz was talking.

Red Alert knew this because his audios were registering a constant stream of sound coming from the other mech's vocoder - that those sounds were actually words instead of just nonsense noises he could only assume, considering he wasn't actually paying attention. In fact, he had been actively tuning the other mech out since he first walked through the door...with limited success. Try though he did to direct his attention back towards the monitors, there really was no ignoring anything in Red Alert's world. Especially not sounds, and especially not sounds coming from his immediate vicinity.

As Jazz continued to speak, Red Alert continued to frown at the monitors, his brows narrowing slowly, gradually, as he waited for the other mech to just take the hint and leave him be.

Unfortunately, Jazz was simply too gregarious to leave him to his own devices, and he asked that all-too-familiar platitude that Red Alert absolutely loathed. The wording was slightly different than usual, Red Alert had to give the other mech credit for that, but in the end the question was still one regarding his welfare - a variant of "are you alright?" Which was a question Red Alert had been asked to the point where it had lost all meaning it might once have had. Now, it was simply a trigger phrase, a button to push which would prompt him to reply with a flat, immediate "I'm fine."

This time, however, his response wasn't quite so automatic. It wasn't so impersonal. To match Jazz's non-standard wording of The Question, Red Alert deigned to give a non-standard answer in return.

Without turning his head, Red Alert gave Jazz a sidelong look, his pale blue optics dim with what was either irritation or exhaustion. Considering Red Alert's...well, everything, the chances of it being both were high.

"It wasn't before you walked in." He said flatly, before leaning over a bit in order to retrieve the datapad that brought Jazz to his office in the first place.

[Jazz]

      "Aha, slick! Nice comeback, Red." Jazz grinned some then pushed the datapad closer to the other mech with his index digit. "Guess when you're holed up in this room all the time it's kinda a pain to have someone interrupt. Gotcha."

      Surprisingly, Jazz knew when 'quiet time' was needed. This was probably one of those times, when he really couldn't do anything but wait for Red to read over the datapad and instruct him on what he was supposed to do next. At the moment his time was up for Red's disposal. Whatever the red and white security officer came up with? He'd take of as quickly as possible. For now? It was just standing around, staying off and out of the way, and as quiet as he could as not to short out Red Alert's patience.

      Heck, he knew the rumors. He'd heard through the grapevine on Cybertron of this mech, understood that handling this one required a load of caution that Jazz certainly could use some brushing up on. However, while it was probably a division of walking on eggshells around Red? That just wasn't Jazz's style. No sense in making the guy feel like an outcast.

      "So, gotta say that it's pretty cool that ya ended up here on Earth with the team," Jazz began as he stepped back some to lean, crossed arm against the wall. "Honor to be workin' with ya. Really. With the best security officer that Cybertron has to offer right here monitorin' us we're for sure in the best of servos possible." That statement was followed up by a nod of his helm and silence. He was as genuine as he could be with saying it but he figured that sort of compliment had probably been said multiple times by others in some way to soften Red up. It would just have to taken how it would.

      Now, he would have to wait and see what was next on the agenda.

[Deleted]

For a brief, hopeful moment, Red Alert almost thought that was going to be it - he almost thought Jazz was going to leave. But then, as was so often the case, the other mech just kept right on talking. And talking. Aaaand talking.

Red Alert supposed he couldn't begrudge him for it, if he was being reasonable. There was nothing particularly wrong with trying to engage someone in idle chit chat after all; it was just a bit annoying when one person wanted nothing to do with the other, and the other wouldn't take the bloody hint. Of course, Red Alert wasn't exactly known for being reasonable, and so he reserved the right to be as vexed as he goddamn pleased by Jazz's prolonged presence in his office.

"Do you need something, Jazz?" He asked flatly, without once looking up from the datapad he was pouring over. "Or is this just a new hobby of yours, taking up space in my office?"

He knew he was being a touch rude, maybe even excessively standoffish. He knew but he didn't care because he had officially exhausted his reservoir of tolerance for the evening - possibly for the rest of the week. Through no fault of Jazz's own, mind. Jazz was not the source of Red Alert's foul mood, he was simply a contributing factor to its continued existence - as was, admittedly, just about everything else existing within Red Alert's range of perception.

Living in a near-constant state of sensory overload was...challenging, to say the least. There were good days and bad, though the former were few and far between. Red Alert managed things as best he could, and most days his best was enough. It was enough to get him through the day, which is all he'd ever dare ask for. Expecting anything more was a gamble, and Red Alert simply did not have enough hope or optimism within himself to risk what little he had on what he saw as an exorcise in futility. He would only be setting himself up for disappointment.

The best he could do was manage his condition as well as he could with the resources available to him, and try to prevent the worsening of his symptoms by avoiding any unnecessary excess stimuli. This included (but was not limited to) chatty but well meaning spec opsers.

[Jazz]

     There was a grin that came across Jazz's face. That look of warning to others of 'there may be something stupid said'. "It wasn't on my list of hobbies to take up when there's so many others available... but it does sound like a good idea! Nice and quiet in here, away from everyone? Perfect place to kick back and listen to tunes without bein' bugged. And, ya know, keep ya company."

     Jazz noticed the tone that was being used on him, a very familiar one to him. Really he never let such things bother him and he usually just continued on with his conversation even if it were one-sided. That had earned him a nasty 'chatterbox' comment or two from peers. Hey, sometimes there were times when the silence just had to be broken and Jazz was more than happy to oblige.

     Red Alert, however, was one of those special bots that probably needed a different type of attention. A little more delicacy. Patience. Tolerance.

     "Ya outta get out sometime, Red. This planet looks like its got plenty of places to stretch them wheels of yours. Either voluntarily, or by me draggin' ya out for fresh air kickin' and screamin'. However ya prefer." While his statement had his usual hint of play to it, there WAS something else there that wasn't so much so. Not on the level of threat as much as 'you really don't have an option to never get out ever as long as I'm at this base' ( which could have been seen as a threat to someone like Red ). Then there was his crossed arms and silent stare afterwards that only added to that weird undertone to his statement, especially the last part.

     Okay, so maybe Jazz was just a little lacking somewhere. He meant well, though.

[Deleted]

Oh, now that got his attention.

Not only did Red Alert look up from his datapad, but he actually set it down and turned to face Jazz, instead of paying him only half a mind as he continued his work.

"Was that a threat?" He asked flatly, his brows drawn low over his optics as he stared the other mech down, his field buzzing quietly with incredulity.

He honestly wasn't sure whether to be impressed by the nerve of that statement, or to take offense to Jazz's brazen disregard for his personal boundaries. On one hand, almost no one else would have entertained the thought of even alluding towards maybe, possibly forcing him to do something he didn't want to do, let alone actually going ahead and doing just that.

On the other - well, Red Alert did not appreciate being cajoled, pressured, blackmailed, or guilt-tripped into doing anything, regardless if it was for his own benefit or not. It was the principle of the thing; he did not like to be controlled. He did not like to be manipulated, and he certainly did not like to be told what to do by people who thought they knew what was best for him.

Red Alert leaned back in his chair, letting out a derisive huff through his vents. It was only through a great deal of self-restraint that he managed to not roll his eyes.

"The humans have a saying, Jazz: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. You should think on that a bit, the next time you decide to come into my office with the intention of dragging me out of it."

[Jazz]

     "Come on, Red A!" Another nickname. That one would probably stick. "Ya really think I'd be dumb enough to threaten' ya? If I wanted to cause that kinda trouble for myself I would put bubblewrap around the entire base and let ya deal with findin' out who'd gone and done it. Which won't be me now that I've carelessly informed you of my master plan to get this place poppin'." Jazz gave another sly grin and moved to find a different place to perch. This time it was right on Red's desk, just off to the side where he was out of the way of what he was doing but could easily keep a close optic on him. his arms were crossed in what one could have taken as a closed-off or irritated posture, but his body language told otherwise and that grin had only gotten wider.

     "Humans also got another sayin': Come Hell or High Water. Which I think we could at least both agree that 'Hell' has already found it's way to Earth if we were talkin' about Herr Megatron- too bad that ol' rust bucket is still functionin'- but we ain't. We're talkin' about you, liebling."

     Clearly Jazz had been wasting no time with downloading information again since he was using words from other Earth-bound languages, the two used in the previous statements being German. He took a little bit of snarky pride in sneaking past Red's nagging little security protocols to access the world wide web in which to do so. He figured Red already was aware of this fact just as Jazz was aware of the hints dropped to stop it since it seemed passwords got changed every time he tried to gain access again. The saboteur hadn't been bothered about it yet so he just kept on, actually finding it more of a game to 'try and figure out the codes'. The first couple times had been easy, the rest a tad more difficult, but they never took him more than a human hour or two to figure out.

     "Point is. Ya gotta get yourself outta this hole you dug ya'self into, sweetspark, or your poor little joints are gonna jam. That's the problem with us grounders- we can't stay cooped up in a room all the time. Gotta get out and spin them wheels once in a while! Ya don't want somethin' happenin' in your seams and ya ain't able to get from one mode to the other should the need arise." Okay, that was definitely a concerned tone and it was definitely genuine. Not pity or a threat, at least. The lower vocal range that had accompanied it would have been able to reflect that, since the lack of optics would have made an otherwise poker face difficult to read. "I would say 'ya gotta come outta your closet', but humans got a WAY different meanin' for that phrase that I ain't gonna get into." And ruined that moment was.

     There were just some things about Jazz that never changed; Being a pain in the aft was one of those. Knowing more than he needed to about his surroundings was another. No matter the two, at least he didn't do it with any malicious enough intent that would put the Autobots in jeopardy. It was just more of a thorn in Red's side and probably not as entertaining to the red and white mech as it was to Jazz.

[Deleted]

Red Alert was not, by any means, a social butterfly. He preferred his interactions with others to be few, far between, and impersonal. He was not one for making small talk, nor was he particularly fond of deep, thought-provoking conversations. In short, he was the very antithesis of Jazz. While the other mech was friendly, sociable, and outgoing, Red Alert was standoffish, reserved, and pensive. The only way the two could possibly be any more different would be if one of them was standing on the other side of the faction divide, which was a thought Red Alert didn't even want to begin to entertain.

Once a thought like that crept into his mind it was damn near impossible to get rid of. He could suppress it with time, he could gather evidence to disprove the wild, unsubstantiated worry whenever it reared its ugly head, but he would never be able to kill it – just mitigate it for a while. It would always be there somewhere, in the back of his mind, waiting for a quiet moment to speak up and remind him of its damnable existence.

Hence Red Alert's reluctance to spend any more time in Jazz's company – or anyone else's – than he absolutely needed to. All it did was give his treacherous mind even more opportunities to see things that weren't there, to twist itself in knots over the hidden meanings behind meaningless words and absent gestures. Jazz didn't seem to understand that – not that he ever would, unless he was told, but Red Alert wasn't about to discuss his mental health with a virtual stranger.

Jazz could think he was being stubborn and unreasonable all he liked. He wasn't going to budge.

Red Alert's brows furrowed, his lip curling in distaste as he eyed Jazz like a particularly unpleasant mess that needed sweeping.

“...I can't tell if you're coming on to me, or if you're just dense.”

Pushing off his knees, Red Alert rose from his seat and strode over to the far wall, turning his back to Jazz as he moved to retrieve something from his desk.

“Either way, the answer is still no. Oh, and for the sake of my disciplinary record and your kneecaps, I suggest you never call me sweetspark again.”

Now that? That was a threat.

[Jazz]

     Most mechs would have taken the hint long before this moment. They would have turned around and left, probably at the very beginning just to avoid lengthy contact with Red. It certainly wouldn't have taken this long for the security chief to be left alone had it been anyone other that Optimus, probably.

     Jazz, however? Maybe had a death wish at this point considering he was still sticking around even after the threat about his knee caps. To have gotten this far without being their fearless Leader ( since, well, red probably wouldn’t have been able to kick HIM out of his office without some serious repercussions) was probably not as common as one would have liked to imagine. To Jazz? The fact he hadn’t had something chucked at his helm at this point was impressive given Red’s reputation.
 Jazz heard the stories, the talk, the jokes... he didn't care. Now that he was allowed the chance to see this mech face-to-face? He wasn't so bad! Jazz liked him.

     Whatever that feeling was would have the chance to be thought on for long. As Red stood with his back to Jazz and finished up the little threat he’d given? He was greeted with it in probably a way he hadn’t expected.

     Laughter.

     It wasn’t sarcastic, just genuine, good ‘ol light sparked laughter as though Red had made some sort of joke ( or at least, what Jazz thought was a joke ). He was almost entirely doubled over, holding his midsection with both crossed arms with how hard he was laughing. Something was certainly humorous to him. The threat? Maybe.

     “Jazz one, Red A? Zero!” he managed out between his laughter. This continued for another moment or two before he finally wheezed, his vents opening to pull in cool air. He straightened back up some and coughed then reduced himself to a chuckle or two before continuing. “Oh man, that is what ya focused on above all things I said? Wow, Red! I stumped ya with somethin’ ya couldn’t figure out! Flirtin’ or dense. Been accused of both- never in the same sentence. Either way, that point is TOTALLY mine.”

     Finally straightened up, Jazz waved one servo in the air, then snapped his digits and gave a thumbs up sign to he back of the Red mech ( in the case he hadn’t turned around yet to figure out what had been so blasted funny ). “Bien. No more ‘sweetspark’. Gotcha. Earth references only.” He stood up, stretched somewhat, then started to shift his weight from one pede to the other. He’d been too still for too long and it bothered him enough to get him off the table. “Gotta say, though. I never would have thought anyone to have a fascination over my knee caps- not my best qualities or most attractive assets if ya want my opinion- but hey! Whatever floats your boat! I won’t judge.”

     He was grinning. OH boy, was he amused with all of this.

     “Je t’adore, Red A. And the way your left optic flickers when you’re disgusted? Si mignon!”
He offered what should have been a wink, or seemed that way by the way the right side of his visor seemed to flicker and his helm tilted in that direction. He smirked some, well aware that this probably wasn’t going to end well. But he was alright with that.

     “No regrets,” he said a loud then. Random statement, but at least it seemed true to the situation. Or maybe it was his motto.

     “I like ya, Red! You’re a funny mech. Great to be workin’ with ya! I look forward to our little game.” Jazz would have offered his servo to shake the one of the other mech, but they were probably beyond that point. “Now that one camera of yours seems a lil’ spotty. If I go out there and try to tweak the adjustments some, can ya comm back to me when it’s where ya need it?”

[Deleted]

While Jazz was being...himself, very loudly, very obnoxiously, and in defiance of every single 'get the hell out of my office' signal being thrown his way, Red Alert was doing his damnedest to burn a hole in the wall across from him with his mind. Or at least that's what it looked like he was doing, considering he had abruptly stopped rummaging through his desk drawer and was instead staring off into the middle distance, his brows furrowed and his mouth pressed into a tight, flat line.

He looked as though he were casually contemplating murder, not specifically Jazz's but rather whoever had the misfortune of being within convenient reach, which was a pool that just HAPPENED to include a certain spec opser who would certainly not be cited as evidence when Red Alert was inevitably accused of malice aforethought.

Cycling in a deep, steadying gust of air, Red Alert pinched the space between his optics between his thumb and forefinger and willed his aggravation to leave him. It didn't work, not in the slightest, but when Jazz was found with his head put through a wall he could at least say he tried.

"Jazz." He didn't mean to say the name like it was a certain other four letter word, but wouldn't you know it, he did anyway. "If you so much as lay a finger on any of my equipment I will not be liable for what happens to you."

He turned then to face the other mech, something which he immediately regretted doing as soon as he caught sight of the insufferably cheerful expression on his face.

"And I'm not just saying that because damn near everything I've made is rigged to respond violently to unauthorized tampering."