[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Reporting to the Commander [Closed / Starscream / Flatline]

[Starscream]

Starscream would wait patiently, looping his arms behind his back as he waited for Flatline to open the door. While his patience would inevitably run out before too long, it seemed he wouldn't have to ask twice – as a short moment later the door would spiral open. This wasn't before Starscream had noticed the scuffs on the outer panels, however.

He'd tilt his helm down slightly to look at Flatline, unlooping his arms and folding them across his chassis. The first thing he noticed – and it was hard not to – was Flatline's face. His optic seemed to be unable to open fully, and... Was that a staple? Primus, was that Knock Out's work? It couldn't have been. Then again with the grudge between these two and the pettiness of the Chief Medical Officer? Anything was possible. He made a mental note to ask about it, although he didn't want to linger here too long – and so would hold off, for now.

His gaze would shift, briefly, to try and look past the other mech into the room behind him. While he'd announced himself, if Flatline was working on anything MAJOR for Shockwave, maybe it would be left in plain sight and not quickly hidden away. Sadly he... Couldn't see much from where he was currently stood, and his gaze would drift back to Flatline.

“Like I said, there is someone here I would like you to meet.”

He wouldn't step aside, although would turn his frame slightly so that Sparkplug could step forward and introduce herself. Or at least, that's what he hoped she would do. But no, no... She started rambling on about weapons again. He never saw the point in Flatline's harpoons, personally. But she seemed absolutely fascinated by them. He would let her speak uninterrupted, though – after all, his job here was almost done. She would be Flatline's problem for the rest of the day once he had departed, and this would give him a taste of what to expect.

His optics did narrow some as she just kept going and going with question after question. There was a time and a place for this, and standing in the corridor was not it!

Gently, he'd clear his throat as if wordlessly asking her to hurry up and get back to the point – and it worked. Finally she stated her designation, and now all that was left to do was Starscream to leave her here and-

His gaze moved past the femme and down the corridor. While to a newcomer, the strange magenta lights that seemed to linger in one spot could be seen as quite odd and out of place... But to those that had been here a while? Well, they were instantly recognizable as Soundwave.

How long had he been there? Instantly Starscream's processor went back to everything he'd done – and said – to Sparkplug in the walk down the corridor. Had he heard what was spoken in the abandoned room? Normally Soundwave wasn't this fast to react – playing back things days or even weeks later when someone had long since forgotten about what they'd murmured while thinking they were alone or somewhere private. 

The better question was why was he there?

While Starscream would remain calm and composed for the most part, his wings would hike up some as if in alarm and he'd swivel back to look at Flatline.

“Well, don't be rude! Let us in! Sparkplug has been granted access to one of the abandoned rooms nearby – and as she will be working alongside you, and you went through similar with your own room? Maybe you could offer her some ideas, inspiration even!”

He'd then step forwards abruptly, trying to get past Flatline and into the lab. Okay maybe he wouldn't be leaving the pair alone just yet. 

[Soundwave]

Soundwave had not come down here with intent to snoop. He had a very specific task he was intent to do, and once done, he was going to retreat back. But now? Now he was in full observational mode, trying to understand just what was going on down here, without needing to go through the burden of looking through cameras to piecemeal it together later. Granted, he would likely still overview the cameras, that was just who he was, but anything additional could be beneficial.

As Sparkplug looked his way, Soundwave did not move, the inky abyss of his visor staring right back at her intently. She didn't seem to know what she was observing it appeared, for she actually took a step in his direction. This was unusual, as most shied away from the living shadow, wanting to put distance of some kind, and if they did approach? They did so meekly or with intent to try to prove themselves. As odd as this was however, it did not compare to the bombardment of words that were spoken after Flatline answered his door.

She was... quite a chatterbox.

It seemed that this femme was just as eccentric as the other scientist on this ship. Odd personalities, weird quirks, hyper focused interests that zero in upon specific facets of the world around them... to have the dedication needed to accomplish what they do; it meant they were more likely than not out of their typical molds, which was more than true with all of those upon this ship that dabbled in such things.

Narcissism, Indifference, Neurotic, her own label of 'Hyperactive' would fit in just fine, if she didn’t get herself killed before true integration.

Things shifted abruptly then, as Starscream seemed to catch on.

While Soundwave had remained still when Sparkplug made 'eye contact', he moved marginally when Starscream had done so. As many things he did, it was subtle, gentle, his helm inclining ever so slightly to cause the hallways faint light to glint and sheen over its slick surface. The action could be interpreted many ways, but in this case, it simply was a faint curious look, the helm canting ever so slightly to the side as the Second in Command ushered them all inside of the laboratory.

[Flatline]

Someone new to meet? Ah, odd... why would Starscream intentionally seek him out to introduce them to him? He was a loner, he worked in isolation. When he did work with others, it was only under Shockwave's orders, not Starscream. Not... that he would snub orders from the silver mech, it just wasn't usual, and hadn't been the norm for his entire stay here. It isn't like he had others under his command or anything.

Flatline stalled as these thoughts clunked forward and he tried to make sense of it. It was only a momentary pause all things considered, but evidently it was just long enough for the femme to cut in, and make her presence more than known with a sudden obsession and nitpicky observation that caught the medic off guard.

The black and red mech knew he was an oddity. His structure, the way he built his limbs, and the secondary set of arms, along with his weapon choices... it was all done for a reason. He had intentionally done what he had. Because of this, he was accustomed to people looking at him with disgust, viewing him as a freak, or a weirdo. He's heard people call him an insecticon before, he has heard rumors flung around, and none of that bothered him. What really was throwing him off however? Was the fact she WASN'T looking at him with disgust, but almost seemed enamored by his weapon choices, jabbering on about them and trying to evaluate why he would do that.

Flatline's weight shifted back at this, to try to put a bit more distance between them. In doing so, his right primary hand which had just been cleared, actually lifted a bit in front of his chest, a moderately sort of guarded position, or perhaps one of partial disgust. Red optics bore down into her fiercely, as while she picked apart his harpoons, he mentally tore her to shrapnel.

She was tiny, small, and wouldn't have the strength needed to be a medic as far as he was concerned. She could never help someone onto a berth, or haul a disabled limb into place if the individual was large enough! Despite her odd little... lopsided arm thing that is. That arm, who was Flatline to judge? Other than the fact he was overly judgmental, trying to tear her apart mentally to figure out why she would disable a perfectly functional limb and replace it with that, instead of attaching it on as an additional attribute to become tri-limbed?

Either way, she seemed to snap out of it, introducing herself as an afterthought after Starscream had cleared his throat. In a nervous action, Flatline's gaze flicked from her to the commander, silently asking 'what?' before his grainy words slowly spoke out again.

"Officer?"

He flicked a gaze back to Starscream again, not sure what was happening here. This small thing was an officer on the ship? She had that much rank? She must have done some amazing things off in space before coming here, but what? She hadn't explained what field of- oh-wait- what is- hold up!

Before Flatline knew up from down, he was shoved back, and Commander Starscream had pushed into his laboratory, slamming down new information. That was all an afterthought though, as he scrabbled forward some, hooves clicking against the ground as he tried to partly cut off the slender mech. If Sparkplug chose to enter the room fully after them, the door would close behind her with a snarled hiss.

"No! wait-"

The room was rather dark, black iron cabinets and storage containers lining the outer walls, while a few counter tops lay in sporadic places. The ceiling was a tangle of pipes and cables, and the floor was slicked clean with a door on the far wall that was much smaller. To the right was a moderately large work table with a hooked light nestled above it. Small fiddly tools and components were placed in neat rows on the outer edges, while a radio was positioned on the left corner that was currently off for the moment. Settled right in the center of the work area, was a bracing armature, that was suspending what appeared to be a Vehicon arm.

The limb was severed at the elbow roughly, a ragged seam evident in the way that the metal was torn and twisted at the ends of the plates. The pointed elbow ridge was gone, and the internal support strut was jutted out. The end of the strut was re-fabricated, shiny new metal welded on to create a hinged joint, except the joint was fractured into multiple pieces, some of the shards hanging by minute filaments not unlike fiber optics. The rest of the limb seemed standard however, the two fingers and a thumb flared out to bare its claws, while paint was stripped away to show bare metal.

To the right, was a far grimmer sight to behold.

There was a single medical table that held adjusting plates and panels, a set of binding straps bolted onto its surface that were hung loose from its side. Above the medical table was a large domed light, the light shining an intense beam down onto the work area that cut through the shadows and made the rest of the room appear that much darker in contrast. Attached around the light, were a myriad of surgical tools and devices, all affixed to appendages that held the tools aloft until needed. It did not look unlike a spider, slender arms hanging down at the ready. It is below this, that what appeared to be a portion of a corpse remained.

It was some kind of lower torso piece, and that was about all that could be gleamed from it. Mangled metal, charred bits, its paint was burnt away in long swaths of ash that was streaked in melted plastic. The plastic left trails of red and blue that oozed out of seams like wax though did not touch the table, having occurred before it found itself here. Portions of the outer plating layer was pulled off in spots, lined out in meticulous rows of potentially hundreds of coin sized chunks that had wax pencil written on them in white, marking off numerical values that did not seem to mean much at a glance. It is here where the mess on Flatline's hands earlier seemed to come from, as the gaping opening where the rest of the torso SHOULD have been, now oozed coolant that pooled on the table, and traveled through the slots to dribble down to the floor, dappling it in luminous green.

"No one is meant to be in here!"

Flatline had moved himself between the commander and the mangled display, trying to keep him from approaching and possibly contaminating the area. While he moved almost with confidence, his words seemed a bit more uncertain, having never worked with Starscream before. Would he react well? Would he assume he is above such rules? What if he undid everything? What if he took offense and struck him down like Megatron had?

Flinching some, seeming anxious that two people were in here, Flatline's right ped lifted a bit, placed down nervously, before he moved quickly to the side to try to locate some sheet plastic so he could cover the table. All curiosity about the femme was instantly cast aside, focused on completing this task quickly before they snooped around more. Starscream's words didn’t even seem to sink in as he stressed.

He would mellow out once his workplace was in order, however long that took to happen.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug cocked her helm, a little surprised by the curiously engineered mech questioning her rank out loud rather than introducing himself in turn. Still, just as she was about to reply, Starscream took matters out of her hands, pushing forcefully into Flatline's lab and shoving the bulkier mech back a few steps.

That was kind of odd. Maybe Starscream just didn't appreciate being kept standing in the hallway and asked questions rather than being invited in; he was ferociously high up the hierarchy, and probably wasn't used to having to wait for anything. She tucked that thought away at the back of her processor, making a note not to keep him waiting in future if she could possibly help it.

Flatline really wasn't happy about having someone barge into his lab like he owned the place, though. Even if, in a hierarchical way, Starscream did.

She knew the type - she'd worked with several mecha that were extremely protective of their own space, and would allow others inside only with considerable reluctance, on the proviso that they stayed far away from everything and kept their wandering digits to themselves. She'd half-expected Knock Out to be like that, and while he had in fact turned out to be more relaxed, this mech fit the defensive, beleaguered introvert model exactly.

She hesitated on the threshold, not wanting to intrude, but Starscream obviously expected her to follow, so really, she had to...

Her gaze strayed towards the odd cluster of magenta lights again, distracted by something she couldn't quite pin down. There was a screen back there, the smooth, curved surface just catching a hint of the dim corridor light, and in some strange way, it almost felt like she was being watched.

Strange.

Shaking her helm, she turned back to the room and crossed the threshold, the mighty plates of the door curling closed behind her. She blinked. The room was dark, lined with black storage lockers and lit even more dimly than the corridor outside. It seemed that Flatline, like seemingly every other Cybertronian on-board, was a fan of the 'stumbling around in the dark' aesthetic. The ceiling was lined with a mess of exposed pipes and conduits, furthering the heavy industrial look. A single bright light shone done on a medical table, half-hidden beyond Starscream, where presumably even Flatline had found the omnipresent dimness to be an obstacle to his work.

Trying to stay near the entryway, so as to intrude as little as possible, Sparkplug edged to one side to see around Starscream's hunchbacked frame.

Oh.

"Now what do we have here..." she murmured, barely aloud. Focusing on the nearer of the two pieces of wreckage first, a severed arm held neatly in a brace, she unconsciously drifted a few steps forward to get a better look. "Torn seams... pretty messed up . Looks like mechanical trauma, I think... but what's all this with the joint? Is this later damage? Some kind of weird assembly process... doesn't look like it. Caught in small-scale transformation?"

Her optics flicked towards the much bigger chunk of torso. "So that one's been hit by some serious heat. Not your usual weapon blast, that punches, not burns like this. Explosion? Could be... explosion for the physical trauma, then fire to scorch it all afterwards? The arm was blown far enough away not to get burnt after?" The minutely catalogued fragments of plating were obviously part of some kind of autopsy, likely an effort to reconstruct what the heck had happened to the incredibly dismembered whoever-it-was on the table. This was definitely not her area of expertise. While she'd seen a good few messed up cadavers - occasionally, different grades of armoured corpse had been delivered to their facility to test weapons against, armour plating having pretty much the same resistance to violence whether the occupant was alive or dead - she wasn't a forensic technician, and her anatomical knowledge was a little rusty in places, too.

Odd that the coolant was still dripping out, if the chassis had been exposed to sufficient heat to burn it out, though. That should have boiled off. Maybe Flatline had cut into a sealed internal reservoir as he dismantled the remains?

"No one is meant to be in here!"

Sparkplug quickly took a step backwards towards the door as Flatline's broad chest obscured her view of the wreckage on the table, and his words finally penetrated her awareness. Oh, scrap. He really, really wasn't happy. She'd never come particularly close to the medical table, but now she backed up to the door once more, and said apologetically, "Uh, right. Sorry to be in your space, here, Flatline. Don't worry, not going to tamper with your investigation, there. That looks delicate. Just here because I'm apparently on a level with you, and kind of working for Starscream and Shockwave at the same time - weapons development, you see? - so I might have some cross-over with you, if Shockwave says so."

[Starscream]

Starscream had his reasons indeed for introducing Sparkplug to another who worked below Shockwave. As with most things, every little detail and action done by the Second in Command had some grand scheme and motive behind it, and this was no different. Of course, for right now it seemed rather odd that he'd gone out of his way to do this – when really all it would've taken is for a Vehicon to show her to her room, and to Flatline's lab, with strict orders to 'get on with it'. This was a long game to be sure, but all good things took time.

The movement from Soundwave only reinforced his decision to get out of this corridor as quickly as possible, even if he knew he'd done nothing wrong – he didn't like to be watched, and he ignored Flatline's plea and attempt to cut him off as he moved – pushing past him and moving into the lab.

His optics would narrow some into a squint, taking a split second to adjust to the lighting change. The whole ship was dark, but this room seemed to be even drearier than the rest.

He'd never actually been in here before, and so he'd take a moment to look around. The first thing he noticed was that the room was clean. Of course, he'd expect as such – given this was a lab and would need to be kept sterile. His gaze would drift up, before he'd step forwards further into the room. Here, his optics would narrow and focus on the Vehicon arm.

Oh? What was this...?

Looping his arms behind his back, he'd move a step closer to the work area and would lean forwards to get a better look without moving over too close to the table itself. While he did this, he heard Sparkplug jabbering away behind him with her ridiculous outward commentary – although he'd pay it no mind; letting her ramble away. Who had given Flatline this arm? Knock Out? Had Shockwave sanctioned the usage of dead troops? Then again, it was Shockwave... His lip would curl into a sneer as he looked over the severed limb.

After a moment, his gaze would wander to the right, and his frame would stiffen at what was on that medical table. Who, or what, was that? What kind of twisted experiments did Shockwave have Flatline doing down here? And why? This was all certainly news to him; he had no idea what went on in the Science wing of the ship – and while he could simply look at reports should he so choose, of which he did have access... He wondered if these experiments were even being logged.

He was curious, that much was certain. From over here, he could discern that it was part of a torso – although he wasn't quite sure as to who was the owner of said torso. Parts of it had been melted, and there was a gaping opening that was oozing coolant. He quirked an eyebrow at the chunks that'd been laid out, and while he couldn't see the actual writing – it seemed that everything, every little part, had been listed. He'd narrow his optics In thought, gaze not leaving the table or its contents.

Wait...

Was Flatline... Wait...

It couldn't be, could it?

His wings would hike up some, and he'd take another curious step forwards; wanting to get a closer look so he could confirm his suspicions – only to be cut off abruptly by Flatline stepping into his path and preventing him from moving further, for now.

“Oh? Under whose orders, exactly? Yours? I must've missed that memo.” He purred as his gaze drifted down to look at Flatline, arms still looped behind his back. “Need I remind you who you are speaking to, Flatline?” A rhetorical question. 'No one' didn't include him – as Second in Command he could come and go when and where he pleased, and even if he couldn't? Well, he could talk his way out of why he had.

He'd remain where he was, watching with an amused look as Flatline scurried to cover the table. He wouldn't lash out with force – such primitive brutality was something their Warlord preferred, but this had definitely been added to Starscream's list of things to keep an eye on. Long game indeed. He made a mental note to inquire later – when Sparkplug was not around – as to just what exactly Flatline was doing in here, and if his suspicions were in fact correct.

He had questions, lots of them. But now was not the time nor place to start interrogating Flatline as to what was going on here. He knew Flatline would be the one to ask, as Shockwave and he didn't... Get along at the best of times.

“Right, exactly.” He droned a reply to Sparkplug's comment, turning on his heel to look at her as she backed up to the doorway. With a shake of his helm, he'd glance back to Flatline.

“I can only assume Shockwave will have her helping out with some of his larger projects, so the sooner you are acquainted the better. Her work for me won't be starting straight away, given that all weapon development is to be halted; as per the rules of our truce with the Autobots. So I am sure you will be seeing her around, once her room has been re-purposed into something of use, at any rate.”

He'd pick idly at one of his clawed talons. The introduction between them was over, he'd seen more than he'd wanted to and yet at the same time, not enough, and so as far as he was concerned? His job here was done. There was still the issue of the Spymaster outside, but Starscream had nothing to hide! Unlike Flatline in here...

“Maybe you could show him to your room, as he is such an expert on remodeling and could probably give you advice on where to even start.” He suggested quietly, although it didn't matter to him either way.

[Soundwave]

Starscream was oh so predictable, while being very difficult to read at times.

The Second in Command has done so many wrongs against Megatron and the cause for his own personal gains, that Soundwave's presence in keeping him in line was routine at this point. Monitoring, watching, trying to keep an eye on any quirk or odd habit. It had worked for a very long time, allowing the navy mech to pick out and quell plots before they could come to full bloom, but... it has backfired poorly in these later years.

In the far past Starscream would not have reacted as he had to Soundwave. He would have shown displeasure, or been 'creeped out' as many others seemed to be, making picking out abnormalities and the stress that is formed when someone lies that much easier. But now?... now nothing could be going on as far as Soundwave was aware, and the pure distress and nervous energy and panic that lashed out could muddle over anything that was real.

Was Starscream showing these emotions and forcing himself into Flatline's laboratory in order to hide and try to cover up a malevolent plan? Or was he simply triggered by his presence and fearful of being blamed for the wrongs of another? It was a jagged line that from such a distance was impossible to pick and try to sift through. Tiny nuances, small facial cues or movements, lost from the distance between them.

Soundwave already had some of Starscream's 'minions' monitored, and his whereabouts had been tracked up until now as best as could be done without being obsessive, so he was rather certain what was happening now was either a kneejerk response out of his very presence, or he was trying to coax and manipulate the newcomer.

Probably the latter.

Why else would he degrade himself to working with common rabble?

As Sparkplug looked down the hall at him once more, Soundwave simply watched, and waited with patience and care. If he asserted himself and moved forward, than the entire situation could be derailed, and Starscream would cause a scene. It was best to let this roll off his back for now and simply make a note in his records of the event. The newcomer femme would be watched, that was a given. Not only because she was new and had to be monitored, but now it had to be done to keep tabs on any tasks she could be doing under the counter for the silver mech.

Once the laboratory's door closed, the slim mech moved forward into a graceful walk, limbs cutting through the shadows while he maneuvered past, heading back towards the front of the ship with no particular rush.

[Flatline]

Oh, maybe this was a mistake.

Flatline could be bold. He could be aggressive. He was not above physical force and snarled words when the moment called for it, and once upon a time he had used such aggression on even his superiors since he knew his place was secure. Medics were valuable, and not every outpost had enough. It is what gave many of them some ego problems, and while Flatline's weren't as apparent as Knock Out's which manifested itself with vanity, it was there. But... on this ship he had been crippled, and it made him nervous.

Megatron had put him in his place readily, made him well aware of just how disposable he was. That level of disposability hadn't really been applied to him before, and it beat down his aggression with anyone with any kind of rank. In older times, he may have snarled back, told Starscream that anything that got put out of line could set him back weeks, or that contamination could impair the smaller functions on the arm project. But no... when the commander ever so calmly responded, it was a different kind of blade.

No snarled warning, no fist clutching his throat, he wasn’t as brash as Megatron, but something about it still unnerved Flatline and the quills down the medic's back bristled up some with a nervous chatter. He moved then to go retrieve the plastic tarp, saying nothing and keeping passive to not incur any additional ire while letting Starscream do as he wished. With care, he would return, and drape the plastic overtop the entire table, the semi translucent film light enough to not disturb the bits and pieces, though it would keep it protected from dust, grit, and any brushes of air from a quick movement.

Thankfully the moment seemed to move on, and the femme's words finally caught up to him.

She had keen observational skills, that was certain, but whether she was right or wrong on her guesses would remain unknown, for the medic showed no sign of confirming or denying just what she was seeing. He seemed to not even like the fact that she had saw what she had, choosing, or perhaps ordered to keep what project it was confidential for one reason or another. Alas, she seemed to apologize either way, though his willingness to accept it was bitter.

While he was cowed in regards to Starscream, she had yet to earn anything in his eyes.

Glancing over at the silver mech, Flatline's quills flicked once more, though this time it was not out of an anxious response. This time it was a flicker of annoyance, red eyes peering over in dismay that he was being pulled off of his work, simply to help some newcomer clean and remodel? What was this nonsense? He did most of his lab on his own, and what help he had gotten, was an individual who came in specifically offering to assist, and then a couple Vehicons when heavy lifting was required. He otherwise did it on his own, and never had someone appointed to him. If he was in a good mood, and had spoken to her beforehand and got better acquainted, he may have offered to assist if she needed it! But being shoved at her was going against any generosity.

Sharp red eyes flicked back to Sparkplug, a bit of animosity formed, his words spoken coolly.

"Would be my pleasure..."

[Sparkplug]

Oh, dear. The mood in the room really wasn't welcoming, at all.

Starscream, naturally enough, didn't take well to being challenged on why he was there, and put Flatline on the defensive with a few quick, short words. In the wake of that, Starscream's suggestion that the oddly shaped mech help her figure out how to arrange her new space seemed to have gone down as well as suggesting Flatline go suck a sewage pipe.

The scattered, broken corpse pieces were simply draped with a sheet, and mentioned not at all. That seemed to be as close as she was going to get to a response, and that response was 'go away'. All of which, taken together with the fact that she was fairly happy to sort out her space according to her own needs, prompted her to wave her hands in a flat, side to side motion that meant 'that won't be needed'.

With a quick, nervously jerky bow towards Starscream, she replied, "Thanks, Commander. Appreciate the offer of help and all. That said, looks like Flatline here is up to the torso in something, or someone, heh, so I can just get on with things my own self. Maybe if Flatline, maybe you can tell me where the parts store is and what the process is for requisitioning bits and pieces, then I'll be out of both of your fields and off doing nice, useful stuff to advance the Decepticon cause. Y'know, somewhere else."

Her expression was hesitant, clearly uncomfortable now that she'd picked up the animosity in the air.

[Starscream]

Ahh, Flatline. It was a mistake indeed, although it would not be apparent that it was so.

At least, not yet.

Starscream would remain composed throughout everything, and aside from his earlier purred words and question that only a fool would answer out loud? Still wouldn't actually do anything in regards to what he'd seen - nor would he react further to how Flatline had initially reacted and spoken to him when first entering the lab. The medic's quills bristling had not been lost on the Second in Command; a reaction that had been unexpected and yet quite pleasing.

For those who knew Starscream, or at least knew of him, knew he was usually very animated and could be quite dramatic and over the top with his actions. The concerning thing was? Was that he was anything but right now. He'd remain where he was stood, continuing to pick at one claw as he watched Flatline with an impassive look as he covered the remains with the tarp. He was thankful in a way that Flatline didn't have the foresight to have covered everything earlier, as... He had no real reason to be in this section of the Nemesis at all, and all of this – whatever this was – would've gone unnoticed.

Sadly for Flatline, the damage had been done now, and it'd been seen by both Starscream and Sparkplug. Her curiosity and habit of constantly chattering would serve him well, that much was certain.

The second flicker of quills made him quirk a brow, and he'd halt picking at his talon to loop his arms behind his back once more, rocking on his heels some.

“It was merely a suggestion, no need for all that...” He replied nonchalantly to Flatline – although he was so very unimpressed by the flicker of quills as well as the look of dismay. It wasn't like Starscream had asked much of him at all, really. At least not in the grand scheme of things.

His gaze would lazily drift to follow that of Flatline, and he'd look to Sparkplug just in time to see the bow.

“Ah - isn't he just.” He smirked, unlooping his arms from behind his back so they were resting gently at his sides. “I'll leave you two to get on with it. Whatever it is. Just get on with something.” He didn't care either way what they decided to do. Flatline could either help her by following her to her new room and offering advice, or, he could simply answer any questions that she may have. Starscream didn't have the time, nor patience, for either.

He'd take a few steps forward so that the doors would slide open, and would turn to face the pair.

“I will be back to check on your progress soon. First, however - I have things I must see to elsewhere.”

He'd take a step backwards into the corridor itself and would make a cautious, quick glance to his left. Not that it mattered if Soundwave was still lurking, he had more pressing matters to attend to than worry about him right now. Thankfully the Spymaster seemed to have gone, and Starscream would turn to depart – heading back toward the Control Room and leaving the two to sort out the issue of Sparkplug's room between the pair of them.

[Flatline]

Flatline's helm rose slowly while Sparkplug spoke and backpedaled from the situation. She was showing a sort of submission as far as he could see, not boasting over her new claim to have someone's forced help, and choosing to deny what was offered to her, with a reasonable request slapped on to the end. While the black and red mech was still displeased by her, this rounded over some of the edge that had formed, the corner of his lip twitching up into a partial sneer instead of a full blown scowl while he looked down at her with judgment.

If he was in her position, he was not certain what he would have done either. Would he have acted like that? Backing off and trying to deny assistance out of his ragged pride? Or would he have gloated and tugged someone around by a metaphorical leash to force them to do the less than desirable tasks around the laboratory? It was an interesting question, but since he was not actually tasked to respond, he didn't put much more thought into it, looking cautiously over at Starscream once more.

He wanted him to set him free... He wanted him to brush Sparkplug off, and reset everything to how it was before this intrusion, but instead, Starscream let things ominously open ended, with no concrete direction given, but a nice pointed warning that he would be back. This was... less than ideal. It meant he was going to be stuck with the chatterbox, in his laboratory, and he was going to be checked in on as if this was some assignment he was being graded on. If he did things only half way and 'just good enough', it could be a mark against him and could backfire in the future. Instantly he had flashbacks to when he was in training in his formative years, the teachers drilling lessons in harshly since lives could depend on it and any mistake could be fatal. Or... at least that one instructor was like that.

Flatline said nothing, almost... gawking as Starscream so abruptly delivered this bad news, and then just as quickly left as if he had a meeting to get to on time. The departure was just... so abrupt, and next thing he knew, the door was closed shut with a seal, and the ominous silence remained. A sort of twitch formed up Flatline's features at this, a minute almost invisible shake of the helm, and a hard blink, trying to clear his vision and see if he had hallucinated or blacked out and missed something. But... there was nothing, nothing wrong. The Commander had just bailed out. With a slow flick, he looked back at the brightly colored femme.

He waited a good moment, before he spoke, rasping words cutting through the quiet like a blade.

"Back up here like... three minutes... who are you?"

His right primary lifted while he said this, gesturing absently in her direction. Things had been so abrupt and confusing for him, that he had completely missed her introductions, his mind only now trying to properly catch up and reboot the situation. While he did this, he shifted his weight over to one leg, and tried to relax, resigned in the idea that he was now stuck here for the long run, and he had to disengage from this task. With this slow acceptance, his shoulders seemed to slope to a more natural position, and his quills flattened out to their neutral state once more.

[Sparkplug]

The door slithered shut behind Starscream, leaving Sparkplug and Flatline alone.

She was very uncomfortable.

Reconditioning the loyalties of a Cybertronian was a complex task, one navigated with insight and intuition as much as mathematically weighted models. It required intimate knowledge of standard processor architecture and the hierarchical drives, daemons and emulators which worked in sometimes discordant unison to make up the sentient mind. Changing something as hard to define as ideology without blocking or breaking whatever factors made the individual worth converting in the first place was hard, and every advantage had to be made use of.

Even, where called for, a measure of kindness. In her early cycles after her minting into the Decepticon cause, Sparkplug had been treated well, supportively, a feeling of friendship and loyalty to her new 'allies' encouraged and built upon. After she'd graduated - for lack of a better term - and had been released into the general Decepticon forces, it was natural to her to expect the best of those she encountered, just as she had as an Autobot, unless she was given reason to think otherwise.

Flatline radiated a blank contempt that she couldn't imagine what she'd done to deserve, leaving her edgy and nervous. His sneer left her halfway between wanting to just be somewhere else, and becoming defensively angry about the way he was staring at her. Then, slowly, his strange anatomy settled into a marginally less confrontational stance, and he asked, in more or less civil tones, who she was again.

Sparkplug blinked, shutters briefly sweeping over her green optics. Had he really not heard? Maybe there was something wrong with his audials - the staple in his face did indicate some recent cranial trauma. Her defensiveness receded a little, and she paused before replying, "Sparkplug. That's my designation. I'm a researcher. Weapons designer, by specialisation. For now, I'm working for Commander Starscream, but from what I gather, we're about the same level in the command structure. If Shockwave wants me to do something, I might end up working with you. That's why the Commander introduced me to you, to get some familiarity."

Nodding back towards the armoured door, she went on, "Just arrived on the planet. I've been allocated a room back down that way, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, as far as the ship goes. A real horror-show, rust through the ages. I've got to clean it out and refit it. Nothing I can't handle, but I hear you sorted out this place and got it to an operational standard. If you tell me how you requisition parts, I can deal with the rest myself, and let you get on with your work here."

She was careful to avoid her usual rambling tangents, not wanting to trigger another burst of hostility of the sort that had seemingly ebbed with Starscream's departure.

[Flatline]

"I see..."

He seemed curious, and cautious, still trying to disengage his own anger and frustration from before. This person was thrown into his day unceremoniously, ruined his momentum on his project, and he HAD to tend to her, or it would come back to bite him he knew it. He already was probably in trouble with Starscream, and so trying to be actually useful was a top priority now. That said, he still spoke coolly, a cautious pessimism in play while he tried to evaluate her.

"That will be interesting... from what I gather Starscream and Shockwave do not get along terribly well. Balancing their favors may be a chore."

A simple warning, actually offering some constructive input with a casual point in her direction with a sharp talon. Most of what he knew about the two was secondhand gossip from the Vehicons on the ship. He has not seen them interact personally, and had never even really worked with Starscream or spoken to him before this day. The Science and Military side of things seldom crossed paths at the lower levels beside requests for weapons of varied types. It seemed Sparkplug was going to be slapped right in the middle, which would be fun for her... not...

"Many rooms are thrown to disarray, mine was in poor shape when I obtained it, but it had good struts to it with cabinets and basic machines already in place."

Flatline's attention broke away from her then, his weight rolling to the side so he could start to walk back towards the surgical table that was now covered with the semi translucent plastic. His stride was cautious, small hoof like peds clicking down onto the ground with a near dainty gate, mindful of where he placed them even though there were no obstacles to step around. It landed him before the table again.

"Perhaps the nature of your work is why you had to obtain one in such rough conditions; you likely have empty rooms on all sides to buffer any... accidents."

Reaching forward, Flatline pulled back part of the cloth enough, to pick up a slender jar that had been sitting among all the small pieces and chunks of whomever that had underwent a very bad day. The jar was opaque, a metal cylinder that he picked up the lid for, and securely pushed it in place.

"All speculation of course..."

Turning, he would look back at her for a moment, to make sure she wasn't tampering with anything, before he maneuvered to cold storage, pulling open the door. Within were numerous chemicals and containers, the compounds kept chilled to keep them stable and prolong their shelf life. It is here the cylinder would find its home, nestled at the forefront of the freezer beside glinting clear containers filled with greens and blues with an occasional black or gold fluid mixed within. Once this was closed, he turned back to her fully.

"Getting things on this ship is an uphill battle half the time. Requests can take days to be filed, for even simple things past what you can simply take from any standard storage area. If you want fast progress with nothing in your way, you will need to learn to scavenge."

His voice grumbled out these words, an exhaustion leaking in.

"If you know how to separate metals, and create your own alloys, you can raid human scrap yards for instant results with only minimal risk."

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug's nervous uncertainly slowly dwindled in tandem with Flatline's words, her slightly tensed wheels settling properly into the deep wells in her back. She straightened slightly from the barely-noticeable hunch she'd withdrawn into before, and his theorising on the motivations behind siting her lab where it was kindled a fresh interest in her green optics.

"...y'know, I didn't think of that. But that makes perfect sense! I'm planning to scav some armour slabs that ought to contain anything I do in there, but when you cram a whole load of energy into a really small space, sometimes it pushes back. Hard. But if there was a serious explosion down there, there's nothing to get wrecked, other than musty old storage rooms, ruined equipment... the deckplates between levels would probably spread and disperse the blast, unless you had a really exciting piece of energetic release on your hands."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then added, "And it wouldn't take much valuable equipment with it, other than what I can build or borrow." It was obvious that finding an explanation for something that didn't previously have one was something that delighted her, even if it was mere speculation, and her mobile lips curved into a smile directed at the odd, insectile mech.

"That's real helpful advice, too. I was thinking of getting the mess in the room cleared out before I tried to get materials to start building, but if it can take days, I'll go and make some requests for basic metal, plating, some hinges, pistons and fasteners - you know, the fundamentals. Even if I haven't pinned down exactly what I want to do with the space, you can't go wrong with the raw materials. By the time it's released, I should have room for it."

She glanced to the side, double elbows bending to bring the side of one digit to rest against her lower lip. "Been a long time since I did any metal work on that level. But sometimes, you don't have any of a particular alloy around, and you have to whip up a batch yourself. If there's a smelting forge around this flying labyrinth, I should be able to do something with scrap metal. Wouldn't have a clue where to find any particular kind of human facility, though, so if you can toss me some coordinates, or how you find the locations of these places out, I'd be real grateful."

Glancing towards the closed storage cabinet, where he'd deposited his mysterious jar among several others in bright blues and greens, her field radiated her unspoken curiosity. What in the name of Cybertron was he keeping back there? But rather than ask, she added with a touch of wryness, "I really hope I won't get caught between Shockwave and Commander Starscream. I'm nervous enough about Shockwave as it is."

[Flatline]

This individual... wow... she could really talk. Flatline just watched her absently while she started to ramble, throwing down everything that went through her processor in a constant stream that looked like it held no end. It really allowed very little room for interjecting or trying to hold a conversation, for by the time he would formulate a comment, she was already smashing down the next topic's door and leaving the previous thoughts in the dust. He was somewhat aghast at this, finding extreme conflict in how he felt.

In older days, he worked for higher end mech and femme in the Caste system. Their words, their manner of speaking... it was methodical and chosen with care. Each statement could be a dagger in its own right hidden behind pleasantries, using certain phrases or framing statements to say one thing, but really be cutting in its execution. It was a battle of wits and crafting, choosing things to be simple statements, one that was mostly lost through time since so few of them remained.

Flatline has misplaced a lot of this talent, having worked among 'common folk' now for so long, but he sometimes longed for those old moments like right now. Conversations when there could be true back and forth interaction more so than listening to one person chatter down everything that passed through their mind. On the other hand, it... it filled the silence...

So much time was spent alone in that ship, so much time trying to survive and scrambling... the memories of that excursion was haunting, and the idle noise of a shuttles engine and sounds, with no words or sound to fill the void of space... well it tormented him. Radios, conversation, he really didn’t MIND company when they didn’t interrupt delicate work, and so he knew the noise falling from her was liked on that regard, yet... boy was he conflicted.

Could she shut up a bit but not fully?

Was there a middle ground here?

Blinking slowly once it seemed she was done, Flatline shifted his weight over some, making sure that it was actually his turn to speak, before his words fell out slowly and calmly.

"Probably wise to try to build truly volatile weaponry off ship."

A drone, a simple comment, he had nothing more to say there. Weaponry was not his strength. He knew how to mount it to individuals could put in shock absorbers and blast shielding or thermal guards, but no more. To try to disengage from that, since he was not inviting a full commentary novel on how she considered such things and how she probably would be doing that, or how she didn’t work on big stuff like that, or whatever she was going to say, he lifted up a hand, urging her to halt so that he could continue. With the wordless motion made, he turned.

Walking over to his single console in the room, Flatline lifted his right primary, and plucked a few keys down with a long talon, the sound clicking out audibly as the machine whirled online again instantly. The once black screen illuminated at his touch, a flicker of an individual wireframe and noted parts, visible for only a brief second before the second key click closed it out to leave a main screen from the terminal. Folders were meticulously organized all across it, layered into columns with graphs underneath each one on progress and time speculations. It was a lot of shorthand notes and calculations, that didn't seem to readily add up to anything, looking organized, yet somehow so messy at the same time. Whatever the case, he plucked a few additional keys, drawing up a page on the screen that had fields to fill out.

"When you want materials beyond storage supplies, you will need to fill this out. Just type in the quantity... and- well, you know how to fill in such nonsense."

He flicked his hand dismissively at this, finding it irrelevant going through it with her in more detail. Once she got to any of the stations on the ship, she should be able to field a request at any time. He didn't have to tell her to put her name in the designation field, nor any of the other self explanatory things. While his hand had rocked out to the side, his secondary's habitually unfolded. The slender second set of limbs curled out from their partly hidden housing against his chest, the right one reaching down to pluck at the keys so that he could move to the next screen, while he was motioning with the other hand.

"Native inhabitants have a database and satellite map feature. You can search for scrap yards or recycling plants, and try to find the less known and isolated ones. Then just request a Bridge down."

While he informed this, he clicked and opened up a frame on the monitor that tapped into the internet, pulling open a generic browser so that she could see what it looked like. After he did so, he placed his hand down at the edge of the console, and peered back at her, looking tired.

"Unless you construct your own small forge, you will have to go to recycling and use the large one between uses. Lots of industrial sized machines there for larger projects. My first few weeks here were spent making tools like this for my lab."

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug opened her mouth, then shut it again at Flatline's upraised hand. He'd read her accurately; she'd been on the verge of launching into a digression about the energy densities she worked with, and the classes of weapon she intended to construct. Instead, she watched curiously as he moved over to a terminal, and took it as permission to approach a bit closer, getting a better angle on the screen.

Tedious forms were definitely, wearyingly familiar. Trying to get anything shipped to Avilla was an exercise in full-body wrestling with the bureaucracy of the Decepticon armed forces. At least here, she had a thin chance of being able to find the right mecha and charm them a bit if the forms seemed to have dropped into a black hole en route.

And then he deployed a second, smaller set of limbs.

Her attention fissured into two halves. On the one hand, she was still taking in what he was saying, and the window onto the native's primitive data-net was going to be invaluable in researching the right places to obtain resources, and a lot else besides. Confirmation of the forges and tools available was nice and reassuring, and shouldn't be too hard to find. She was genuinely grateful that Commander Starscream had seen fit to introduce them.

One the other hand (hands) Flatline had a whole other set of hidden manipulator limbs. That was fascinating.

"Oooh," she murmured, leaning to one side to get a better look at the secondary arms and where they'd emerged from. "Now that is interesting. Dual limbs? Not for heavy manipulation, either, not like this other mech I met. That's some fine detail work. Still, your heavy-duty manips seem to have a pretty good range of dexterity as well."

Glancing up at Flatline, she straightened slightly and asked, "What's the story here? Did you have a specialised task in mind when you designed there, or are they general use? I'm guessing these are personal mods, since the old functional council didn't like multi-limb mechs all that much. Just looking at them, seems like they might be used for data entry, all that, but you were using your main manipulators for that. Detail construction, maybe? I've got some pretty fine-grained tools in my arm, but there's sure been times when it would have been useful to have an extra hand."