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

[Starscream]

There wasn't an immediate reply to his question or offer, and so the Second in Command would turn his attention away from the spark chamber and back to the red and black mech expectantly.

What he'd asked hadn't been bait, nor had he been trying to get Flatline to snitch on Knock Out any with what he'd said. No, anyone with half a functioning processor knew the two Medics did not get along – he didn't need confirmation of that. Sadly though what he'd asked hadn't been because he exactly cared about what Flatline was doing. It was intriguing and he could commend Flatline for even attempting to rebuild the mangled subject matter, but he also knew that there were probably years worth of work here – and Flatline had barely even scratched the surface.

No. He'd asked because, like with most things? Starscream was playing the long game. Possible alliances took time to strengthen, and not everyone was easily swayed. Many were fiercely loyal to Megatron, but if Starscream could do even the tiniest of tasks to help and garner some favor for when the time came? He would take it, even if it meant lowering himself into offering the occasional favor.

Flatline could be a valuable asset to have on his side in future, given his skillset, and he was hoping that this first impression would be beneficial in the long run.

He noted the body language of the other mech as he seemed to mull over what'd been asked. The question and offer hadn't been anything much in the grand scheme of things, but it seemed Flatline was trying to work out how best to reply. Understandable, given who he was speaking to, but still...

The reply came, and he'd bob his helm in acknowledgment – not drawing attention to the fact he'd been watching Flatline carefully in the moments before his response.

“Good.” his attention and gaze went back to the spark chamber as he spoke, clasping his own arms behind his back once more as he straightened his posture.

“Mm, without a doubt. I do believe we salvaged all we could – but you're probably right. There wasn't much left to work with, you probably have all the important pieces that remained. Still, I'll keep an optic out for you should anything turn up.” he picked idly at his thumb behind his back as he spoke.

As vague as that phrase sounded, it wasn't a confirmation that Knock Out did have anything that 'belonged' to Flatline, but again – long game.

“What I've seen so far – is that all you've worked on up to this point?” he quirked a brow curiously and turned his stare back down to Flatline. He didn't want to overstay his welcome here, knowing that Flatline did have a prior engagement in helping Sparkplug settle into her new space, but he didn't want to be totally dismissive either – if Flatline had more to show of his work? He'd gladly look at it with interest.

[Flatline]

"Thank you Commander."

What more could be said? Starscream was being nice, and Flatline didn't want to get on his bad side at all, especially after he just KNEW the silver mech was eyeing him down when he had taken too long to reply a moment prior. It had been subtle, he wasn’t stared down pointedly like some worthless hunk of scrap metal that was out of place, but Flatline knew when he was being evaluated on some level, and it further picked up his anxieties.

It was this situation that made the following question prick up even more nervousness, Flatline trying to compare situations to one another, and know what he could report and what he couldn’t. Then again, Starscream WAS Second in Command... but... what was Shockwave? Flatline had never heard the scientific leader referred to as a numerical rank, his exact placement on the chain of command a bit skewed and uncertain. Were his projects meant to be kept secretive? Or was it open information? Was Starscream able to go in and view whatever he wanted? Or was he to stick to military applications alone and scientific pursuits were off limits?

Leaning forward once Starscream seemed done viewing, Flatline gingerly pushed the drawer closed, engaging the locks once again so that the system could fully pressurize and evaluate any airborne dust that may have settled in the few moments of exposure.

"I have done tasks for Shockwave in addition to my reconstruction work."

Cautious, Flatline faltered a brief moment, before he stood upright again and walked around Starscream, approaching a cabinet that was across the way. With a twist and pull, the door pulled open with ease, not a controlled system like the others were, allowing him to reach in and pull out a semi translucent material out that delicately stood on the edge of his fingertips, its shape akin to a thicker piece of tile. It was simply a leftover chunk, extra, but it showed proof of his efforts even if the rest was no longer visible.

"He had me checking beacons Earth side for some time, and after that I was creating internal shells of Aerogel and additional water seals for Vehicons that he had appointed to work in treacherous environments undersea."

Even if Flatline was trying to play nice and subservient to look good in front of a superior, he could not help the disgust that crept into his voice when he spoke about beacon duty. He didn't know WHY someone of his talent was sent out to check over such things. They weren't damaged, they weren't in need of any real work, it was menial labor, and it was borderline insulting to him. He brightened up a bit with the mention of the other task, but the frustration was there plain as day a moment.

"Between such jobs, I also have worked on Vehicon repairs outside of medical needs, such as replacing inbuilt scanners for the mining class troopers."

Flatline remained standing in place, whether Starscream approached or not, continuing to allow the Aerogel to delicately perch on the points of his fingers.

"Some trivial side tasks were also done; I created a drone with limited AI to keep Skywarp occupied so that he would no longer interfere with my work."

A truly unsanctioned task, but Flatline was choosing the moment to be honest. If he gifted Starscream some side jobs, it made it seem more natural. If he admitted to some faults, than the chances Starscream would look for others that may be hidden were far slimmer. Flatline didn’t need the Second in Command to know that he had used expensive Cybertronian metals to fix Knock Out's wheel... even if he had the medic's approval to do such things and had it all in writing. To add to this, he added in another fault, further misdirection.

"At one point I perhaps stepped out of line in assisting Skywarp further. He had complained that nothing made sense and that 'the math' was all wrong. Something about space and time... I believe the processes for his warp drive had obtained an error. A simple reboot of his systems alleviated the problem completely."

[Starscream]

Starscream wouldn't respond verbally to the thank you, although would give a subtle bob of his helm in response, just to show he was listening.

Even with his attention briefly on the contents of the drawer, he couldn't help but pick up on the nervousness of the other mech. It was understandable, given Starscream's reputation and rank – and he was smugly, but silently, glad that Flatline seemed to know his place.

Once the drawer had been closed and Flatline spoke once more, he'd tilt his helm some curiously.

“Oh?”

While it was true that Starscream was the Second in Command – nor would he let anyone forget that – it might've been well known to the red and black mech that he and Shockwave weren't exactly what one would call 'friends'. As much as Starscream adored and had dabbled in science, he made a point not to cross paths with Shockwave unless he really needed to. He didn't snoop nor pry through logs of things that the Head of Science was up to (if he could even get past the no doubt layers of encryption, anyway) – that wasn't his domain after all and he had no place in looking; and if the one-eyed mech was up to no good then it was up to others to call him out on it. Starscream had enough to worry about without that, as well.

That didn't mean he wasn't curious about it, though.

As Flatline shifted upright once more and made his way over to another cabinet, Starscream would swivel on a heel and made the motions of following – stopping a short ways away until given an indication to move closer. His gaze shifted to the semi-translucent material as it was pulled from the drawer, and he'd hum quietly in thought.

“Beacons?” he repeated. The disgust in Flatline's tone was not lost on him, and his gaze would drift back to the mech as he spoke. “That seems rather trivial, no? Though I'm sure he had his reasons, however, deeming it “logical” to send you instead of Vehicons to do such a task.” Making the motion of airquotes with the word 'logical' there, unable to resist the smallest of jabs to how the Head of Science worked, the tiniest of smirks on his faceplate.

“Ah, so basic support for Knock Out?” he hummed again “Can't expect him to do everything I suppose.” his tone laced with sarcasm there. The poor cherry-red Mech would probably throw a fit if he got extra duties on top of his actual job. It really was a shame the pair did not get along, if they could work in tandem they would make quite a team – but he was not here to suggest such things.

He moved a little closer then, just so he could get a better look at the Aerogel – assuming it was the same substance Flatline had mentioned only moments earlier. The mention of Skywarp made him chuckle, venting out a sigh. Aah Skywarp, so brilliant and yet childish...

“Unfortunately, keeping Skywarp occupied is a full time job in itself.” he smirked, shaking his helm at that, “Whatever works, I suppose. I should probably try and find him more things to do, now that I think about it. Hopefully he did not interfere too much with your work?”

The mention of 'stepping out of line' made the smirk fade from his faceplate, and he'd narrow his optics just slightly as he listened.

“Space and time? Who even knows with him...” he droned. At least it was nothing too bad, and if Skywarp didn't want to go to Knock Out with such issues, at least he had gone to someone else who was capable of resolving things – so it was hardly overstepping bounds. “With all the flitting around he does, I'm not surprised he got himself confused somewhere along the way. I assume it was logged should it happen again in future?”

There was probably more to it, but unfortunately for right now? Starscream cared little.

[Flatline]

"I do not pretend to understand."

That was about the most he would say regarding the beacons, a bit stuck on how to interoperate it. Flatline revered Shockwave, and looked up to him, but... that job had been insulting and frustrating. The only thing he could imagine, is perhaps Shockwave had issues with some Vehicons not logging things properly, but that still seemed like it would be easy to train them better, than take up what he THOUGHT was a valued scientists time... Oh well... It had hurt his pride some.

But not as much as what came next.

The thought of being looked down upon by Shockwave and turned into a menial helper, did not hurt as much as the next words to fall out of Starscream's mouth. In one sweeping motion, he had taken Flatline's job, and stabbed it through the spark, boiling it down to nothing more than 'Support for Knock Out'... no... not just support for Knock Out, but BASIC support! This caused a flinching twitch to form under Flatline's good eye, a sort of horror spearing his field a moment that was tucked close to his frame.

Flatline kept the Aerogel suspended out in front of him for Starscream to look at, while his processor reeled in agony, caught up over the idea that he was an assistant to the one person he wanted to strangle every other day on this ship. A sort of anger formed at this, frustration, stress, a want to lash out but not physically. He wanted to PROVE he was better than that! To defend his skills, to try to find a real place that was not defined under anyone other than high command. He would need to find side tasks to look into, things to approach and work on beyond the possible resurrection of another. He had to earn his place, and be impressive enough!

The semi translucent cube was well formed, no imperfections or varied densities on its surface, All of the sides except one was smooth and clean, while the last held ridges across it from being cut into and having a piece removed to be formed and tooled.

"Ah... no. while he took time away from my tasks, it was not substantial."

A pause.

"Yes Commander, I logged it in my records."

Subdued, quiet, Flatline was trying to come to terms with the new idea of what he was to Knock Out. He took his job as an assistant to Shockwave, doing some work on the Vehicons on the sidelines to help, but... now he was an assistant to Shockwave, playing assistant to Knock Out on the sidelines?... oh his poor fragile unstable pride. He wanted nothing more now than to go and seek out Sparkplug, to have the attention shifted back in her direction.

Flatline considered speaking out on this, to remind the Commander that she was probably waiting for them, but... he very well knew better than that. To try to misdirect so blatantly, would get the other mech's piercing red eyes to focus that much harder, and show greater interest. Perhaps Starscream would snap at him that he would do what he wanted on his own time, or other things. Because of this, Flatline went quiet, to let the silver mech guide them next.

[Starscream]

“Mm, probably for the best.”

A simple comment in response to Flatline's words. He was sure Shockwave had his reasoning for sending Flatline – who seemed to be a brilliant mind and capable scientist – out to check on beacons like some Vehicon drudge, but he wasn't about to dwell on it. It wasn't his problem.

The response to his comment about Knock Out however did not go unnoticed, and while he wasn't making a point of staring at the now twitching optic of the other mech, he had most certainly seen it.

But he would not comment.

His words were true – as much as Flatline did not want to hear nor believe them. Knock Out, for all his priss and flair, he did have a very busy and important job here on the Nemesis. His... assistant could only do so much to help. Breakdown was a soldier, not a medic. So to have another who did have a medical background who could assist with the workload sometimes? Well it was beneficial indeed. Flatline was useful on multiple levels and in multiple areas, and while he may take offense to the phrasing used – there was a compliment in there somewhere should he look hard and deep enough at it.

Which he probably wouldn't.

But again, not his problem.

As much as he'd rather the two medics got along, to help further his – the Decepticon – cause? The rivalry between them in some way probably made them work harder while separate – each one wanting to out do the other simply due to complete and utter pettiness. Something to think about and possibly utilize later, but not now.

His attention shifted back to the cube, and he'd narrow his optics as if in thought.

“Good.”

Flatline was lucky – he knew just how irritating Skywarp could be, but thankfully Flatline had been savvy enough to work out a solution to the problem, and quickly. Hopefully the other Seeker would be entertained for at least a week with the new toy.

“You did? Excellent – while I am sure nothing else will happen, it's always good to log things.”

He noted the quieter tone used by Flatline, and would shift his attention and gaze from the cube to the other mechs face. At least his optic had stopped twitching now...

Still there was an air of awkwardness now – the conversation had tapered into a halt. He'd seen the majority of what Flatline had been working on, and doubted that there was anything else of interest to be shown. Casually he'd pick at a thumb claw absentmindedly before gently clearing his throat.

“I suppose I have seen everything there is to be shown, mm? I should probably get back to my work – and you, yours. Sparkplug is probably wondering what has kept you.” his lips curved into a smirk at that, not forgetting how he'd sent her out after catching Flatline mimicking him.

Flatline's silent prayers to Primus or whoever for freedom were answered.

Unless, of course, he had more to show the Second in Command.

[Flatline]

Flatline's elongated fingers curled once Starscream was done observing the cube, allowing the object to fold back into his palm and become caged behind the black digits. The remaining substance was not particularly of much use any longer, the job completed and done with, but he kept hold of it 'just in case', though did not seem to worry about damaging its outer surface at all in the process. Any small projects that needed a bit more thermal insulation, he could cut off what remained and tool it after the fact. Whatever the case, he would fold his arm back down, listening to the Commander intently even though his mind still whirled with his hurt pride.

"As of this moment, that is all I have to show."

He said, a bit dejected.

It didn’t matter that what he did have to show WAS notable and impressive in its own right! Flatline just... was ever the perfectionist and couldn’t be a hundred percent pleased with what he had to show no matter how grand. Thankfully however, his prayers WERE answered just an instant after, and his helm rose a bit to hide the bit of eagerness that suddenly was felt, transferring that energy into an idle shift of his weight. His quills flicked slightly in the process, flaring away from his back a small amount.

"Indeed Commander."

A light dip of his helm accompanied this, a respectful motion to show submission before he dared turn his frame. With a light twist, Flatline walked away, and moved over to where he had retrieved the Aerogel initially, opening up the standard cabinet, and placing the object back in its home. Once he no longer had that in his possession, he turned back to the Air Commander, helm remaining angled down in respect.

"I am thankful you took time out of your day to look over my work. I hope it is up to your standards. Should you ever need more of me, I am always ready for a challenge."

A bit of sucking up? Perhaps. It was a true statement, one that he wanted to throw out there to see if he could get any other demanding projects that could earn him some independence and rank away from Knock Out's shadow. While his main project was notable and would take a massive amount of his time, doing other things in-between the work could break up the monotony, and could keep him sane when he was effectively putting together a million part puzzle.

Flatline dared not move towards the door then, allowing Starscream to set the pace, and allowing him to leave when HE wanted instead of being ushered out. Small little things of note to always remind the commander he was in charge here ((of course)), and that Flatline was simply a bystander to what could be the silver mech's lab. He hoped these small details would add up, to show that he could play by the rules and continue to have a place.

[Starscream]

The dejection in Flatline's tone was not lost on him, and he chuckled lowly in response.

“Quality over quantity is nothing to scoff at or be dismayed over, Flatline.” he purred. “While you do have little to show, what you do have is rather substantial – especially considering what you originally had to work with. You should be proud of your efforts.”

He understood why Flatline was so dejected over it though. From an outsiders perspective it really did not look like much. Thankfully though, Starscream was no outsider - and he acknowledged and could appreciate the amount of work that'd been put in to even getting to this stage. Flatline was skilled, that much was certain – which was all the more reason to keep Sparkplug close and as his 'in' to this side of the ship should he need his skills at a later time.

“Mm.” he hummed quietly in thought, bobbing his helm in response to Flatline's words. He wouldn't move as the other mech turned to store the Aerogel back into its cabinet, and would only step forward as Flatline spoke once more, thanking him.

“Thank you for showing me to begin with. I was unaware you had undertaken such a challenging project and am delightfully pleased at the progress that has been made thus far.”

The fact Flatline was sucking up to him was also not lost on him, and his lips curved into the most subtle of smirks. He did appreciate a mech that knew his place, and the pandering that came with that was always welcome.

“Of course. I will keep your words – and skills - in mind.”

Picking idly at his thumb claw, he'd slowly lower his arm to his side. He quickly figured that Flatline wasn't wanting to usher him out or seem like he was being rude in moving to the door first, and so Starscream would make his way toward the door – which slid open in his presence.

He didn't make his way through it straight away, however, turning on his heel to face Flatline once more.

“Until next time, mm? Should you make any major advancements on this project, I'm always interested in seeing what has been done. For now, I'll leave you to it. Ah – should you need to find Sparkplug's quarters, it's in the hallway that had the unfortunate flooding incident – you probably can't miss it.” he chuckled at that, shaking his helm before turning back and departing from the room – making his way back down the corridor and back to whatever it was he'd been doing earlier that day.

((Starscream out! Back to you guys.))

[Flatline]

Freedom!

Kinda'...

While Flatline played passive and complacent while Starscream made his exit, being courteous and polite, responding with 'Yes Commander', 'Thank you sir' and other such terms, once the silver mech had left and the door closed, the medic turned scientist let out a strangled wheeze of a noise. A flail of hands, a smear of the smaller secondary palms dragging over his face in a stress response, that entire confrontation had been an emotional roller coaster of fear and pride and ego smashing commentary. Add on a dash of flattery? And Flatline was emotionally frazzled.

But he sure as frag wasn't going to show that while Starscream was there.

What made it all worse though, was the fact he couldn’t return to his ordinary work, nor take a break to go get fuel or take a moment to rest. Instead, he had a job placed before him, and he really didn't know what that entailed exactly. He really didn’t know if he was meant to just offer his own insights, or if helping Sparkplug meant he had to actually HELP and put in physical labor of his own. Whatever it may be, Flatline shakily went back to his computer terminal, where he started to hastily type in some things and download them all to a datapad for easy reference. With the information on hand, he immediately left his laboratory, locking it behind him.

----

A clatter of hooves, a scrabbling rattle.

Why was he rushing?

Was he expected to rush?

Was Sparkplug waiting for him?

Did it matter?

Flatline was jogging somewhat down the corridor towards where he thought Sparkplug's lab was. Starscream's directions weren't exactly the most helpful all things considered, probably relying upon someone who had been a part of the ship far longer than he has. He didn’t know about any flooding incident! Then again... maybe that was used to help describe the area in general as the hallway's walls looked like it had been flooded? Did that mean there were water lines or rust forming near edges? No... no... that seemed far too messy and far too clumsy for Megatron to even slightly tolerate, and he has never encountered anything like that while skulking around the ship.

The laboratory portion of the Nemesis was not terribly huge compared to other sections, limiting the spots where the femme could currently be hiding. She would not DARE be next to Shockwave ((or Flatline would have an absolute fit as his ego was challenged again)), and she did not seem to be anywhere near him as none of those labs were occupied, or were occupied by supplies or Vehicon's maintenance works. That left a couple other halls, where his awkward jog trotted off into a more casual lope, which then slowed into a walk, his vents snarling some.

It was quiet, but... not for long, considering Flatline wasn’t going to disappoint Starscream.

"Sparkplug!?"

The first call was a bit hoarse and awkward, the voice almost cracking some as if embarrassed to be yelling someone's name down an empty hallway. It more sounded like 'SPAR' with a choked 'plug' that followed up after. The disjointed attempt at a name echoed awkwardly, Flatline's quills bristling up and rattling some with a few clicking chatters.

"Sparkplug!?"

The following attempt was more boisterous and clear, his walk continuing, hoping she'd hear him and pop out from wherever she was hiding. His helm did crook a bit when he thought he heard a few bangs up ahead, red optics narrowing some while he continued down the bend.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug surveyed her dank, rusty empire like a general contemplating the aftermath of her civilisation's collapse. Rivulets of rust marked the walls where water had once flowed, collecting in thin, knobbly stalactites at the edges of shelves. The shelves themselves marched in densely packed, half-collapsed rows to the rear wall, lost in the shadowy gloom that was barely relieved by the dim, faltering light strips overhead. Mysterious objects whose function and form had long been lost to the general metal decay slumped against each other, welded together by corrosion.

Against the tottering ranks of vertical scrap, the small femme stood out like a signal beacon, clean, shining white, with her hand on her hip. Mildly, in matter of fact tones, she remarked to no one in particular, "Well, this is one heck of a mess."

It was a mess she was very lucky to have, she immediately reminded herself. She'd gotten all the way to the Warlord's personal ship. The odds against that were enormous, and yet, here she was. She'd been given lab space. She'd been given a tour by the second in command of the whole Decepticon armada. This was a super-impressive, chromium-plated, gift wrapped mess.

Somewhere amongst the piles, a lighting element broke free from the ceiling, swung from one end for a moment, then fell free and shattered in a shower of sparks.

Welp.

"Alright, you giant heap of festering, rust-streaked garbage, let's get to know each other a bit," she told the shadowy store room. "Now, I know you're used to mecha walking in, throwing up their hands and stomping out again, never to be seen again. Well, don't you worry. I've got just the thing for what ails you." Snapping her fingers, her hand split apart and folded away, a round, many-toothed blade emerging in its place, and Sparkplug held it up as if for inspection. "Presenting, all the way from Avilla, Doctor Circular Saw! So-"

A call came from the corridors outside, ringing out in the silence. "Hm?" she asked with a mild frown, distracted. Stepping over to the door - still jammed open, and probably not going to shift for a while - she cocked her helm to listen. This time, she heard her name ring out clearly. It sounded like the burly mech with the grappling hook cannons. Well, Commander Starscream had said about his coming to help her. Apparently he'd survived whatever telling off he'd received for his unspeakably badly-timed impressionism act.

"Flatline? Hey, Flatline! I'm over here!" she called, cupping her single hand and the sawblade either side of her lips. She had a lot of scrap to get moving, and if he was willing to help out, all the better.

[Flatline]

Ah good! He was going the right direction.

Flatline's progression down the halls slowed slightly to a far more casual lope when he actually heard a reply, pleased to know he wasn’t wasting time by looking in the wrong chunk of the ship. He part wondered if he was mistaken in instructions earlier, and that she was closer to manufacturing rather than science, but whatever the case it all worked out, his footfalls nearing and turning the bend that permitted him to finally see the opening, and the small multi-wheeled Femme.

As he approached the doorway, Flatline's rather... flat... expression, actually contorted into a level of wonderment and amazement at what he was looking at. This wonder however, was not because she got a large laboratory, nor for its nice quiet location. What he was mostly floored by, was simply HOW trashed it had been, and how much work would need to be done. The idea that he was told to assist, even if it was just for the first few steps along this new adventure, made his mouth gawk open, bottom teeth visible while helm crooked up to look along the ceiling and the damaged doorway.

What did Starscream do to him...?

When Flatline had gotten his laboratory, it looked like a laboratory. It had tables and cabinets, it had a basic computer console and it had tools that were already stored. It once upon a time must have been someone else's room, the user being clipped down through the war machine, or may have angered Megatron and took a one way trip off of the Nemesis. That said, it had been a lot of work for him, because he needed to reconfigure it all, and make it work for his needs by installing the forge and other devices. This however? This was an entirely different ballgame here. This was a new level of 'a lot of work'.

Sparkplug was working from scratch.

All the custom wiring, needing to bring in or manufacture specific tools and components needed for her particular sub faction of science... even just the raw tools needed to make the most simplistic of furniture such as tables... That would be work and a half on its own, but slapped down atop all of this she probably had days of hard labor cleaning, and that was assuming she was a real 'go getter' which, he felt was a safe bet from her energetic approach. But motivation could only carry you so fast, and this was a real project she had dumped on her back.

"Who did you anger?"

Flatline's gawking silence finally broke with these words, mouth still hanging open while red eyes were wide, looking across the decrepit shelves and freshly sparking broken lighting rig. Maybe this was some kind of challenge for the newcomer? A means to put her to work and keep her occupied instead of having her sit on her hands due to the truce...? If she didn’t have a laboratory to fix up, maybe she would be left stagnant and it was exploiting her free time? It was hard to say, white pinpricks of optics flicking from one mess to the next in horror.

[Sparkplug]

Heavy footsteps clumped down the corridor, and Flatline's bulky bode hove into view. For a mech that was, perhaps, sometimes less expressive than others, the look on his faceplate was very easy to read.

It could be summed up, in short, as 'what the actual frag'.

"...well, didn't think I got on anyone's nerves in particular," she replied, with an expressive shrug of her slim shoulders. "Not even been here long enough for a scraplet to gnaw the finish off a washer. Still, there's some decent space here, under all the junk. It's just gonna need some serious hack and slash to get it all rendered down. But what I reckon I'll do is-"

She pivoted on her heel. The room they stood in was a long, rectangular room, with a doorway perhaps a fifth of the way down it's long axis. Gesturing to her left, at the shorter stretch of the chamber, she remarked, "Think I'll fit a false wall in, 'round about there. Don't need a lot of space, jest a recharge rack and some kind of panel to keep it behind so it's out of the way. That'll be the quieter end, where I'll keep any specialised storage and computing substrate.

"Down the far end, way down there in the tangle-" she gestured down the axis of the room, towards the far wall, "-Reckon I c'n plate the walls with some spare armour, set up a firing range. Just a little one, but I don't want to be hoicking experimental gear with odds and sods hanging off it every which way down the corridors looking for somewhere to test fire it. As for the rest of it, heavy machining work can go down near the firing range, where a little blast vibration won't bother it, and the delicate stuff can be up here in the middle somewhere. I'll need to scavenge a closed-loop circuit foundry from somewhere."

For a moment, the image of the space was vivid behind her optics, clean and efficient and properly organised into functional groups. Then the broken light fitting emitted another brief electrical crackle, and her gaze was drawn back to the reality; a huge wall of broken trash that she needed to clear out of the way before she even had something as sophisticated as a clear floor. She sighed, shaking her helm.

"Anyway, yeah, it's gonna take a lot of work to get this place into shape. Might be that there's no free lab spaces around. Might be that the bulkheads are thicker down here so if something goes bang, there's less chance of it doing damage to something important. Might just be that there's been a note on this room for a long time, saying 'For the sake of Unicron's rusty talons, get some mecha to do something with this foul mess' and I've pulled the winning chip. It's not so bad. Once I clear it all out, I'll be happy enough with it, and I've started from worse."

Looking up at the gnarled, complexly structured mech, she added mildly, "D'you have any suggestions on how you'd lay it out, or where to find equipment for all this? Speak loud, while I get to sawing." Crouching down on the floor next to the mostly-empty rack next to the door, she spun up her sawblade and brought it against the nearest strut supporting the frame, a fountain of sparks shooting out as she began to gnaw her way through it.

[Flatline]

"You got space, I will give you that."

Flatline announced, her laboratory larger than his by a fair bit, but... a larger environment only meant that there was even MORE to clean.

The ever present gawking expression slowly faded while Sparkplug started to explain her train of thought, his mouth closing save for his lips that remained parted enough to still sport a faint sneer. But while his expression had relaxed a bit, his eyes were still widened, white lens plates dancing from corner to corner while he tried to envision just what the femme had planned out. From what he could see, it would be a functional area, but there were other things that can always be considered and exploited, and Flatline was not short on his own thoughts on the matter.

As the femme started to ask if he had any ideas, the black and red mech carefully started to step forward, pronged hooves clicking against the metallic floor as he delicately stepped around any points that looked weaker, and any bits of scrap metal. Not even a flicker of debris were disturbed as he daintily moved, digitigrade limbs carrying him to look down at the felled light while forearms laced at his lower back.

Instead of shrieking over at Sparkplug over the shrill of her saw, Flatline tossed an open Comm line in her direction, trying to establish a simple connection so they could speak without resorting to screams and hollered 'what!?'s when things were missed.

::I think your plan is sound, but a couple things will need to be considered::

He started, gaze shifting up to look at the ceiling to try to judge exactly how tall it was above them. Being the size variance with their people, it was a notably high room so individuals like Megatron would not skim their forehead on the ceiling, which meant that there were some interesting options that could be used.

::One thing I suggest is to allocate more space for storage than you initially think you may need. I ended up having some of the overflow breach into my personal quarters::

A simple suggestion, but one that could be overlooked. He didn't know how much space she was going to give herself, or if she already considered the fact that she could be given any number of different tasks and as such needed varied storage... but it was a courteous thing to mention, since she had everything as custom as imaginable here. Flatline didn't even get to choose his layout this entirely in his own lab.

::Due to your smaller stature, and vacant floor plan to style however you see fit... I would take advantage of the vertical space as well as horizontal::

Turning, one of Flatline's long arms unfolded from behind him, bladed talons curling up to gesture absently at the wall where she had indicated she wanted a recharge rack.

::I would install a reinforced ceiling plate to cap off your living quarters as low as you feel comfortable, and turn the overhead area into long term loft storage::

Being small had its perks, Flatline not able to even remotely consider such a thing for his area. He would end up standing up and grating his helm kibble on the ceiling, or it would feel exceptionally claustrophobic. But the femme came up to his chest, and what could clothesline him, could be comfortable to her. If she chose to hack the area in half 60-40 or however it mathed out basically, than it would be like she never lost out on any floor space to begin with by having to actually live here.

::Or you could inverse it, and make your living quarters suspended, but things may be awkward and uncomfortable::

An 'ehh' gesture accompanied this, Flatline not keen on the idea. While slimming down a living area that much could be good for the workshop, it could impede comfort and create strain in the long run. He would wait then, intending to cover one topic at a time before he threw his two cents over the other questions.

[Sparkplug]

Keeping an optic on Flatline, to make sure she didn't cast a spray of sparks over him from her saw, she was surprised to see how precisely he moved. The top-heavy bulk of his shoulders implied a lumbering gait, and the digitigrade hooves didn't look that agile, but he slipped through the packed, crumbling shelves with an odd grace entirely at odds with her expectations.

His voice sounded clearly over the radio, and she nodded thoughtfully to herself. Good idea. It really was too loud to speak normally, not with her audials full of the banshee screech of tearing metal.

::You've got a good point, there. Thinking too much about what I'll build, not enough about where it'll go when I'm done. Best to tackle that from the very start.::

Her saw slipped for an instant as it cut through the last strand of metal, and she grabbed the shelf, just in case. The remaining three legs held it steady, and she vented a small huff of air. Shuffling along the rusty deck a little to more easily reach the next leg, she glanced up at the high ceiling thoughtfully.

::Sure is a lot of vertical space. Could build a whole drop-ceiling up there, now that i think about it. Break it up into segments - big segments - and fit a lil electric winch under each to raise and lower it, you could have a serious amount of invisible storage.::

She tapped her fingers against the shelf upright thoughtfully for a moment, visibly tempted by the elegance of the idea, before regretfully shaking her helm, and bringing her saw blade against the metal again.

::Suppose not. Over-elaborate. I do like the notion, but it feels too complex to be reliable, long term. Probably don't want some things rattling around directly overhead, too. Better to build high storage along the walls, and sort myself some kind of actuator lift to get me up to where I need to be, when I need something. Maybe some refrigerated compartments, too.::

The shelf was beginning to slump downwards as she cut into it, struggling with the increasing damage to the second support, pinching at her spinning sawblade. Grabbing hold of the underside of the lowest shelf, she lifted it up a little and kept sawing.

::Whole bunch of storage over the recharge rack, too, yeah. That's a solid idea you've got there. For non-volatile stuff, at least. You don't want to be entering a recharge cycle fretting over whether the gear overhead is going to start dripping acid on your nice paintjob in the middle of the night.::

The blade spun through the last shreds of metal, and spooled down to a quieter hum. Brushing a few fragments of hot metal from her smooth thigh, Sparkplug pushed herself up onto her feet, circling around to the next corner. Obviously, it was going to take a while to clear the room, but the task didn't seem to daunt her.

::Going to need some kind of platform I can customise for different chassis types, too. Can't just have one big slab. The really big ones will be draped over the edges, and the small ones will be out of reach. You need something dynamic, adjustable. So what else've you got in mind?::

[Flatline]

Flatline was pleased that Sparkplug seemed to like the idea he proposed, but just as soon as the idea was grabbed onto, the femme ran with it across a line to a new level. A simple stationary platform up top to act as loft storage, was a completely other ballgame compared to having a motorized system to lift and lower potentially volatile components for storage. He was about to cut in, and state that it probably would not be probable, as well as how it'd be time consuming to manufacture and install... but it appeared she came to a similar conclusion right after.

Nodding his helm in agreement, Flatline stood upright and turned to look back at her, folding out his hands from his lower back so that he could gently hold the datapad he brought with him in front of him. His long talons slightly curled over the device's smooth surface, but other than settling it at rest in front of him, he did not reference or regard it yet. Instead, his jaw twisted a bit while he thought about her last question.

::Back when I worked with medicine, we had a medical slab available to us that was far from traditional::

He spoke calmly about this with an inkling of longing, missing the tool dearly. It was so helpful for his day to day work at that outpost, but... it was hard to say if it would even be slightly applicable to Sparkplug's line of work. For all he knew it would be a trouble more than anything else... but it was worth bringing up.

::It was multiple smaller plates held steady by adjustable arms to allow for customization. If we needed to work on a small individual, all of the pieces came together to make a solid table akin to a traditional slab... however... if we worked on someone larger, the plates could spread out to support primary chunks and distribute the weight::

It was exceptionally useful when different frame types were being shoved through the door as fast as possible. Warriors who got mauled on the front lines... filtered through the doors and then back out again into a holding area as fast as possible. Stabilize them; patch them up just enough, and then move on to someone else. They could worry about finishing the job later when everyone wasn’t at the edge of bleeding to death.

::It would leave gaps in between the platforms for larger individuals, but it worked well to hold wings out of the way, or other spikes and fins that could slot in-between::

His gaze flicked down to the rotating saw and sparks.

::I do not know if such a table would work for you, to have large holes and voids that your projects can slip down into partly... A more archaic idea is to simply produce a pair of table legs that slide back and forth on a track to varied lengths, and then have a variety of flat and leveled slabs that can be placed on top. That would give you an even surface to work with no holes, but you would need to fold up and change it out dependent on project::

After he said this, Flatline moved the datapad up so that he could hand it off to his secondary's. The small arms gripped tightly onto the edge of the slim piece of metal and glass, before tucking it up against his chest so that it was fully out of the way, its screen facing his body so it didn’t get scratched while he moved. With his arms freed, he would then walk over and dip down, begrudgingly picking up some of the scrap metal Sparkplug had cut free that was a manageable size to carry.

Lifting up the garbage, he started to move over to the piles that were ready to be taken away, aiming to place it down and contribute a little. As junky as this all seemed, some of it could probably be melted down and salvaged on some level after the rust was sandblasted off.

::It all comes down to how complex or how much effort you want to put in for convenience, and then weighing if that added effort is worth the momentary boons::

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug worked steadily as she listened, the screech of spinning blade against metal toned down as she reduced the volume of her audials to pay better attention to Flatline's radio-transmitted voice. He was good at describing what he meant, and she could vividly picture the medical slab, her attention drifting slightly as she thought about how the multiple arms might be programmed to adjust automatically to a chassis type without the need for manual configuration.

Getting distracted while cutting was a bad idea. Her saw chewed through the third upright and skidded free, tugging her off-balance before she recovered herself. Focus, she told herself chidingly, and kept her optics on her work as she turned her attention to cutting through the last upright. What Flatline was describing did sound useful... though yes, really complicated, too. A sliding table would work, and provide a flat surface, but there had to be a midpoint between the super-advanced and the crudity of tugging bits of table around.

The last upright was severed cleanly, and the rack slipped off the stumps, tilting forward. Wriggling out from under it, she eased it down to the floor, and began cutting the shelves off. As each chunk came free, Flatline picked it up and stacked it with the small pile she'd already made of rotted detritus from atop the shelves, and she nodded appreciatively to him.

::Thanks, that's helpful::

Straightening up, she moved over to the next row of shelves and began clearing them, carrying the larger rusted items over to the pile, and simply tossing the smaller ones. After a few moments of thought, she radioed in a thoughtful tone.

::Okay, how about this. Picture a square slab, on a linear actuator lift. That's the centre of the table. Then, at both sides of the slab, there's a hinge, and another piece of rectangular plating hanging down. Then that plate is hinged to another as well. Say, oh, five plates in total on each side, linked to the centre one. If the hinges were slack, they'd hang straight down, but the hinges are sprung, so all five are trying to curl inwards, forming a segmented metal tube under the edge of the main slab. Right?::

Setting down the piece of scrap she was carrying, Sparkplug began describing a shape in the air with her hands, the idea taking shape in her mind as she explained it.

::So, you have a channel on the underside of the metal plates, with a strip of gear teeth down the centre. Then there's an adjustable-length arm, from the centre pillar, with a big sprocket on the end that fits in the channel. So, if the arm lengthens, the end slides down the channel and pushes the next plate upwards into place, and when you want to lock the arm where it is, you fix the length of it and lock the sprocket so it can't turn, and then the attachment point can't slip. That way, you get adjustable width, and a solid surface to work with. You don't have to control multiple arms in three dimensions, just the length of the rods::

Looking across the cluttered floor, the white-plated femme focused distantly, seeing the finished design, rather than the mess that currently obstructed her.

::Yes, that works... let's say four sections, from top to bottom, each of which has a pair of rods and separate hinged plates. So you can adjust the width of the table independently in four bands. Hm. Doesn't sound too hard to build, you'd just have to make sure the plates slotted nicely into each other when pushed up to lie flat, so you got a smooth, consistent surface::

Cocking her helm, she twisted around towards Flatline, and added mildly,

::It's more complicated than the sliding table, but a bit more design work here will pay itself back a hundred times when I'm working, and it's not too complicated overall. How does that sound to you?::