[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Small-Talk! [open/Hazmat]

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Episode: 2 – Week: 4 – Day: 4
Location: Neutral Base - Bar.
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It wasn’t easy to achieve privacy, at least onboard the Nemesis. Every step, every movement which occurred within the ship halls were monitored, patrolled and carefully taken care of to provide a line of organization and to keep everything in order. Any misstep and it would be known by whoever would keep watch and lurk in the shadows.

Of course there were certain spots which could be sought out to gain a rather small amount of privacy, but it only would last for so long. Individuals passed by, came and went as they pleased, quickly hurrying to any location they seemed fit to escape the gloomy environment of the warship, lost in their own little world and thinking, believing that they would be safe, but reality hits hard, sooner or later.

If someone wished to achieve privacy, real privacy… they would need to seek out the outside world, and even then? It would be known. However, it didn’t matter as long as it would free them from the oppressive darkness that the ship could hold upon them.

The Neutral Base, or better known as `Haven´ provided shelter for those who wished to remain factionless; no sigil was worn in these halls by the individuals that lived here, and no conflict was hold against each other. So it seemed. But war had left its mark, even in those halls that did not wish those conflicts to unfold had experienced the depths of it, suffered from it. And yet? They welcomed Autobots and Decepticons alike.

The occasional sounds of chatter, machinery and movement that filled the area were a welcoming change, weaving through the air and slowly fading into the background as the dim lighting illuminated a vast area, shining lightly in a somewhat yellow and orange mix upon the various tables that had been lined up along the room to welcome any guest who would wish to take a seat. A room covert in different shapes of metal and other materials which could be found on this planet, trying to resemble and mimic what they once had lost; the architecture familiar, the atmosphere quiet and calm, friendly so to speak, giving off a vibe what someone could describe of… `feeling at home´.

It was at one of those few rounded tables back in an arched corner that had been occupied by one lone Cybertronian, pedes propped onto the table, silently sitting in the warm light that fell upon his black and white armor as its weight rested against the wall behind. Optics dimmed and gaze lowered in a way that would leave facial features hidden under the cap of its helm as he merely listened to the soft music that played in a lower volume, trying to relax in the lounges atmosphere and tapping on the lit up screen in his lap.

The room was pretty much empty, except of the ever so eager working barkeeper behind the bar, a silver and white armored femme which seemed to appear a grounder as some sort of tires had been mounted in her shoulders, sweeping and cleaning the table top in circular movements with a simple piece of cloth.

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Hard to believe that this base is even here. Hazmat thought as he stood in the middle of one of the base's generator rooms. With his arms crossed over his chest and his pedes spaced neatly apart, the black and green bot appeared to be simply standing guard, but he was doing everything but; six beams of yellow light were shining out of him where his collarbone would be if the large mech was a human, and these beams of light were slowly passing over the entire generator room, scanning ever single square inch of it.

Earlier that day Hazmat had come here for the simple task of holding up some support beams as they were welded into place to keep a storage room's structural integrity good after the rock above it shifted, caused by a nearby sink hole, when his decontamination sensors went off. A quick scan later and Hazmat found something he didn't expect; a radiation leak. A bit of routine maintenance in the generator room had one generator open for too long to replace a bit of conduit causing some radiation to leak out. The generator was closed now so no more radiation was escaping, but a radiation cleanup was required despite how small the leak was. It was too small to effect Cybertronians, but the radiation could be detected by humans if it was allowed to escape, and since Hazmat was designed to clean up such stuff he volunteered to help.

So here he was, finally doing what he was built to do after eons of doing everything but; not a Decepticon saboteur, not an Autobot artillery commander, and not a survivor on a dead world... but a custodial bot doing what custodial bots do: cleaning up someone else's mess. He had already been in several different hallways that led to the generator, so now he was cleaning up the last room now, the source of the leak.

As the yellow scanning beams passed over the last bit of the generator room searching for any remaining trace of radiation, Hazmat considered the very concept of there being cybertronians that were still neutral. The very idea actually seemed impossible from his perspective since both the Decepticons and Autobots had legitimate reasons for fighting this war and both sides were very good at recruiting new members from those that hadn't picked a side. He'd know... he'd been on both sides of this war, and had to live through the results. Now if these neutral partied Cybertronians were refusing to pick a side in protest of what the war did to Cybertron, then he could understand why they chose to not fight. He was getting sick of all this conflict too. But no, these mechs and femmes had chosen to not fight at all. Back on Cybertron that just made you cannon-fodder, and here on Earth where supplies were hard to come by that just made starvation far more likely.

Sighing through his array of vents, Hazmat shook his helm and turned off his scanners. No radiation detected. It seemed as though the neutrals were good at keeping their home safe, so he help wasn't needed after all... which was why he assumed the way they were thanking him for helping was only a voucher for one free drink in the bar. Hazmat didn't drink high-grade that often before the war since different high-grades reacted with his reactive armor differently. Sometimes it made it impossible to get drunk, while other times the countermeasures backfired and he got blackout drunk right away.

However, one drink couldn't hurt.

Job done, the large Autobot made his way through the halls of the base, still amazed that the neutrals chose to give it a set up that was similar to that of Cybertron. One could say that it gave the base a 'feeling at home' vibe to it, but it didn't have that effect on Hazmat. He had spent so much time on the dead metal world after the war that he found himself not wanting to return... ever. If a way to restore Cybertron had been found and the Cybertronian population on Earth left for their home world, Hazmat would once again be left behind... but this time by choice. He was sure he could survive alone on this planet while staying away from the humans. He did it before he could do it again.

Entering the bar, Hazmat took a quick glance around and spotted a single Decepticon that was doing something with a screen. Just one wasn't much of a problem for the black and green mech considering that there was a truce. The femme that was at the bar however turned her helm to face him right away, seemingly eager for business. Walking towards her with his pedes making their signature 'clump clump clump' sound, Hazmat stopped at the bar and placed his voucher on the bar counter. After a questioning look from the bartender, she gave a nod and flicked a servo towards a screen that had the list of high grades. Now it was just a manner of picking which one he wanted.

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The music wasn’t quite his taste as it lacked the heavier kicks and drums, the higher pitched screeches and a brutal rhythm to get someone in the mood to destroy the dancefloor, but for now it matched the atmosphere and was somehow relaxing. Which had to do for the time being.

Continuing to read upon several data displayed on the screen, the black and white mech shifted his pede lightly, crossing it over the other as a low vent escaped him, concentrating and enjoying the few beats that abruptly joined the slower song. Yeah that was more- wait!

The sporadic occurring sound didn’t seem to match the rhythm of the song and sounded strange in its own acoustic way, leaving the Cybertronian to raise his helm in order to risk a glimpse. It didn’t came from one of the speakers, no, but furthermore from the entrance.

Bright red optics peered ahead, glaring through the dark tinted visor as to scan the source of said sounds. It only took a second to see where they had come from as one tall Cybertronian entered the stage and walked up to the bar.

Blackframe squinted at the sight, silently judging who this individual was, or rather could be, though making no effort at engaging the unknown mech just yet and merely observing his movements.

He could see that he was big, way taller than him, maybe even taller than Megatron? Perhaps not, but his mass was definitely impressive. His frame had been covert in a black and green color variation, and it seemed that this individual was some sort of grounder; heavy armored vehicle would be the officer’s first guess as he seemed to be a Frontliner of sorts, considering that this mech was packed with a lot of defensive plating and armor.

Anyway, the green Autobot badge stamped onto his chassis was an alarming sight. In response Blackframe´s own frame tensed and he began to nervously shift into his seat, weighing his chances of victory or defeat should some sort of confrontation occur. The decision was made up pretty quick, without his weapons this battle would be lost, though wouldn’t hurt to try.

The gestures of the barkeeper however gained his attention and were indicating enough as to witness that the black and green bot had been interested in some of her wares, though hesitated to pick. Oh well, screw it, time to throw some suggestion´s into the ring!

“Get the most expensive one, it´s free anyway so cheerio! You gotta live once!”

He only raised his voice so far as to be heard, or at least hoping to be noticed, adding some sharp tone to his words as he merely lifted one servo into the air, mimicking to hold an invisible cube before lowering it again.

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To say that Hazmat found himself liking the music was to say that the sky was blue. Sure he was getting into that rock music that Shale kept playing but once in a while you just needed to calm down and kick your pedes up... and a softer tone of music helped with that. However at the moment he wasn't really thinking of the music, nor the very dutiful bartender that was patiently awaiting him to tell her what drink he wanted, but rather it was the choices that were available for high-grade. Most of them were labeled with the term 'Nitro' or 'high octane,' which was typical with with high grade. However in Haz's experience any drink with either of those two labels in them were going to react badly with his reactive hazard armor. He had watched it happen to other custodial bots with his type of armor, and had experienced it himself, and after just one drink; those two types of high grade cause an abnormality within the hazard armor's processors, they try to counter act it and over compensate... and the custodial mech or femme becomes drunk on the spot.

And chances are it would effect him even faster due to his energon levels being low. Maybe he should just have a cube of Energon instead. It was a good idea too; he'd partly fill his tank, he could work a little longer, and he wouldn't need his Energon ration as soon so others could have a little bit more.

The black and green mech was about to make that choice when the Decepticon he had noticed from earlier shouted from across the room... and what he said made Hazmat's field bristle with annoyance. Who was this Decepticon to say what he should spend his drink voucher? Turning to face the mech, Hazmat quickly sized him up to be a fighter. He was no bigger then the famous Bumblebee and therefore the former artillery commander could toss the mech around like a Lob ball with ease, but in Hazmat's experience bots that size were fast and had a tendency to fight dirty, so they always got in at least one hit that dealt considerable damage, even against one as heavily armored as Hazmat. If this resulted in a brawl Hazmat could safely assume that he'd win... but not without taking a few nasty hits followed up by getting chewed out by Optimus.

No... now was not the time to restart the war... now was the time to put bitterness aside and use his head... as he always should do.

And after a half second of thinking he simply shook his helm in the direction of the Decepticon. "Sound advice, but I prefer to think straight." He said, then turned back to the menu.

As he did so Haz couldn't help but glance at the most expensive drink on the list and... oh... it wasn't a nitro or a high octane, but rather a drink made from a combination of ingredients found on Earth instead of Cybertron. It was so expensive because of how much it had to be refined so it was fit for Cybertronian consumption. In terms of it's level of high grade it was actually rather low to moderate. Huh... that could be interesting... or dangerous. It could have no effect, it could be worse then the stuff that reacted with his armor... or it could be fine.

"Oh... what the hell why not? I've lived it up before I think I can afford to do it one more time." Hazmat said and took the most expensive drink. A cube of something amber in color was place in front of the large mech, and Hazmat picked it up and examined it, puzzled. Out of caution he had his decontamination system scan the substance to see if it was safe, and in turn the bartender looked at him as if he had just insulted her. With an apologetic nod towards her he turned away, reviewing the results of the scan. The drink was indeed safe... but it was impossible to tell what would happen when he did drink it.

... or more like if he drank it. That amber coloring just seemed wrong.

But one thing was for sure; the annoyance he felt towards this particular Decepticon had been misplaced since his suggestion was relatively harmless now that he thought about it. However he wasn't going to apologize for his emotional display. It was Decepticons that had good speech work that had gotten him to join them after all.

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As the Autobot replied Blackframe remained silent and would merely listen of what this big mech had to tell.

The words he chose, the gesture he´d made and how his frame moved in every tiny bit had been indicating enough as to tell how much he respected the opinion of a stranger, an enemy.

There seemed to be no hate, no pulsating rage or any spontaneous feelings that would allow this mech to lose control over his emotions. Instead, he remained calm, conversational, though the faint hint of annoyance barely visible as it seemed to ghost over his frame, disbelief of how someone would take the right in throwing a suggestion into the open.

The black and green bot seemingly didn’t wish to start a fight, which was a welcoming fact for the officer as this could be a one-time chance to obtain Intel right out of enemies’ hands. A chance that he wouldn’t allow to fade away as this could be favorable to the Decepticons later on.

Blackframe knew he had to be careful, he knew he had to play it safe as otherwise at the slightest provocation a confrontation could form, which consequences he best would like to avoid.

Nonetheless, the burning need to engage was still heating under his plating as millions of years of war and hate couldn’t be shoved aside that easily. He knew for what the Autobots fought for, but he also knew that they were the reason of a corrupt system they´d lived in, and that was ever so more reason to get rid of those tiny little pests as soon as possible.

Most relied on the term `go for the Spark´ as this was un-doubtful their most vulnerable spot, though targeting their legs first, immobilizing and stunning the enemy was a given, at least for Blackframe. Something that can´t move, can´t run! A quick movement, a fast approach and a sharp twist with a blade through any exposed joint could leave some serious damage.

Curse the Neutrals `Non-weapon-policy´.

Shaking that thought out of his processor he lifted his pedes off of the table and pushed himself off the seat, turning the data-pad offline and starting to head over into the Autobots direction. With slow and careful strides he moved forward, raising his helm in order to keep his field of vision upon the other as he kept his own field tucked closely.

“Huh? Seems like you´re not very loyal to your own words.”

He purred this out with some amusement behind his words as he would continue to close the distance between them, yet keeping some as to avoid any incoming hits should they occur.

“Talking like some big deal of thinking straight and yet you decided to take the most ominous looking drink you could find, funny.”

Shifting his weight some more and resting his servos upon his hip, he would point towards the cube with one smooth gesture of his helm, nodding and wondering what kind of magic brew the Autobot had just ordered.

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Taking an additional step away from the counter, Hazmat kept an optic locked onto the amber colored drink as it sloshed within the cube he was holding. Yeah it was being served so it couldn't be lethal, and his own decontamination sensors cleared the drink, but still this stuff looked weird.


And the fact that it clung to the sides of the cube before it flowed down indicated that it was gonna be stuck to the insides of his mouth a little while before it would finally go down his throat... so the taste would linger. That was an unsettling observation; it was going to flow slowly through his system like a sludge instead of passing through. This stuff my have a low high-grade count, but it was going to linger a bit longer then a normal drink.


The other optic was observing the Deception that was in the room. Even during a truce in neutral territory the black and green mech wasn't going to turn his back on a 'Con. As a result Hazmat was well aware when the mech stood up and started to approach him. The Autobot's field didn't indicate any sort of anger or hate, but Haz did have an air of wariness about him. Being cautious around the enemy was a requirement, even under these circumstances. Still, wish I wasn't so transparent when it came to my emotions. Oh well.


"Its not that I'm not loyal to my words, I'm just wise enough to admit when I'm wrong." Hazmat admitted as he lifted the cube closer to his lips. It was true in a way; he had joined the Deceptions early in the war based on facts that were one sided. When he realized he was wrong he switched sides. He paused with the cube inches from his face plate to say "You had an opinion that was reasonable. Getting the most expensive drink with that free tab was a good idea... then again just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's the best."


He then smirked and said "Don't get use to me accepting your opinion Decepticon." he then lowered the cube after taking a sip. As expected the stuff stuck to the inside of his mouth and going down his throat. Once it hit his systems his reactive hazard armor activated for a split second, causing the seams of his armor to glow amber for a second before dimming back down to normal.


Huh... I can't tell if that stuff has a kick or not. Either way it's gonna be there a while. Hazmat thought as he shrugged. "Meh. Bland."

[Deleted]

The Autobots field of caution and wariness was something that Blackframe could pick up easily. It felt good to know that even someone as big and tall as this mech saw him as a threat and maybe even respected him as an individual. And in respond? Blackframe straightened his frame as to become more recognizable, displaying his chassis to the front while looping his arms behind his back as his helm rose gradually while doing so.

Keeping his stance as proud and steady as he could, he did not try to intimidate the other as he'd no reason to, but if it would be seen as such? The better for the officer. He would let this Autobot know that he wasn't someone of the low ranking drones, though right now it wasn't a show-off and Blackframe had to remind himself as he listened to the other.

“Wise words for someone as big as you… I´ll give you credit for that.”

He admitted and wouldn't deny that the Autobot had spoken the truth. Taking the most expensive one seemed like a good idea, but on the contrary he'd never said it was the best, nor had he indicated that it could be and would merely roll his optics as he continued to listen, not wanting to dig any further into that topic.

Though, hearing upon the other ones statement of `acceptance of an opinion´ left Blackframe falter in his stance. His field bristled with annoyance, hate would radiate off his frame towards this particular individual without hesitation or shame. He couldn't believe what the Autobot had just said and would merely grind his denta together in order to silence himself.

Autobots were all the same! Arrogant and selfish slag who believed that they were better than everyone, typically behavior of those who put themselves above others... but at least he now knew that this mech didn't saw him as an equal and that his assumptions from earlier had been wrong.

How much he yearned to shred this one to pieces.

However, Blackframe noticed the faint glow of the other ones armor and would try to focus on that instead, trying to distract himself off of the words the Autobot had just said. It was surely a rare sight to witness as he'd never seen someone lighting up on a simple cube of energon, or whatever it was the Autobot had just swallowed.

“Whadda frag waz that all 'bout? Yer som' kind of warning beacon or what? Da slag's that stuff anyway?”

Trying to change the topic and hoping the Autobot would roll with it he did not made any effort to keep his prideful stance, shifting to a more casual one as any respect he held was gone by that moment and simply flicked one servo in a rude gesture into the air before lowering it on his hip again.