[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Broken Molds [Flamesnort]

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Flamesnort earnestly thought hard about the question posed. He scratched the underside of his chin as he did so. "So my time keeping was not precise but my best estimate is that I did not see my first human until perhaps 30,000 years ago." He nodded to himself deciding that was as accurate a guess as possible. "They were using stone tools, their group factions small and nomadic as they hunted and foraged for organic resources." Flamesnort no longer shivered in disgust at the notion. He had a lot of time to come to term with the alien nature of organic lifeforms. 

"They are a virus, a plague! Endlessly claiming all they can and their technology is 'evolving' at a rate that is to be forthright, terrifying. The sooner they are exterminated, the better." Flamesnort blew a small plume of fire to accentuate his claim. "But enough of those nightmares." He concluded

Flamesnort reached around behind himself, and from a hewn alcove brought forth a machined aluminum box. He turned on his berth and placed the box on the stand between the berths. "Right, so what we have here is a game called connect four." He opened the box, proceeded to set up the very simple frame, and then separate the blue counters from the red. "The aim is simply to have four of your own color counters in a row before I do, either sideways, up and down, or diagonally. We alternate to drop in our counters from the top, one each per turn. It sounds simple but the complexity is hidden. Are you happy with this? You may go first if you are."


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‘Oh. So he's a... Switchfoot, what's that fancy word?’ Swansong gave no signs of visible surprise upon hearing Flamesnort’s views of the humans. They merely kept up with their constant movement. While they didn’t think highly of the organics, they could still appreciate the various art forms they had to offer up. “Yes, enough about those creatures.” A sagely nod and a tone used to compliment the mech’s vocal disgust.

’A xenophobe. A dislike for strangers- in this case aliens.’ A side glance directed at their new roomie, one where their shutters constricted slightly. Switchfoot had thoughts, opinions on this matter- biased ones given their curious nature. Once more there was that plume of fire- that giddy excitement that followed and often overpowered distaste.

The twins soon approached the centre stand, both helms watching warily as Flamesnort set up the game. They crouched so as to be eye level with the frame. A claw moved to poke at one of the coloured chips- a purr of their engines suggested amusement. Then they went to grasp the playing piece...

That purr transitioned into a deep rumble. Frustration because their claws were designed in such a way that picking up the chip was impossible with just one servo. With both claws, Switch made a reach for a blue counter, only for the gesture to stall and jump back in an almost aggressive nature. The twins turned their respective helms to stare down one another.

“I want to be red.” Swan quickly glanced back at Flamesnort and merely chuckled. “They tend to be difficult about their wants- please don’t mind them.” A glare shot back at Switch, challenging denial.

Switchfoot’s audials folded back in protest, but their helm sunk down in submission. ”Yes. Fine” The two words were empty, no static pushed into them. No emphasis. They reached for the red as instructed, awkwardly balancing the piece between their two claws. Without consultation, they made the first move. Part of the frame relaxed, almost smug in a way.

“Hey! We’re on a team, we’re supposed to decide together!” Shrill protest, a rise in tone that ended in a whisper as they remembered the time.

Switchfoot studied their twin in silence, proceeded to ignore the outburst, and then addressed the mech directly. ”Yes. This game will make me quite happy.”

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Up until that point of Switch and Swan struggling with the counter, Flamesnort had really been trying to keep his mind of the morbid nature of Empurata. Just the sheer existence of such a procedure was ample reason for Flamesnort to hate the Autobots and their extinct senate. He understood many of the victims possibly got exactly what they deserved, but that understanding was on an intellectual level which was not his strong suit. 

Flamesnort himself did not possess fine fingers but instead fairly brutal claws, but his feedback was good and he could be quite delicate with them if not particularly dexterous. Seeing the twins struggle with even a simple game counter garnered greater sympathy. Sympathy Flamesnort at least knew to keep to himself. Most people he met wanted respect, not pity, so that's what he gave instead. He did however smile at the interaction between the two heads. As far as Flamesnort understood, no empurata had been committed upon anyone since before the war, ergo, the twins had been together since at least that long. Four million years and still bickering. Had they gotten better in that time, or worse he wondered.

As expected, the first counter went in the center. Even for advanced players as Flamey understood, it was still the most logical place to start. He picked up a blue counter and slotted it down the center, right on top of the red one of his opponent/s. Simple first moves that would shape the game to come.

"Have you been given a duty yet?" He asked. As best as he could tell, one of them desired to work in medicine, but he didn't see how that was possible with a notable lack of fine manual dexterity.

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Both helms focused intently on Flamesnort as he made his move. Swansong was rather intrigued by this seemingly simple game. Their optic switched from game piece to face plate, trying to pick up on a thought process they were not privy to. When the mech made his move, Swan let out a low melodic hum. They seemed to be enjoying the simplicity of the game whilst also failing to plot their next step.

Switchfoot was barely focusing on the counter itself. Instead they were watching the movements that it took to place the piece. They weren’t particularly surprised to see how Flamesnort made his play. No, it was expected that he had little trouble in this strategy game since he was the one to suggest it after all. Still, it was interesting to watch his servo function. Especially so since his hand also aided in walking.

“Not quite. As of recently we were told to put ourselves under Knockout’s command.” Switchfoot spared a glance to the frame. Distracted by the question, they weren’t applying much focus to their next step. “Until we can get a new set of servos, we will most likely be handling less delicate tasks- whatever they may be.”

Swansong was much more interested in playing, so they took advantage of Switchfoot’s absence. Being careful to move in a more subtle way, they managed to finagle the counter into a place they wanted it to go. Once settled into place, they gave a definitive nod.

The soft plunking sound of the game piece landing caused a double take from Switch. At first glance, they were only reacting to the sound. The second check was when they processed the play. One of their adial fins flickered in annoyance, dispelling an arc of static. “Swan. What was the point of that?”

While processing the question, Swan looked from the game, to Flamesnort, and then finally their twin. “Why revenge of course!” They waved one claw in an overly dramatic flourish. 

Switch took a silent moment to observe the set up. Then they deadpanned over to Flamesnort. Staring at him was a safety precaution taken to quell their annoyance. “Swan... You are aware we are on the same team?” They shook their helm, realizing a simple game was no place to hold anger. No further comment was made, they didn’t need to start another argument.

“Are we really though?” A high pinch to their tone. Swan gestured to Flamesnort. “Maybe I switched sides, and I’m helping our new roomie! Have you ever thought of that?”

Switchfoot made the better decision to ignore the mess they happened to share a frame with. "You mentioned earlier that you could swim better than almost anyone here, correct?" A small tilt of a helm, optic refocusing on Flamesnort yet again. 

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"Thank you for the offer of help Swansong and I hope that I am not too presumptuous but I believe your..." Flamesnort paused for a half second as he chose his next word carefully "twin will need your help more than I." That was as gracious as Flamesnort could put the odd situation further unfurling on the opposite side of the game. 

"Yes, I enjoy swimming very much. Unless there is anyone here with an aquatic alt that I'm not aware of, then yes, I back my claim." The quad framed lazily waved his tail back and forth to accentuate his next statement. "Social stigma can get damned, my build is marvelously hydrodynamic. Chasing down mercurial slivers in the wastes of Kaon necessitates certain physical traits my frame and ones like me possess." He sighed happily at the memory. "Those were good days, almost as fun as sinking squishy submarines." 

"Forgive my forthrightness, but you look like a compatible size for the vehicon troops and their spare parts. If you are ever able to get on Knockout's good side, might be worth asking him for the procedure. And that way you could help him further." Whatever had happened to the twins in the past, was to stay in the past as far as Flamesnort was concerned. He detested the Autobot senate, and all they had done so create such poor victims as the one whom he now conversed with.

"So, what other interests do you have? I'm not sure how this dirt ball of a planet plays out for everyone, but seems that there is something for every spark." Flamesnort asked and he plonked down his next counter.

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Switchfoot wasn’t one to take a liking to anyone. They were the impartial sort, not interested in befriending others. So when Flamesnort backed them up against their twin’s betrayal, there was the faintest feelings of positive inclinations towards him. There was very little physical cues to note such a change in temperament. Switch’s staring might have softened in the slightest, regarding the quadruped mech as another being and not just some fun science project.

Swansong took the rejection in stride, being much too pleased with the wording to be bothered by the answer. “I suppose you're right. Switch probably would not get far without me- literally.” They maintained a smug tone, they faintest chuckle humming out of their vocoder.

Switch let the jab pass, it was mostly harmless. The joint frame took a moment to stand, not even bothering to ask permission. Why would they? It’s not like they can control the need to move. The pair stretched despite not being seated for long. That stretch turned into the idle walking of earlier, wings fanning to dispel their excess of energy.

“Perfect.” The word in itself could not display how pleased Switch was with Flamesnort’s response, monotony had that sort of effect. The static that usually laced their speech had lessened, a good sign. “Gaining the CMO’s approval is an end result, yes. We need parts first.”

Swan was listening idly until they finally caught up to their counterpart’s plan. “You’re not serious? Please tell me you’re not.” There was disgust in their tone, and a high whine.

Ignoring Swansong, Switch continued their musings with Flamesnort. “The Nemesis had many casualties, yes? It is in the water. You swim. We recover the dead. Win. Win.” They were not the type to joke, even if Swan needed them to be. “Spare parts are half the battle. Compatible size does not mean compatible joints.”

The pair swept by the table, leaning over the play board and taking a moment longer than necessary to plan their next move. It didn’t take long to place the counter, they were adjusting to how things needed to be held. After the play, Switch disconnected one claw from their wrist and held it limply before them. “Additional parts are needed to maintain a connection.” Instead of wrist joints, the twin’s had some sort of cuff that acted as a socket. They were buffed over, but welds could be seen at the connection sights.

The joint frame stuttered in some of its movements as Swan fought quietly against Switch to replace their claw back to their wrist. “To save you the audio ache of Switchfoot’s ramblings- they like studying other lifeforms.” That was putting it as softly as possible. Switch deflated slightly at the missed opportunity. “I take an interest in various arts. It’s much more classy.” A positive hum as they briefly tented their newly connected claws. “Aside from the hunt, what else do you occupy your time with? Is it more games?” An excited statement not meant to poke fun.

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Flamesnort perked up at Switchfoot's suggestion of exploring the sunken wreck. He had honestly been wanting to go down to see what he could but had yet to find the right excuse or direction to ask permission. It was likely not a mild undertaking to see a warship. He was actually hoping one of the officers would request his presence in some reclamation project, and put his talents to full use, alas such had not happened yet. Maybe this was the push he needed. Retrieving the bodies of the lost was a noble pursuit too, so Flamesnort would have zero issues in that morbid task.

While he was thinking about diving, he was most definitely watching the Twins remove their own hand. This he was not expecting. His gut reaction was mild disgust but it quickly fell to morbid fascination. There was practicality there he had to admit, but, he guessed, at the gruesome necessity. His attention shifted again as the next counter was placed, and no surprise to the move was given.

“I've studied a multitude of lifeforms out of sheer practicality and experience, certainly enough to have worn away all desire. I do fear however my intellect is not up to the task of cultural pursuits, I'm a bit too close to the ground for that I'm afraid.” Flamesnort chuckled lightly at his self depreciation, he had not the ego to pretend he was anything other than what he was at spark. He placed his next counter and then answered the question posed.

“Games yes, simple ones like this, but mostly solitaire type ones, sudoku and other puzzles, but truthfully nothing too challenging. Though the subject matter is alien to my sensibilities, this mud ball does offer a multitude in the arts department, and the flora and fauna are varied beyond belief. I could maybe offer some help to get you started if you wanted.”

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While minor, Switchfoot was pleased to note Flamesnort’s intrigue in their next venture. His aid would make the task go over so much more easily. His relatively open personality? It was the cherry on top. Siding with the mech would help present their actions as well intentioned. In a way they were. They just also happened to be slightly self serving. Do good things to get in good. Behaving- that was their primary directive.

“The fauna here have bored you?” A brief glance, carrying that analytical stare once more. “How unfortunate.” Switchfoot felt no ill will in that moment, only pity. To grow bored of such fascinating creatures... it was an unbearable thought they did not wish to entertain. “We have a start in our studies. Additional research is greatly appreciated.” Switch was the type to always vouch for working independently. Though when they required outside aid, as they did now, they would make a point to emphasize on collaboration. It has more often than not, produced good results.

“Are the games you play not part of the culture here?” Swansong tilted their helm towards the board, keeping their optic focused on it even as their frame turned for the next bout of pacing. “Or are they not important enough to consider them so?” Swan didn’t bother to wait on answers for their questions. They weren’t really the type to debate or seek opinions. “Do you take any interest in the medias they have produced?” This topic was more their speed, simple things. Harmless interests.

Switchfoot had collected a counter on their next pass, focusing more on the board before continuing their next circuit. They stared at the red piece balanced between their claws, plotting their next step and waiting for any silent affirmations from their twin. There was finally a subconscious agreement to work together, they were after all, outmatched by a seasoned player.

“Music. TV. Those of any interest?” Swansong oversaw the conversation while Switchfoot made their play. It was easier that way. It was their usual method. Talk shop while the other worked the shop.

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“Well it's just that all the lifeforms here are so...squishy, all of them! Aside from the trees I guess and they burn. However..” Flamesnort rocked his hand vaguely “I do suppose I could lend my experience if you desire to research the pitiful creatures, no shame is such intellectual pursuits.” He’d seen enough to last several lifetimes but if someone wished to study Earth’s fauna and flora, well that was fine by him.

He chuckled again having been caught out in the tiniest of while lies, and one completely unintentional. “Well I guess the games must have some cultural connection or history, but I confess I've only looked for the immediate engagement.” Flamesnort mused for a moment, a new thought in his processor thanks to the implications his erstwhile opponent had provided. “Perhaps I am being a little bit xenophobic…” He puffed a tiny flame of self irritation. He had no right to get philosophical, he knew he was no great thinker. Cybertronians were inherently better than evolved life and that was that.

Flamesnort shook his head at Swansong’s next question. “I never set out to watch their tv or listen to their radio, but if you hang out with the vehicons, it is inevitable. Some of their sports actually do look fun, and I find their instrumental music tolerable.” Flamesnort paused long enough to study the game for a brief moment before making his play, slotting his counter straight down center.

“But what about you two? Is there much you both enjoy? I honestly can't guess at how much overlap there might be.” Flamesnort wondered if there was any overlap at all. The two being seemed as different from each other as they were from him.

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“Perhaps just a little.” Swansong echoed Flamesnort’s self reflection. They weren’t judging the quadruped for his xenophobia. There was no point. From reading their twin’s notes, Swan already knew Cybertronians were already better built than humans. Yet somehow, those tiny little fleshlings managed to produce some rather impressive media. Swansong did not make that settlement lightly as they fancied themselves a theatre critic.

A very poor one at that.

“I’m not one to endorse the humans, but you’re really missing out on some good stuff- once you get past their weird little faces.” Swansong cautioned a glance back at the open doorway, hoping there was no one to overhear such sacrilegious words. “Of course you didn’t hear that from me!” They moved a claw to their helm in a shushing motion, taking control as Switch was trying to grab another token.

Switchfoot merely paused out of annoyance, it was a minor thing really. They flicked their optic back up to Flamesnort, pausing in what might be puzzlement. “Something that we both enjoy.” The monotone words played with a delay, Switch was stalling because they had to think.

Swansong was quiet for once, seemingly eager to see what their counterpart might have to lie about.

Rather than answer right away, Swithfoot took a moment to place their playing piece. “We like to learn. About others.” They tilted their helm to the side, audial films held lightly in a neutral position. What they liked learning about others varied, but the interests were similar enough. Both also liked cutting open said others, but their dear roommate did not need to know that.

“Medical dramas are fun too. Best of both worlds. You got the medical and you got the drama!” Swansong butted in with their own input, they had heard enough from their twin who seemingly passed some unspoken test. “We don’t get much in terms of shows from back home, so we substitute the human stuff. We both try to guess at whatever ails them before the show finishes.” They spoke lightly, as if the memory brought them some form of joy.

And it did. The pair were still new to the base. That didn’t mean they couldn’t miss their little streaming nights where they simply existed with one another. No bickering. Grudges momentarily forgotten.

"You hunt. You game." Switchfoot nodded slowly at Flamesnort; a poor attempt to redirect back to the mech. "Do you do both at the same time? Is that possible?" They were far from familiar with what he did. Some understanding would certainly add some character to their notes.

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Speaking of weird little faces, the pair, or was that trio, of occupants in the room had possibly the weirdest in the base. It was a thought Flamesnort was not inclined to voice. But true to bigoted form, He did find human faces, and most organic positively abnormal. It wasn't the shape of the lifeforms though, form follows function after all, but just how fragile and squishy everything was. 

Flamesnort shook his head a little. "Their visual media does little for me I'm afraid, their sports are about the only thing I enjoy. But to be fair I suppose, I wasn't keen on drama back home anyway." He didn't care for needless drama, and everything on TV seemed overwhelmingly needless. 

He paused in thought as he noted the move made by the twins. It seemed they were up to the task of a decent challenge. They were clearly thinking through their moves with at least a modicum of tactics. Flamesnort approved and made his own counter move building for the long game.

"Yes, In some way every hunt is a game, though some hunts are far more serious than others. Hmm, lets give you some examples. Digiwasps are always serious, a very careful bait and eliminate operation because of just how aggressive they are when they swarm. No fun there, all business." Flamesnort waved a clawed paw flippantly. "Ding-squirrels on the other hand just run and it essentially devolves into a game of chse them into traps." With this he gave a toothy shark-like grin.  

"Though between you two and me, there are things in this planet's ocean that give me pause, great predators whose territory I dare not enter." Flamesnort optics glowed their brilliant purple in the darker light of the subterranean room as he spoke briefly on the horrors of the deep.

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