[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Making an Impression [Closed]

[Jazz]

     "Really? Stick around. I'm full of carin'. It's in my blood."

     Jazz didn't really know Carbine all that well so he figured the comment about him caring was just about that. Then again, maybe he gave off a distant read since he was usually not out and about around the base? If he wasn't helping Red with the cameras and patrolling just to have an excuse to get out of Omega or going to his 'secret spot', he was holed up in his room listening to his music. Guess it made sense that would give off the weird impression. "Eh, swoonin' femmes aren't really my thing. I'll leave that up to you, Casanova." Jazz just wanted to let that go. After all, his spark already belonged to someone else, even if they were just a passing memory at this point...

     Once through the ground bridge he looked between the three over at the console. A new arrival, an old comrade, and now Avalance. Their little family was growing and he had to make sure that the newest addition knew that the behavior she had exhibited was not tolerated. At least nip that in the butt before Optimus ended up hearing about the situation or something happened and it was found out that nothing had been said to her about it. When the ground bridge had closed and everyone had settled in, Jazz cleared his throat, he stood there and placed a servo on his hip. 

     "Commander Avalanche," Jazz piped up. The femme outranked him as far as title went within the team, but where she would be on the totem pole was ultimately left up to Optimus. For now, he'd just give her the respect her metal had earned her. "The display ya just exhibited? No. That ain't allowed. For one, ya gonna need to learn that everyone here operates as a family unit, and with that everyone's gotta have some level of respect for one another. Don't gotta like each other, but we do gotta work together so put those differences aside."

     Jazz turned his helm towards Carbine as he made his next statement. "I ain't gonna make a big deal about it since Carbine ain't... and he should go see Ratchet." He hinted at that being a high recommendation with a look to the mech. If Carbine didn't do it himself he would at least tell their medical staff about it and see what they decided to do about it. Then turned his attention back to Avalanche.

     "There ain't a lot of us here and a lot of problems out there, so we need to have everyone workin' at their full. Especially now that Prowl's here, since he'll probably get us into some of the worse situations that we'll need our skills for. Just... let certain things go, yeah? Optimus got enough stress as it is without needin' to worry about infightin' and childish disagreements."

[Deleted]

With other more experienced and competent mechs around, Rain felt no need at all to add any to the conversation. Instead she maintained a semblance of duty at the ground-bridge controls. But looking busy while still listening was an easy skill to proactive, and Rain had practiced a lot her whole lifetime. So she was surprised when it was Jazz’s words, out of anyone’s, that caused her to grimace inside.

If Rain had read anything into the Commander, childish as an adjective was not a trait on that list. Carbine on the other hand, did seem capable, though that was a very early judgement to be fair to the helo. Rain silently wondered what had happened between Avalanche and Carbine. No one appeared to be in any way bent out of shape, she couldn't read anything into anyone’s fields except for a brief spike, possibly from the new Commander but she wasn't sure. She certainly hadn't spotted why Jazz was recommending Carbine go to ratchet.

The lithe flier was guessing that something had gone down whereby Avalanche was used to tight orderly military discipline, and had thus been presented with the opposite. Rain had been surprised just two days earlier how lax things were at Omega Outpost in terms of discipline. Family they might have been, but distant relatives slammed together at some odd reunion. It’s why she sympathized with Red Alert.

She suspected a storm on the horizon, and patiently waited to bear witness.

[Avalanche]

Turning to Prowl as the yellow-visored mech spoke, Avalanche frowned thoughtfully. So there were members of the local species working with the Autobot garrison, as well as hostiles fully aware of their presence. Maybe it was inevitable; a full-on war couldn't be hidden from everything on this planet, not with their sheer numbers. Strange, though. Inhabiting her new avatar had been one thing, but actually meeting and talking with the humans would be another. Something she'd better do sooner than later, if she was going to get any feel for the species.

"Be careful with the humans. Right." She nodded at the mech in acknowledgement. Given the size disparity, she'd have to be. Maybe it'd be safer to converse through the holo, and keep her main chassis a safe distance away. Still, such things were for later. As the other two mechs emerged from the space bridge and the portal swirled out of existence, she kept her focus on the strategist, nodding as he explained where she'd need to go next.

"Medical checkup, then Red Alert; got you. Thanks." Prowl might be a chip off an iceberg, but he conveyed what she needed to know concise and fast, and she appreciated that.

Carbine's comment earned him a sideways look, but also a shrug of one shoulder and a half-nod. Security specialists were almost always paranoid by the standards of other mecha - the only truly safe thing a soldier could do was sit quietly on their hands in a corner with their weapons disabled, and even then they were probably planning something. No 'normal' activity was ever good enough.

Which was right about the time Jazz spoke up.

It took a moment for her to register where the shorter mech was going with his impromptu speech. Surely he wasn't-

He was.

A distinct flash of anger lit Avalanche's field for a fraction of a second before she clamped down on it, withdrawing the field to hull-minimum. Her body language shifted, spinal strut stiffening, arms straightening by her sides; a wall of scarred and dented metal, orange optics narrowed balefully.

There was one very simple rule when it came to disagreements among officers. You raised your concerns privately. What you did not do was invite an argument in front of the troops, and you did not do it in front of the mech that was being disciplined in the first place. And you sure as the Pit did not accuse a ranking officer of being childish.

All of which summed up to this: here was another mech that looked at her and didn't see a Commander in the Autobot armed forces. He saw a blunt tool that couldn't be trusted. Oh, the endless millennia she'd had of that! Condescended, insulted, talked over, spoken about as if she wasn't present directly in front of her. A brute that needed to be kept on a short leash.

It would have been easy to argue back. She knew mecha like Carbine, and they weren't hard to spot: always pushing, daring you to take them seriously, daring the galaxy to punish them and laughing when it didn't. An official reprimand would have had him cackling in the corridors: words were worth little, and paperwork even less. She'd applied a short, sharp demonstration that had been over in seconds, and he'd have learned a limit. Except now Jazz had ruined that, instead teaching the lesson that Carbine could get away with anything and be protected from consequences.

Respect was earned. Carbine had shown none. She wasn't the type to rigidly enforce rules for their own sake, but his stunt on the radio had been during an active pursuit - there had to be some level of discipline. And the implication that she might have clumsily damaged him enough to need a medic's attention... that was just insulting.

If this was how the garrison was being run, it was only a matter of time before someone got maimed or killed because orders were suggestions, and consequences didn't exist at all.

All of that burned behind her heavy plating, her black lips tight, but if there was one solitary lesson that had been pounded into her over her career, it was this: when being accused of being unprofessional and spoken down to, do not give them ammunition.

"If you have a problem with my disciplinary action, I expect it to be raised in private. Though perhaps things were different in the Elite Guard." Her words came out flat and hard: given his unit, there was no excuse for not knowing better. "If you have any suggestions to make, then you can make them once I've been assigned quarters."

Her helm turned slightly, gaze flicking to Prowl and Rain. "I need directions to the medbay. Then I'll find Red Alert, if he doesn't find me first."

A spike of bitter frustration was lodged within her chest, engraved with the knowledge that once again, she'd have to prove herself to another set of mecha that looked down on her. The sooner she removed herself from their direct presence, the better.

[Prowl]

“Red Alert does his job effectively, something you should take note of.”

So apparently the other enforcer was named Carbine. Now Prowl had a face to the name. He had time to review personal files since his arrival and had noted this mech on his watch list. Former prisoner in the Garrus system meant that even though the exact records had been obliterated when Garrus had been raided for soldiers, he still was someone to keep a very close eye on.

And apparently, he had done something idiotically towards Avalanche according to Jazz, although Jazz seemed more concerned with the new commander’s reaction and apparent disciplinary action than what Carbine had seemed to have done.

There were few bots that Prowl trusted with his life, Jazz being one of them. Apparently from his statements to the femme the Commander had resorted to some sort of physical disciplinary option. Something Optimus would never approve of. Though Carbine seemed okay physically, it was still against Prime’s style.

Perhaps Jazz should have waited to bring it up, but perhaps not. Prowl looked towards him with a glance indicating he should bring him up to speed as soon as possible.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Avalanche’s body language shift. Defensive, angry. The field around her flashed before she buried it. An attempt at professionalism. So, she wasn’t hopeless, though as he listened to her response he looked up into her optics, his own narrowing behind the visor. She seemed to handle this better than he had handled Wheeljack a few days earlier, but this needed to be addressed here and now.

“You would be wise to take Jazz’s suggestions into consideration, Avalanche.”

The tone was flat, the same tone that he used when giving an order. It wasn't the same as Optimus' baritone command voice that seemed to move mountains and turn heads in a room, but it worked for Prowl most of the times when he needed to convey a point and finish a conversation in a single sentence.

He stared up at her from behind his golden visor, mouth set in a firm line. Despite Jazz’s lack of a formal placement in the rank structure, Prowl had learned eons ago to take most of his suggestions into serious consideration.

He motioned with his head towards the med bay at the end of the control room, then turned and began walking towards the personal quarters, giving off a set of orders in quick, efficient and precise sentences.

“Med Bay is that way. Carbine, inform Red Alert we have a new arrival that he should speak with immediately. Rain, see which of the medics are free to perform a medical check. Jazz, I'd like a word with you when you have a few moments."

Following standard procedure. If this femme was volatile, he needed to know so he could account for the variables when making a battle plan. He intended to interview each one of them that had been involved in the incident separately before he submitted his recommendations to Optimus Prime.

[Carbine]

Oh, this was great, and it a hundred and ten percent was NOT what Carbine expected.

The second Jazz started to verbally reprimand the new Commander right in front of him... effectively fighting on his behalf? The ex-convict eased upright a bit from his relaxed posture, eyes widening as he did so. It was not a starstruck look of 'Oh wow! Someone is defending me!', no... if Jazz wanted to do such a thing that was on him. What got HIM was that he was confronting the femme right here, right now to possibly kindle up some kind of big-ol confrontation within the base to strike down her methods before they could find any foundation here.

He and Thunder... they were never put on the 'A Team'. The fact they somehow managed to find themselves among the most prestige the Autobots had to offer was some kind of absurd joke played on everyone around them. They had always been slapped on the outlier little scrungy groups. Power hungry leaders using the strength of a fist over words to keep soldiers in line, in order to hide behind the warzone as a 'tactical advisor' or in Carbines opinion... 'Colossal Coward'. This was further cultivated by the fact that words were useless to the soldiers that were pried out of Garrus. Those that lived through hell and fire only responded to brute force and savage superiority. A pack of dogs looking for a pecking order where a polite request was nothing but background audio.

Carbine expected Avalanche to be like one of these. Someone to be concerned over, someone to instantly set into line and behave under her watch. If she really was the type to swing out and make her stand? Than he would cow back and pacify to respect this power and preserve self... but no... all of this threat, all of this worry? It was being crippled and cut down because this team was so much more official and formal. So much more LOGICAL with its approach. On one hand he should count himself lucky, wipe off his brow and move on with his life... on the other he instantly saw a bear that was going to be caged and shackled by a bear trap, able to be poked at but unable to swing out in retaliation unless he stepped too close to the bars and pushed his luck too far.

Easing forward, Carbine's shocked wide eyes narrowed sharply instantly after, a thin line with the bottom edge crooked up drastically so. He may not have a face, but he could sure imply a sort of smile, and a wicked one was being flung Avalanche's direction like a child smirking from behind a parent's back. He practically consumed every response that flicked across her, from the straightened posture to narrowing eyes. It was beautiful seeing her punched.

Oh, Avalanche had him down to the letter. He spat in the face of fate, brushed off verbal reprimand, and liked to push boundaries to see just how far the line would go. He was an absolute menace, and... Primus... was Prowl in on this too!?

A crooked jitterd movement, a sort of popped stiffness in neck... Carbine's helm crooked over to look at Prowl in disbelief. It was one thing for one goodie goodie to defend him, it was another for TWO!? Oh, this was absolutely golden. He cherished every fleeting second, yellow eyes snapping back up to look at Avalanche, his frame practically crooked forward at this point as if it would help him get even closer to absorb every little look of indignation she seemed to be hiding under a veil of professionalism. He couldn’t just stare however forever, he had been addressed, and so a low crackled chuckle rumbled out.

"Oh wow, is tha-a-t̡ wh̨ere th͘e ͠Me̵dical Bay is? I̡ ́h̴ad ̨n͏o ̀i̢d͟ea."

Stifled laughter, though his voice was fluctuating so much with static from pent up joy that the heinous levels of sarcasm were somewhat muddled. He couldn't believe that someone who had barely lived on this base was giving HIM directions to the Medical Bay? Really? He practically lived in there for awhile after he hugged a grenade and somehow survived like another bad joke from Primus! Only... Carbine had been so engrossed in trying to absorb every detail of anger out of the new femme, he had missed some bits of the actual conversation. He fully thought Prowl's directions had been flippantly offered to him in order to get his wrist looked at, and didn't realize he was sticking his foot in his mouth by assuming as much.

"Very well, ͡I wi͞ll͟ g͝o̢ ͏ge͏t my little hand ̢l-lo͏oke̷d at, I can͜not̨ st́a̛nd a͡ny ounce of d-d-iscomfort..."

Now THERE was a more pointed and obvious sarcasm. Carbine lifted his arm while he said this, pushing off the wall while cradling his hand to his chest as if it were fractured, flicking his helm up and back with an overdramatic movement to pair with it. He would turn then, starting to walk towards the Medical Bay as the 'leaders' directed him to, though he did so at an angle. As big of a shackle as Prowl and Jazz may pretend to be, he wouldn’t dare turn his back fully to Avalanche, or really, any of them in the room. Rain even wasn't trusted with that, her meek little quiet approach to hide into the shadows was not lost on him, and he didn't know how to read her... so he didn't trust her. She was an unknown wildcard he simply would not cast aside.

Whatever the case, Carbine let out a snorted spattered laugh finally bordering on cackle, before he would depart unless told otherwise.

[Jazz]

     Contrary to everyone thinking he must have had some rank within Optimus's cabinet that put him in any position to give orders or make demands was dead wrong. The Elite Guard title didn't give him any rank standing. It was nothing more than a fancy name for the best in their fields, organized and there to do the dirty work and take out the trash before it got to the Autobot Leader. He wasn't an officer, never had been nor had he ever been part of the A Team because he couldn't be bothered with all that. He never colored inside the lines nor operated the way he was supposed to. Jazz's connection with Optimus, his oath to do what was needed to ensure he was kept safe and that his vision for the future was fought for cleared that pathway to the Elite Guard. His undeniable skill set kept him there. Even now his orders still came from Optimus, but he had to merge those with the orders from all of these ranked mecha and it was difficult to juggle sometimes. If the actual officers wanted to reprimand him for saying something about what he saw that he didn't like, that was on them. Avalanche was included in that. She could put him in lock up and he would have to stand there and take it because of her position in the command chain.

    As far as everything else was concerned? Sure, Jazz may have been out of place addressing her here in front of the others, but he also wasn't one to let things burn for very long. He'd had his words twisted and been backed into a corner in private before, and that had always left a bad taste in his mouth about doing anything one-on-one. Letting the actions of a ranked officer towards one who was technically under her command go without commentary in front of at least one other ranked mech ( two in this case, if you counted the camera in the sky ) would have left an even bigger one.

    Jazz was silent- processing the situation. Avalanche had bitten him in her own way, and now that the conversations were done...

     "Yeah, things were done different in the Elite Guard, alright." He said that with a heavy vent. They had been much more disciplined there because of the esteem that they held, but to be honest there wasn't anything sacred there. The Elite Guard operated as a separate entity with their orders coming directly from Optimus himself. They really weren't that different from the Wreckers- outside of the actual tight-lipped way they operated and the fact they actually took orders. The habit of being reprimanded for failure to complete missions was common place, but that was within their operation and it was neither discussed or addressed by the outside world. "But I guess that's why they're mostly all offline now, right?" There was a bite to those words that Jazz didn't mean to let slip, but it was obvious he was now no longer in a mood to be social. His visor flickered and the light dimmed slightly as he stood firm in his newly found irritation.

     The Elite Guard was not something he liked to talk about. He'd been primarily thinking of his unit when he had said the last part, but he left them out of it. They were not going to be part of this conversation. There were definitely something sacred that he didn't want to bring up.

     Jazz would have been happy with just waving them all off and leaving without anything else. Carbine could spout his sarcasm, Avalanche could throttle him again, and he would just let Prowl handle it since he knew more about how the internal workings went on and would probably be more suited for keeping them in line. But, of course, Prowl wanted to discuss things with him. Now, of all times. Primus be damned, his timing SUCKED. 

     "It's fine, Prowl. My bad. I'll be best to discuss my concerns in private or with Optimus directly in the future. As the Commander said- I'm used to things bein' handled waaaay different." Though the tone was light-sparked as usual, his expression hadn't changed and his visor did not brighten to its usual intensity. "I also suggest either escortin' them to the medical bay or at least sendin' them separate, sir. Carbine's mouth may end up gettin' him into more hot water, and I don't really wanna be peelin' him off the walls." There was a shrug, then he turned his back and started to the corridor leading to the private quarters.

     "I'll be headin' back to my quarters and try to get some rechargin' in. Prowl, when you're ready to chat just find me there, okay? I'll leave the door unlocked." 

[Deleted]

"Right away sir." Rain responded to Prowl's instruction, quite happy for the small task all be told. The emotions - or blatant lack thereof - in everyones fields was a wind thick enough to fly. Before her empurata, Rain probably would have taken delight in the scene unfolding, but now, it just felt awkward and unreal to her. 

"Commander Avalanche, please allow me to escort you." Rain gave another small nod of respect to the new commander, her tone and field both positive and polite. She was less eager to appease the tall femme than she was to just leave the storm behind and mark it down as a single incident not worth fussing over. 

"We currently have two medics at this base. Ratchet is the senior medical officer, while patch is the junior though she is certainly more than competent. We...." Rain paused suddenly as Carbine went to the medical section too. "We...will take the long way round." Rain, by far the most green member of the team was at a loss as to exactly where to fit in. Her social skills had degraded to a degree over the eons of war. She was glad that the meeting, such as it was, was over as everybody seemed to be on their way to other engagements almost leaving her alone with the Avalanche. 

"If you are interested Commander, once you have been cleared by Red Alert, I offer my services as a tour guide for this outpost." If no one else was going to make a good impression, Rain would try her best to fit the role.

[Avalanche]

Avalanche's hot orange optics shifted from Jazz towards Prowl as the enforcer spoke up, supporting Jazz's inappropriate reprimand. Her field was already clamped to hull minimal; the sharp pulse of furious frustration that she felt was locked inside, kept behind a faceplate as unmoving as that of a visored guard.

Your suggestion is noted.

She nearly spoke the words. Didn't. They'd have come out too barbed, too tangibly stung. Instead, the hulking femme silently tracked Prowl's gesture towards a door leading directly off the control room, stencilled with medical sigils. It made sense, now that she registered that it was there: anything exiting the space bridge could be hustled directly into surgery if necessary.

It wasn't what she wanted. What she wanted was a moment in an empty corridor to centre herself, to bleed off the anger that pulsed through her fuel lines with every hard thud of her core pump, but that wasn't on offer.

She didn't look over to catch Carbine's faceless smirk at first, knowing the expression without ever directly looking at him, but her fists tightened at her sides as he swanned across the command centre, playacting the wounded party with infuriating insincerity. Her optics locked onto him as he circled the edge of the chamber, never putting his back to her, before finally slipping into the medbay with a final derisive laugh.

That laugh was a mistake. The scales had been balanced before; he'd crossed her, she'd pushed back. Now they were uneven again, now he thought he'd gotten away with it. Sooner or later, he was going to have to learn differently. There were a great many ways for her to make his life difficult without laying a finger on him, and by Solus's hammer, he had earned them.

Later. Not now. Patience.

Entirely focused on the closed medbay door, it took Avalanche slightly by surprise when Jazz spoke again. It was, also somewhat unexpectedly, half an apology for the way he'd handled matters, and a pledge to do things differently in future. Good. That was good. The momentary easing of her frustration was cut short, however, when he immediately went on to suggest that without supervision, Carbine would need to be 'peeled off the walls'.

Her engine rumbled within her chest, a short, sharp sound of displeasure, but she made no move to stop the former Elite Guard from leaving. Instead, she folded her heavy arms across her chest and turned to Rain, listening as the slender femme politely and respectfully offered guidance through the base. She seemed determined to act as though the argument of her superiors simply hadn't happened, and under the circumstances, that might be for the best.

She also hadn't done a thing to earn Avalanche's ire, and the gaze of her single optic was a constant reminder of just how roughly the universe had already treated her. Forcing a measure of calm into her voice, Avalanche replied in level tones, "Thanks for the briefing. Whoever's available will do. I won't need an escort." She indicated the medbay door with a tilt of her helm. "I'm unlikely to get lost on the way."

Her gaze slid towards Prowl. "And I do not need oversight to prevent me crushing Carbine into an insubordinate paste. I did not achieve my rank by operating as a mindless brute." Even though that exact accusation had hounded her for longer than several space-faring species had existed. Intended or not, Jazz's parting shot had rankled. "If this outpost is struggling with violence between serving soldiers, I will want to be briefed on it later."

For just an instant, the thought occurred to her that the only mecha who hadn't talked down to her was the only other femme present.

"Rain. Once I've met this Red Alert, I would find a tour of the outpost useful. The sooner I get accustomed to the layout, the better." Nodding at her, Avalanche added, "Thanks."

Right. Med bay. She turned towards the stencilled doors and headed off across the broad stretch of concrete, her densely armoured frame lending a flat weight to every impact of her pedes. Her thoughts already turning to the best way to handle Carbine, she checked her stride as the door opened and the mech himself slipped out.

"Heyya C͟o̡mm̀and͢er, ̕s̛e̕ems my little s-scuff isn't anyth͞ing ̕t̶o ̢w̨o͡rry about! E-enjoy your checkup!"

The mech chuckled the words as he looked up at her, a rattled static overlay to it all. And then... he stepped to the side, almost circling her, backing away before finally vanishing down a corridor without ever turning around.

Hmm. Now that was a tic she'd seen before. Didn't like anyone getting behind him, did he? Useful.

And filing that little treasure away for later, she strode into the medbay.

Be seeing you, Carbine.

The door hissed closed behind her.

(Permission to puppet and Carbine-speak from Zercon. Avalanche leaves the thread here)