[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Why so serious? (Nokta, closed for now)

[Starkrieger]

Episode 3 - Week 4 - Day 6 (Mid day)

Training room

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Quiet, peaceful, two things that a training room, once in use, would surely never be. In particular, one set up as a firing range. Usually, the air would be heavy with charged ions from energy based weaponry, and chemicals of physical shells, propelled by force. Even in the absence of shots being fired, the augmenting and caring for weapons would break the silence, if not the boasting and razzing among the rank and file.

Still, there were moments during which one would find peace. The best chance to seize such an opportunity would be when most were on duty, limiting the number of potential intruders to those who were off on the given day. It would have been understandable then, that from the hall, one might have expected to have the room to themselves when no sounds issued from withing. A rare instance of freedom to train without judgment or speculation, a treat in the overcrowded confines of Blackridge.

Basic firearms hung were displayed at stations with worktables of varying heights, no doubt the 'good stuff' needed to be checked out. They were the perfect place to tend to one’s weapon, or to check over those on display for communal use. How fitting then, that there was an advanced versatile weapon that just so happened to be left out on one such surface.

On a workbench suited for the average, civilian grade four-wheeler, a mostly black and white Seeker sat, a leg laid out long ways down the surface. The height of it was just right for the other, situated over the edge, to rest its pede flat against the floor. He certainly had made himself at home, apparently confident that he belonged precisely were he was. With a look of utmost concentration he worked cleanser into the metal of a rusted medical tool, with a cloth. Both sets of wings pulled back, as his optics locked on to the way his thumb worked into the metal to clean and polish the recovered instrument.   Setting the tool aside, he leaned back. Briefly propping himself with a servo gave him leverage to stretch, working out the catches between protoform and his underarmor.

Truthfully? Knock Out was a Primus send, the medic’s attention to detail ensuring that it would take more observant mecha might notice, the rise in his plating where he had recently been patched. There was smoothing out left to be, where the Prime had punctured into his chassis armor along the side, and where Backbeat had chewed through his back, at the shoulder joint. Both were covered with a temporary finish, to not so easily attract notice, not that this stopped the persistent ache in his frame.

A prolonged outvent sought to release days of building tension. There had been too much time with this processor in the med bay, weather the one situated in the stifling tomb of Blackridge or those long left behind. Returning to his upright position, Starkrieger retrieved something particularly wicked looking from the box beside him to get back to 'work'.

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Information regarding KO's course of treatment, and permission to be put to work by him provided by Ren.  Thank you <3

[Nokta]

He’d visited here once before, on his initial tour of the Hold and the grounds around it, but he hadn’t yet made use of it in the past week that he’d been stationed at Blackridge. There had been other work to do– recuperating from near death at the servos of starvation, for one. Then there had been learning the ins and outs of a new garrison, acclimating to a more direct command structure in which high command itself was a direct line of communication, as well as the other administrative duties that came with that.

And today, he’d finally gotten around to sending his blaster in to Vega to have it looked at for repairs, something that would take the femme at least the next two days to see to. There were some perks to being an officer– not having to wait in line for such things being one of them– though he was appreciative either way. Even if he found the need for such fixes entirely annoying.

Thusly, he’d decided to take the hour to investigate what the armory at Blackridge had to offer, in case Vega came back with more bad news about the state of the weapon he’d carried with him for the greater duration of the war. Upon entering the training room, he was pleased to find that its facilities were currently in little use– of course, most vehicons would be out on patrol or carrying out their manual labors around the base and elsewhere at this time of day. Nokta himself had finished his more menial duties early that morning, and, seeking some solace, made his way here.

Though there was one other– a seeker to be certain from the black, white and red wings on their back– currently sitting atop a table nearby, they seemed to be working on some project of their own. What that was, Nokta could not presently see, but that wasn’t any of his concern.

He was more preoccupied with the railgun he’d nearly tripped over upon entering the room.

"Ugh," the lieutenant muttered as he bent down to pick the railgun up, investigating the heavy rifle. Miscreants, the mech internally lambasted as he carried the weapon back to the rack along the wall, passing up the unknown seeker who was the only other inhabitant of the room at present.

The railgun was placed at a bare slot on the wall, which, to Nokta’s chagrin, had about half of its supply missing inexplicably. Glancing around the room, the lieutenant squinted in annoyed confusion at all the tables, most of which did have smaller arms, but none that would fit on the wall’s racks. None that would suit his purposes. It was then that he discovered the crate of firearms near the back of the room, sitting there in neglect, having not been put back where they were supposed to at the end of the previous day.

Nokta sighed. He didn’t want to be reorganizing the weapon rack when he was supposed to be here to investigate prospects for future weaponry, but this mech could practically see the future now. Some unsuspecting Vehicon would reach their servo into this box and blow their limb clean off because some idiot had thrown an ion pistol in there without turning the safety off first. He’d seen this dozens of times at other barracks before, and the amount of times a Vehicon had been sent to the medbay for injuries that could have been easily avoided, drying up useful resources that did not need to be wasted were staggeringly high.

With the situation at Blackridge, the important mecha stationed here, he didn’t want some aforementioned idiot being the reason another officer was decommissioned when they could have been fighting. Padding over to the neglected box of rifles and other assorted blaster weaponry, with soundless steps Nokta passed up the unnamed seeker once more, coming back into their range of vision a few paces away from the table they were sitting at. Instead of taking a knee, the flexible scout would bend nearly in half in a display both impressive and freakish as he reached into the box of weapons to begin sorting them– without accidentally nudging any of their triggers, should any safety switches be faulty.

[Starkrieger]

Despite his claws, it was easy enough to use the edge of digits in the same way some mecha used the ‘pads’ of their fingers. Working the rust off, restoring the instruments to good use was therapeutic, slowing his ever active mind. Another model might have been so involved with such a distraction, they might have missed Nokta's arrival. Indeed, Starkrieger may have seemed not to have noticed at first, save for a subtle shift in the angel of his wings as his fellow Decepticon crossed into the the range of his sensors. Tracking the mech as he moved to put the rail-gun away, the Seeker continued to prioritize the medical tool, unphased that he no longer was the sole occupant.

It was as the slender grounder passed again, that his optics shifted their focus, mostly obscured by the prominently red glow. Idly he watched him pass, debating his own mood. On one hand, the peace was needed; conversely, there was a new mecha to test...The grounder’s black frame was lithe, added to his small stature, there didn’t seem to be much to him. Highly unlikely he was military, well at least not before the war.  Though, Krieg would use the word quite sparingly when describing most of Megatron's so called 'troops'.   He was about to return his attention to his industry, already setting a second completed piece with the other, when the nearby Con folded before him, like a mecha shaped foil sheet. Primus knew he was sufficiently thin. Wings twitched back as he stared.

Was he really okay?

It took a fraction of a click for him to decide that the unknown Con wouldn’t snap, and less time to be shocked by the realization he was presented with an unparalleled opening to try to provoke him.

Was he up for a game?

Krieg wasn’t entirely sure his processor was ready to come up with anything to goad the other with, at least not at the level he would have preferred. The decision to do so, however, was forfeit as the clicks passed with the weapons were being tended to with the newcomer still 'holding position'.

“Do you make a habit of showing off your best side? You’re only going to encourage them to leave a mess Shatzi? '' Though his vocals never broke an even pitch, it did elevate in playful exaggeration of the German accent he had adopted, teasing the mech, rather than trying to flirt with him. His smirk didn’t carry quite the punch he would have liked, but it had been a rough week. That he was currently razzing an officer was something the Seeker was completely oblivious too; which could be expected. After all, Nokta’s ‘best side’ didn’t exactly show off sigils that might indicate his rank, if he bore any to begin with.

[Nokta]

Still bent nigh in half, Nokta would hear the other mech speak up, and truthfully, not quite understand its context, leading to the assumption the seeker was speaking to someone else entirely.

After taking a pair of pistols out of the bin, and placing them to lay on the floor beside it, he would turn around to stare at the black-red-white flier with an inquisitive raise of a browplate. Unless this mech was on an active comm line with another, he was either speaking to himself like a loon, or he was speaking to the only other mech occupying the room.

"Pardon?" The officer would merely ask in a gruff tone, genuinely unsure if the other mech had been speaking to him or not. White optic lenses circled, dialing in and out as he took in the seeker’s features. The mech looked like he’d just been in a fight, even his grin carrying an aura of exhaustion around it. Nokta gazed upon the curious flier for another moment, deciding he had in fact been speaking to him, before turning around once more, returning to what he’d been doing prior with another incoherent grumble at the sordid sight of the misplaced weaponry.

"One moment."

There wasn’t much left, thank the stars. He’d taken the problem weapons out but there were still some lodged in there. "I hadn’t heard that one yet. Shatzi," The scout spoke as he sifted through the box of weaponry, trying the alien word on his glossa.

Nokta’s servo wrapped around the grip of a sniper that had been hastily placed into the bin with the barrel pointing upwards. Idiots. Unscrewing the barrel from the receiver so that the weapon could be removed from the bin safely, the scout then placed the barrel between his dentae, before slowly sliding the rifle out without disrupting anything else.

The weapon itself was– with barrel attached– about 3/4ths the height of the scout himself, and thusly, was just as heavy. And so, the mech turned around, leaning against the wall as he lifted his leg up, so too placing his ped flat against the wall, and propping the large caliber weapon up onto his knee as he slipped the barrel out of his mouth to screw it back on safely.

"Making use of one of the Earthen tongues, I presume?" He'd only barely just gotten the hang of this 'English' in six whole days of being on Earth. Truthfully he cared little for any of the Earth's languages specifically. He’d learned his fair share of all the Cybertronian dialects back in the day– he had to, being a courier– but outside of what he used to converse with his own species, that which others spoke held little value to him.

The mech turned around once more, spotting the rung on the rack designated for long-barrel weaponry. The top rail wouldn’t be too high, would it? Nokta took the heavy weapon into his hands, raising the weapon over his head– not quite tall enough to reach the rail, until he rose to the tips of his peds….there, the sniper rifle slotted nicely onto the rack, and he could go back to sorting the rest of the Primus-awful pile. The mech walked back over to the box, planting his hands on his hips with a resolute sigh.

Miscreants, for sure.

[Starkrieger]

For a moment, it appeared that the other mech may have missed that he was being addressed, or had not heard. Hardly phased, Krieg was already debating tactics. To speak again, and try to gain his attention seriously, or maybe he could strike up a ‘conversation’, the one-way sort, engaged purely as a running commentary on the lack of attentiveness… see how long it took him to realize.

Both options seemed tiresome. Oh, the grounder was certainly worth the effort, Krieg just needed to be in the right frame of mind. Despite his curiosity as to how the lithe figure would respond, if he thought he’d been ogled the whole time, the Seeker wasn’t interested in crass staring, especially not at the more personal, vulnerable space that was so kindly being offered up. Turning his attention back to the tools, he was going to let industry get his processor working on coming up with his next tactic, when the silence was broken.

“Take your time liebling”, he spoke with that same teasing tone, some of the luster of his smirk restored, as his focus drifted upwards briefly, to catch sight of him from time to time. Nokta putting himself to work didn't bother Starkrieger. After all, he was occupied with his own task, appointed to him by a mech he was rather fond of.

Wings jolted and he nearly jumped up off the bench as his optics happened to catch the crazy fragger trying to put a weapon more than half his height up on a top rack. Ignoring the pull of healing protoform, he had started to twist to get both pedes on the floor, when Nokta seemed to manage. The tension in his frame wouldn’t let up immediately as he continued to watch, perhaps in an effort to assure himself that he really was fine. Ridiculous little civilian frames, why couldn’t they request assistance, or leave things be?... But then, despite Knock Out (and he supposed Second Rate’s as well) skills and top notch care, he probably didn’t look like he was in the best shape...

 

“Only the best of the ‘Earthen tongues'.” His enthusiasm might have been subtle, but the accented use of English would have spoken volumes. Why any of them favored particular dialects over others was likely a mystery to most, but no one ever said Cybertronians were without their quirks. “Unfortunately we are on this side of the Welt.” He didn’t actually expect his compatriot to give two slags about any of it, but the conversation had been opened up. So, awkward transition it was, not that he was giving away anything with his casual play of emotions.  A game was a game, after all.

“.. But, as I was saying, if you make a habit of showing off your ‘assets’ cleaning up, that will only encourage them to leave a mess “ With a mock scolding gesture, he pointed at Nokta with the tool he was currently working on, it’s semi-cleaned surface starting to gleam in the low lighting of the base. Even here, where mecha practiced accuracy with their range weaponry, there was a limitation on light to be had.

[Nokta]

Box nearly empty now, the scout turned his attention to the row of pistols and other low-caliber weaponry he’d plucked from the maelstrom and laid out on the floor. The lowest-quality weapons, reserved for Vehicons and other low-ranking soldiers. Being above these weapons, Nokta made quick work of laying them out on the bottom rungs of the weapon rack.

Yet again, the seeker spoke in that strange language. If he had to guess, ‘liebling’ meant something like ‘comrade’ or ‘brother’ or the like. The flier continued on with their short enthusiastic spiel as to the reasoning behind their chosen accent and choice of learned Earth language. Nokta would only respond with a soft, contemplative hum before the other mech changed the subject.

“Rest assured I am not in the habit of revealing my best assets, stranger,” the lieutenant spoke tersely, yet again failing to address the seeker’s attempt at innuendo. Either he’d missed it entirely, or he was just doing a better job of ignoring it than most otherwise would. Nothing easily readable made it through that icy exterior of his that would direct one’s interpretation one way or the other.

“And unless you are the one that left the mess, I don’t see anyone else present that could have been responsible.” Though Nokta supposed that could be forgiven, considering the state the seeker was in. He knew an injured mech when he saw one, and if he were still too damaged to sort the weapons properly then no one could fault him for that really. Be that as it may, Nokta didn’t suspect the seeker was at fault. He didn’t even seem to be here for what the training room was typically used for, the scout guessing he was only here for the silence. An admirable reason.

Crouching down this time as opposed to leaning, Nokta wrapped his servos around the ends of the box, lifting with his legs as he hoisted it upwards, holding it close to his chest as he walked it over to a table in the corner. At this point, its contents were just a bunch of laser sights and barrel attachments and other assorted gunsmithing nonsense that seemed to have no particular place in the room.

[Starkrieger]

This guy was either clueless, or he was stonewalling. As Krieg took in the even tone, and the concise way that the mech spoke, he evaluated his options. A subtle tipping of his head favored an optic, looking faintly down at Nokta silently indicated amusement at the latter option. The former though? Well, this one was no Flux, the game would be different.

“My mistake, I should have recognized a mech of mystery and intrigue when I saw him.” Flattery, but not really, the lack of bite in his vocals negated the chance he was mocking. Aside from this? He didn’t purr with aims to seduce.  Returning to the instrument in hand, the Seeker’s optics occupied themselves with his progress on its tending, his faceplate remained angled to include Nokta’s general vicinity to fall within the scope of what one would assume he was paying attention to. A measure for the other’s benefit. Starkrieger could have kept track of the mech regardless.  The grounder's next words couldn't fail to elicit a response.  Krieg let out a short bark of a laugh that died off into trailing vocalization of amusement.

“I would like to think I could choose something better than a Vehicon’s toy.” Not that he meant anything by that, obviously the weaponry got the job done, but seeing as he already out matched the firearms with his integrated systems, the appeal was understandably lacking.  “Besides, hasn’t anyone told you, Seekers are maddeningly fastidious. “ One of the many stereotypes he’d heard throughout his function… but maybe there was a kernel of truth to it? After all, his current task was successfully keeping him busy and at least marginally content.

 Despite the direction of their interaction, he hadn’t lost sight of his initial intention. Oh no, he had continued to consider the other option…

“So…. tell me, do you have a designation?”

Time for a test.

“... Sweetspark”, the added word that slipped easily between his derma was given special care. He invoked the term of endearment, not in any human tongue, but in Cybertronian standard, a different accent heavily interwoven into the word, without obstructing its clarity. It likely wouldn’t surprise Nokta to hear the Vosian influence, it might be expected, though perhaps not how intentional it was. By now, he ‘should’ have naturally adapted to the speech mannerism more common among the Decepticon majority.

With the test issued, Krieg’s optics sharpened behind the concealment of the red glow dispersed across their outer shield, zeroing in on his target.

[Nokta]

The unnamed seeker said something about ‘mystery and intrigue,’ and if it was mockery, Nokta didn’t care to pick up on it. He was more preoccupied with placing his rifle of choice from the rack.

“Besides, hasn’t anyone told you, Seekers are maddeningly fastidious. “

That sentence registering in his processor, the briefest image of a painfully well-furnished Nova Cronum habsuite decorated by a certain seeker would come and go, and the grounder couldn’t help but let a wry smirk flit at the corner of his mouth at the welcome memory.

“Yes. I might have heard that one somewhere before.”

It was a fairly stupid question, ‘do you have a designation?’ Of course, he had a designation. But that wasn’t really what the seeker was asking. It took him a moment, but the utterance of a once-familiar word in an all-too-familiar dialect told him all he really needed to know.

“Sweetspark”

Hearing the word in clearly distinguishable Vosian certainly helped things along– not the least of which in terms of catching onto the seeker’s true meaning there. It was almost cruel. That Nokta heard the voice of so many dead mecha in one simple accent.

But this mech had no idea what he was really saying. He was just playing around. He didn’t know that the mech he was speaking with held any rank. And moreover, he didn’t know the weight it all carried in the processor of the mech he was harmlessly flirting with.

Truthfully, the silence that followed was more uncomfortably awkward than anything else.

And so Nokta tried his best to shove those fleeting memories back where they belonged, with a visible roll of the optics in the seeker's direction. Nothing wrong here. 

“Why you’d ever choose an Earthlet dialect over Vosian is a wonder in itself.” Almost an afterthought.

Nokta cleared his vocalizer, continuing to seek out a suppressor for the carbine rifle he’d decided on. “I am Nokta,” the mech answered the earlier question, voice clipped, a little quieter. Colder. Less life in that proclamation than in the words that had been spoken up until that point.

He could have included his officer title in front of his name as he did when introducing himself to underlings and superiors alike. But today, he had no care to lord his officership over the head of another as so many were apt to do. He was off duty, after all. There were better things to do than blindly throw rank around.

[Starkrieger]

Despite his boisterous games, and ability to adopt a ‘couldn’t give a frag’ attitude, Starkrieger was capable of being perceptive. He didn’t feel awkward, but the silence between them prickled at his field in a discomfort that was not the amusing ‘let’s see how far this goes’ sort. He didn’t view all ways mecha could be unsettled as equal. No, social interactions were like flying, monitoring and responding to the situation at hand was essential. With fluid ease, he lifted a shoulder, only the left, in order to spare his recovering side.

“Habit. Well, trying to form one. It’s easier for the organics to discount intercepted comms in an native language.” Smoothly transitioning into the next talking point, Starkrieger let the little matter of the off putting pause fall away, ‘unnoticed’ “This is my first post that requires us to hide what we are” quieting some, the reflection was sobering, hints of his own discontent were subtle, but not intentionally concealed. As fond as he was becoming of his Earth alt, it wasn’t his proper form, just as the favored German wasn’t his language. They didn’t belong here.

With a casual flick of his wings, the matter was pushed aside in favor of less problematic matters. Their displacement was the reality they lived with; they couldn’t sacrifice managing what they had by letting what they lost consume them.

“Nokta?”, he tested the name, feigning an oblivious air. If the officer happened to catch it, he might have spotted a light draw of his primary wings, at the shift in the grounder’s tone. It was an odd thing to be despondent over, though, he supposed introductions could be difficult. Sparing the other the continued observation, and the intensity of his monochromatic optics, he briefly returned their focus to his task at hand.

“So… you any good?” If his fellow Con was confused about the question, and looked to him for answers, Krieg would gesture with a medical instrument once more, this time in an idle sweep to indicate an assortment of the ranged weapons on display. A challenge, he dared him, albeit gently, to demonstrate skill, in a tone that mixed skepticism with lighthearted teasing. With the invitation issued, he left that opening for the grounder to make ‘proper’ use of the room There was no way of knowing if this ‘Nokta’ would be comfortable with a theoretical ‘audience’. Not that Starkrieger intended to watch too closely, weapons discharging was hardly a novelty in war. Still, there was an undeniable draw to paying mind to the performance of another mecha practicing a skill, an instinctive look out in case a rare case of exceptionalism resulted.

[Nokta]

Nokta tilted his head to the side, seeming to consider the seeker’s words. He supposed there was some sense to them, in a way. Though, he often preferred never to let his comms get intercepted in the first place, preferring more strict encryptions than those that could easily be picked up by the primitive Earth radio systems.

Nokta had been on many a posting in which he not only had to hide who and what he was, and just what he was capable of, but also the fact that he had been there at all in the first place. Thusly, the importance of blending in with their current environment was not too hard for him to grasp or get used to, though there were some instances in which he realized it might prove to make certain things more difficult than they'd been in past postings.

As Starkrieger spoke his name for the first time, he simply nodded at the flier in affirmation. As he watched the seeker’s wings twitching, the lieutenant raised a brow ridge, but didn’t outwardly comment on this, instead he screwed on a suppressor to the rifle he’d been examing, making sure it was fully attached to the weapon.

“So, you any good?”

Nokta blew air from his olfactory vents at the rhetorical question. Of course, he was good. But maybe that wasn’t clear by the fact that he was currently tooling around in the one firing range Blackridge had at hand.

“Perhaps you will find out,” The lieutenant responded with an upward lilt to his voice as if it were truly one way or another whether or not Starkrieger would actually end up seeing him “in action,” so to speak. For in his mind, nothing Nokta could do here would come even close to the things he was actually capable of, and moreover willing to do in the field. The seeker was speaking to an entirely different mech currently than the one he might speak to out on duty, much less in the heat of battle.

"And what is your story then? All those fancy scanners send you into the side of a mountain?" Nokta asked as he brought some weapons over to one of the range cubicles, a wry smirk on his lips as he faced away from the seeker.

[Starkrieger]

He wasn't sure of the other’s meaning, but then, he didn’t have to be. It was simple to surmise it might be something along the lines of a condition that hindered the mech fully demonstrating his prowess. After all, there had to be some reason they were both here, when most mecha were off being industrious. If Nokta had been in the med bay at the same time as him, Krieg hadn’t noticed… but then, his processor wasn’t usually at the top of its game while stuck... there. 

The next words from his comrade briefly threw him. Mentions of sensors caused a subconscious twitch of his wings, down, back, reducing their visibility. Was he unnerved? Odd, given his knack for using them to his advantage as it suited him. Thankfully, many grounders could, just as easily, assume he was deciding if he was offended, or overlook the gesture entirely. Either way, regardless of the fact that Nokta was no longer facing him, his own smirk returned in kind. It didn't take much for Krieg to recover.

“Heh, the side of a mountain? That’s one way to put it.“ The derisive humor issued at his own expense came easily. He had essentially ‘flown into’ The Prime, and it didn’t get much closer to colliding with a mountain than that. “Just an encounter with an Autobot a bit outside of my armor grade”, he added offhandedly, verbally waving off the matter as inconsequential. The other mech hadn’t been there, and they weren’t parts of an established unit swapping war stories. Bringing up the faction leader felt like bragging, as uncomfortable a prospect with Nokta as it had been with Pipchen.

When it seemed like he was about to actually fire, the Seeker turned his attention back to his temporary companion. Truthfully, Starkrieger was in no great hurry to return to the medical bay, and he suspected Knock Out shared his opinion that he needed to start moving more. Admittedly, that would be a dangerous thing for the medic to suggest, as he would probably do far more than the medics wanted, should he be given free reign. With that in mind, he took a break from his work, slipping off the workbench to approach.

Taking up a better vantage point, he decided to have a look and see how accurate the grounder was, and what class of weapon he was testing. Keeping a respectful distance, the Seeker loosely crossed his arms, claws lightly tapping against his chassis.  if he'd been concerned about the other being unnerved by his observation before, the mech's dry teasing had put them at ease.

[Nokta]

As Nokta prepared his ‘work area,’ the sudden contemplative silence from the Seeker was mostly ignored. Whether this seeker was the uppity, easily offended kind or not had yet to be seen, and more than anything– if Starkrieger was– that could easily be used to Nokta’s advantage to get him out of here sooner. If not? He supposed there was no harm in having a single spectator of his impromptu practice.

“Just an encounter with an Autobot a bit outside of my armor grade.”

Once more, Nokta blew a silent puff of air out of his olfactory vents in measured amusement. He certainly knew that feeling.

Feeling another’s optics on him was not the uncomfortable experience it might have been for other mecha, even if this one was more used to being the one doing the watching and remaining unseen in the shadows. Here and now, under the dim amber glow of the overhead industrial lights that infested most of Blackridge, it was quite the opposite.

Calmly, he continued what he was doing, until all of the weapons were ready. There were three, the rifle he’d picked up earlier, now with a suppressor attached to the end, a hand-cannon-like sidearm, and a run-of-the-mill pistol, strewn out neatly on the counter in front of him. He would pick up the small pistol first, examining it for a moment with a neutral expression, before taking aim.

The lieutenant fired until the weapon began to overheat, with nine total shots ringing out of the small sidearm. At a few dozen meters away, the target he’d fired upon wasn’t very easy to see, and so, he typed a few things onto a keyboard built into the counter of the range cubby, a holographic screen suddenly popping up to display his results.

All had hit center mass, relatively tight shot grouping for the range, he hadn’t missed a single shot. Despite this, a blaring line of text flickered to life above the results onscreen, reading: ‘SHOTS INEFFECTIVE,’ proceeding to show an in-depth diagram of different armor levels and a few other scaling factors. While he’d hit his shots, the low caliber nature of the weapon came through on the ballistics report as barely even being able to penetrate the chest armor of a light armored infantry unit.

Nokta shook his head in disapproval of the weapon, quickly setting it to the side. This would not be a suitable candidate for the replacement of his current firearm in the slightest.

[Starkrieger]

A stillness settled over the Seeker, an instinct to not encroach upon the other’s concentration as he took aim. Of course, given they were at war, he assumed he could fire under pressure. Still, it was understood to be rude to be distracting while shots were taken.

Sharp flier optics could easily pick out just how accurate Nokta was well before the display offered the results, as well as the low impact of the munitions themselves. Well, he had started with a small weapon, it was to be expected. Though, surely they had little use for a youngling’s toy at this- point. The civilians had been offlined, or received armor upgrades long ago. A pistol like that was more suited to enforcers, back when they served as muscle for their handlers, whether the corrupt politicians… or criminals.

“At least the operator is worth keeping”, there was a light jab to his tone that held no bite; after all, one shouldn't get too sappy with the compliments.  His gaze shifted to the other options that the Decepticon had chosen. The suppressor was also noted. It confirmed what the dark coloration, and small, streamline frame had suggested. This was a mech whose greatest protection was secrecy and stealth. An admirable skill set, and certainly one that some Seekers didn't fully grasp. After all, on average, they weren’t designed with running silent as a top priority.

“So, is this just for sport? I would have figured a mech of your caliber would warrant a more personal firearm.” Ignoring the pull under his plating, turned his attention to the weapons that hung along the walls.   He’d wait until the Nokta finished a round with his second choice to approach with one he himself had selected. For the Seeker’s size, it was on the higher side of having a good heft. to it. Not enough to be an encumbrance,while still letting a soldier know it was there, but then Starkrieger was built larger than, and, as a warmecha, sturdier than most civilian models. He also favored ballistic force over silence, adding to the kick a weapon was liable to produce,and contradicting the grounder's selection. It was simply in the spirit of enjoying the moment, rather than backhanded 'commentary' on the other's attributes. Besides, even if he had played around with quiet weapons, there was no chance he would have a better sense of them than Nokta.

“If you’re up for it, why not have some fun?“ Was one really getting the full experience if he didn’t try something that might knock him on his aft? If he wasn't dissuaded from doing so, he would gently add the temptation of ‘fun’ with the others. “Unless, you have a story that brings you here?“

[Nokta]

If the lieutenant was bothered or annoyed at all by Starkrieger’s initial backhanded compliment, it only came through in the shimmering glare of his crimson optics, the rest of his body remaining remarkably still.

"My weapon is under maintenance," Nokta replied without looking at the other mech as he considered his next weapon. Keeping the suppressed combat rifle to the side for the moment, he carefully plucked the hand cannon off of the countertop, examining it more closely. His spindly digits made it so that his trigger finger jutted out far further than others of his general size and build would. Yet another reason he stayed away from smaller sidearms like these. Alas, there were only so many options to choose from this late in the war.

With a slight grimace, he raised his arm to aim at the next target, one slightly further back than the one before. After taking a moment to line up his shot, he fired.

The sheer force of the high-caliber sidearm expelling its round sent a wave of discomfort up his slender wrist. Unready for the nightmarish recoil the weapon possessed, Nokta’s upper derma twitched upwards in displeasure. On the screen beside him, the first shot marker indicated the round landing just off-center from the target’s helm area where he’d been aiming.

Despite the unwieldiness of the hand cannon, this didn’t stop him from firing a second round, however. Ignoring the growing wave of pain in his too-small wrist from the force of the weapon’s kickback, he continued to fire until finally his wince grew into a growl, and he switched hands, placing the sidearm in his other servo. He continued to fire upon the target until the weapon’s ammunition had been expended, and with a final snarl of disgust, he placed the weapon down harshly upon the counter, looking irritated, to say the least. He didn’t even stop to review the results of his attempt with the revolver before turning to the seeker, finally answering his question.

“You seem to have mistaken me for someone who’d mindlessly indulge in what most seekers consider 'fun.'” The mech responded in a heated manner, and beyond presumptuous, still annoyed by the poor reliability of the weapons he'd chosen thus far. Cooling off, he turned back to his workstation, picking up his third and final weapon, the rifle. 

“I happen to be here because it pertains to the obligations of my station,” the mech continued, an air of righteousness, and even an amount of arrogance in his tone. There was nothing he took more seriously than his ability to perform at the levels his rank required him to.

Perhaps that was why he was so irritated today.

Either way, it was clear Starkrieger wasn’t going to get him out of his cold shell that easily, if that even was a shell and not just a hollow carapace.

[Starkrieger]

Oh, so the grounder had a bite to him. Rather than be deterred, the Seeker merely turned his head to favor an optic, a twitch of his derma expanding his smirk from a nearly default expression to something more purposeful. He hadn't been aiming for that reaction, but it was hardly concerning. Nokta wouldn't be the first soldier to try to shove him into 'green rookie' status just because they weren't acquainted.

“You shouldn’t be so hasty to judge. Fun doesn’t have to be mindless, and it can serve a higher purpose. “ A servo reached to gently pat the weapon he had placed across the remainder of Nokta’s choices, as if his words might have wounded the poor thing, caught up in the crossfire between them.

"A mech never knows when he could end up behind enemy lines, weapons inoperable. Times like that, one must make do with whatever he can get his servos on.“ His claws stilled against the metal, easily settling their tips along crevices in the rifle with an almost tender familiarity, that never once threatened its inner workings nor to inadvertently brush the trigger.

He left the point at that, and didn’t dwell too deeply on his awareness that they were of different worlds. The stealthy mech, no doubt, would be most at home hidden behind enemy lines… whereas for a combat Seeker, such an eventuality would probably result in a hunt. Getting blasted out of the sky tended to garner some attention.

Wings flicked at the righteous tone, one he knew and could wield well enough. However, the cavalier way he raised his claws from the weapon to bring them up for inspection signified the sole determining factor in Starkrieger’s lack of penance. He did not consider himself at fault for overstepping.

“You know if…I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were an officer.” Even from behind the monotone shield of glowing red, masking the focus of his optics, it was likely clear exactly where it laid. He was not peering at the other beyond them, not trying to prize out his secrets. It still had not clicked that there was a reason for him to take his own suggestion seriously, at least not yet.