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

[Nokta]

“You know if…I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were an officer.”

Normally, he wouldn’t care to pretend like he hadn’t heard similar observations before, or even dignify that with a response. But this Seeker was the first person who’d openly chosen to strike up a conversation with him of their own volition since he’d arrived on Earth nearly a week ago, and he seemed to be an eager listener thus far, so it stood to reason he would continue doing so.

“What gave you that idea?” A pause. And then a raspy chuckle, one with some edge to it, as if his next thought were detestable to the point of humorous. “Don’t tell me– it must be unbelievable that one might actually take their duties seriously around here if they aren’t of notable rank?”

“Have I traipsed into another garrison bilging out at the seams with visionless morons? Or is asking that another hasty judgment on my part?” It wasn't a comment on Starkrieger himself, rather, it was a speculation on the overall quality of the soldiers at Blackridge. Based on what he himself had seen at past barracks, as well as the educated guess spurred on by the seeker's observation. Sometimes he found himself wondering if it was an army he was serving in or some kind of volunteer shelter for lost vagrants who could care less for the hands that fed them.

Nokta vented out a long sigh, the amusement in his expression waning.

In reality, he cared little to hide the nature of his rank, just as little as he cared to hold its weight over another’s head when he was off-duty. Just as little as he cared for those who treated it like a suggestion when they were on-duty. Perhaps he’d all but confirmed he was an officer at this point with the jaded vent thinly veiled behind the guise of an attempt at humor. But it didn’t matter. The truth was: he didn’t need his rank to do his job. If he couldn’t perform in the same way that he did without his officership, he wouldn’t deserve it in the first place.

The title made him more efficient at getting a handle on the things he wasn't as good at, namely people. And that was what he’d been built for, after all. Ruthless efficiency.

Shifting gears, the mech chose to look down at the weapon the seeker had brought for Nokta’s consideration. “This is your ‘fun?’” He asked the other mech, side-eying him with a raised brow ridge, as if suspicious of plotting on the flier’s part. All the same, even acknowledging the weapon in the first place could be considered a form of buy-in to the mech’s schemes.

It looked big. And if the markedly smaller hand cannon were any proof, Nokta’s frame was decidedly not built to handle such loud weaponry. ‘Loud’ in more ways than just the one. It was practically a railgun.

“This looks like a trip to our woefully undersupplied medbay waiting to happen.”

[Starkrieger]

Whatever danger there was in concluding the other mech had rank, he was easy to distract. While Nokta hadn’t actually lost his focus in the slightest, the chuckle was enough to dissolve the gesture of ‘inattentiveness’. There were no hurt feelings. No, the Seeker had merely been sending a message, one easily set aside. He didn't laugh immediately, but the follow up got him, eliciting a quiet chuckle devoid of irony or snark.

There were, so many ways to answer, each with a varied, but no less genuine tone.

“Precisely. What kind of army would it be without soldiers skirting the line? Better to leave endless severity to offices und recruits. ” Not that they’d had the latter in some time, even the recent addition of the yongsparks brought experienced mecha to the table. This, however, wasn't something he wished to dwell on.”The rest of us know life is too short, and don’t need to worry about who can’t get their helm back in the game when it matters." He could have left it at that, but Starkrieger was someone that equated knowing who he was serving alongside with survival. He wouldn't completely dismiss the question within their jesting, in case the other was fishing for potentially vital information.

“In truth? I haven’t gotten a good measure of this post. The Air Commander’s diligence has afforded these mecha luxury… It’s hard to gauge a unit’s quality when they’ve forgotten what real war is; especially with ‘drones’ and civilian models..” Whether offense was taken or not was beyond the Seeker’s control. For him, it was simple; civilians weren’t meant to put their sparks on the line, and they were ill prepared to do so. In either case, admonishing him was unlikely to make an impact.

As the other’s amusement faltered, the Seeker granted him a moment’s peace. Weariness was something most should understand, and respect. Eventually, the other mech would pull through it, or they would share comradery in silence. There were worse ways to spend the day; however, the choice to continue their engagement was certainly welcome. Nokta’s suspicion earned a return of that smirk. It hadn’t escaped him that there hadn’t been a denial of rank; which might be soft confirmation. Maybe another would have made him uneasy, but with this one, he decided so long as it wasn’t officially confirmed, he had permission to do as he saw fit.

“If you’re not pushing yourself to the edge, how do you know you still function? “. His tone was more playful than persuasive. The truth in his words was too nuanced to be convection. Still, the wild light in his optics couldn’t be denied. If only Nokta was a flier, then Starkrieger would have shown him what he truly viewed as fun. However, where aggression and potential disapproval didn’t slow him down, something in the mech’s reflection on a trip to the medbay sunk in. Derma pressed into a line, his optic ridge furrowed briefly, before his optics shifted away from Nokta to the weapon itself. Slowly wings pulled back, as he considered his selection.

“…too much? “

[Nokta]

"If you’re not pushing yourself to the edge, how do you know you still function?"

This seeker was either some daredevil too early on in his military career to consider consequences, or he was old and jaded enough not to care for them at all. 'The edge,' if there was any such thing in war, Nokta had likely found, crossed, and plummeted off of at terminal velocity eons ago. And as for still functioning? Some days he wondered.

"...too much?"

Nokta remained quiet and ponderous as if he were still giving something thought. Perhaps what the other mech had said. Perhaps something else altogether. And then, he tilted his helm to consider the seeker. Starkrieger looked disappointed, or at least, it seemed Nokta’s words had done a number on his conscience, prompting him to reconsider his choice in weaponry. A ghost of a smirk pulled at the corner of his dermas. It faded just as quickly as it came. "It would certainly be a crude assassination attempt if that’s what you were planning." Nokta turned his gaze back to the target at the end of the room.

“Alas, I’m far too pompous and ‘by the books’ to be baited into something so potentially dangerous.” He would say calmly. But his actions would seem to immediately contradict those words as he lifted the railgun off the countertop, peering down the scope.

For any mech, his size and apparent frailty to fire a weapon of that caliber on their own would almost certainly be disastrous. For a moment though as he lined up his shot, he didn’t seem to care for that fact at all. Did he not care about injury? Dismemberment? Did he not even care about death? Seemingly so, as he looked ready to fire into oblivion and damn the consequences, until:

“Brace me.”

The words weren’t a suggestion. If there were any leftover doubt as to whether or not Nokta held rank, it would be killed off entirely by a tone of voice Starkrieger had likely heard thousands of times before. Nokta was an officer alright. And maybe he didn’t care about injury and death under the right circumstances. Just not stupid ones.

“And mind where those servos end up.” The words were more stern than casual, but not stern like the order that had come from his mouth prior. It told the seeker there was still room for some levity in the situation.

While remarkably thin even for a grounder his size, and harboring countless spiked bits of kibble that would make even the thickest armored individual shudder in dismay, he was not without places to adequately “brace” as he so bluntly prompted the seeker. Namely, the thickly armored area at the top of his spinal strut which connected his collar to his shoulders, and the thinly armored small of his back– though any lower than that and Starkrieger was more likely to have the weapon turned on himself instead of the target at the other end of the room.

At any rate, securing both of these areas adequately would drastically reduce any likelihood of damage to the mech’s spinal strut and other inner workings due to whiplash incurred from the recoil of the large weapon.

[Starkrieger]

It wasn’t the time to interrupt. Beyond the ‘assassination attempt' joke eliciting a gentle smirk, the Seeker remained unobtrusive. He was curious; where Nokta's processor would take him, should he be left to his own devices. Wistful longing that would never see fruition? The build up to taking a plunge? It could, so easily, go either way. Thankfully, the grounder didn’t keep him in suspense long.

Two words rang out in a tone more familiar than one might realize. It was the first that addressed him when his function began, and would likely be the last before his termination. The obedience it demanded ensured life, even as he followed it willingly to meet with Primus or Oblivion. He had used it among those closest to him, and to challenge those who disgraced the rank they held. The war and experience had honed it, despite his efforts to deny it within himself.

Yes he knew that tone.

'Leader' and 'officer' didn't always align, but in that moment, he decided he could no longer ignore that this guy was an officer. How easily he could shut down, use the lack of brotherhood that plagued the Decepticon ‘army’ to belittle him, or the excuse of his injury to worm his way out. Neither suited him; besides, whether it was the light in the other’s optics, or the playfulness that returned, something in Nokta told Starkrieger that he needed this. Whether he realized it was inconsequential, the mech was offering trust; he would not take that for granted.

“Yes, sir”, his vocals lifted with a hint of sass before dropping into a gentle tease, devoid of his earlier flirtation. Moving with purpose, he took position behind Nokta, off center towards the left. Some give was allotted to disperse the force of recoil, but should it prove too great to accommodate, his frame would be close enough to make up the difference. The medics probably wouldn't be happy about it, but protoform repair and realigning janked up under armor was preferable to correcting spinal strut damage.

Wings tucking down against his spinal strut, the Seeker adjusted his weight to lower his center of gravity, leaning over the other, similar to if he was taking the shot. It was unfortunate that Nokta favored the right, it meant his armed side provided the servo against the armor at the top of his spinal strut. The second reached instead to grip the weapon, just past the other mech’s steadying servo. Even beyond the menace of those claws, he had been designed to hold as fellow Seekers tried to throw him. His grip strength, arm and shoulder joint reinforced for this purpose. He wouldn’t influence the aim, but then, he didn’t need to for the force to disperse, in part, through him.

“A test shot first?” The offer was there, a chance for Nokta to get a feel for it, without the risk of getting whacked, should the kickback catch him by surprise. Regardless, He offered no judgement and was prepared to change his tactic as readily as a safety might be disengaged.

[Nokta]

The lilt in Starkrieger’s words of obedience was noted. It wouldn’t be forgotten as the lieutenant remained still, and the flier leaned over him to reach a servo out to stabilize the long and hefty barrel of the railgun. A second servo braced upon the top of his spinal strut, and Nokta was thankful the other mech was cognisant enough not to stab him outright with those seeker talons– often deadly to light-armored mecha like himself.

Out of the corner of his optic, he gave a slow glance to the Seeker now positioned over his shoulder. Rank came in handy for once, it would seem, as the last few hundred times he’d been this close to another person it had always been life or death. Starkrieger’s open EMF was rather strong, even for a seeker, and it was strange to be within field range of someone who wasn’t actively trying to kill him.

Alien, almost.

Unlike Starkrieger, Nokta had the opposite quirk. His own field was practically nonexistent, something entirely out of his control. Choice few in the past had been able to parse some ghost of a frequency emanating from the lieutenant’s irregular spark, but they had known the mech far longer and more intimately. Even with this seeker’s advanced sensor array to clearly register the mass in front of him, in all likelihood it would register as no different from a corpse. He simply was not there.

Nokta peeled his peripheral view off the seeker to look back down range, planting his peds in a well-practiced firing stance as he surveyed ahead of him. The current target size out on the range was ill-suited to a weapon of this size, but for the sake of a "test shot," they would suffice. A thin digit slid over the trigger of the weapon.

"Affirmative," the mech would merely respond, giving the seeker a handful of seconds to steady himself further if he needed to, before pulling the trigger.

The beam of light did not come out all at once. Instead, it took a second to charge up, a low hum emanating from the power cells within the lengthy rifle. Then, with a bassy thud and electric whirr, a large projectile laser spewing sickly green roared forth from the barrel. Nokta felt the kickback immediately, not fighting the recoil as energy ricocheted backwards into his frame. The extra weight applied by the seeker’s servo at the barrel’s end kept the weapon from flying out of the lieutenant’s grip, and if there hadn’t been a sturdy hand on his back built to absorb that kind of force, he’d certainly be feeling it in his spine right about now.

Ahead of them, a massive hole of burnt plasma had cleaved the metal targets in half, cutting through two, three, and a fourth target until finally dispersing at the back wall about 40 meters away. Nokta vented a raspy inhale, taking in the scent of ionized air, before sighing his exhale. He was pleased, even if he wasn’t smiling.

"We’d best switch to some more expendable targets. I’d hate to deprive any Vehicons of their well-needed practice with the physical ones." The lieutenant gave a fleeting glance to the holographic screen off to the side that had given him his accuracy results with the smaller weapons earlier. While within arm’s reach, he was still carrying a large railgun over his shoulder, and he didn’t feel like leaving and getting back into position all over again just to press a few buttons on the directory.

"Do you mind?" The mech asked the seeker, tilting his head towards the holographic screen on the countertop. Starkrieger would be met with an average-sized keyboard and a projection of the screen detailing various schematics about the range, and an option to access a holographic projector on the range.

Once turned on, in place of physical targets, the projector would begin to display any number of 2-D holograms designed to mimic various frame types and armor classes at a number of possible distances. From there, Starkrieger could make his selection.

[Starkrieger]

Corpse wasn’t exactly the word for it. Krieg was well acquainted with those, reading as masses that weighed on his field due to memories, experiences, and regret. The dead occupied a unique place of ‘nothingness’, registering a sense beyond the physical. They were 'there', despite not being there.

Nokta’s small stature and the distance between them had delayed the Seeker noticing the discrepancy. Leaned over the grounder, proximity entangled their fields, or more accurately, enveloped the officer in his. It was his own extended field, and the sensors in his wings that felt the brush of something evasive. It ghosted against his consciousness, eluding identification. It triggered a war of spark and processor, as one struggled to capture the ribbons of wafting presence, and the other to discount it as a trick of the senses. It was in trying to catch the phantom signals, he became more aware of what he wasn’t sensing that he should be.

Wings itching to search for the grounder, he engaged flight locks,ensuring that even the smallest twitch would not interrupt their objective.

Holding the barrel required no higher thinking. His hold remained firm, his frame adjusting reflexively with the recoil. Strength endured the force, while adapting, allowing for some give, to let it naturally disperse through his chassis.

“Not at all.” Releasing both the weapon and officer, the Seeker slipped away to better peruse the options. Focusing on the task at hand, he further ignored his impulses to make sense of why he couldn’t properly read the mech at such close proximity. A weapon like the railgun would be wasted on a low number of standard civilian model projections. With a smirk,he selected a series of large frame, heavy armored ‘enemies’. Their distance varied, both from Nokta, and one another.

Would he choose to take out clusters with short, purposeful assaults, or let loose with full on ‘accuracy by volume’ tactics? There was only one way to find out.

“Do you want me to grip it this time?”, he asked casually, returning to his former position, ready to conform to the smaller mech’s wishes. Depending on the officer's answer, his servos would resume their previous placement, or the one that previously gripped the barrel would settle lower on the mech’s backstrut, digits splayed out to find space between the sharp spikes and edges. He could have chosen the safer 'small' of it, but that would be less effective.

With the lack of push-back from a non-existent EMF there was no external prompt to bring his own, open projection to his attention. It was only with the realignment of their frames, zeroing in on the targets that his field shifted. The borderline chaos simplified to, the 'noise' of complex, occasionally dissonant waves were replaced by a sharper, crisper air of singular focus. The reach of his field retracted, condensing it's intensity. Had they not been so close, it might have seemed as though he was shutting down, or his field was, in some way, was being suppressed. 'Trapped' as he currently was, still within range, he would instead be subjected to something closer to the truth.

[Nokta]

The lieutenant noted the silence from the mech behind him. It was not uncomfortable, but Nokta could tell there was something perturbing Starkrieger. At first, he’d assumed it was merely that the seeker was embarrassed that it took him to long to realize the rank of the mech he’d been speaking to so casually, but then there wasn’t much to be embarrassed about when neither of them were actively on duty.

After a few wing twitches too many seemed to result in the sudden halting of any extraneous movement from the flier’s frame, Nokta let another small smile ghost at the edge of his mouth, realizing what was likely happening.

"No." He responded firmly, not commenting on the seeker’s newfound dilemma regarding the grounder in front of him just yet. Nokta rose the barrel of the railgun on his own, displaying good form and maintaining his typical levels of poise despite the size of the weapon he was carrying.

Eyeing the targets that were now strewn about the firing range, he would wait until the seeker’s other hand was placed firmly on his back before moving further. It was a good cluster of ‘enemies,’ all of which seemed to be larger, heavily armored targets. Perfect for the railgun.

"Brace." The lieutenant would say, giving the seeker a moment to do so as he raised the barrel of the gun higher, to pick out his first set of targets. Firing on an angle, single beam of light cut through three targets, clearing nearly half the ‘field’ of targets. Recoil fluttered through the lieutenant’s body, and if discomfort registered in his frame, it was not easily noticeable by the other mech. It was clear Nokta would not stop until all of the targets were finished.

Another, and another went, holograms vaporizing into oblivion as the smell of ionization filled the air, assaulting their sensors just as much as the violent thrum of the railgun did. A similar violence had filled the lieutenant’s optics as he gazed down the barrel of the weapon, an intensity the seeker had yet to see. It was almost as if he’d transported himself into the heat of battle itself, a determination set to finish what had been started, wholly and absolutely.

The final target fell, a ping sounding off on the computer screen beside them. 5 shots fired, 8 targets felled. 11 seconds in total.

Nokta lowered the gun, allowing excess steam to vent out of his frame as he rolled his neck from side to side, his shoulders up and down as tiny puffs of air escaped in soft whispers. "Well done," the wraith spoke calmly to his range partner as if he’d been the one handling the gun– credit given where credit was due.

'You may ask your question now," he spoke next. He could tell there had been something bothering the seeker the moment he came within range of the mech’s fields. Nokta suspected he knew what that was. "You seem to be struggling with an enigma," that added on, his tone was no more revealing of intent than those prior had been, though there did seem to be a trace of amusement floating around in there somewhere.

[Starkrieger]

Accuracy by volume it was then. Krieg was hardly disappointed. The weapon was made to mow down enemy troops, and Nokta was proving to know exactly how to put it to good use. Bracing the officer, he stood firm, in sync, save for the tightening of his jaw, a subtle pull to the corner of his derma.

He’d felt it with the first shot, but the sustained firing drove it home. The force pushing through his frame, vibrations that normally distributed naturally, driving a jackhammer into his side. He was still recovering from his fight with The Prime and his internal repair systems were hardly amused by his recklessness. Disregarding the pain, he wrote it off as merely the residual complaints, tenderness of protoform and new welds. As the final target was slaughtered, and the rail-gun quieted down, the Seeker let out a slow vent. The continuous stressor now gone, gave his body a chance to really start to feel the effects of their little exercise. A flare up of discomfort promised further punishment, but so was function.

“I think I should be saying that to you,“ A casual tease, as he released the locks in his wings, allowing them to return to their natural position as he straightened up. He reached out with his right servo, despite it being one that wasn’t currently raising the pit with him. Remaining mindful to present his unarmed side, he silently offered to take the weapon, should Nokta be finished with it. After all, he’d been the one to remove it from its racking. If granted, he would claim the weapon, holding it casually to his frame, pointed down at an angle, not about to walk off as he was addressed and perfectly comfortable holding the railgun in the interim.

Wings pulled back, as the other mech gave him leave to speak freely.

“.. It sounds like you have a good sense of it.” His words slowed, but remained absent of the harder tones of resentment or anger. Taking care in how he decided to proceed, Starkrieger took the clicks he gained to evaluate the odd circumstance he found himself in.

“There are things that one doesn’t ask about.” A rule, simple, but it prevented problems among soldiers that didn’t have the time to deal with… whatever aspects of function they were struggling with. Loss of loved ones, injury that compromised one’s abilities… physical vulnerabilities, these were matters that could push mecha to become defensive, suspicious, or otherwise withdraw from their unit. “It’s not something I need to know, but I’m open to anything you see fit to discuss.”

How Nokta would interpret this was out of the Seeker’s servos. He wouldn’t deny that he was more than curious, but he knew the rules about delicate topics. He wouldn’t impose on a mech, who might be operating under the ‘better get it over with’ compliance.

[Nokta]

Silence, as Nokta turned to hand the railgun off to his compatriot, it seemed he was done with this weapon for today. And having listened closely to the other mech’s words, Nokta returned with a slightly raised brow ridge.

"Need is seldom the same as want, seeker." An upwards lilt in the grounder’s voice, some knowing flair to it, but also harboring the same restraint as earlier when it came to showing too much playfulness.

Quickly though, that familiarity faded to something else.

"You are a Decepticon," the lieutenant said simply, his tone flat and even firmer than he’d spoken prior. "Nothing is off limits to you." The conviction in his voice was palpable as he tilted his helm upwards to consider the seeker in front of him, his optics searching for something in the flier’s gaze– solidarity? Or perhaps he was looking for disagreement in his current companion’s expression?

Could his words simply be affirmation that nothing Starkrieger said here could offend him? Or was this some sort of test to gauge just how sturdy this soldier’s own convictions on the matter were? Perhaps both?

Vaguely, he had some far away memory or concept of getting under the plates of other mecha during similar periods of off-duty malaise. Nokta was no stranger to playing the black sheep, ugly duckling or what-have-you in any scenario that required bonding with your squadmates. It had rarely been difficult to find ways of amusing himself with the sense of unease he could inspire in others.

This could so easily have been just that, a distraction to keep himself preoccupied while away from work. But these days distractions were less affordable to mecha like him. To relegate the seeker to a simple distraction would have been a lost opportunity. What Starkrieger said next would determine just how the rest of this conversation would go. At any rate, this seeker seemed like someone who was harder to crack than most, not so easily disturbed or offset by the strange qualities of soldiers like Nokta. Might the flier’s disposition even be the opposite of that?

Maybe that was why Nokta had remained here so long already when he could have left ages ago, or refused to engage the mech in conversation at all. Still, he had the privilege of engaging in this game as long as he wanted, free to shut it down whenever he pleased. Starkrieger less so– but would he indulge Nokta with a response less bound by the restraints of duty and form, or would the lieutenant leave disappointed?

[Starkrieger]

A gentle twitch of his derma, and the subtle shifting of the malleable mesh around his optics accompanied a softening of the light behind them. All unnoticed by the Seeker himself as he openly responded to the familiarity, restrained though it was. His mentor had been a closed off mech, too. The value of what was rarely offered was far from lost on him.

Then, something shifted. Even before Nokta spoke again, the Seeker’s helm tipped back in preparation for what impulse would be directed at him. Whatever Krieg might have anticipated to happen in the end meant nothing.

'Nothing is off limits to you'?  ... Really? 

That gentle lift of his derma, pulled into that smirk, wreckless in its promise that Nokta would regret those words.

“You should be careful… who you make that offer to”, the warmth of his purr easily surpassed his initial teasing, dipping into less appropriate suggestions. Really, Nokta had only himself to blame, with such an opening. Ah, but there was more going on here than an opportunity for a game.

However, only the unimaginative couldn’t intertwine business with pleasure

Without missing a beat, an arching of his neck, turned his helm into the accompanying half shrug on his uninjured side, nonchalant, as he diverted the intensity of his optics away. He broke the focus aggressive 'playing' had aimed at the smaller mech, to return to more meaningful points of conversation.

“Either way, this isn’t about faction ties. It's about respect, Ja?” He lifted the weapon till it pointed toward the ceiling, his gaze following to look up along the line of its profile. His vocals had become lighter, its absent consideration of the matter slipped further into contemplation as he continued.

 “No one is entitled to your personal affairs.“ There it was, the reaffirmation of his stance. Almost an afterthought, unimportant as his tone remained unbothered, his field even in its unfocused mix.  Starkrieger could get fired up about his convictions, but was comfortable enough with them there was no obligation. 

Lowering the railgun, he allowed the chips to fall as they would. Rather than remain facing the officer, he pivoted, his aims clear as he made his way towards the empty slot the railgun belonged to. In the breadth of a few clicks he would know the mech’s response. Wings twitched back, hints of his reservations, and awareness that he’d exposed vulnerability to the grounder, whether the officer recognized it or not.

[Nokta]

Nokta would not have been a very observant lieutenant if he hadn’t noticed the sudden change in Starkrieger’s body language. This was not quite the response he’d been looking for, but despite both this and Starkrieger’s pointed tonal change that came with his response, Nokta seemed unphased. Perfectly capable of remaining firm in his own resolve, even as the seeker seemed to mistake Nokta’s conviction for ‘familiarity.’

“Not an offer. A principle,” the mech corrected his fellow mech. “By which consequences are not off limits either.” What was that saying? Freedom of choice, freedom of outcome?

The mech spoke with a tilt of his helm to the side, as if this were a silent threat-promise that he was easily capable of handling any advances he deemed too ‘inappropriate.’ The seeker had to know that though, otherwise he wouldn’t have such clear reservations over crossing out of small-talk territory and into something else.

As Starkrieger removed himself briefly to go return the railgun, Nokta turned back to the computer screen, briefly reviewing his results before swiping the data away. He’d send copies of them to his personal devices for later viewing.

‘No one is entitled to your personal affairs.’ Nokta thought about that sentiment for a moment, an amused look soon sprouting over his visage. He turned around to face the back of the seeker’s helm, slipping his arms across his chassis, as he leaned against the counter of the small firing cubicle.

“No one who couldn’t pry them out of me by sheer strength of will.” He’d do his best to let that amused look settle as he continued to peer. It was yet another question of sorts, veiled behind a statement designed to prod at the seeker, to encourage some sort of revealing response from the flier. Nokta wanted to know what this mech was all about.

[Starkrieger]

Pausing, he continued to hold the railgun, as his helm turned, as one did to look over a shoulder. Of course, that would be ridiculous, given his wing positioning obstructed his view, as such, his chassis remained forward facing, as he merely angled an audial towards the other mech. He didn’t need to do this to hear; no, rather it was a sign of acknowledgement. While the implied threat of the officer being able to 'hold his own' garnered no significant reaction, the challenge amused him.

 His helm returned to its previous position, as Krieg settled the weapon in place. A slow outvent released during the pause. His sensors couldn’t actually pick up details fine enough to tell him where Nokat’s optics were, but he could feel them. Motivation to pace the movement of his frame to prevent his recovering side from hitching with renewed complaint.

Once that was handled, he turned fully to face the officer with a casual smirk that betrayed little aside from his amusement that Nokta was willing to play the game with him.

“There is a risk to ‘prying’ in earnest. Tip your hand too far, and your target may shut you out.“ The languid words coupled with the Seeker scanning him from behind the veil of the monochrome light, studying Nokta with a confidence such protection afforded.

“Persistence works well against silence or deceit, but truth is a funny thing. Sometimes it’s best guarded by other, less… inconvenient truths. It does make a mech wonder, if one is so willing to tempt with his personal affairs, what hides beyond what he is willing to share. “ He maintained the smirk, optics focused and unwavering, should Nokta not break that contact. He might have been issuing a challenge of his own, but Starskrieger would have felt it grossly unfair. The grounder wouldn’t have any fun playing a game that couldn’t be won.

He gave it a few clicks to let it sink in, before his expression lightened to an easy grin, and leaned back against the wall, suppressing a wince.

“Perhaps a compromise?”, his pitch elevated, though only in so far as to mark the transition into a lighter, more playful approach.. “I assume you are in intelligence? “ He would soon see if the mech picked up on what he was doing with the question, but if not? Well, confusion could have some amusing results. It certainly had with the behemoth triplechanger, up until a rabid conjunx showed up.

[Nokta]

“....what hides beyond what he is willing to share.”

Oh, this one was bold. And more importantly, wasn’t a complete idiot like so many here were. That could either bode quite well or quite badly depending on where this conversation went next.

"Only if your hand isn’t steady–" the mech spoke, in response to the seeker’s initial comment as to the subject of 'prying.' At any rate, the lieutenant preferred knowing that someone was more earnestly looking into his affairs rather than trying to sleuth them out without his knowledge. That kind of deception irked him, and he found it more cowardly than most.

Still leaning himself against the counter, the way he carried himself with his arms comfortably crossed over his chest plates would have appeared nonchalant to anyone else, but the way his eyes peered into Starkrieger as though he were interrogating him would have had an effect much the opposite.

After a moment though, a thin, fleeting smile of his own crept back up to one side of his mouth, as if to parry the seeker’s own smirk. "I am whatever suits High Command’s needs." So many different phases of the war, so many different hats to wear over the years– mecha as adaptable as him had seen it all. It wasn’t a complete avoidance of an answer.

He didn’t have to ask the seeker what gave him the impression that he was stationed in the division he was in currently. It was Nokta, after all. But he had to know it would be unkempt of any intelligence officer to reveal their area of work so quick and easily. Then again, Nokta was sure the seeker already knew that, and Nokta’s skirting of the topic would be just as damning as any affirmative response.

Well played.

Still though, what amusement the conversation had provoked served to further keep the information ‘hidden’ in anticipation of what other amusing assumptions this mech might have. “My turn,” Nokta responded in that gravelly rasp of his, the lilt in his voice indicating that he was, at least, on the trail of whatever ‘game’ this seeker thought they were playing.

"The war raised you." It was not a question so much as it was a blanket observation derived from all he’d garnered about the seeker in front of him thus far, one that laid the groundwork for actual questions later on. Starkrieger did carry himself like a soldier despite his other…nuances. He had all the markings of someone who'd been constructed made-to-order during the war, although Nokta wouldn’t presume to call him something so crude aloud, knowing the strong opinions many mecha had on such crass terminology. He preferred to make the observation that sought as much nuance as that of the mech standing in front of him.

[Starkrieger]

Though the smirk was present, it remained absent, nearly default by nature. A faint flick of his wings back, away ‘cast aside’ the opportunities that Nokta so willingly presented to him. How easy it would have been to tease the mech for his choice in words, particularly regarding high command. The focused, engaged part of his processor had little use for the impulse, dismissing the distraction readily.

Instead, he considered the ‘non-answer'. Given he didn't register with his sensors, it would have been unfortunate if the other couldn't be utilized in intelligence, but the lack of denial lead the Seeker to draw a few conclusions. Prior to the war, there had, no doubt, been far more agents that were able to manage with a low level of skills, specializing as a cog in the greater machine of a massive organization. Versatility, adaptability were traits that were rarer, an indication of skill. However, the subsequent loss of so many of their race had changed the dynamic. It took individuals like the Spymaster, and perhaps the grounder before him to cut it as more than an underling. Stealthy, elusive, capable enough that, even once they were known to the enemy, they were still a threat, and exactly the sort of mech that could mold productivity to best serve the interests of the leadership. The question was, with this information, how did he wish to proceed? There were three distinct possibilities, each with potential.

‘My Turn’

It seemed that Nokta wouldn’t be passive, taking the challenge Krieg had hinted at, but did not issue. Now this was interesting. Optics dimming faintly, he was unbothered by the intensity of that gaze, confident in his ability to handle the situation.

“I managed to finish basic before we were brought into the war.” His words were chosen with full awareness of how they might be interpreted, the honesty beyond factual records, and what mere probability suggested. Would he focus on his perspective of his place in history? It was preferable in a way to dwelling on the timeline of his early function. He was in no mood to dwell on the latter, even if skirted around sharing, it wouldn't halt the progression of his thoughts.

“You are… “ A pause, during which the Seeker attempted to hide his reconsideration of wording with a visible look over the other’s frame. His first choice might have given an impression he wasn’t inclined to offer. “Primus made?” A personal question, but in Krieg’s experience, the risk of it being off-putting only existed when a construct was asked by forged mecha. There was a degradation that might be attached to it, whether real or imagined, However, he suspected Nokta to be the latter, reducing the chances he would find the question objectionable. Meanwhile, between the implications of his past and his possession of one of the standard frames with purely combat oriented augmentations made it unlikely that he would be mistaken for a natural Cybertronian. In the Seeker's mind his rule, therefore, wasn't broken.

[Nokta]

If only Starkrieger’s considerations as to the topic of this lieutenant’s station had been conveyed audibly. They’d have done a great deal to soothe certain quiet anxieties that had been stirring beneath the surface of this lieutenant’s unyielding exterior for days now– and maybe even longer than that. Perhaps for the first time in a while he’d feel as though he carried some value beyond the bare scraping minimum most had attributed to him.

“You are…Primus made?”

There was a small scoff then, upon Starkrieger’s questioning as to the status of his bodily form being sparked naturally or, so crudely termed as “unnaturally” by others in the form of cold construction. Perhaps this subtle noise which seemed to wordlessly cast aside the idea as laughable would tell Starkrieger enough, if Nokta did not indulge him with a verbal confirmation. It was no surprise his current outward appearance did not lend itself to any particular truths in this arena.

His frame was rather unremarkable in any way compared to what it had been during the literal color of his youth, having long since been forced to adapt a dark, drab, and forgettable color scheme that let him blend in with the shadowy masses at ease. Even Starkrieger with his prototypical military-build that so many other seekers sported in one form or another couldn’t escape notice. But then, it wasn’t Starkrieger’s color scheme that drew Nokta’s conclusion that he’d been built for the war, and not forged prior.

"We’re all Primus made, soldier." The lieutenant smiled a degree warmer than he’d granted the seeker a moment before. "Or none of us are– depends on your outlook." The flipside of that equation– It stood to reason that anyone composed of what it took to last this long in a war was not destined or “made” for anything other than the Pit. Either way, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who had not somehow deviated from their original, “natural,” pure state this late into the war– whether physically, or otherwise. But such bleak thoughts had no home here in casual conversation.

Casual conversation, Nokta almost scoffed at the thought. When was the last time he’d spoken with any subordinate in any capacity other than what was required by their station? When was the last time he’d spoken to any seeker outside of what was required by his station? The conclusion he came to was…

He didn’t want to think about things he’d been purposely avoiding again.

"Sparked in Vos, I presume." He’d speak, bringing himself back on track. Even though his tones had lifted into those of casual interest with the subject change, his voice still seemed to trail off a tad bit. He’d been drawn back to what the seeker had said prior to his question about himself.

“I managed to finish basic before…”

It slipped his mind often that there were some who had missed out on all the things civilian life had to provide before the fires of war had consumed them all. For those like Starkrieger there had likely been no plays, no art, no dancing, no lovers who didn’t come to you with servos already stained with blood. Nokta pursed his lips, optics cast downward momentarily as he found certain things unavoidable to reminisce upon in that moment.

"You were lucky…" Nokta spoke in a lower register that seemed to echo the spirit of whatever memory he’d just been caught in. Another small, fleeting smile sprouted on his visage as he spoke. "–to have had the training to prove yourself so soon, I mean. Elsewise you’d have been relegated somewhere less fortunate, no doubt."

That wasn’t what he meant, not for a moment. But Starkrieger wouldn’t know that. To him Nokta’s words would have just as much impact as any other seasoned lieutenant speaking their mind about a subordinate’s value to the cause.

For someone like Nokta, having been spared the torture of a simple life before the fall would have been a blessing.