We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
It was late afternoon when Sniper arrived back to the base. He had been desperate for fresh air as the walls of the Autobot base had started to become a tad too familiar to him. And who could blame him? As a mech who didn't take orders or restrictions very well, being held in one spot for thid long tried even Sniper's patience - which he usually had spades.
He had been allowed to tag along when the Autobots had picked up their human pets from the nearby little town. The spy struggled to understand why the 'Bots would ally themselves with such small specimens of this rather pathetic species. They had no association with the military, nor would they be of any help off the field or on it. Or, at least they were yet to prove worth to Sniper, who would leap out of his vehicle mode and take his distance to little the aliens. He hadn't hadn't had anything to do with them during his stay so far, even though he continued to stockpile information about them to his research folders.
And the Autobots didn't get a significantly friendlier treatment from Sniper. It seemed he was going to leave the Control Room and go practice his creepy-information-hoarder-routine in his assigned quarters, as usual.
Jazz was just wandering toward the Control Room when he saw Sniper in the hall. The spybot's presence pinged one of the things on Jazz's internal checklist, flagged "Priority: Prime" and "Threat: Not Likely To Kill Me". Jazz had kept an eye on that item, but the green mech was not the easiest to pin down and with everything else going on, Jazz hadn't had time to hunt him down.
But here he was...out in the open and everything.
And, from the speed at which he was heading for the residential section, aiming to hustle back wherever he'd been hiding if no one stopped him.
"Heya, Sniper!" Jazz waved and jogged up to pull even. "Just the mech I was looking for." Not totally a lie, as he had been looking for Sniper for about a week, ever since Prime had asked him to speak with Sniper when he had the time. "You busy?"
Sniper's expression was a dour as ever when his faceplate peeked from behind his hunched shoulders. The insignia on his forehead, which served as a reminder of his mistakes, glimmered under the harsh artificial lights. And a red optic focused on the Autobot, who had just spoken to him. While it had taken the spy by a surprise it didn't show - his field was snug and composed, almost empty.
Designation Jazz. A Decepticon in the past, an Autobot in the present - a turncoat, much like Sniper himself. However, the similarities in their backgrounds would not provoke any empathy in Sniper. He had come to a complete halt now, his optics, or rather the one that was peeking over a green soulder, was still focused on the Autobot.
"I am always busy," Sniper stated, his signature sourness coloring the spoken words. "State your business." Sniper wasn't of the most pleasant nature - but then Jazz, being an ex-'Con himself, was no stranger to this kind of behavior, perhaps?
Jazz had heard and overheard second-hand of Sniper's sour disposition. He wasn't terribly surprised, really. Decepticon culture didn't exactly encourage bright and sunny personalities. And given what Sniper had been through, he had every reason to be in a particularly bad mood for vorns.
"Busy" though, was a relative term. Jazz wasn't entirely sure what it was that Sniper was assigned to do when he wasn't on patrol. He was teamed with Bumblebee sometimes, sometimes with others, but he wasn't yet allowed access to the mainframe and thus wasn't put on monitor duty.
Jazz had to wonder if he was bored. Boredom was its own problem, he knew. Bored mechs, especially intelligent, bored mechs, often made their own entertainment. Though Jazz was willing to bet a vorn's pay that Sniper wouldn't go back to the 'Cons if Megatron personally BEGGED him, letting an ex-'Con get bored was only a step away from letting them get unhappy (or, in Sniper's case, unhappier).
"Well, if you've got time, I was hoping that I could ask for your help. I'm sure you've heard how I'm beefing up security here, and I was wondering if you could be another set of eyes on my changes." Jazz smiled a bit. "Just a kind of 'if you saw this, where would you try to get in and how' sort of thing."
Sniper wasn't bored, per say. Rather, he was holding onto a grudge - which might have been hard to tell apart from of his usual grump. This particular demeanor lingered on the spybot's features as he remained standing there, not facing the other ex-con directly. A red glimpse of his attentive optic was still burning from behind a green shoulder. No expression - aside from a frown which was more like the usual state of Sniper's faceplate, rather than a notable expression.
There was, however, an cold chuckle. It occurred without a smile and rung hollow. "You'd trust me with a task like that?" he countered, his voice reflecting the grudge he held for not being able to carry out his revenge of his former kin whilst the Autobots had attacked the Nemesis.
"Sure," Jazz said, unhesitating. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't. And of course Jazz wasn't going to show Sniper ALL the security enhancements. Jazz wouldn't show Ironhide or even PRIME the whole picture of the base's security. It was just smarter that way.
Whole forest, no. Bitty section of trees? Given Sniper's actually pretty good record since he'd got here? Yeah, Jazz was willing to trust him that far. And Sniper was more than smart enough to know what Jazz was and was not trusting him with.
Jazz shrugged. "I know you're more on the computer end of things, but I thought maybe you'd worked the physical side, too, at some point?"