Ep1 - Atrium - 'Priority Build' - Closed

[Deleted]

Cleaver had left Ironhide tinkering with his most recent excavation in Haven whilst she went to meet her pre-planned yet utterly inconvenient guest in the Atrium. Piston Gasket had been slated to come and help Sideswipe with the hauling and welding of shuttle panels to make up the highly anticipated bar. Certainly she couldn't at present. She'd been looking forward to talking to the old mech, whom she'd heard greatly enjoyed reminiscing about Cybertron as it was before Prime and Megatron. The thought of talking over energon in work breaks during the building of Sideswipe's project had warmed her spark.

Sideswipe was cooling his turbines in Hawaii, though, and the mech who had necessitated that was still hidden in the sub-basement. She'd managed to clear away the worst of the damage from the former gladiators' fight before Ironhide had noticed it, at least.

She just had to cover Megatronus's presence until Ironhide left. Precisely what she was going to do with an amnesic warlord after that was still a mystery, but Cleaver was decided on taking this disaster-in-the-making one step at a time.

There was a short-hand transmission of the standard -Faction/Designation/Permission to enter DMZ- that she acknowledged with an affirmative before the air warmed with an incoming groundbridge. The next step of damage control in playing it normal.

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The glowing green of the familiar bridging technology enveloped the massive form of the engine as his stride carried him slowly, casually into the yawning green mouth. He knew that it would take but a moment to reach the neutral base like this but the warmth, the energy of the surrounding bridge reminded him so of home.

The low din was a welcoming change from the ruckus of Jazz's party. The old bot, happy to get away from the deafening sounds of laughter, cat calling, and embarrassment that was the party, was happy to put himself to use rather than merely retreat to his quarters. The order had come down from the Prime that he was to assist the current leader of the neutral faction on earth with some form of project that needed a large bot like him.

He was all too happy to be chosen for the task. Anything to feel useful in his old age.

As the light swirled around him the bridge before him sizzled, popped, and opened, depositing the still slowly striding Gasket out onto the dirt and stone floor of the base. It was a simply place, the obviously Cybertronian sized accommodations more obvious there than in the Autobot's human bunker. Hallways ran every which way off of the main foyer and was quite well lit by what seemed to be natural lighting, holes in the rock around him.

It was peaceful, quiet, and the surrounding electronic fields seemed largely free from interference. At once, Gasket knew he would enjoy this place.

His pede-steps rumbled deeply as he stepped form the ground bridge and into the base proper, the portal closing behind him. Venting he paused there and looked around, merely wondering at what appeared to be a mostly natural rock structure.

It took only a moment of glancing for him to spot the bot who was likely to receive him. The frame was sturdy but slender, a burnt orange frame with a chest that indicated their alternate form it would likely take Gasket several kliks to recall the most detailed information about. He had heard idle chatter about the neutral leader, a compassionate medical bot of sorts that genuinely reminded Gasket of himself in ways, wanting to stay out of the fight.

Allowing a genuine smile to cross his dentals he smiled and gave a small bow to the other bot, an oddly formal greeting that he used to use when addressing members of a higher caste than him back on Cybertron.

"Cleaver, I presume. It is... an honor to meet you."

[Deleted]

Cleaver's rotors twitched at the gesture, feeling that she neither deserved nor warranted being greeted in such a way by any mecha. The Towers were a long time ago, and she'd left them dishonorably.

From what little she knew about Gasket from Ironhide and Jazz, and from the steady and ancient rumble of his field, she concluded that this was a mech deeply rooted in traditions of the past, and it would be an offence to be rankled by them.

Even if she was on edge - and she checked the live-feed on Megatronus in the sublevel again at the thought. He was in recharge at last, sat against the tunnel wall with his knees drawn up, and it took some of the panic out of her spark.

Stepping forward to greet her guest properly, Cleaver smiled up (and up) at the Autobot and pulsed welcome. "Pleasure's mine, Piston Gasket. I've been looking forward to meeting another mecha who remembers Cybertron as it was long before the war." A half step and turn into the Atrium, inviting. "Can I get you a cube?"

[Deleted]

Drawing himself upward after the bow the old bot relaxed his stance, frame unencumbered by the armor or weapons that came with his support tender. The greeting he had received from Cleaver was kind and one that acknowledged his age in Cybertronian terms. This caught his attention and, after a brief moment of memory searching, he found a frame that most resembled that of this newest host bot. While an upgrade of a much older frame, Gasket realized that he had a smile across his dentals as the age of the orange bot became more apparent to him; this bot may actually have seen the end vorns of the golden age.

That was a small miracle in and of itself.

Not allowing his matrix to draw his attention too far away from his objective he stepped further inward, venting lightly and chuckling at the offer of a cube of energon from the neutral medic.

"A welcome offer surely, ma'am. However, I am... fully charged and do not wish to burden undoubtedly thin supplies."

Slowly his massive form moved closer to Cleaver, nodding as he placed a servo on a jutting piece of rock to steady his frame. His optics were busy taking in every detail of the bot before him as he wondered exactly what it was she needed from him.

"Any distraction to remove me from the company of the louder autobots is welcome... no energon necessary."

Huffing a chuckle he glanced away down one of the hallways that led away from what appeared to be a Cybertronian sized sitting room. As Cleaver moved away from her former seat, Gasket followed.

The old bot was genuinely unsure as to which he enjoyed more, the company of a bot nearly his age or the prospect of doing something useful and not related directly with combat.

[Deleted]

"This mine isn't completely depleted," Cleaver assured with a smile. "We're doing alright."

Seeing as Sideswipe wasn't here to work with Gasket on the Bar Project, Cleaver elected to accomodate the elder mech as comfortably as possible and procede from there. He followed her with unspoken joints-aching-gratitude that she could well relate to towards the seating area, and she took the armchair to leave him to arrange his massive frame on the sofa.

Though he'd declined fuel, Cleaver took a cube of fortified energon from her subspace for herself. The sparkling wasn't far off emerging, now, but still needed as much supplemented fuel as she could provide it for the next five or so joors.

"'m afraid Sideswipe isn't here at the moment, and isn't likely to be back for a while to work on the bar," she broached once Gasket seemed settled. The medic cocked an optical ridge, smiling a little. "You're welcome to stay for the quiet for as long as you like, though."

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Cleaver's comment about a "mine that was not depleted" offered a clarification to the older bot that he had not expected. There were several aspects of the Neutrals' situation that the labor bot still did not understand; that their base of operation was located atop an energon mine certainly explained this odd location's enticement. Nodding in silent understanding he followed the medic into the seating area of the sandstone contained base, the old bot still feeling quite strange in the presence of Cybertronian sized furniture. As Cleaver took a seat he turned finding the only piece that would accommodate his own bulky frame, a bench/couch seated against the wall, and gently lowered his aft to a seat. He was almost surprised that the construction was able to support his weight.

As the stress came off of his frame he relaxed, realizing more and more that he need not be a tense around this bot. He did not know why but he felt at ease around Cleaver, perhaps that coming as she appeared to be a true civilian rather than a devoted soldier. Giving her a kind smile he looked over to what appeared to be the beginnings of a bar, likely the one that his help had been requested for. Almost as if Cleaver could remotely access his matrix, she spoke. Her choice of words explained the lack of Sideswipe, the project head, and that he was welcome to stay for a time.

"That is a alluring offer, ma'am. I accept... with a joyous spark."

A larger smile ran across his dentals as he settled in for an astro-klik; the company, new faces, getting off the base without a threat of decepticon attack, had his EMF at a high level of overwhelmingly positive feel. In fact, for once he actually felt a hint, a fading taste of the calm that he'd once known on Cybertron. His optics shifting back from the bar once again fell on Cleaver, the recognition algorithms lighting up as he realized the make and age of the medic's frame; it was a common but universally lauded design and he was glad to see some of their owners made it through.

Leaning his back strut against the wall with a creak and grind of his more archaic earth bits he relaxed even further, happy to have such positive company. Though his smile never faded, his EMF lost some of its bright mood as the sobering memory banks returned to the forefront.

"With age comes a certain... perspective; I am sure you agree, yes? Time is all we have yet... pleasant company is scarcer than ever before."

He paused, wondering if he may have been overstepping his bounds.

"To a mech who's... to a mech like me, a little sober company is more valuable than all the energon in this mine."

[Deleted]

Cleaver raised her cube in a half toast at the remark, chassis humming with the sound of slowly relaxing systems. "I can certainly appreciate that. I like a cube of High Grade as much as the next mecha, but I'll take a comfortable chair and quiet conversation over getting cratered and onlining half-clocked in a ditch somewhere. Those cycles are a long time gone for this frame."

She sat back and rested the heel of one pede on the edge of the low table, the tarnished meta worn-shiny on all sides from vorns of being a pede-rest on her now-dismantled ship. Gasket was a curiosity - old, gentle, and had survived the war when so few of their date-stamp remained.

"What's brought you to this point, Gasket?" she finally asked, her voice heavily laden with glyphs of history/experience/stories/lessons/Golden Age.

[Deleted]

As much as he had expected the femme to agree, knowing about her what he did, the comment from Cleaver was as much of an ambrosia as the energon back when he had first reactivated. So few of the Autobots were willing to sit, listen, talk, learm that he feared that all they knew was war and personal gratification. There were exceptions, of course, but this fact did not give Gasket pause as he took another long astro-klik to stretch his once injured knee.

The glitches weren't debilitating but it did tend to play up every now and again.

"Gone, yes. But never forgotten. No matter how dark the future gets, the past, in places, always seems.... a little brighter."

His EFM was joyous, bright, but sober as he enjoyed the company. However, he did suddenly feel much more his age in such knowing company.

As Cleaver put her feet up the old trainbot's optics slowly focused more on the medic's appearance, taking in every scratch, every buff, every dent that composed her frame. Despite her age she had kept remarkably well; in fact, the oft rebuilt titan believed that she'd not needed any major bits reforged.

Such was uncommon but it spoke of things unsaid, things that would remain unsaid unless it came up in conversation. Gasket would never think to be impolite to such a welcoming host.

Her next question was one that he had expected but was unsure as to how to answer. "What's brought you to this point, Gasket?"

Tilting his helm back his optics unfocused and he allowed his dentals to laze into a minuscule smirk, the glyphs so often unused in cybertronian conversation bringing back welcome memories as well.

"I do not know if my... travels can be put to a simple what, ma'am. When you... stop tracking cause and effect, variables playing every angle become meaningless. Vorns wandering alone tends to put things into such stark... perspective."

Looking out across the atrium, the bits and bobs of what appeared to be a derelict starship, the kibble of failed Cybertronian customs, the specter of a civilization like no other. Looking back, his optics glazed as his matrix dug for the glyphs to emphasize his point.

"Perseverance brought me here, ma'am."

The glyphs spoke of several things; Driven/ambitious/unafraid/lucky/fortunate. He was frank with her, still feeling as though he should be curt, respectful, and... in some processes beneath his current operating framework, subservient to this one. He chuckled, lightening his own mood.

"Plus, I believe you'd... rust before I could tell you of a fraction of the meaningful lessons that kept me alive.

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Cleaver absorbed that quiet strength in the mech's field, that determination to weather on and survive that was so unlike any warrior's. Gasket felt like a Neutral on so many instinctual and intelligent planes - quiet, unobtrusive, though strong in his convictions and immovable upon them. She couldn't imagine him fighting alongside mecha like Ironhide, and though the Autobot army had once been so large as to necessitate dedicated administrators to handle the logistics of all-out civil war, numbers had dwindled and the war become so brutal to the point where every mech in the army had to fight. Even the gentlest of sparks.

Gasket was a curiosity in that respect, and being on tenterhooks all cycle made her bold. Or perhaps simply too weary to weld around the girder.

"I meant, to the Autobots," Cleaver replied softly, her optics softening with apology over her own directness. "I've never met someone close to my own forging who's on a side."

[Deleted]

Feeling slightly foolish by her clarification, Gasket cleared his vocabulator and nodded, all too willing to explain his position to such a mech as Cleaver. He did find it somewhat strange, however, that he was willing to be so open with this mech after only just meeting her. In the back of his matrix he rationalized it that their ages made them slightly more compatible in this situation as both of them had lived through their share of hard times.

"That is something of a... story all its own, I am afraid."

Pausing he called up his latest memory banks and leaned back, his optics gazing upward momentarily before they wandered back down to Cleaver.

"During the war I was... decidedly neutral. Neither side was better... until Cybertron fell. I was off planet when Zeta died, tasked with locating a new planet for some unknown purpose... never asked."

Yes he had lied but the containers were still not in the claim of the Autobots at current; it was safer to be low decibel on it.

"During my travels I reflected on the war, the cause, the effect, and, when the Prime sent out the evacuation order... the cost."

"Alone in space I spent vorns merely thinking, contemplating, everything... that happened in the war and the painful realization hit that.. the cons were to blame for carrying this war so far and that my own... inactivity was self serving, foolish."

"When I landed on earth... I became enamored with these humans. I silently worked with them, helped them, observed... them. Here was... a species that reminded me of... our own, a species worth protecting."

"When I met with Optimus... I decided that I had lived enough of this war. To protect the humans and... repay a debt to a dead planet... I asked to join them... to help them."

Gasket paused again, letting everything he had just said adsorb to Cleaver's processors. It was short, yes, but he couldn't make it any more concise if he tried.

"To protect the humans, to see this war finally ended... that is why.

Leaning back his back strut contacted with the layered sandstone behind him and he cast his blue and white optics toward Cleaver's. A smile graced his dentals as he shook his helm.

"But that is all past. You, however... I am curious about. What of you, ma'am? I know the motivations of neutrality... but I am curious as to how you came to be... on earth."

[Deleted]

"Because Megatron is here."

Simple and direct, as pure and honest answers often were. Cleaver's tone held no apology or shame, though there was plenty of both as her core. She said it with ease because the elboration that would follow was still honest. Her 'lie' was one of ommission.

Because she'd followed the warlord from a varying distance since the exodus. Because she felt responsible for him, and applied her trade to the victims in his wake wherever possible.

That afteroon in the Medical Centre, the beginning of the war that had obliterated their kind in Cleaver's processor, was a long time ago, yet she could still feel every detail. Had the mesh memory of touching Nos's overheated helm, tacky with leaking and burnt energon. Could recall perfectly the shift of light in the miner's optics when she follow procedure and turned him away. Then went on to admonish Velocity for having given D-16 hope that they might have done something to help.

If she'd put D16-N05 through under a false alias, had the relatively straightforward circuit-surgery done and discharged the sparkling back repaired and alive, then D-16 would have gone back to the mines and lived with whatever passed for contentment in his caste. No madness. No rage to drive him into the Arenas, the rallies, the Iacon Hall of Records, the Council, and finally to the massacre of millions.

Cleaver had decided long ago that that was something to be left to her Maker. If she'd followed the urge to punish herself, then she'd have been no good to any of those she'd saved and repaired. Likely would have torn her own spark out before now.

It was a mercy that by the time she'd met D-16, then Megatronus, again, she'd been exiled into Kaon for so long that mild starvation and the necessity to sell what parts she could off her frame had made her unrecognizable. Cleaver held no illusions about what would have happened if Megatronus had ever made the connection between his Arena medic and the Ward Chief who'd murdered his sparkling.

"I'm a scavenger by necessity," Cleaver went on after the short pause, rotors fidgeting as she shifted in the chair. The sparkling was beginning to gain enough mass to weigh heavy on strained internals, and comfort was often being sought. "As a medic, I've healed and will continue to heal any mecha who needs it. That requires parts as well as energon, and the fabrication plants are long gone. It's about recycling now, just lke it was in the Low Tier. Most plentiful supply of parts is in Megatron's wake, and plenty of mecha needing them there as well."

She smiled a little, lightening the tone from the macabre facts. Her optics flickered about the Atrium, lingering on Cat's kitchen and dining area just off of the Cybertronian-sized communal section. "And I share your fondness for the humans. I'm fortunate enough to have a sophisticated holoform, and I've abused it mightily over the last sixty vorn. They've gota fascinating culture - so short lived and fast. Sticking around to see what they do next as well as for cohort and kin."

The old medic met Gasket's optics again, field pulsing a grizzled, knowing camaraderie. Her smile morphed into a self-depreciating grin. "That and I'm too damn old to keep on treking after trouble all over the 'verse."

[Deleted]

The answer he received, at least compared with the medic-bot's previous comments were descriptive and, with the glyphs so densely packed, Gasket's software had to access other processing cores to decipher everything in a timely fashion. Her first audible words said much more than he had anticipated; "Because Megatron is here." However, that reason was not possibly because she wanted to fight him in the way the autobots did; her neutrality seemed absolute. Though Gasket could only guess, he sensed that there must have been something more to it than she was letting on.

Best to let a painful matrix process alone and the ancient bot, with more than his own share of painful memory banks, was not about to pry.

It was when she started talking about scavenging that old Gasket started to feel his age as well as a small amount of confusion. Despite all of the earth bits and bobs on her frame he recognized a high caste frame when he saw one.

A scavenger? Really?

He would have settled on an iacon doctor, a paramedical bot, something like that. The "necessity" also hinted at something darker.

However, what mattered was not only her desire to help the wounded, protect the defenseless, but also her love for the humans. Gasket could appreciate anyone who was unwilling to exploit or harm those weaker than the hulking cybertronians. When she spoke of holoforms the old engine was most interested. He had heard of such technology but a bot of his frame, caste, and age never saw it as a necessity. The thought of being able to interact with William Franklin and Jackson Porrs, his former driver and fireman, suddenly made the technology all the more appealing.

However, both of the men were long dead. His optics zoomed out then in as the thought passed and he refocused on Cleaver.

"We are both far too old for this, ma'am. I can certainly... concur with your conclusions about the human culture. In my experience with their world over the last several deca-cycles they remind me... greatly, of ourselves."

He paused, remembering what he had said to the Prime only quadricycles ago.

"They are a young race. They are... impertinent, rude, unwilling to look past themselves and proud of it. They wage war indiscriminately over the most... minuscule things, but...

But they have a capacity for the arts, science, music... love much the same as we did. That in itself... is far too precious to allow to be threatened by our interference."

Smiling he vented slightly, shaking his helm at the small tangent that he allowed himself to take.

"I am happy to call this little blue dot... my home."

[Deleted]

Cleaver nodded a little, smiling as she cast her optics in a slow track around the Atrium. She hadn't intended to stay on Earth after landing her craft hard enough to make a crater, but after burying the ship to make the lengthy repairs, getting to know the native cultures in the interim, leaving again had appealed less and less. The discovery of energon veins had strengthened the appeal of setting down roots, and then Ironhide had made the decision concrete.

"Me too. Reckon I'm pretty much invested in this place, now," she agreed, and her field harmonised with Gasket's own as she also reflected on the beautiful contradictions of the human race. And of their immature similarities to their kind as they'd been on Cybetronian.

Lowering her pedes off the table and back flat onto the floor, Cleaver lay her blades downwards between her knees and sat forwards. Berth was calling, the busy manufacturing processors leaving her more regularly in need of a thorough defrag cycle. "Don't suppose you've met Cat yet, have you. Young human I accidentally ended up taking home with me one day. She'd got a modified escape pod down that side tunnel, and watches more cable TV than me."

[Deleted]

Though the thought graced the old mech's matrix he did not voice it; if the old medic bot was as invested in the planet as she claimed why not help them defeat the Decepticons? While his matrix immediately struck on several possible reasons why, including several which stemmed from her history, he merely vented at her comment. The company was well liked and he was not about to do anything that would jeopardize this wondrous moment.

As she changed the topic, explaining how she had come across a human and had, quite literally, adopted her, Gasket simply settled in and nodded. Though he was interested in getting started he was always interested in meeting a new human. When Cleaver pointed out her quarters, however, the old bot found himself mildly confused. She had put a word into a sentence that he had not heard before.

"I may just introduce myself, ma'am. Always pleasant to meet more of the indigenous beings. However, I must know... how much time can one spend watching an uplink cable?"

Slowly he reached to just below the wrist on his primary arm assembly, withdrawing a large gauge cable.

"Television is one thing but television about this... I didn't even know the humans knew of our anatomical structure."

Though his comments may have been taken as facetious, the glyphs in the layer below his comments were genuinely ignorant. He knew about television, sure. Just not cable television.

[Deleted]

Cleaver reset her optics, a mannerism she'd picked up from Cat. The young woman conducted a remarkable amount of her communication with just her eyes, and a silent blink was the most polite immediate response Cleaver's processor could come up with right then.

A beat passed, and when Gasket continued to watch her with the weight of genuine query, she smiled a little crookedly. "It's not... 'cable's a catchall for a subscribed multitude of, generally considered pretty poor quality, entertainment channels."

She shook her head a little, sending him a short data burst to provide a more thorough explanation than her paltry attempt. "If you want to learn more about human culture and don't mind hyperbole, or a lot of cooking programs, I'd recommend it."