crux_fleet | Hangar-ing out.

Entry tags:

Hangar-ing out.

"Oh, FRAG no."

Such is Deadlock's reaction, loud enough to be heard in the corridor outside through the open door, as he steps into the hangar, divided in half by a stripe of paint, one half with a helpful label 'Deadlock', the other 'Flashpoint.

Everyone else got their very own nice little rooms with berths and maintenance facilities and scrap like that, and Deadlock gets a half a hangar. 'Cause that's totally fair.

Not that it was news to him that life wasn't fair. And he'd slept in worse places, in the gutters, where you had to hide so the syphoners didn't get you or you weren't dragged off for a little dubiously consenting donation to the local Relinquishment Clinic.

But still, even Rodion hadn't expected him to recharge next to an...Autobot.

No fraggin' way he was going to transform with her watching.

Maybe she'll be smart enough to not show up. Or maybe, being an Autobot, she was so dumb she hit the airlock instead. That was a cheerful thought: Flashpoint floating clueless and alone in the vastness of space. So he's almost smiling (what are you nuts? A real smile would break this face) as he moves to stow his most valuable possessions: his guns, with a grenade with an Autobot logo on it proudly in the middle.

Who says he doesn't have an optic for style?

((OOC: Open to anyone wandering by/exploring!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Right. Like Deadlock's gonna believe anything she says. He'll just add 'delusional' to her list of character flaws. He has to start writing small now to fit that all in.

He's combat ready, hygiene-wise. You prissy Autobots primp too much anyway. "Yeah, exactly." He doesn't even know anymore. He's just working on reflex and that reflex is 'obnoxious'.

He sees what you're doing there, and too bad on you, he has his own rations. Decepticon rations, which means, a million times better than hers.

He's just going to watch her eat, because that's creepy.

Yeah that's pretty much a lost cause, but it's not her that's delusional. Still, if their positions were reversed, she wouldn't believe him either.

Well hey, if good hygiene annoys him then it's all the more reason to practice it. It'll be some kind of revenge for all this creepy staring. Which will be funny for the first half hour, then she'll want to punch him.

"Getting an opticful, huh?"

Flashpoint doesn't really do the silent treatment.

Yeah, sure, do all the kinky self maintenance you want. Just, you know, wait till he's not there. Hang a scrunchie on the door or something. Because he's not some depraved sicko like her so he'll pass on watching that.

"Optic full of something, yeah." Something gross. "Just waiting for you to recharge." He's upping his creepy!game!

Fantastic. She'll just hang a scrunchie on the door handle forever (is that his drone with its arms and legs braided into a circle?) and then she'll have the hanger all to herself!

"And do what? No way you're disposing of a body without them noticing." That totally does not mean she knows anything about disposing of bodies, nope. "Something creepy and desperate probably."

She's gotta ration her energon supply though because who knows when they'll have more. So away goes the packet and out comes her toolbox, the last thing in the crate. It's probably good that she was doing maintenance when she'd been dragged here otherwise she wouldn't even have it.

You keep your greasy Autobot paws off his noodlebot!

"You think I'm so dumb I'm gonna tell you what I'm going to do to you?" SCOFF. Also, he has no idea, but you don't need to know that either.

Note to self: research ways to dispose of bodies.

He's going to watch her take out the tools. Ha! He knew it! "You're just a medic!"

Personal Note: leave oily fingerprints on Deadlock's noodlebot when he's gone. Also, replace its smilie plate with something lewd.

"Pff, scare tactics." Not that he needs them really, she's paranoid enough.

That accusation seems a little out of place though, most of the time medics are valued. But whatever, she'll take it as compliment, as strange and backhanded as it is. "You go right ahead and think that if it helps you recharge. It'll make my job easier if it comes to that."

Two can play at the scare tactics game. But speaking of that, she takes out a diagnostic data pad and plugs her hardline into it. Her onboard diagnostics had come back clean but these fleet people seemed to know their way around tech, so she's gonna run them again from an external source.

Go ahead, and then Deadlock will have proof that you are a noodlebot fetishist. The noodlebot can be autoclaved: can her reputation?

It occurs to Deadlock--dimly, because he's a dim kind of mech--that at some point he might need a medic and maybe he should be nice to her.

Then he comes to his Decepticon senses.

"Hnf. Bet you never saw any real combat." But he's watching her face to see what's going on on the little screen thingy she's watching.

If Flashpoint had shame she would have died of it a long time ago. Well, she does, but Deadlock will have to hunt harder to find it. What rep she's got isn't shiny so who the frag cares? It hasn't occurred to her yet, that maybe she could start over here.

Most bulbs get a little brighter as they warm up...assuming anyone could warm up to Flashpoint. Yeeeeah, there's a reason she's not a real medic, even now.

"You got shanix to lose?" Because she's not afraid to share her service record if it proves a valid point. Of course, letting him underestimate her has its attractions too.

She's a bit frowny through the whole diagnostic. "Don't trust these jerks," she grumbles, not happy about having to do it in the first place. She doesn't anything that isn't explained by the spark extraction and following reinsertion thought, or she guesses anyway.

All that means is he's pretty sure you are a noodlephile. Not even a closet one!

"Right. Pretty mech like you's gonna get yourself all dirty fighting." SCOFF.

And yes he just called you 'pretty'. He's going to realize that in about a klik and his face is going to do some pretty interesting contortions.

"So. Yeah? Bad stuff?" He's so torn. He'd be okay to hear they planted a bomb in her or something, but, you know, not him.

She's been called worse. And if Deadlock wants to get into a battle of the wits with slander as a weapon, well, she's got game.

"S'what I live for," she rumbles, her attention still on the datapad until a split second later when she realizes what he said. W-what? Is that a compliment or an insult? She suspects the latter, but whatever, he still called her pretty. HA. It spreads a catty smile over her face, "Bet you'd enjoy that, huh? Dirtying me up?"

Yeah just try and deny or accept that without sounding awkward.

The hands that hold the datapad are less then pretty though, battered and dented as only hands routinely used as weapons could be. Flashpoint almost wishes she found something heinous in the scans, something she could use as justification for a rallying cry against the confederation's treatment of mechanicals. "No. Well, no anomalies compared to my last scan anyway. Just after effects from the extraction." She catches herself rubbing her chest plating then, hand snapping back to the datapad.

Fine, Noodlepervpoint. He'll remember that. Just wait till you wake up in the morning and find that nice change to your nametape here.

"If dirtying you up means bringing you down, yeah, I could. Gets boring around here, I could use some fun." Wait! He means the Autobot-mangling kind!

...fail.

"Yeah? So we're--you're fine. Great. Fantastic news. Least you're not going to blow up on me or something." You didn't hear that slip. SHHHH.

She's going to put industrial strength glue on her shopping list and give him a new faction brand one of these days. ~~Except with her luck she'd probably glue herself to him which be a whole new level of OHSHIT.~~

Flashpoint snickers and laughs because that's just what crass mechs do. "Oh yeah? I might be down for somethin', but you're crazy if you think you'll get my back on the floor." Is this about 'facing or fighting or both? HA, Deadlock may never know.

"Well yeah. I am, who knows what they did to you. They kept your body longer, yeah? Wonder what they were doing with it." Can you hear the imaginary creepy music playing in the background? Where is that strange sense of foreboding coming from?

He knew she had the hots for him. But frag. She could just, you know, ask and not resort to crazy Autobot mating ritual measures. Glue? KINKY.

Deadlock doesn't know and he's not even sure she knows. Does she know he doesn't know? HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW THAT.

His life is pain.

"Huh, you got grav nodes on your back or something?" Because that's about the only way, Noodleperv.

The look on his face, or really, series of fifty one flavors of DNW that have a pageant on his faceplates, says yeah, he totally is wondering, too. Thanks for planting that thought in his head. "...they better not have."

Deadlock might not be prepared for how kinky that could be. ... Assuming kinky is synonymous with awkward.

"Don't need 'em." Cute, Deadlock. Real cute. "Tip from the experienced though, mighty kind of you." Yes that is her totally winking at you Deadlock. About things they are both not knowing. Except that whatever it is, it probably involves a lot of flailing limbs and grunting and swearing.

Flashpoint sees that parade of DNW and has moment of rough hewn sympathy, because frag people putting things in people's bodies without their knowing it.

"I could always...check for you." She shrugs like it's no big thing. Whatever, cuz it's not. She just doesn't want HIM blowing up on her. And then there's the other thing. "Frag those guys and their prying hands."

Yeah, you heard right Deadlock, she'd choose you over them.

He's still confused, but you know what? He's not going to be the one to give in. She wants to be all weird and double entendre-y? FINE. Bring it. He can do that, too.

"Just trying to give you a fighting chance. You know, before you go down."

Face it, it is inevitable.

Well, turns out that pageant of DNW was just a warmup for his reaction now. "I...you think I'm gonna let you mess with my internals?" ...is he?

Well frag. This was hysterical when he was being all grossed out, she figured she could troll him with her perviness and just delight in watching him squirm. Except now he's giving as good as he's getting and she might just start entertaining those notions for real.

NAW. He'd have to be way less of a pain in the aft for that to ever happen.

"A fighting chance always makes things way more interesting. Don't think you wouldn't spend your share of time on your aft."

She gives him a flat stare at that last part. Really? "Not unless you want me in there." Oops, is that more double entendre? The hand holding the diagnostic pad gives it a significant flick, popping her cable from it at the same time. "Or I could just scan you? Unless you're afraid your firewalls aren't good enough."

Oh, believe him, Flashpoint, on the inside he's freaking out. Or would be, if he really grasped how raunchy some of this stuff sounded.

"Keep talking big like that I'm going to get my hopes up." F-for a good fight, he means. You know, mechly fisticuffs, that sort of thing.

He glares at her because no fraggin' way he wants her Autobot medic paws on his internals. He'd need to autoclave himself. But then...oh, no. you did not just go there. "My firewalls are up to anything you can throw at them!" How dare you impugn his core programming, Flashperv!

Oh, she likes it raunchy. She's not much better than Whirl in that respect.

"Oh I always deliver on my promises, especially when it comes to a little rough play. How else we gonna have fun in this place? Probably boring as hell otherwise." O-okay she seems to have firmly settled into the 'both' territory? This will undoubtedly get her into trouble.

"Diagnostics are level one security for a reason," DUH. "Not going deeper than that without an invitation, thanks. I'm not some aft-sucking coward who installs malware without someone's knowledge." Oh, that sounds bitter. Really, really bitter. Like, Personal Issues bitter.

He's not really even sure what 'it' is, much less how he likes it. He kind of wants to go back to shooting at Autobots, because at least that was familiar.

"Probably boring?" Hnf. Shows how much you know. He's already bored.

E-except for whatever the pit was going on in this conversation and all the terrible thoughts about his systems and ways they could have messed with them.

"....you calling me a coward?" He might make you do that scan just to prove he's no coward. So there. That'll teach you.

There's a way to make shooting at Autobots raunchy too, Deadlock...

"I'm being generous," she says dryly. "Can't say I've reached the level of peeling paint boredom yet. Not with present company around." Yes that's right, Decepticons make life 'interesting' with their mere presence, Deadlock especially.

"Well if the gun fits the holster..." She shrugs. "No paint of my chassis if you don't. Except that anything they've done might be a threat to both of us and frankly I wouldn't take it too kindly period. I don't trust them so I don't know why you would."

Sorry Deadlock, she just likes sharing her paranoia okay? And well, if Flashpoint scans him and actually finds something then it's not unreasonable paranoia, is it!?

"Guess you Autobots," have a bonus sneer, "get so bored being all rich and privileged and slag you have all these find different categories and all." Deadlock does not. There is slightly bored and then there is shooting something to be less bored.

Deadlock doesn't trust anyone. Frag, on alternate Tuesdays he doesn't even trust himself. But there's a long moment where he's clearly weighing who he trusts less: gross Autobot or gross organics. Hnnnnngh this is so hard. He may in fact look like he's in serious pain.

".....fine. Run a fraggin' scan. But no funny business." Because he knows where you recharge and he has a noodlebot and he's not afraid to use it.

"No that's just me. I like to classify my levels of boredom because it gives me something to do while being bored out of my mind." DUH. Clearly this is obvious and therefore superior logic. "Who the frag says all Autobots are rich and privileged? They must be gettin' a paycheck I don't."

At least Flashpoint's not asking for trust. She's not even asking him to be nice. Just offering because she's been there before. And yeah, it's not a fun ride. "I won't. I'm no Knight of Cybertron or some slag but I don't pullin' that kind of scrap. Dealt with my own share of that and fraggit I'm not doin' the same to somebody else."

She makes a show of stepping around all the weaponry and bringing only the diagnostic pad with her; theoretically she'd have an easier time eliminating him with her bare hands then using any of those munitions, but hey, he doesn't know that.

Flashpoint stops at the line drawn on the floor though, separating their two living spaces. "Knock, knock. May I come in?" Whoa are those manners? Naw, they sound too scripted for that.

"...you get paid?" Well that settles it right there. Rich privileged paid Autobots.

Hnf. Yeah don't share your sad and traumatic backstory with him. He doesn't care. Except, yeah, more like he doesn't want to care. So stop saying stuff he can care about, you blue meanie.

He rolls his optics at her little charade. "Yeah, fine, but wipe your Autobot feet on the mat." If they're going to play house, he can be a jerk about that, too. He's ~multifaceted~.

"No." This is her facepalming for the umpteenth time, fingers scraping down her face. "Does sarcasm always fly over your head?" Oops, short joke. Unintended yet still accurate!

And Flashpoint's not sharing her history because he'll probably just trash that too. Besides, she's not looking to buy any favors. She doesn't want pity, just a little respect. ... And maybe to strangle him once or twice for associating her with things she's not. Is that too much to ask?

Time to play house then, hmm? Who's kinky now? The 'mat' just so happens to be his name on his side of the line--oops--and she certainly does give both footplates a tap before ambling over. She crouches near him, uncertain about getting too close, and holds a hand out. "Data cable?"

This is clearly a strategy Deadlock should adopt. If she facepalms enough maybe she'll knock herself unconscious.

What? A mech can dream, can't he? "Only stupid sarcasm."

So, yeah, in other words.

Bigger mechs than you have tried strangling Deadlock. Guess how well that went for them.

Fine, he doesn't care about her messing up the gross organic writing anyway. He's frowning, holding his arm out, trying to look as lazy and 'whatever' about it as possible. "Don't fraggin' break it."

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