Fun fact: Police vehicles used to be called 'prowl' cars.
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Two sides faced off on the flat downtrodden ground only a few hundred yards from the Ark. There was little doubt that Red Alert's cameras were watching the entire thing, cannons aimed at the Decepticons should they take one wrong step. Hard optics of crimson and ultramarine flickered at every little movement as servos itched to grab their guns. Finally, the tallest Autobot present stepped forward. Bodies on the opposing side instinctively flinched back, save for one dark blue mech. Soundwave strode ahead as Optimus did the same. They met only a yard apart as the warriors behind shifted uneasily.
"My tracker." The Prime rumbled dangerously.
In some cases, Megatron and Optimus were similar. Both determinately holding their ground, tenacious, strong and willing to make personal sacrifices to get where they wanted. But in other instances they were opposite sides of the same coin. Where the warlord threw out his forces as a show of brute strength and disregarded those who fell or failed him, the once-cargo hauler did not. Optimus was protectively loyal to his own.
"One-hundred and twenty-five cubes of energon, as agreed." The masked officer droned statically, carnelian optic visor watching the large red and blue bot seemingly without emotion.
Seeing a nod from their leader, Inferno, Ironhide, and the Twins pushed out a couple of trolleys stacked with glowing pink cubes, iridescent rainbow shine glimmering along the planes of the glass containers. Soundwave gave a silent command of his own and Vortex strode through the throng. Tossed over his left shoulder was the prisoner, slumped and hanging limp. Snarls echoed lowly from the Autobots, although Optimus kept his emotions in check and optics on Soundwave. Vortex slung Hound off him and dropped the jeep on the grass with a clang, a grunt spilling from the bot who appeared to be at least partially conscious. Tensions flew higher, taunt as violin strings as the bots studied every single move the cons made with narrowed gazes. Armor flared in aggression.
Stalking away from the main group, Ratchet headed toward the Autobot leader and stopped just behind to the left of him. He took in Hound's conditions before glancing up to glare at Vortex, optics flashing white although he kept his temper in check. For the moment.
The helicopter slunk back just in case. Cybertronian armies put a lot of stock in how dangerous medics were. They knew countless ways to kill someone without strength or force, easily destroying from the inside out. A medic could turn a mech's own body against him or paralyze with just the snipping of a cord or particular wire. Not to mention protective protocols made them downright terrifying if they thought there was a threat to their patient. This was enough that the healers were highly respected and sometimes feared. It paid with your life not to get on a medic's hit list. And early in the war the Decepticons had learned the hard way not to piss off the Autobot CMO.
Optimus gestured towards the trolleys, "One-hundred and twenty-five. Now return Hound." That kind of tone got mech's moving, leaving no room to argue lest there be serious consequences. A nod from the con Communications Officer and several anonymous seekers relinquished the cubes from the Autobots. Hissing at the fliers, the lambo twins stalked over to flank the medic. As soon as the tape deck retreated to go count the cubes, Ratchet surged forward to check over the bot, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe covering him. They'd already lost a comrade once, they weren't letting it happen again soon.
Hound for the matter was in quite a state. A sloppy patch had been slapped over the hole on both sides of his chassis but energon still leaked sluggishly out from under the edges of the plates. Dents and crumpled edges of armor adorned his scratched up frame. What concerned the med-bot the most was the dazed expression and flickering dull optics, as the jeep sat on the ground and stared off into nothing save the rising of the morning sun.
"Hound?" Ratchet murmured quietly, carefully checking the deeper wounds and noting the slight damage on the tracker's helm.
He seemed to wake up a bit more, turning his face toward the medic, "Ratch...?" A slurred gargle filled with puzzlement.
"Yes yes. You're safe. You're outside the Ark."
The ambulance's optics quickly flickered around to memorize all the injuries and pulled out a welder. As soon as he made sure the wound was sealed and Hound stable, then they could retreat to the safety of the medbay. His fingers barely touched the patch when Hound lunged.
With a snarl, the bot bared his denta savagely and threw a punch at the mech. Only Sunstreaker shoving forward to catch the fist stopped it from smashing into Ratchet's faceplates. Hound thrashed, his other servo scrambling for a blaster he no longer had. Neatly turning and pinning the bot face down, Ratchet's fingers moved in a flash to open the back of the jeep's helm. Within seconds the processor was exposed and the medic swiftly pushed loose things back into place, soldering together snapped wiring. Immediately, Hound relaxed and Sunstreaker let go of his servo but stayed right there in case he lashed out again.
Sideswipe hefted up his missile launcher and glared at the cons that stopped moving and counting energon to watch and snicker. The frontliner gave a manic smile of his own, all denta and murderous promise if they came too close.
"Can you focus better now?" Ratchet turned Hound's faceplates to study his expression before backing off a few inches. The distant look was replaced with sharp intelligence and recognition.
A groan, "Yeah. Sorry. Thanks doc."
"Hrm," The white and red mech muttered something under his breath and pulled a cord out of his wrist to attach to Hound's. Carefully checking to make sure his own firewalls were secure, Ratchet patched in and scrolled through the diagnostics flashing in front of his optics. However, he didn't find what he expected. There were no viruses.
Detaching, he sent a quick comm link to Prowl and stood. With a gesture, the medic got the Twins to help Hound up. Let the other officers deal with the problem. His main concern and job was Hound's health. If they needed his medical advice on something, they'd call him. Aloud he ordered briskly, "To the medbay with you. That patch won't hold and who knows what all is slagged up with your internals."
At the entrance of the Ark, Prowl stood straight with doorwings held at a high angle and flared enough so that he seemed to be a sentinel for the door, watching everything in their "yard" occur. Optimus strode over as the last of the cons flew off with the energon cubes. Bots passed the officers and headed inside to spread the news to those on shift that Hound was back. Ratchet and his patient walked among them. The medic didn't slow but his optics bore into the other officer's long enough to get the point across and then he was in the base, bellowing at others to move out of his way so Hound could be taken to the medical bay.
The tactician turned back to the landscape as the clouds overhead slowly lost the rosy golden hue the morning sun had gifted them with, "Hound does not have any viruses."
"That was too easy." Prime sighed tiredly. Only a few hours into the day and it had already become long. No viruses. The cons barely harmed their captive, tried to get rid of him as soon as they had him and hadn't tried to cheat the bots out of more energon. Megatron hadn't even argued that hard when the bargaining for the cubes occurred. It didn't add up. The Decepticons had broken their pattern and it left the Autobots feeling uneasy. "Have Ratchet check again, in case it's a sleeper virus."
Prowl nodded as Optimus turned away to go in. Still standing at the post, the Praxian surveyed the area before following. Too easy indeed.
Soon enough however, they were once again gathered. Several mechs were already in there as Jazz waltzed through the door of the conference room; Prowl, Red Alert, and Optimus. Ironhide stomped in behind Jazz and was followed closely by Blaster. The tall Communications officer gave the Porsche a warm slap on the back before taking his seat. Only Ratchet and Wheeljack did not join, busy working.
Optimus started with fingers tapping the table and a glance given to the TIC who'd requested the meeting, "I take it you have something?"
"Yes sir boss-bot," Pulling out the datapad, Jazz plugged it into the terminal in the middle of the table. The raised oval parted to reveal glass underneath, lighting up and projecting data into the air. Text hovered in short paragraphs, swirled in elegant script, while images aligned themselves around an invisible cylinder. They rotated slowly around so everyone sitting at the table could see. "Seems we got somethin' interestin'."
Within the slightly rough image captures, taken from various far vantage points, lay a large and very solid looking door. It was planted firmly into cave walls with a massive cross-section on the top of the frame. Even as they watched, one of the images became a motion picture. Scavenger rolled up to the doors, pausing for a moment and then drive forward as the panels parted in admittance. The Autobots could just barely see another door within.
"Cameras here, here, here, and here. Possibly more." Red Alert pointed out on the screen. His finger focused on the stone walls on either side of the entrance, "And lasers on top of the framing. No idea what security is on the second door."
Grumbles echoed from Ironhide's engine as the red bot leaned forward towards the pictures, "We can take it."
"Not until we have more information. As of right now, there is most likely a nasty surprise on the other side we have no knowledge of." Objected Prowl, transferring a copy of the report onto his own datapad. Optimus finished reading through the floating holographic text and ruminated for a moment before looking to Jazz.
"And you have no idea of what they're up to?"
Unfortunately, the Special Operations mech didn't, "They been up tah somethin' fer awhile now but 'asides the crates we don't got no leads. And we're not sure what they were diggin' fer in Peru." Jazz glanced at Blaster but the red and yellow bot shook his helm.
"We've had our audios open. No chit-chat on open lines except the regular buzz. A few complaints about the normal groups being a bit split but that's all."
Optics still trained on the pad, Prowl added in, "Wheeljack and the others have not gotten far on finding the purpose of the materials and that progress has slowed now that the situation with the Twins has come to light. However, they are near certain that the contents of the crates are for two different purposes. Otherwise, according to them, the materials together make no sense."
"'Least we know why they were so quick tah get rid ah Hound." Red servos clenched into fists as the weapon specialist growled. He was not happy with the situation but the fact that the tracker was no longer in the Decepticon's hands eased the tension slightly. Still, a slight twitch on the inside of his plating nagged him. Ironhide had learned long ago to pay attention when that twitch started. It meant something bad was going to go down soon.
Optimus agreed, rubbing his nose plating, "They wanted to keep us from looking too closely at them, and accidentally finding whatever they were up to." A weary vent blew out silently. Was it a bad thing that he was thankful that their enemies were too busy plotting their demise to cause serious harm to his men?
"Regardless, we should be grateful that Hound is alive and recovering. Ratchet just sent reports that he'll be fine." Relieved sighs expelled through the room as the tension from yesterday finally left. Prime continued, "And we need to know what they are building and planning. Jazz, gather information so tactical can formulate a plan."
A firm salute from Jazz, "Ah'll get mah team an' we'll scope so Hide an' dah others can do they're thin'."
The Prime nodded before turning to his tactician to see if he had anything to add. Noting the head shake, the semi excused the special ops from the meeting, "Only reconnaissance and information gathering for now, and then we'll go from there."
"I believe we need to add motion and heat sensors to the main entrance and the back of the base!" Chimed in the Security Director adamantly. The Constructicons digging through the volcano to get to the Ark once had made Red fearful that they would try again. A chuckle slipped out of Jazz's lips. The mech started thinking over the upcoming job, sweeping out the door to find his team and tell them they'd be heading out. Mirage would be back soon and then they could get on with planning fun things. Missions didn't make themselves after all.
"Is he alright?" The young man's worried hazel eyes refused to leave Prowl's blue orbs, although they were strolling down the hall. A dip of a crested helm from the black and white Praxian.
"Yes. The wound to the midsection was not fatal and Ratchet has repaired him. Hound is still recovering but I believe he is relaxing in the recreation room if you would like to speak with him."
Spike nodded and gave a tired smile, "Dad and I were so worried. Hell of a time to take a trip."
"You could not have known." Doorwings tilted slightly to the side as they changed course to head for the rec room. Faint musical notes echoed from the doors ahead, "I would also like to make it known that we have a human guest, Miss Shay Carpenter, who will be staying in the human quarters for an undetermined length of time."
"Oh?" Brows crept up, "Guardians?"
"Yes. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker." The tactician ignored the way Spike's eyes widened and then narrowed in concentration. Hesitantly he mumbled.
"Isn't she the one that brought them back?"
Another nod. Dread for the fear of another prankster on base made the man speak up, "And they get along?" By now the hum of conversation stirred the air ahead and it was easier to pick out the beat residing behind thick metal walls. Prowl paused in answering as there was a shout. They entered the rec room to see a few bots at the tables sipping cubes, Hound sitting on the far side in front of the TV watching the nature channel and a short human female glaring death with a side of murder at a looming amber colored lamborghini. Atop the table she was standing upon sat an old stereo playing a lilting light tune of interwoven piano music. Bumblebee had been the one to bring the old music player in the room quite awhile ago and it had yet to leave.
"I don't care if the lyrics have 'sunshine' in them. It's not your name and I can listen to whatever damn song I want!" The woman crossed her arms with a snarl and stood not inches from the frontliner whose armor was slowly flaring out in irritation.
"They get along just fine." Prowl murmured, finally answering Spike's question. The man gazed up with an incredulous look as the door-winged mech barked the Twin's names. Until now, Sideswipe had been leaning back with an entertained smile, enjoying the banter.
"Hey Spike, Prowl." He waved at the young man and got a grin in return. It was hard not to get caught up in the prankster's cheerful moods sometimes. Shay spun sharply away from Sunny, turning off the stereo, and hopped onto the red brother's lap before jumping to the floor. Ignoring the catcall from Sideswipe, the woman stalked over to Spike and studied the man up and down. Worn and grease stained jeans barely covered nice tennis shoes, a buttoned shirt hanging loosely over tanned skin marked here and there with light scars. Very messy light brown hair crowned his head and rough hands showed he spent quite a bit of time outside and possibly did some hard labor for a job. If this was the man the Twins had mentioned, then he would be a mechanic. Letting a dry tone enter his voice, Prowl interrupted her examination by questioning the warriors.
"Don't you two have a short patrol with Trailbreaker in approximately three minutes?" A pout stole away the cheerful grin on Sideswipe's face as the frontliners grumbled and trudged out the door with weary boredom. The female frowned up at Prowl.
"I though they were currently restricted to the Ark?"
Doorwings flicked in agreement, "Correct. However, part of their punishment is extra patrol shifts close to base with an escort." The mech paused as the confusion on her face cleared away, "And how are you adjusting?"
Truthfully, the Ark took some getting used too. In the last twenty-four hours the woman had met enough new people to make her anti-social side shriek in panic. Shay was fairly certain she wasn't going to remember everyone's name or face or even all the rules. But Shay was adapting. Picking up little pieces and nuances here and there on this strange base. Baby steps, like any new experience. Time would tell if she would adjust or not.
So she answered truthfully, "I'm a normal person caught in a ridiculous situation with ridiculous people."
Guffaws of laughter shot out of Mr. Witwicky, turning into coughs as he tried to cover his mouth with a hand. Glee sparkling in his eyes, the young man looked to Prowl, "That sounds familiar."
The mech vented a tiny sigh of exasperation, "Some days..." Whatever the Datsun was thinking went unfinished as he bent down to gesture carefully at the male, "Miss Carpenter-"
"Shay." A vexed expression.
"Of course, my apologies for forgetting. Shay, one of our first human contacts, Spike Witwicky. Spike, Shay." The man stuck out a callused hand and smiled as Shay politely shook. Introductions now over, Prowl straightened. "I am needed elsewhere. If there are any problems Miss- ahem. Shay, then feel free to come into my office to discuss it with me at any time. Spike." With a nod to them both, the Praxian turned on his heels and left, leaving the two humans to converse. A look akin to embarrassment crossed her face.
"I do believe someone mentioned your name before... Uh Bee, I think his name was. Horned yellow minibot. He was very nice."
Spike's face lit up with easy-going cheer, "Bumblebee. He's been my guardian for a long time. Prowl tells me you're the same one who brought the Twins back last Autumn. I never got to speak with you then." He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and seemed relaxed. Shay on the other hand was not. Twinges of unease threaded through her core as the woman nodded, not liking the subject. She'd been regretting her decision since she'd made it and yet it kept coming back like a hungry stray.
"Yeah, I left pretty quick." What else could she say to that?
Perhaps Spike picked up on how uncomfortable she was. Whatever the case, he offered her a way out, "Well, I'm going to go see Hound. Would you like to come too?" She shook her head, already having spoken to the tracker earlier, "It was nice meeting you. Anyone who can stand up to Sunstreaker and live is courageous in my book. And don't hesitate to ask if you get lost around here. It took me forever to get used to it."
"I'll be sure to do that. Thank you." A murmur in reply as he waved and headed toward the other side of the huge room.
A sigh of relief blew out as the woman herself started to leave. Finally some time away from the people and their questions. It seemed everywhere she turned was someone wanting to meet her and talk and it was driving her crazy. But now the woman could be alone for a bit. Maybe she could go back to the guest room and read a book or sit outside. Exploring the immediate woods would make her feel better. And it wouldn't be so claustrophobic like in here with huge empty spaces...
"Heya lil lady."
Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it. Shay's mouth clamped down before the curse could leave her lips. There goes the relaxing plans.
Turning showed a very familiar frame looked down at her with a devilish but delighted grin, "Hello Jazz."
Blue visor winking in the light, the Porsche crouched and held out his palm in an offer to give her a ride. Curiously, the tips of his servos were pointed. Shay was starting to pick up on the fact that most Autobots had rounded digits while a select few had sharp ones. Although Jazz's weren't nearly as deadly as the ones on that Decepticon, Skywarp, that had grabbed her. Maybe the edges were useful for fighting.
"You seem tah be all by yerself. Bored? Ah gotta game but nobodeh tah play with." The woman frowned at the innocuous expression on the black and white bot's face. "Surely there are others who could play with you?"
Jazz exaggerated a defeated pout, playing up his dilemma in a comedic way, "Most ah dah others are buseh an' ahm off shift. Pretteh please?" His lower lip trembled in almost authentic sorrow while the bot's shoulders drooped. Shay sighed. This guy was almost worse than Sideswipe.
"What are we playing?"
"Chess! Yah know how?" The woman nodded and stepped into the waiting palm. Before she could so much as blink, the Porsche was up and moving out the door. A brief shout of 'woah!' from the human was left in the dust as Jazz bustled down the hall and out the front of the Ark. Warm sunlight beat down, rays breathing across her face to compete with birdsong and a light clattering of branches for her attention. Strands of wind tugged at her unbound hair as the bot turned this way and that before finding a spot to his liking. Sitting her down on the grass, Jazz pulled out a large wooden box and flopped down on his chest plates. 'At least we're outside.' Shay mentally relented as she settled on her butt and watched the mech pull out a slightly larger then normal board and plastic pieces at least five inches long.
"White or black?" The mech with those colors asked, servos hovering over the pile. Still frowning, the woman shrugged. "Your choice... Jazz, why ask me to play? I'm fairly certain there are others off duty that you could have asked."
A sharp smile was her reply as he shoved the whites toward her and lined his up on the board, "But then how am ah supposed tah get tah know yah? I'm a social mech, darlin'. Friends with ever'bot."
She snorted and settled the last piece in place. They were surprisingly light and most likely hollow. Jazz waited as she slid her first pawn forward and he did the same. It was quite nice out in the early summer weather as the two contestants focused on the game. Finally, after moving a knight to take his pawn, Shay spoke up.
"I have a question."
He looked up and tilted his visor at her, "Shoot."
The woman watched his move while pulling off her tennis shoes and setting them to the side. Shifting to allow more blood flow to her legs, she queried, "Do you have any suggestions for dealing with my confinement to the Ark? I would prefer not to rely on all of you for food and such. If it's possible to get a job nearby, I could still stay at base while supporting myself."
"Ah don't see why ya can't. Prowler's gonna be your best bet. Get im on yer side an' he'll help yah with da Hatchet." Jazz snickered at her eye roll for the nickname before taking a pawn and placing it in the growing pile at the side of the board, "We gotta lot of fun stuff comin' up. Don't know if the Twins mentioned or not, but Carly's b-day is gonna be here in 'bout three weeks."
"Spike's wife?" Bishop to C4.
Foot waving back and forth to an indolent rhythm, the saboteur's legs curled up, "Yep. Ah think you'll like 'er. She's a spitfire too." He laughed at her grumble and moved one of his rooks diagonally. Calming his chuckles, he continued chatting.
"Then after dat we got fireworks in July. You'll love 'em better 'an the spring ones. Wheeljack helps with these and maaaaaaaaaan are they a sight tah see."
The mech's visor was firmly tilted down but there was no telling where his optics were. Maybe he noticed the miniscule freeze in Shay's posture as she pulled her hand back from the board. Maybe he didn't. Regardless, the woman was suddenly very grateful for the stone mask that she'd adopted after years of practice. Blank, bored, and impersonal. Nothing to give away in those faded azure eyes. Although one could almost hear the thoughts whirling around like a stirred up hive inside. Jazz moved again, knight to F6 and precariously close to her king.
Her sudden quiet was not remarked upon as Shay's mind moved a mile a minute. Finally, her queen took his knight. Blatant rage made itself apparent in her expression, mouth pulling into a snarl and brows narrowed to a glare. She took the conversation down an errant path and hissed quietly.
"How many events and people did you manipulate to get me into this base?"
Dead silence. The grin turned into another pout, Jazz staring at her as if she'd struck him, "That's real paranoid Shay. And ah thought Sides was exaggeratin'." She stared back at him with reptilian cold eyes, not believing it. Still looking quite sad, the Porsche moved his king to a safer position.
"What is the likelihood of Bluestreak showing up at the warehouse during one of the few times the Twins were too far away to be a problem? While I was there?" Ice hissed through her voice, fists clenched around the fabric of her light jacket. The visored mech seemed to think about it for a moment.
"Pretteh low ahm guessing." He slid a figure over and took her last rook.
Blue eyes frosted and narrowed beneath the warmth of the sun, "Did you convince Sideswipe to call me?"
Now. Now there was a smile. A terribly entertained and delighted mischievous look that she'd seen quite often on Sideswipe's face and once on Sunstreaker. Somehow it was slightly more terrifying on the shorter mech. "Nah femme. He was all set tah do that himself. You all woulda done things yerself."
"But you gave things a push." She stole another pawn.
It wasn't obvious, not in the least. But Jazz had known that she and the Twins had gone to see the fireworks and Shay hadn't told a soul about that. She was certain the Twin's hadn't either. So the little Autobot had been spying on them. And then there was timing. If Jazz had known before the others, then it stood to reason that he'd had something to do with Bluestreak showing up when he had. Otherwise the timing was just too perfect. Just how much had been pushed and pulled by this mech? Pawns. Pawns and puppets doing a choreographed dance across a board to get where he wanted.
There were three things that had always made Shay angry. Control and restraint by others, as well as manipulation. To take a phrase from the Twins, Primus help anyone who manipulated her. And everything had been planned, down to her "accidentally" finding out. Special ops didn't accidentally spill anything. He'd been playing her, before she even knew there was a game in play.
"I'll admit you were bein' a little slow. Just said a thing or two 'bout how he should stop avoidin' whatever was buggin' 'em." A toothy grin and his knight moved. Check. "'Sides, they were actin' off a'fore you got here. Now they ain't."
"Off how?" Worry knotted her gut. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had just mentioned those echoes, nothing else. She took another pawn.
A shrug, "Sunny was angrier. Avoidin' folk more. Sides wasn't as cheerful. Their usual stunts an' pranks weren't up tah their standard." Lazily lifting his shoulders again, he grabbed one of her pawns in retaliation. Shay felt the anger dissolving in light of this revelation as she attempted to reign in the ambivalent emotions and shut them below. The woman hadn't thought that the Twins had been affected by her absence all that much. Apparently she was wrong. Quietly, the spy let out a low murmur, "They hid it well."
"Did you know the whole time?" Jazz didn't answer as her eyes bore holes in the board, "Why do this?"
The visored mech grinned cheerfully again, flashing his denta as he ended his turn. "Ahm the official morale booster. It's mah duty tah look out fer folk, especially mah friends. They're happier now." That wasn't what she'd meant. The woman wanted to know why he'd let her understand she'd been played, or was it just her reaction he'd wished to see? Her queen moved into position to take the knight. His piece moved across the squares. Checkmate. Standing, the saboteur gave a shallow bow.
"Yer good tah play against. No heart on yer sleeve and yah keep yer secrets close tah yer chest. That was an interestin' game"
Shay let out a thin brief smile that wavered and disappeared into a distant frown almost as soon as it came. She moved to set the pieces back in the box, "Yes."
He knelt down to help but paused to press a finger to his right audio. Mirage's confirmation at returning to base made the Porsche frown in seriousness and straighten again. Back to planning missions and filling in his team then. The woman waited and watched with guarded eyes, still placing things back in the box until finally Jazz huffed, "Sorry lil lady, looks like ah gotta go. Officer stuff an' all."
"I'll put this away." Shay folded the large board until it was a thick square.
He nodded in appreciation, "Leave it in Prowler's office. Technically it's his anyways. Thank fer playin'. Till next time." With a two-fingered salute, the mech whirled and trotted off back into the Ark. Shay tracked his movements with dull shaded eyes before finishing her task, save for one pawn. One shiny black plastic figure rolled back and forth in her hands.
She'd calmed considerable now that she knew why he'd done it. Hell, if it hadn't involved manipulating her then she probably would have helped, because the end result was good for the Twins. Thinking about it, the woman supposed that he hadn't done that much. Just hurried them along. They would have ended up at this point anyways and Jazz had just been trying to help his comrades. Shay could appreciate that, just not his methods. Stupid special ops and spies.
A glimmer of a razor sharp smile flashed across her face before disappearing while she stood, the pawn still held in a hand.
Several hours and many plans later, the mech paused in entering his quarters, fully intent on taking a quick recharge before heading out for recon. But the panels on the keypad looked just off center and tampered with. Alarms immediately going off in Jazz's mind, he opened the door and slid in with a careful and slow grace. A knife in one hand and the other straying towards his subspaced blaster, the dim visor scanned the room before stopping in the middle. His limbs relaxed.
Hanging from the ceiling by a rope was a black plastic pawn.
Jazz threw back his head and laughed.
Every single time Shay had ended up speaking with Ratchet, crazy or tense situations were going on. So it was really a matter of circumstance that the two kept butting heads.
Not to say Shay didn't respect the CMO, she did quite a bit. The woman wouldn't admit that the sarcastic biting tones and general snarkery at everyone and everything was amusing, or the fact that nothing really seemed to faze him. Ratchet just huffed and puffed and snapped while fixing the problem before moving on and rumbling about how he never got any time to relax. He had his spark in the right place while being ornery. Blunt honesty which she appreciated greatly.
That just didn't stop the two from trying to insult the living daylights out of each other. When two immovable forces collide, the end result is the same as tectonic plates crashing.
"Watch your tongue." A harsh look on unamused light gray faceplates.
Shay placed her hands on her hips as she stood in the medbay, refraining from cussing out the medic. Again. Ratchet had insisted she come in so he could do another quick scan, and yet every time they spoke it somehow turned to scornful reproach. "I cannot. It's in my mouth. If however, you want me to use less vulgar language then perhaps you should do so yourself."
"Oh great, another smart-aft." He mimicked her stance and gave a vitriolic bark, "Now get up on this medberth so I can scan you."
Blue eyes narrowed and the woman gave a borderline hostile glance before slowly climbing up. Apparently it wasn't fast enough for the medic who picked her up around the middle before setting the woman at her destination. Once standing, she calmly drew her slingshot out from her jacket and hit Ratchet's shoulder with a marble. Glass shattered and ricocheted across the room. When the woman had gone to get "necessary" items with Bluestreak, she'd added her small weapon to the list. And it was needed. What else was one little human supposed to use to get her way when on a ship full of metal giants?
"What the frag!?" He pulled back in surprise and roared, "What in Primus' name do you think you're doing?!"
"You did not ask before manhandling me. Don't do it again."
Atmosphere colored optics sharpened to glittering white and the bot's frame coiled like a spring, "Do. Not. SHOOT ME, in my Own MEDBAY!" What had started deadly soft turned into an enraged bellow as Shay gave him an unimpressed expression. At the back of the room, the doors parted and Wheeljack breezed in. Audio finials lit up as a soft blue.
"Um... Am I interrupting?"
Ratchet snarled 'Yes' at the same instant the human monotoned 'No'. Glaring, the ambulance whirled around to grab the equipment. Wheeljack snickered and glanced at Shay before bending down to study her. The woman had quickly become his new focus of attention for the time being and the inventor was quite eager to puzzle out everything they could on this 'empathy link'. He questioned in delight, "Annoying Ratchet?"
Shay shrugged and kept her lips sealed so as to refrain from saying 'He started it.' That would be too childish. Instead, she commented on her behavior, "I haven't been as angry now that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are here. My eyes haven't glowed at all since yesterday."
"Hmm," A dark gray servo rubbed the blast mask in thoughtfulness, "You know, they don't really glow. They're just reflecting light seventy-five percent more efficiently than a normal human."
A blink. She frowned fiercely, "I don't understand."
Wheeljack perked up, excited for a chance to talk science, "While your pupils haven't changed shape, the rods and cones that make up your irises shifted to allow more light to enter your pupils or
reflect it back. I'm pretty sure the change happened because your body was trying to copy the Twins, or rather, a cybertronian's. Energy is rerouted into our optical sensors during extreme emotions to help us bring our surrounding into focus more, say if we were in a fight. It's quite useful really. And the fact that your body tried to do the same without your conscious awareness is extremely interesting." The woman was going to scream if she heard anyone say 'interesting' (or in Perceptor's case, 'fascinating') again.
"But my eyes look normal when I'm not really angry." She protested, still mentally reviewing everything the Lancia had just said.
The mainly white bot with red and green stripes shrugged nonchalantly, "Well of course you wouldn't notice. This is all microscopic."
Ratchet came over and she automatically spread her arms so he could use the scanner. Studying the flat screen and wavelengths, he joined the conversation absentmindedly, "I believe your optical sensors started altering soon after you were around the Twin's sparks and finished after you left. You said they ached for awhile and you were very sick before getting better. My current theory is the time you were at your worst was when your body was finishing altering itself to accommodate these changes." He muttered something else under his breath while moving away.
At that moment, an onyx black and horned helm stuck itself through the doors on the right, "Shaaaaayyyyyyyy..."
"Yes, yes. You can have your human back. Scat." The medic waved a servo at Sideswipe while turning away to pull up data on a large screen attached to the wall. Sides whooped and grinned with the pointed parts of his denta showing. A huff of amused exasperation came from the female as the red bot snagged her before running back out the door.
Wheeljack looked at the closed entrance way for a few seconds before studying the medic. Tension running along his frame like invisible steel wire gave a glimpse towards his mood. Silently, the inventor came up behind him and placed a hand on his arm. Concern colored his tone.
"Ratchet...?"
Shoulders sagged but the mech's optics stared resolutely at the glass screen, refusing to look at his friend, "'Jack, I know you don't often help with repairs... Do you ever get that feeling when you start fixing someone but feel like there is something really really wrong?"
The masked mech said nothing for a moment and digested the question, "...You have that feeling?"
"Yes. The more I study this... The more I think we're already sunk."