Nearby, You Say?

Darkmount - Master Control

Three tiers of semicircular counters equipped with workstations and chairs look down upon a wall of larger monitors. The room is always filled with the clicking and beeping of typing and data transmission. Most of the staff are Cybertronians instead of drones; the work of coordinating the security, maintenance, fuel and resource distribution of the planet is beyond the limited capabilities of Shockwave's drones.

< Decepticon > Galvatron says, "Hm... hmm... 'Doubledealer,' is it? I need a word with you in Darkmount's Master Control room."

< Decepticon > Doubledealer says, "Hnn, yes, Galvatron, of course. I'll be there as fast as I can."

Galvatron has his hands behind his back, at present, and is currently pacing up and down the various tiers of this room. He seems impatient, expecting someone. All around the room, the gumbies occasionally glance at Galvatron's back nervously, wondering why he's here and hoping he doesn't randomly decide to yell at or hit one of them.

Doubledealer's talons click on the hard cold floorplates as he walks in cautiously, cocking his head one way and the other. "Lord Galvatron. You wanted to speak to me?"

Doubledealer

This dark blue robot bird is about the size of a minibot. It has a very shrewd look in its glittering eye, and a very sharp point to its gleaming talons. Decepticon symbols are painted on each of its wings, and can be seen clearly when they are spread to their full span.

Galvatron looked kind of annoyed until Doubledealer arrived. Now he's smiling a bit as he turns to the mercenary as he makes his entrance. "Ah, Doubledealer. Yessss. Your... information came in quite handy on that foundry world. I trust you've checked your off-world banking account, hm? Your... compensation should be in there." His smile goes away. "Did you know that I briefly considered sending the Sweeps after you?"

Scrapper doesn't usually do much at Darkmount. It's Shockwave's purview, and the maintenance drones are frankly creepy in a boring, soulless way. The problem, however, is that drones are really stupid and can't figure out how to change a lightbulb, and the staff all claim it isn't their job to chain lightbulbs. You need Constructicons for such difficult tasks! So that's why Scrapper wanders into the master control room now, carrying a ladder. Why he needs a ladder when he can fly is a bit mysterious. Spotting Galvatron, he pauses, and he asks, "Uh... is this a bad time?"

The Empire's plethora of massive bases requires constant, vigilant maintainance... And there is only one team the Decepticons trust to fulfill the delicate upkeep with appropriate skills. The Constructicons. An urgent all-constructs-bulletin has summoned Mixmaster along with Scrapper, and the chemist carries a giant space-cardboard and space-foam box containing spare bulbs.

"At some point during the past ten million years I was missing, M'Lord?" asks Doubledealer. "A kind thought." He sounds bitter, but then, he often sounds bitter. "Thank you for your largesse; I did indeed see that the payment had cleared, you are as generous as you are powerful. Allow me to make up for lost time; what more wickedness can we work together? Who shall we next lay low?" Doubledealer pumps his wings and hops up onto a console to be closer to Galvatron, as well as to keep his back from facing a door.

Galvatron raises a hand to Scrapper. "Oh, no, Constructicons. It's not a bad time at all. After all, so few of us even know who Doubledealer is, we may as well get to know him better!" He glances towards Doubledealer as he perches on a nearby console. "Actually, Doubledealer, I was going to send them after you because you didn't tell me the full story about that lens on the foundry world, and why we were supposed to destroy it." He shrugs. "But... it turned out to be the right thing to do after all, so I'll let that slide. And indeed--you have been gone quite some time!"

Galvatron leans in a bit. "You served Straxus himself, didn't you? I know. I have a few of his files. I've been going over a few, learned of some VERY interesting exploits." His tone suggests a bit of suspicion. "More than I can go into in front of all of these others, anyway. But that's not important. I do have another job for you."

One of the overhead light fixtures goes out. Galvatron glances up at it in annoyance. A few of the gumbies gasp, expecting a rampage.

If Scrapper's ever seen Doubledealer, he was much, much younger then, either an Autobot or neutral, and probably thinking about building Crystal City for the first time. And Scrapper's kind of absent-minded. So he just looks at the bird and concludes that, obviously, they must have needed more Predacons for some reason. He calmly unfolds the ladder underneath the erring light fixture, since Galvatron told him to stay, and he ventures simply, "I'm Scrapper. Constructicon foreman."

Doubledealer cocks his head, his features inexpressive enough to maintain a perfect poker face. "Indeed? I quiver with anticipation." He considers Scrapper with his gimlet stare. "Yes, I know you and your works."

The constructicons are responsible for some of the Decepticons deepest, darkest secrets, and Galvatron won't spill the beans in front of them? These are even two of the /smart/ ones, not like it's Long Haul and Bonecrusher. Mixmaster grumbles, and slides open the flimsy foam tray containing the lightbulbs. "I'll never understand why lightbulbs come in such flimsy containers..."

Galvatron's mouth forms a line. "Iahex. The Autobots' wonderful little stronghold. It stands in my way, Doubledealer. And I want you and your *legendary* information-gathering techniques to inform me of that city's weaknesses. I know you're capable of such a feat, Doubledealer. After all, you did it so very many times in the past--the *distant* past." He rubs his chin. "Hm, and you know, I've been thinking. Why not do this job on the house, hm? After all, your information did lead us to the lens last time, but it turned into *such* a debacle once we got there. I think you owe us." His optics narrow. "Don't you?"

Scrapper's work speaks for itself, he thinks. Certainly, it says more than Scrapper himself is willing to venture. Scrapper explains patiently to Mixmaster, "If we used better boxes, the Decepticon light bulb makers would want the boxes back, and Long Haul would complain about having to ship them back." The ladder set up, he then starts to climb it - seriously, why doesn't he just fly? Scrapper's attention does perk up a bit at the mention of Iahex - hmm! "Terrible city layout, there. Shoddy work."

Doubledealer drums his talons on the console. "That seems almost excessively fair. Indeed, you are as just as you are wise. With the knowledge of where, when, and just how to strike we will write the final chapter of the Autobots' story on Cybertron. I'll make contact with the subversive elements within the Autobot organization immediately, and learn their secrets. I sense that they are... nearby."

"Long Haul has enough to complain about without giving him something /else.." Mixmaster replies. Although this doesn't really explain anything, since so many other supply items come in giant metal crates and such. "Iahex, bleh. I thought we blew it up once already?"

Galvatron looks up to check the Constructicons' progress. "Are you two REALLY the only ones qualified to change a blasted bulb? I knew I was surrounded by morons, but this is ridiculous!" He sighs. "Regardless, Iahex poses certain difficulties when under assault. For starters, if the city is in danger, the Autobots can simply send the whole thing underground. Rather irritating." Returning his attention to Doubledealer, Galvatron smirks slightly. "Heh, I'll bet they are. So you're up to the task, then? Remember--I don't care what it is, I want information that will leave that city vulnerable. Once we have it, we'll slaughter everyone in sight! Just make sure the data's ready for the anniversary of the attack on Autobot City." Wait, that's coming up? In February? Oh. "THIS anniversary I want to kill ANOTHER Prime!"

Scrapper mentally reclassifies Doubledealer from being a wannabe Predacon to a wannabe Soundwave. Well, Doubledealer /is/ blue, and Soundwave is blue, so that makes sense, then. Atop the ladder, Scrapper grabs the offending light fixture and starts to screw out the burned out high tech light bulb equivalent. "Iacon. We blew up Iacon. Then they renamed it Iahex. Dunno why. Maybe they thought it would make Iacon sound more like Polyhex." They've probably blown up Iacon/Iahex several times by now. It just never seems to stick. Autobots are annoying that way. A little sheepishly, Scrapper replies to Galvatron, "Uhm... yes, actually, mi'lord."

"Hook insists he is /over/ qualified." Mixmaster adds, holding up a fresh lightbulb for Scrapper.

"Then I'll work fast," Doubledealer replies. "I go to do your bidding, Lord," he hisses, springing off of the console and flying out the door in a rasp of metallic wings.

Scrapper holds the broken lightbulb down to Mixmaster and suggests, "Here, make a laser out of this one," since Mixmaster can make anything out of anything, then takes the fresh light bulb and fixes the burned out fixture. Crisis averted!

Galvatron nods his head slowly as Doubledealer flies off. "See that you do." Checking on the Constructicons again, he growls, "Unions..."