Old Ways

Wed Nov 21, 2033

Office of Cybertron Commander - &lt;Decagon&gt;

This office room is empty. Apparently the intended occupant of this office has yet to move in their belongings yet.

Contents:

Ultra Magnus

Obvious exits: &lt;O&gt; leads to Office Lobby Room - &lt;Decagon&gt;.

If one wanted an explanation as to where the focus of the Autobots had been recently, one only had to stroll through the Decagon. Large portions completely unfurnished, unused, even unpowered in some cases. While the door is labeled 'Cybertron Commander,' the room inside is mostly empty, outside of a desk and a simple table for meetings. The outer wall is a window, providing a stunning view of Iacon, and in the distance, Retoris. It's there, at the desk, that Magnus can be found.

"Enter." Magnus gestures in, still watching a holodeck readout of footage from the Old Maintenance Center attack. Presently, the display shows the battle from Air Raid's point of few from the early discovery of Triggerhappy, accompanied by text transcripts of broadband communications.

Blades stalks on in. Belatedly, he delivers a tired lifer's salute. Then Blades just stands there, his expression asking, 'What did I do now?'

Ultra Magnus glances up, after a few moments. "Ah, Blades. Come in." As if it were Blades' idea to randomly come visit. Magnus stands, ignoring the question, and gesturing to the table. "Have a seat."

Yes, Blades is definitely all about visiting superior officers for no apparent reason. That is his favourite hobby. Taking a look back at the door, Blades shrugs and throws himself down in the chair with a &gt;whump&lt;.

Ultra Magnus pauses the holoreplay, and takes a seat at the other end of the table. "Blades, I'll get to the point: I know you have other duties and I don't want to keep you from them. I've been hearing some troubling stories about Autobot reponse to the EDC/Franklin Cross situation while Rodimus and I were away."

Blades isn't actually being kept from anything important, and he hates his job, anyway. Air defense is just not his cup of energon. His optics narrow, and he says carefully, "Did you, now."

Ultra Magnus nods, not acknowledging the guilty response, and presses on. "Quite a few, actually. Now, the idea of 'internal affairs' has never been an interest of mine. I'm a soldier- I don't tell stories out of stasis and I frown on mechs with a tendency to refuel and tell. However, things have been brought to light that I'm unable to ignore. So what I would like, Blades...What I would prefer, is to hear them from you, without prompting." And he leaves it at that.

The helicopter blades on the Protectobot's back ruffle and bristle. He's no snitch. So what if Repugnus pretty much admitted to murdering Baseball Cap Agents right in front of Blades? Blades isn't gonna tattle on one of his fellow Autobots. He replies, "That's what you'd like, huh?"

Perceptor arrives from the Office Lobby Room - &lt;Decagon&gt;.

Perceptor has arrived.

Ultra Magnus watches Blades for a moment, and then gives him a simple nod. "That's what's been asked of you, yes."

Blades leans back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head. He appears to be thinking about putting his feet on the desk. After a long moment, he says, "First Aid had this twitch in his wires to try to befriend Cross, y'see. First Aid likes to think the best of everyone, even if they don't deserve it... maybe especially if they don't. I never liked Cross, though. Fortress Maximus was testing some artillery out in the back-end of nowhere, and I kind of rode Cross's case a bit. He didn't like that. Now, don't get me wrong. I've seen straight-laced before." He's looking at it. "But the guy was a creep."

"I won't argue that, Blades. He did, after all, attempt to destroy our planet. The level of Cross' unpleasantness, however, is not the topic at hand. Now, I'm not looking for justifications or explanations, or anything that will cause us to have to spend time on this situation. I want facts, Blades. Facts will get us moving forward, and focused back on the Decepticons."

Blades waves one of his hands dismissively, and he says, his voice going flat and his optics flinty, "I'm getting there. Look... every time First Aid would go off for his planning sessions with Cross, I had to wonder if I was going to find First Aid dead in a garbage dump in Mexico, stripped for parts. D'ya understand what that felt like? Do you? I wanted to strangle that motherboard fragger myself. I wasn't the only Autobot who felt that way. When First Aid and I captured Cross and his agent cronies, I wanted the shove the lot of them off a cliff. I just wasn't going to do that in front of First Aid." He leans forward and laces his fingers over his knee. "So I just made Cross puke on the trip back to Iacon. The agents were made of sterner stuff."

"First Aid's galavantings with an extreme robocist are of equal concern to me, and to be honest, I'm thankful you insisted on being present with him as much as possible." Magnus folds his hands under his chin, and leans forward. "I've always been quite fond of you, Blades. You're a prime example of what the Autobots are fighting for: the reality that a sentient robotic construct can rise above function to his better nature. I'll tell you- one of my fondest memories of Optimus was the day you joined Hot Spot's unit. I hadn't seen a lot of hope in Prime for a long time, and that day...That day it was there, as if there hadn't been a war at all."

Magnus pauses, and sits back. "I may be strictly by the book, Blades, but you and I both know I wouldn't summon you here for being a little rough around the edges. So let's cut to the truth and try to be a little less deceptive."

Blades squirms and shifts as Ultra Magnus brings up his awkward past and... is basically suspiciously nice. He does not trust this, nosiree. He says firmly, "I'm not going to snitch on my fellow Autobots. Sir. We did what we had to. So the rest of the Autobots wouldn't need to."

Ultra Magnus shakes his head after a moment. "And that's where you're wrong. The Autobots didn't need to. And yet in violation of all possible operating directives, several did. How many human agents did Repugnus murder in cold blood, Blades? How many prisoners did Scattershot allow to drown in that underwater prison?" Magnus scratches his face, and suddenly looks very much like a tired older man with a few days worth of stubble. "For every action, there is an equal reaction. I'm sure you know the saying. If this is buried, Blades, it will come back on us tenfold. If it continues, it could decimate us in a way Unicron could not have dreamed. This isn't a witch hunt, soldier. Consider it a briefing- for me."

Blades says carefully, "I wouldn't know what Scattershot did. I wasn't there. The way Hubcap's report made it sound, a self-destruct just up and triggered, and Hupcap saved who he could. Sounds like you know more about what happened there than I do." He shrugs, and he doesn't say anything about Repugnus. "I've told you what I've done." Okay, he didn't tell that part about the 'art project' in Ultra Magnus's Earth office, but... well, other Autobots were involved, and Air Raid is a mechachicken who is afraid of getting in trouble. "So's this why we aren't putting the screws to the UN? You're worried about bodies in the closet?"

Ultra Magnus stands, frowning. "I'm worried more being added, Blades." He puts up his hands. "We're wasting time, and I have to tell you, I'm disappointed. However, we have more pressing concerns." He crosses to the desk, resuming play of the prior day's maintenance center assault, providing a sharp view of Boomslang shimmering into view and stealing the two visiting humans.

Blades looks down at his knees. Ultra Magnus can go on and be disappointed. Blades just mutters, "If they were Decepticons, no one would even care." He wonders what will happen if Groove talks or if First Aid does. They were there. Well, Blades can't worry about that. The video elicits a simple, "Slag," from the Protectobot, whose expression is grim.

Ultra Magnus lets the comment go. "Slag is right. The humans are a popular actor and director, working on a movie project about Chip Chase and his relationship with the Autobots...and a reminder of the positives of our alliance could certainly be used right now. I don't believe they were targetted: The Decepticons have been hitting the Center lately, and I wasn't happy that they were attached to our unit, but...I need a team to hit Polyhex and retrieve them. That team will be led by you."

Blades sits up a bit straighter. Ultra Magnus's revenge is very revenge-like! Blades's expression is one of pure incredulity. One can see the gears in his head turning. After a long moment, he says, "Wait. What."

Ultra Magnus gives the Protectobot a look. "I don't think I said anything incorrectly. I need a small team to confirm where the prisoners are being held, infiltrate, and liberate. You're one of the best hand to hand fighters I have, and that's what I need- someone quick and effective. Someone who won't lose focus. That's you. This would typically be Elita's cup of energon, but lately she's been rather reckless. This job is your's. I want it done soon, and successfully." He pauses. "And nonlethal."

Blades throws his hands in the air and blurts, "Nonlethal? How the smelt am I supposed to sneak past guards if I can't slit their fuel lines!?" He takes a moment to compose himself, and he points out, "Boss, this ain't rescuing hikers from bears! I... if I slag this up, not only will it make us Autobots look even worse, but..." Blades trails off, his words faltering, "...I'll have failed as a Protectobot."

Ultra Magnus gestures dismissively. "I don't think you've got it in you to fail. I think you can do this. It's time to prove you can. I'll have Bottlethrottle upload you the appropriate intelligence." He nods torwards the door. "Dismissed."

Maybe that's so. Blades doesn't think humans are all innocent angels, and he's okay with killing the evil ones, which some Autobots would never do, but when it comes down to actual innocent humans, like a director and an actor? Blades will save them or die trying. He just hopes it isn't the latter thing. He rolls the mission parameters over in his head. Maybe Ultra Magnus won't notice if Blades shanks a few guards in the back. There's so many Seekers. Who gives a flip?

This is a job for Mirage, anyway! Mirage could get in there, get out with the humans, and go back to sipping cocktails on Monacus before anyone was the wiser.

Then as he is standing and getting ready to go have his 'chat' with Bottlethrottle, Blades gets an idea that makes even him sick, and he frowns. He raise a finger and says, "Okay. I hope you don't regret this. I hope /I/ don't regret this. But I'm going to go AWOL in Crystal City with a new paint scheme and some red optics, and I'm gonna have a talk with one of those Decepticon recruiters that are getting so pushy up in there." Saying as much just about twists Blades's fuel lines into a knot. "I'll see who is with me."

Ultra Magnus nods. "It's your mission. Get it done."

"And take Groove."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Blades says, "Air Raid. I need your charming artistic talents."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "What, ho? Whatever Air Raid can do, I assure you I am far more capable at."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "How may I aid you, my noble companion?"

&lt;Autobot&gt; Air Raid grunts.

&lt;Autobot&gt; Blades says, "This is kind of a job that requires opposable thumbs, but, sure, whatever. Meet me in the Iacon medical hospital. I must be crazy."

Iacon General Hospital - &lt;Iacon&gt;

There are many hospitals in Iacon, but none as prestigious and well equipped as Iacon General Hospital. The numerous state of the art facilities housed within the hospital offers around the clock emergency repairs, upgrades, and mundane upkeeps. Iacon General Hospital is staffed by many of the Autobots' brightest minds where the non-combatants can do their part in contributing to the war effort.

Contents:

Spanner

Obvious exits: &lt;O&gt; leads to Science and Technology District - &lt;Iacon&gt;.

Sky Lynx has arrived.

&lt;Autobot&gt; Fireflight says, "Wait, Raid? I've been looking everywhere for him, where is he?"

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "Air Raid, why don't you join us as well? Your assistance and general good cheer will be appreciated."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "That's a good chap, grunt your way here presently!"

&lt;Autobot&gt; Air Raid groans. "I /am/ here, I'm just trying to recharge! ...Eyyy Flight!"

&lt;Autobot&gt; Fireflight says, "Raid! So good to be back. I've got so many photos I took on recon to show you. ..Admittedly a lot are of the ground. But there's still some good ones!"

Fireflight has arrived.

Blades stalks into the hospital in a foul mood, and he ignores the orderlies and head rights for the hanger where Sky Lynx is parked. The optic swap will have to be done by an actual medic - maybe he can lean on Torque or Perceptor for it. First Aid will just look /sad/ if Blades asks him for red optics. However, the repainting can be done by anyone with opposable thumbs, so... anyone not Sky Lynx? Ugh, this is a terrible idea. Blades looks up at the mammoth Autobot, and he says simply, "I need a new paint job." Hah, do /that/, Mr. Perfect!

Sky Lynx regards Blades calmly; his lynx optics studying the face of the other Autobot impassively. Well, that's a lie. It is impassively for Sky Lynx. There is always that smug look of being judged that he inflicts on others that he cannot seem to turn off. But as moods go, he is actually being relatively good! Strangely, he doesn't find this unusual at all. "Jolly Good." He comments, cheerfully. "What will it be? Woodland Camoflauge? Sky Blue? Or a fresher look?"

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "It is good that we are coming togeather as a faction to have these small moments. Painting each other does wonders for our morale and to remind us we are good for more than shooting and shivving."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "I may go so far as to order mutual painting as an exercize to Autobots that have demonstrated lack of paitence and a need for peaceful focus."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Torque says, "Painting? Wait.. don't tell me you're painting, Sky Lynx."

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "Of course, my dear friend. Do you think I am truly such a one trick space pony that I cannot paint my comrade appropriately?"

&lt;Autobot&gt; Torque says, "Well, considering your lack of hands... Hm, I'll be over in a minute."

Torque has arrived.

&lt;Autobot&gt; Sky Lynx says, "Paitence, my dear. All will become clear in a moment."

Blades is limping a bit, for some reason. He snarls, "I want to look like slotting Vortex. Slate grey. Dark teal detailing. /Completely stupid/. You got that, or do I need to show you a picture of his ugly mug?"

Hearing Sky Lynx attempting to paint someone would have Torque in stitches if she didn't fret for the receiver's finish, never liking to see a horrid paintjobs. Maybe that's why she winces every time she sees one of Fanfare's new paintjobs. Either way, the femme arrives on the scene just in time, slipping through the hospital with ease, given her occupation, before arriving where Blades and Sky Lynx are speaking. "Oh good, you haven't started yet." She actually looks relieved at this.

Sky Lynx's good cheer is as indomitable as his ego. "If you wish to look stupid, my excellent friend friend, I would suggest from my copious amounts of experience and good taste a mix of teal and fuscia. Teal and gray would be poisitively hideous, I declare! You would look like Vortex but worse!" He tilts his lynxy head to the side; optics fairly staring at Blades. " . . . but if I cannot persuede you otherwise. Do step back."

The hangar is suddenly filled as the rest of Sky Lynx comes out of subspace, a space shuttle neatly parked on landing gear where there wasn't one before. With a whirr, the big bay doors open and a CanadaARM (TM) equipped with a satellite maintenence package that includes optics, buffing tools and paint emerges.

"Are you certain I cannot talk you into something more tasteful?"

Sky Lynx is now the most glorious space shuttle ever, much better than Astrotrain or Blast Off combined.

Blades is happy to see Torque, because she can replace his optics! He gives her a curt wave, and then he limps back away from Sky Lynx. He explains, "I'm on some dumb mission from Ultra Magnus. So... looking like Vortex but worse is exactly the idea. Anyway, slate grey and dark teal aren't... that... bad." Blades makes a rather strange expression, and he looks shifty.

Torque gives Sky Lynx a look, that kind of look that says 'please let me do this instead', but she's not about to ask that of him, instead letting Blades take the consequence for not asking someone proper. But the mention of dark teal and grey has her give a face. "Ugh, really? But those colors are so bland together. I guess if it's for a mission though..."

She glances to Blades next, quirking a brow, "So why are you doing this the hard way, anyway? They couldn't find Hound to make you a holo-disguise?"

"Hello, Torque. It pleases me that you are here to render assistant to such a . . . hum-drum . . . if necessary task. It is highly unfortunate that we must do these things and otherwise belittle ourselves for the sake of our mission. It disturbs me immensely to see a noble Autobot wearing the lowly colors of evil." The CanadaARM begins looking around Blades. "It would be pointless to complete this work until your repairs have been completed. Torque?" Then with a whirr, the arm retracts. "Are you looking to disguise your robot mode, your flying apparatus mode, or both?"

Whirl has arrived.

Blades turns to Torque and asks, "Hey, uh, can you replace my optics with red ones? Makes me sick to ask as much, buuuut, ugh. Some humans got kidnapped, and Ultra Magnus wants /me/ to get them back. Without killing anyone." He pauses and makes a face. "I know, right? Totally hexnuts! So... I figure that any volunteers and me, we'll just... get painted up as 'con sympathizers, sneak into Crystal City, find a 'con recruiter, and go from there. ...ugh, I really feel dirty."

Ultra Magnus has arrived.

+POT Ultra Magnus is now observing.

Torque notes the copter's limp, nodding to Sky Lynx's suggestion of fixing him up before the painting process. Her brow remains raised when Blades mentions not stabbing things, snorting softly with a smirk while pulling her tools from subspace. "You not killing anyone? That'll be the day, Blades. But I have confidence in you."

The question for red optics has her lips purse, rubbing her chin before setting her tools down and holding up a finger in a 'one moment' gesture, stepping away to slip back into the main hospital where her distant voice can be heard somewhat. "Yes, I said red optics. ...No, I know we don't carry much of them ...Look will you just get them, this is important!"

It takes a little bit, but she eventually returns, a fresh, unused pair of optics in hand. "Alright, have a seat Blades, and I'll have you fixed up and having a new set of optics in no time." Optic replacement is a scary enough thought, but at least she's nice enough to shut off his visual sensors during the brief procedure.

Combat: Torque runs a diagnostic check on Blades

Combat: Torque expertly repairs Blades's injuries.

Combat: Torque is able to repair some of Blades's internal systems damage.

The best Wrecker in the world (it's not Impactor so don't even ask) was just passing through on some random mission he will make up on the spot if anyone dares to question him. In his hands, or what passes for such, is a large crate filled with all sorts of neat things. Stenciled on the side are the words 'Property of Doctor Fix-It.' When Whirl stumbles upon the scene he stops dead in his tracks.

"Oh uhh...I found this and was just returning it. Yeah." He plops the box down and stretches. "Yeup, another good deed done."

Sky Lynx is parked in his space shuttle mode in the middle of a large hangar. His CanadaARM(TM) has a satellite maintenence package on it and as Torque repairs Blades he is applying a horrible looking gray and cyan paint job, but he's doing a fairly good job of it. Yes, Sky Lynx knows how to color inside the lines. But he probably isn't doing as delicate of a job as Torque can do on Blade's body with her giant man hands.

"Once you have completed your repair task, Torque, you may begin repainting me. Purple and Gray. Furthermore, you are to refit my engine nacelles to burn lower grade energon-ion and produce the characteristic purple glow of that wretched degenerate Astrotrain. This is a mission that will have my involvement, for it requires not only skill, daring, subtleness and the kind of extraction speed you could not manage. In short, dear comrade Blades . . I am coming."

Blades wasn't going to question what Whirl is up to. He isn't a snitch. He's quite still while Torque does the unpleasant work of changing out his optics. It isn't the worst thing he's been through, but far, but it... hurts, in a weird way. Blades thought he was past all this! Joined the Protectobots! Never going to wear red optics and slate grey and dark teal again! But here he is. Then Sky Lynx repaint shim, and looking down at his hands, it really hits Blades home. Sullenly, he turns to trash talk to make himself feel better, "Hey. You know one thing? Air Raid's not here. So I guess we'll never know who's better. ...and wait. Wait. What. Sky Lynx. You are... never going to pass as a neutral. Have you ever even starved /one/ day of your posh life?"

Changing out optics and fixing up the Protectobot is a simple enough job, so it doesn't take her long before he's in prime condition and looking through red-tinted lenses. While stepping back, moving to put her tools away, her antennas flick at Sky Lynx's demand, not facing him as she speaks casually, "I'm sorry, I heard most of what you said, but I don't think I caught one particular thing?" She looks over her shoulder, giving him that sharp arch of a brow with deadpan expression, clearly looking for a 'please'. It's not like she hates the guy. She's just not a fan of his ego, like everyone else.

And oh great, /he's/ here. Just the sound of Whirl's voice has the femme craning her head swiftly in his direction, optics narrowing while mouth purses in annoyance. "Whirl, what the slag are you doing here?"

Whirl shoves the crate behind a pile of other crates for pick-up later, if he remembers that is ,which he usually doesn't. "Woah, are you guys doing what I think you're doing?" He looks pretty excited, by Whirl standards at least, as he saunters up to the massive Autobot currently painting up a fellow helicopter (and doing a pretty damn good job considering the circumstances.) "Yes! You are! The ol' Decepticon disguise shtick, eh? I want in, I have the perfect idea for just this occassion."

He makes sure to give Torque a creepy glare before continuing. "I want Torque to paint me up as Shockwave. It will be great, I've done it a million times already."

Blades says, belatedly, to Torque, a quick, "Thanks." Sky Lynx's ego just has the low-class Protectobot (Protectocon?) boggling. When Whirl offers, though, Blades says, "Sure. You're in."

If anyone can pretend to be a sociopath, it is Whirl!

Only he's not pretending.

Oh, you think Sky Lynx's ego is big now.

Just wait a second!

If Sky Lynx's head could swivel in shuttle mode it probably would have. "I'm sorry?" Sky Lynx asks in the most pleasant of tones. "I thought I heard I wanted to spend a night in the lock-up because I mistook the request of a most superior officer as that of an equal. I'm fairly sure that even my excellent sense of hearing is mistaken and I would greatly enjoy it if you would re-state that statement in a way that I could hear it properly so we can go back to painting each other in the comfort of camaradarie and enjoyment of our presence! Ah-hem. Especially mine."

The space shuttle seems to be emitting an air of smugness.

"Fuel? I think I ran low on fuel once several years ago. You understand that is why it is the perfect plan! Nobody will possibly guess that I am one of those, ohh, what are they called? The wretched things that can no longer transform and have that extra thick coating of filth? Empties! Yes, nobody would possibly think for a moment that I would ever lower myself to that extent. It will be a swell job."

Air Raid has arrived.

Blades has been repainted somewhat eptly by Sky Lynx into Vortex. Could Air Raid have done a better job? The world will never know. Blades does not back down. No, he looks irate. Blades stabs a finger in Sky Lynx's general direction and snaps, "Sky Lynx, if those two kidnapped humans end up dead because you wanted to play /dress up/, I will be dead, too, having tried and failed to save them. And me being dead is the only reason why I won't /kill/ you." He turns and starts to stalk out of the hanger in a foul mood.

Spanner says, "Grabbin' pills..."

Combat: Spanner expertly repairs Air Raid's injuries.

Torque grumbles softly. "I'll paint you after I paint Sky Lynx, Whirl." Oh how she really doesn't want to do that. But she won't refuse, not about to cower away even if she doesn't like being in the same room as the cyclops. Blades storming out has her frown a little, but her attentions soon turn back to Sky Lynx when he speaks, the medic's optics narrowing to slits. "Mrf... No, I said you're extremely insufferable." He may be higher rank, but she's definitely not afraid to verbally go toe-to-toe with him. "But I'll paint you anyway, because I'm nice like that." It takes a bit to get everything together from the hospital staff, but Torque soon has an array of paints at her disposal, now loading up the spray gun with a lovely shade of purple before getting to work. "Usually I'd strip your current paint off to prevent flaking, but we don't really have time for that, it seems."