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Who: Fusillade, Soundwave |
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IHQ Officers Hall
From either entrance, be it from the Central Chamber or the Training Room, this hall is one that must be tread upon lightly and if not an officer, only with good reason. It is done entirely in royal purple, except for the large black circles on each wall, the Decepticon symbol centered within them. The hall is spartan in its design, but still gives off an aura of authority.
With an automatic >Klik-Whrrrr< Sound, the automatic door to Soundwave's private office opens and the tape commander coolly enters the general hall. The mess from the party a few days ago is now totally cleared - thank Primus - and all of the stains have been taken care of too. Just as well, or else Soundwave would have to start telling tales to Galvatron.
The clack of feet on the flooring of the area dedicated to the ranking Cybertronians in the Decepticon ranks is hardly unusual. However, Fusillade cruises at the edge of the main portal, staying discreetly out of the truly restricted area. From time to time, her amber gaze flicks over the doorways, almost as if poised to pounce upon the first ranking officer she sees. Soundwave unwittingly fills that bill, and with a smooth step, the grey and white femme paces forward, business writ on her features.
Fusillade's respect for the more forbidden areas will go well for her in Soundwave's books. Soundwave recognizes the face of this femme from the social gathering, but knows not her name. AS Fusillade's footfalls begin to gain volume as she approaches Soundwave, he silently turns, his cold emotionless optic band now trained on Fusillade's face and body language during the conversation she will inevitably be starting.
Optic contact. Or, in this case, visor contact. It's the undoing of Soundwave, and in this case the mech is doubly-damned for being an Intel Officer. With a dip of her head toward him, she launches into both introduction and request. "Well met, Soundwave. My name is Fusillade, and I have returned to duty as a member of Beta Wing. I was hoping to speak to a ranking officer to inquire what the standing orders were. Additionally, I was hoping to make a request of the publicly available information on major Autobot holdings that might make for good carpet bombing targets." At that point, she straightens, squaring shoulders, and fixing him with a wary gaze as she awaits the response.
"Fusillade." Soundwave resonates in his emotionless voice as means of acknowledgement. "Standing orders are circulating in reports system. Are you familiar with current Report computer system." There is no fault in this - Technology DOES tend to change after millions of years, after all.
Fusillade inclines her head. "Regarding the assistance with rebuilding the damaged areas of our territory, as well as the specialized mission regarding the capture of the operative Jazz, yes. I also made a note of my return to duty, but no one has acknowledged it as of yet." Her tone borders on shrewish. "I was seeking direction towards more offensive -- and strategic -- channels for my energies."
"There are no missions currently scheduled." The Tape Lord intones. "Recommendation for offensive tactics - Request extra patrols." Not one for talking too much, is our Soundwave. But that's why he's so beloved. Strategic application of abilities will come with future promotion."
And therein lies the truth in the axiom 'Better to ask forgiveness than permission.' Fusillade dips her head, and murmurs, "As you wish -- and as befits the goals of the Empire. I met one of the others in my wing, by the title of Cinderblock. He didn't have much information either," she admits, perhaps chafing at the bit just a small amount. "Thank you for your time." She inclines her head, and pauses for proper signs of dismissal.
Ho-hum, just another Seeker who wants information, and has nothing to give to Soundwave. The tape lord will make a note of this one - she may yet be of use to him in the future. It will all depend on what she does and who she affiliates with, and if she is going to decide Soundwave is someone worth approaching. After a brief moments pause - intentionally meant to be awkward - Soundwave resonates "I will require strategical work and assistance for DCI units on reconnaissance. Your name can be added to liaisons I will require for this task."
Fusillade shifts weight onto one twin-engined heel, lacing glossy black fingers together as she awaits any other commentary from Soundwave, or to merely be carted off by the next patrol doing sweeps of the Hall. She honestly begins to wonder if he froze mid-file, given the massive amounts of information he must deal with... and then the response. "Reconnaissance? Given my systems design, I could do some high speed, terrain following runs. Canyon walls help to keep radar from bouncing off my tail so much," she offers, allowing the anatomical slang to creep into her conversation.
"Excellent." Soundwave says, in a rare sign of, well, opinion. "Your identity-code will be transferred to my database." This is all the tape lord really has to say, so he decides the conversation will end. "This will be discussed later. Dismissed."
Fusillade gives an easy enough scrape of one toetip in an arc before her, before clicking together heels. "Thank you. I shall see to it that the matter will be tended to with the best of my ability." At that point, she turns, and paces out, making good time to return to the more public, and less scrutinized, areas of the base.
--End--