Log: Skyfire finds out 'Cons are nasty, Glit is ever-loving and Onslaught finally finds his shuttle.
Blast Off: On the Decepticon ship, the Nemesis, in the brig, a bit to the left and down - there's a drawer. Inside, in the reek of dead mechs lies a shuttle, unmoving and impossible to contact, though in the spark chamber belonging to the mech there's still light, albeit dim and dull compared to the usual bright flare. Things are not looking good for Blast Off.
Skyfire: With obvious trepidation, Skyfire slips into the Decepticon brig. Its cold and dark, and there is a reek in the place that sends a wary tingle through his wings. He fumbles for a light panel, and tries to connect to the systems to get some proper lighting, but all his efforts only end with a few spotty, flickering lights, which only add to the bleak atmosphere. And then there are the rooms. The rooms and cells and...horribly tiny barred and electro-fielded cells, disengaged at the moment, all along the hall. ...Curse Megatron and his stubbornness, this place will take forever to search!
Blast Off: Fortunately for the Autobot, the Combaticon has time. Not forever, mind, but his spark-support systems are working well, if a bit on the low side. Then again, Blast Off's spark isn't very active at the moment either; frozen, one might say, with lingering panic.
Skyfire: Skyfire swears quietly and moves on down the hall, peering into one cell after another. "...hate to be here when this pit was actually in use," Skyfire mutters before jumping back with a hiss when he comes across half of an long-empty shell of a mech, still bound to the wall with it's one remaining limb. With a shudder, he quickly moves on, finally thinking to engage his infrared vision. If there is a mech down here somewhere, he should be able to pick up their heat signature...if he is still functional, of course.
Blast Off: Imagination makes everything worse, though it's arguable that Skyfire might have a point. Decepticons in action isn't always a pretty sight. Blast Off's body has been its makeshift hole to the Pit for days, almost all of the heat gone. In other words - low readings for Skyfire, and the game of hidden and seeking keeps going.
Skyfire: ...Great. Nothing on infrared. Just lovely. Still, Skyfire slowly makes his way to the back of the brig, looking for drawers of all things. A drawer 'second from the left'... Second from the left? There are several drawers that are second from the left! "...Fragging insane, addled, glitch-brained-!"
Skyfire starts opening those drawers, one by one.
Blast Off: One can only imagine the horrors greeting the airshuttle as he goes through the drawers. Even the Combaticon, when he gets that far along, must be a macabre vision, limbless and left for dead, the stench making it easier to believe him to really be so.
Skyfire: Skyfire reels back, intakes sputtering and gagging as the stench of stale mech fluid and waste energon - the smell of death - billows up with each drawer he opens. He steps back for a moment, coughing and trying frantically to vent the smell out of his systems. With another, increasingly common shudder of revulsion, Skyfire stubbornly starts on the next drawers.
Blast Off: It doesn't get much better. Next drawer offers nothing new apart from the system-paralyzing odor. The one after that, however, offers resistance, something holding it back with only a slight give, suggesting it'll open with some extra force.
Skyfire: With a growl, Skyfire digs his fingers down into the edge of the drawer and gives it a massive heave, forcing the drawer open with a crack.
Blast Off: The drawer is still stubborn, holding on to its closedness until it suddenly gives and slides open with no friction at all - a mech-part breaking off and flying into the air, energon half-liquid half-solid gaining momentum to join the metal and get airborne.
Skyfire: Skyfire howls, leaping back as the stale, rotten energon spatters across his chest, the severed part of the mech (Arm? Leg? Extra support limb?) flying out and hitting him in the side of the face. The shuttle flails about, shouting and pawing at the congealed remains on his armor, slamming into the wall behind him and sending several empty drawers tumbling down to the floor. "Grah!" Skyfire shouts and curses, panic finally receding and leaving him panting in the stale, fetid air. Yuck.
Blast Off: Autobots. Had Blast Off been conscious and out of his uncomfortable cell he would have rolled his optics. There isn't many to view the airshuttle's antics, however, walls anti-echo'd just enough to keep Skyfire's screams to return to haunt him. Suck it up, 'Bot, you have a shuttle to find.
Skyfire: Shaking himself off - he is so going to soak in the washracks for the next day or so after this - Skyfire heads back towards the drawers, carefully lifting out the drawer holding the long-dead mech and easing it down to the ground. Something will have to be done with him eventually...
After dealing with that, he goes for the next drawer in the line. Who knows how many more he's going to have to check.
Blast Off: Maybe he should consider taking the Combatishuttle with him. Only the gods may know what he's covered in at the moment. (The trick is to let dead mechs lie, Autobot.) Skyfire hits a lucky break, though, as his next attempt uncovers what is the prickly shuttle - sans light in the optics or any other signs of life.
Skyfire: (Sorry, Skyfire just can't do that. It's 'not right' or some such moral thing.) Upon opening the drawer, Skyfire is torn between relief at finding the limbless shuttle, and horror at finding him lifeless and stuffed into the small space. Quickly, he reaches down into the drawer to try and pull Blast Off out, scanning his life signs. "Blast Off?"
Blast Off: (Oh, right. Autobots has morals. What a drag.) Shuttle is heavy, though made less so by the lack of a full set of appendages and Skyfire's own height/weight/strength. Scan results ought to come back as bleak, spark is alive but low on readouts. As for the rest of his body, it's fairly void of life. And thusly, a reply.
Skyfire: "Slag..." Skyfire mutters, pulling the shuttle out from the drawer and hoisting him up into his arms. He needs to get Blast Off out of here and find a medic right away.
Blast Off: Such an intelligent thing to say. Shuttle remains unhelpful, not registering the move at all - the disadvantage to being offline, alas.
Skyfire: With a grunt, Skyfire makes his way out from the brig as quickly as possible, trying to avoid falling over the dead bodies and fallen drawers as he goes. Fragging Decepticons...
Skyfire: ::Open frequency medical call: This is Skyfire. I've retrieved Blast Off from the Decepticon brig, and I need assistance. Decepticon Blast Off appears to be offline, and is reading very low life signs. Help requested immediately.::
Glit: Does Glit have anything better to do with his time? Apparently not.
Glit: ::Medic Glit here. On my way.::
Skyfire: Relieved, Skyfire takes the comm, hurrying away from the brig. Ugh, hopefully he never has to go down there again! ::Thank you Glit. I'm just heading away from the brig. Where should I take him?::
Glit: ::Head towards the nearest medbay. I'll meet you on the way.:: Glit is setting action to words, heading through the halls.
Skyfire: ::Heading there now,:: Skyfire says breathlessly, (fresh air! Yes!) turning towards the medbay. :::I don't know how long he was there for, but he was forced to undergo sensory deprivation in a tight, enclosed environment. And he is a shuttle craft.:: Skyfire adds significantly.
Blast Off: As the two medical wonders trot around, the shuttle remains offline, with no changes from when Skyfire first found him. Still arm-and-legless, at least he makes a lighter burden to bear.
Glit: And won't Glit find that a joy and delight when he discovers it? ::He's offlined himself, then. Let me know if he wakes up.::
Skyfire: ::He hasn't awoken yet, and his life signs are still low. Even that of his spark. He might be in shock - a lot of fliers tend to panic when in tight spaces.:: Skyfire says grimly, finally reaching the medbay, looking around for the cassette.
Glit: ::I know,:: Glit says simply, and doesn't feel the need to elaborate. He appears abruptly from behind a counter. "You might have mentioned he didn't have any limbs, either. Set him down; he's staying offline until I'm happier with his lifesigns."
Skyfire: "Well yes, but he's been that way for a while. And I was more worried about the lifesigns, really." Skyfire admits, laying Blast Off down carefully.
Blast Off: It might have been a more pleasant reunion with the cat-medic had they met under other circumstances (such as in zero-gee up in outer space), instead of this... meat being slapped onto the butcher's counter business.
Glit: Yes, but this is how Glit meets all the best people. The medicat promptly starts making his assessment of his patient, sets up an energon transfusion to try and bring that up to par, caps the energon lines from the limbs, and so forth. "They're low, but fairly stable; he'll be fine. I don't suppose you saw his limbs anywhere, did you?"
Skyfire: "No. His limbs were eaten away by the rust weeks ago." Skyfire says, watching the progress closely.
Glit: "Lovely." Glit noses at the socket of one of the limbs as he runs mild electrical currents through Blast Off's chest to stimulate his systems. "I'm sure I'll enjoy hearing him bitch about that."
Blast Off: Electrical currents that doesn't do much, unfortunately, apart from making the Combatishuttle's spark give off a little spike in almost protest.
Glit: "Oh, quit that," Glit instructs the spark. "Let me see. I thought it was just energon loss, but he may have blown himself out..." The medic starts unreeling diagnostic cables, and attaching them appropriately.
Skyfire: "How bad is that, then? He probably wouldn't have had the presence of mind to shut himself down, if he was just thrown in there..." Skyfire says absently, still disturbed from his trip to the brig earlier.
Blast Off: Spark keeps doing the same, unable to hear demanding medicats. The data coming back from the medical diagnostics ought to reveal the fried circuits. Such fun, patching up mechs.
Glit: "Oh, he'll be fine," Glit says calmly. "I just need to open him up and replace... let me see..."
Glit: "He did a number on himself; seven boards in all, unless I can solder anything back together. Then he'll be able to come back online." The cat cuts the electrical current and begins opening Blast Off up in order to do just that.
Skyfire: Skyfire makes a face, but continues to observe. "Is there anything you want me to do?"
Blast Off: It should be noted that this moment might be one of the best patient behaviors Blast Off has ever pulled off.
Glit: Don't worry, Glit won't get used to it. "When I get done with this, if you could move him to the berth by the corner?" He nods, indicating which one. "I appreciate your bringing him."
Skyfire: "Of course. And you're welcome, though I couldn't just leave him down in that place." Skyfire says, shuddering.
Glit: Glit cat-smiles, just a little, but it doesn't reach his optics as he concentrates on his work replacing and repairing circuit boards. "To your credit, that."
Skyfire: Skyfire just nods and continues to watch, sympathizing with the poor limbless, offlined shuttle. Stuffed in a box. Primus.
Glit: Glit isn't in the habit of excusing or condoning what his fellow Decepticons do, and so he's fine with the silence until he's done replacing those circuit boards. "There. If you'd move him?" The cassette looks up at the operational shuttle, expectant.
Blast Off: Blast Off might have appreciated the sympathy. Most likely he would just have scowled and snipped about not needing some Autobot to worry about him. But for now, silence.
Skyfire: "Of course," Skyfire says, lifting up the shuttle and moving him the indicated berth, laying him back down carefully.
Glit: Blessed, blessed silence. Soon it will go away. "I appreciate your bringing him," Glit says carefully, "but I'd like to online him without a whole lot of mechs around..." It's not that subtle a suggestion, really.
Skyfire: Skyfire raises an optic ridge. "If you'd prefer to online him without help, and without another flier around, who can sympathize..." He says, staring.
Glit: "I would," Glit says, meeting Skyfire's gaze calmly. "I have done this sort of thing before."
Skyfire: "As you wish," Skyfire says with a shrug, not entirely liking the idea of being pushed out after all of this, but heads out, lingering by the door of the medbay. He isn't going far.
Glit: He doesn't have to go far: Glit just wants him out of the medbay. Even limbless shuttles theoretically need scraps of dignity. He trots around, making sure that the rails on that particular berth are up so Blast Off can't flail himself off the berth entirely, and sets the lights to half - enough to see, but not enough to shock optics used to pure darkness. Glit ensures that Blast Off will be able to see that he is in a room, and not a drawer, and then, finally, eradicates the cooperativeness of his patient and onlines him again.
Skyfire: Hah, dignity. Skyfire would doubt any flier would worry about such a thing after something like that, but sure. Whatever. He'll wait.
Blast Off: Things are a bit slow at first, systems taking the extra time to deal with the aftermath of being abruptly shut down. As the shuttle's optics flash online they immediately turn too bright, limbs and not-quite-limbs flailing about as the engine kickstarts into fast-paced - panicked - thrumming, Blast Off himself loosing a scream as soon as his vocalizer turns on. Got to get out of here too small can't think.
Glit: Glit was waiting for that to happen, and doesn't so much as flinch. He keeps an optic on Blast Off, but otherwise ignores him for all intents and purposes, busying himself cleaning up those circuitboards.
Skyfire: Skyfire winces from his place outside the medbay, able to hear that horrible scream. Primus...
Blast Off: It's not a terribly quick process, external long-range sensors bugged up and incapable of giving the correct information of there not being any restraining or crushing walls anywhere close to the Combaticon, but eventually he calms his thrashing, freezing up as he stares up at the ceiling. It's a false sort of calmness, mind still working at lightning speeds as he tries to assimilate the new environment.
Glit: Glit is absolutely patient. Cleaning up means a bit of noise, which he doesn't try to muffle. He'll wait, for once - mark your calendars - for Blast Off to acknowledge him.
Skyfire: Skyfire is far more anxious, and fidgets about outside the medbay, waiting to be allowed back in. He wouldn't wish what happened to Blast Off on anyone. ...Except perhaps Megatron, of course.
Glit: Such a pity Glit doesn't even know he's waiting outside, isn't it. Whoops...
Skyfire: Well then Skyfire might just waltz right back in if he feels enough time has passed! Oh well!
Blast Off: Sneaky cat. Shuttle-thrums still high and anxious, giving Blast Off away despite his controlled (frozen) exterior. Trying to accept and realize the reality of not being in that Pit of a box anymore is something that takes far longer, Glit going unnoticed meanwhile.
Glit: He could at least ask first, Glit being the medic and all. Speaking of, he lets Blast Off process as long as he wants, not rushing it.
Blast Off: With a sudden, unannounced move Blast Off sits up, swaying heavily as he stares around the room, it all feeling surreal and unreal. "Where am I?" He wonders if this is all a dream, and if he's still stuck inside that box.
Glit: "The subsidiary medbay in the Ark." Glit leaves off cleaning up and turns to look at the shuttle.
Skyfire: Well Skyfire knows Glit is a stubborn, stubborn medic. Skyfire does not know how likely it is he would be let back in, and he is concerned!
Glit: Or Glit could update you. Pushy, pushy Autobots.
Skyfire: Bah. Updates! That's what you get for kicking him out in the first place - a pushy shuttle.
Blast Off: "Medbay?" Oddly monotone, not like expected from the base's bitchiest shuttle. "The box?"
Glit: "That Autobot shuttle went and got you to bring here," Glit explains, unruffled by the atypical monotone.
Blast Off: Pause. "Shuttle?" Blast Off can't see anyone else in this room, only a Cassette and space. Not enough space.
Glit: "I sent him out." Glit is smug.
Blast Off: Something clicks. "Megatron?"
Skyfire: ...Stupid smug cassette. Skyfire would pout, if he knew.
Glit: "Finally mentioned where you were and that you were to be taken out." Glit flicks his tail.
Blast Off: "How long?" A flash of - some emotion, hidden.
Glit: "When did you go in?" Glit is calm.
Blast Off: Silence. His internal chronometer is off, still showing the same time and day as it was when he was shut inside the - "When is today?"
Glit: Glit gives him the date, calm.
Blast Off: Blast Off doesn't give the medic an answer, though he looks distinctly uneasy.
Glit: Glit doesn't press for an answer, still deliberately matter-of-fact.
Blast Off: "My room," he finally offers, moving on the berth with the intention of getting up from it and walk away, sliding to the edge of the berth with a distracted expression on him.
Glit: Glit clicks, optics going to where Blast Off's legs aren't. "Will have to wait unless you want me to ask Skyfire to take you there. He probably would."
Blast Off: "Don't need escort." Some of the usual personality quirks of the shuttle returns, though it doesn't stop his progress of getting up.
Glit: "You might want your legs, though," Glit feels the need to point out.
Blast Off: "Legs?" With a frown, he glances down, and freezes. Legs.
Glit: "It won't take long for me to arrange replacements," Glit notes, turning back to his circuitboards briefly.
Blast Off: "What about wing-seams?" Even more of Blast Off's self starts to show.
Glit: "A little trickier - why couldn't you be a Seeker? We practically have shelves of Seeker parts - but shouldn't take that much longer," Glit answers.
Blast Off: Harsh snort, all contempt. "Why couldn't you be more competent?"
Glit: "Because you can't improve on perfection," Glit says sweetly.
Blast Off: A short bark of a laugh. "But you can take its legs off."
Glit: Glit gives himself a once-over, ostentatiously. "Apparently not; I've still got all mine."
Blast Off: "Very funny." And thus Blast Off falls into silence again, by the look on his face replaying memories and whatnot of where he's been stuck in the recent past.
Glit: "I know. I am. Anyway, if you want to hang around until I've modded out some armor for you, feel free; if not, I'll prevail on the Autobot," Glit says, briskly. "Run a full diagnostic for me; everything should come up clean."
Blast Off: Dutifully, Blast Off ignores the medic in favor of what's going on in his mind, engine making a low, anxious hum.
Glit: Glit, meanwhile, ignores Blast Off in favor of finishing cleaning up after him. Messy little cassette. That, or he's drawing it out deliberately
Skyfire: Skyfire continues to pace and fidget outside. He wants to know what's going on - he just wants to know if that stubborn shuttle is alright, and then he can get on with his life!
Blast Off: Is alright. Said stubborn shuttle has just been stuck within what can only be called a metal coffin for too long and the Autobot thinks he's alright?
Glit: Glit would say that the Autobot shuttle in fact thinks Blast Off is not 'all right.'
Blast Off: Spare the wittery, cat.
Glit: Never.
Skyfire: Skyfire wants to know if he will be alright physically. He knows damn well that Blast Off will not be alright mentally, after that. Duh.
Blast Off: Then again, there's the question of whether or not Blast Off was alright in the brain circuits even before the stay in the brig. Another mystery added to the pile.
Glit: Glit certainly has his opinion there. But first: the diagnostic?
Blast Off: Combaticon has forgotten all about diagnostic, mind hopelessly stuck on less pleasant matters. It's doubtful they'd show anything helpful, however, everything working in proper order.
Blast Off: Sans the sensors and such that has to do with legs and missing arm, of course.
Glit: "Well?" Glit prods. Combaticon shall remember about the diagnostic.
Blast Off: "Well what?" he snaps back, shifting while doing another, ungraceful sway.
Glit: "The diagnostic?" the cassette prompts, undaunted.
Blast Off: "Clear," is the immediate response. Whether he's run it or not is up in the air.
Glit: "Forward me the readout?" Glit knows that trick, thanks.
Skyfire: Yeah, Skyfire has waited long enough. He goes back towards the door, peering in. ::...Can I come back in yet, already?::
Blast Off: "They're fine." Now leave him alone.
Glit: ::You've been waiting out there?:: Glit wants to know.
Glit: "The shuttle's back, if you don't want to wait here for your legs. It'll be a few days, because I do have other work to do that doesn't involve catering to your every injury."
Skyfire: ::Obviously.:: Skyfire grumps, taking another step into the medbay. He's tired of waiting.
Blast Off: Combaticon's stare moves from the Cassette to the Autobot, scrutinizing him for any clues to what he'd seen while Blast Off had been knocked out.
Glit: "You." Glit leaps onto the counter and gives Skyfire a glare that could blister paint. "Has nobody taught you to never, ever step inside a medbay when you know the medic's busy and you're not injured?"
Skyfire: Skyfire's optics widen, and he takes a half of a step back, nearly back out the door because he's barely in there in the first place. "I asked. You just said I 'was back'. I assumed that meant I was allowed back in."
Skyfire: He is, perhaps, mildly indignant.
Glit: "I meant 'back outside.'" Glit takes a step forward on the counter, not conceding. The fact that the tiny cassette has just made a shuttle however-many times bigger than him back up is treated as perfectly normal.
Skyfire: That is just because he was startled!
Blast Off: The limb-lacking shuttle remains silent, barely moving. It's - nice to have the focus away from him.
Skyfire: "Well that's not what it sounded like," Skyfire claims. He will defend himself from the wee little cassette!
Glit: "Your misinterpretations are your own fault," Glit sniffs. "Fortunately I wasn't in the middle of anything important."
Skyfire: "Yes, yes, obviously its all my fault," Skyfire says dryly. "Anyway. Can I come in or get some information or what?"
Glit: "Depends. Blast Off, if you're going back to your room, your transportation's here." Blast Off's reprieve is oh so short-lived.
Blast Off: Shuttle frowns as his name is mentioned. "Transportation." Him?
Glit: Well, Glit certainly won't be carrying you anywhere.
Skyfire: ...It seems so.
Glit: So: transportation.
Blast Off: Being carried by - that Autobot? Cue a stare from Blast Off.
Glit: Glit gives Blast Off an arch look in return. He carried you to the medbay, remember.
Blast Off: Combaticon doesn't remember anything from the trip to medbay. Offline does that, strangely enough.
Glit: That's why Glit is reminding you.
Blast Off: Cannot be reminded of something never known.
Glit: And yet nonetheless you were there.
Blast Off: Uncomfortable with the undivided attention he's getting, he snorts loudly. "You think he'll carry me, medic?"
Skyfire: "I will if you'll allow me too," Skyfire says, watching quietly.
Blast Off: "And if I don't?" With some amount of willpower, he doesn't shift with unease.
Glit: "Then you're stuck with me until you bribe someone into hauling your sorry aft out of here," Glit informs the damaged shuttle.
Blast Off: Not sorrier than yours, Cassette. "Fine." He can deal with an Autobot airbus carrying him.
Glit: Glit waves his tail in the air and saunters out of Skyfire's way, tail high. It's mostly academic, since he's still on the countertop. "He's all yours, then," he tells the intact shuttle. "Don't drop him."
Skyfire: "I wasn't planning on it." Skyfire says, even more dryly then before, approaching the limbless shuttle slowly, extending his arms to scoop him up.
Skyfire: "If you can tell me where your room is, I'll get you there as soon as I can."
Blast Off: If Skyfire was counting on friendliness, he's mistaken. Blast Off gives him a wary and skeptical look. Scooping him up like a Seeker in distress, is he? Thrums turn irate, a glare starting to grow on his face.
Glit: "Even if it would do him a world of good to get dropped," Glit edits himself. He views the onlookings with a certain amount of amusement. Good luck, Skyfire.
Skyfire: How else should Skyfire pick him up, like a sack of potatoes? With a sigh and a grunt, Skyfire heaves Blast Off up and starts for the door. "...This really would go a lot better if I knew where to take you."
Blast Off: Tensing up and not relaxing again, Blast Off clenches his jaw down hard behind the facemask, doing nothing to help the other carry him. (Could he lose any more of his pride in front of this Autobot?) Muttering, darkly and painfully unamused: "The Nemesis, section 73-F."
Glit: Glit, with another tremendously smug wave of his tail, starts towards the other end of the medbay, clearly done with the two of them. "Have fun."
Skyfire: "Thank you." Skyfire manages a small smile, and heads out of the medbay, back towards the Nemesis.
Blast Off: Combatishuttle doesn't look - well, glare - at Skyfire at all, though he does remember to give a scathing one to Glit - he heard that comment, glitchmouse.
Blast Off: As for Skyfire, he gets nothing. Not a glance or even a sound of acknowledgment.
Glit: Oh, good. He meant you to. Glit cat-smiles sunnily at Blast Off in reply.
Skyfire: Skyfire is hardly perturbed, and continues on his way, carting Blast Off down the halls.
Blast Off: A last surly look is directed at the cat before he stubbornly gazes into the air instead, stabbing it with his mind. (Shooting, perhaps.) Shuttle's mood doesn't improve as they move along, devolving into a grim and sullen silence.
Skyfire: Skyfire just as silently carts Blast Off along, making his way towards the Nemesis. He would probably try to make conversation, but well...Blast Off doesn't exactly seem to be in a talking mood.
Blast Off: Since when is the shuttle ever in a talking mood? He doesn't relax, body so tense even Skyfire can feel it as he walks along, adding insult to injury. Does the Autoglitch even know how humiliating this is? Or was, for that matter. He very pointedly looks at nothing belonging to Skyfire, appendages included.
Skyfire: Well Skyfire could just drag Blast Off behind him. Or toss him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Or kick him through the halls like a irregular soccer ball. That seems like it would be more humiliating then just kindly carrying him like a nice normal person would, really.
Blast Off: The scientist has several sets of Autobotty morals to keep him from doing that to another mech, especially when in this condition - and recovering from the boxed horrors. Blast Off isn't without his pride, devastatingly wounded after Megatron's version of punishment and subsequent rescue. The silence continues, the tension radiating from Blast Off almost tangible.
Skyfire: Of course Skyfire has those Autobot morals and such - which is why he would never DO any of those things. But still! Being carried is better then being tossed around.
Eventually, though, the tension does start to get to Skyfire, and he glances down at his temporary charge. "You are... part of a combat group, yes? Would you like to contact anyone?" He asks, wryly aware the mech would probably prefer another Decepticon to himself.
Blast Off: Thinking it is close to doing it; it's not as if anyone sees them in the empty corridors. In Blast Off's opinion, being carried by this - Autobot isn't that much better from being dragged, and the knowledge that he saw him in what must have been one of his lowest points. The realization that Skyfire might have heard him scream in panic when he woke up doesn't do much for his foul mood. Sullen silence is what meets the walking shuttle's question. Until - "Yes."
Skyfire: "If your comms are working, feel free, then. Perhaps they can met us on the way if they do not arrive before I get you to your room." Skyfire says calmly, shifting his burden about a bit as he turns down another hallway.
Blast Off: Blast Off gets even more stiff - if at all possible at this point - as he is shifted around, uncomfortably reminded of when Sideswipe carried him, superimposing onto this situation. Besides, comm who? He hasn't seen any lifesigns from his team for - far too long. Optic ridges draws down in a deep frown, and it shouldn't take a mastermind to conclude that the Combatishuttle is unhappy.
Skyfire: Skyfire does indeed notice Blast Off's obvious unhappiness, frowning down at his fellow shuttle. "What is it? Is your comm out?" He asks, obviously concerned.
Blast Off: It's a much better excuse than I have nobody to call. "Malfunctioning." Only not really. Skyfire doesn't have to know that, though.
Skyfire: "Oh. ...Well. I suppose I could, if you wished. If you'll just tell me who to call...?" Skyfire says, giving Blast Off a weak smile. He's trying to be helpful!
Blast Off: Helpful his aft. Skyfire is too busy being an Autobot to be helpful. "Private comm frequencies." Truthful enough for Skyfire to believe it. He doesn't even lift his glance to look at the other, missing the smile entirely while slowly clenching his lone hand.
Skyfire: "...If you insist." Skyfire sighs, wings shifting down slightly. If Blast Off doesn't want him to help, then he won't help, he supposes...
Blast Off: A grunt in reply. (Why did it have to be an Autobot? Or another mech apart from the rest of the Combaticons, really. The sheer humiliation.) Blast Off returns to the good old sullen silence treatment.
Skyfire: Skyfire doesn't speak grunt, so he just continues on his merry way. Really, what should he SAY to the mech? I'm sorry you were stuck in a box - how are you feeling? Really.
Blast Off: Or not say it, if he wants a shuttle that isn't impossible to deal with. The box isn't to be talked about, unless Blast Off brings it up himself - which is doubtful. Besides, being quiet is working in his favor.
Skyfire: Which is why Skyfire has yet to bring it up himself! Still, it doesn't stop him from being concerned, even as he carries the other shuttle along, pausing at a turn, trying to remember which way to go. He doesn't go the the Nemesis very often, after all!
Onslaught: Onslaught, meanwhile, is in a foul mood as he stalks the halls, as evidenced by his lowered head, stiff, deliberate walk and arms linked behind his back. He would never tell anyone, but he's angry with Megatron -- almost as angry as he was all those millions of years ago when he led his much-younger brothers into a Big Mistake. He searches with sharp jerks of his head for his...quarry.
Blast Off: Concerned or not, Blast Off doesn't give it much thought. He'd rather Skyfire forget it all, making the loss of pride easier to bear for the Decepticon. Optics watch the floor as the Autobot carries him, the one hand still in a fist and body stiff.
Skyfire: After a moment, Skyfire starts walking again after having pulled up his maps of the base, turning towards Blast Off's room. Not too much further, now, he thinks. Hopefully being in his own room again will ease the Decepticon's spirits.
Onslaught: Onslaught rounds the corner, circling back for his brother's room again--yes, again. He snorts derisively behind his mask. Clearly, Blast Off simply doesn't want to be found, and no matter how many times he checks it will make no difference.
Blast Off: The shuttle, sullen as he is, doesn't pay much attention to anything, but he's bright enough to know that they've passed into the Nemesis, and is starting to near his room. (They ought to at least, these corridors all look the same, too small and ready to crush you if you don't pay attention.) It's doubtful it'd ease him, but it will be several times better than being hauled around by some Autobot do-gooder trying to be nice.
Skyfire: If Blast Off cared to bring such things up, Skyfire would indeed be able to sympathize with the feeling that the walls are too close, and the hallways too small. He finds it best to try and ignore it, himself. Either way, Skyfire is rapidly approaching Blast Off's room, and the Decepticon will be free of him soon.
Onslaught: Onslaught halts; he hears footsteps. Big footsteps.
Blast Off: Bring his biggest weakness up with his enemy? Not likely. Ignoring it is all well and nice, but somewhat difficult when used to the impossibly vast stretches of space. Freedom from his further humiliation sounds - preferable.
Skyfire: Of course, can't forget that Decepticons don't talk about ANYTHING. Righto. He just continues on, oblivious, only to come around the next corner and see- another mech. Onslaught, though the name escapes him at the moment. "Oh. Hello."
Onslaught: Onslaught doesn't respond. This is firstly because he is momentarily taken aback by the other mech's sheer size, the second reason is that he sees a very, very startlingly damaged Blast Off in the other mech's arms. "Blast Off--what in the name of the pit--" Megatron. And they thought he was cruel.
Blast Off: Combatishuttle's head snaps up when he hears that voice, staring sharply at his commander. He didn't do it. (Not that he has any wing-seams for Onslaught to shoot, really.) Body going downright rigid, he answers in a strained tone. "Onslaught."
Skyfire: Skyfire blinks, looking between the two. Well, at least they know each other. Perhaps they are even allies or friends, and there won't be any problems. ::Blast Off? Friend of yours?:: Skyfire comms privately.
Onslaught: Onslaught regards Blast Off and is grateful for his mask -- he can't rope in his shock right away. "Blast Off...you should have comm'd me. How much of this is HIS doing?"
Blast Off: :: Team commander, :: he answers distractedly, glad as well for his facemask covering up his expression. A blessing, really. "I was - out of reach." Unconscious, locked inside a drawer. "His?" Tentative. The shuttle's, or- ?
Onslaught: "Megatron!" He doesn't care that he's almost shouting the name.
Skyfire: Skyfire frowns - 'his' better not be referring to h- oh. Good. Well, that's cleared up. ::Oh, good. He can escort if you like. Or take you the rest of the way to your room if you would be more comfortable with it.:: Skyfire says, relieved.
Blast Off: Blast Off turns wary, not wanting to say anything that can send him down to the brig again. "Little." That can be seen, at least. The amount of damage done to his psyche is difficult to measure. :: Yes. :: Though it dawns on him that the logistics of moving him from Skyfire's arms to Onslaught's might be... complicated.
Onslaught: "I believe you're Starscream's mate, yes? I will take it from here." His voice is steady, but tight. "This is Combaticon business -- something you should not have seen."
Skyfire: ::If you say so.:: Skyfire says, even as he raises an optic ridge in Onslaught's direction. He's more then willing to transfer Blast Off to his team mate, but the tone he's being addressed with isn't one he's particularly fond of. "I am. And be that as it may, I saw what I saw. I could do nothing but assist in any way that I could." Skyfire says, rather formally at that.
Onslaught: "...hm. Yes. And now -- unsee." Voice is final -- not interested.
Blast Off: ... for once, perhaps, the shuttle agrees with his commander. This was something Skyfire shouldn't have seen, ever. Answering the comm with another grunt, he focuses his attention on the other Combaticon. Not changed at all, Blast Off notes with dry amusement.
Onslaught: No, although he is angrier than he usually allows. Onslaught sends through the gestalt connection reassurance that he's not angry with Blast Off.
Skyfire: Skyfire is hardly intimidated. "Impossible, of course. Though I can certainly avoid bringing it up," Skyfire says dryly, moving towards Onslaught and lowering his arms - you said you wanted to take over here, right?
Onslaught: Onslaught snarls slightly. "He's a shuttle, stupid. I can't possibly carry him alone. Take him to his room for me then LEAVE."
Skyfire: Hey, if a lambo can do it, so can you! Skyfire shrugs and straightens back up, trotting on past Onslaught towards the other Combaticon's room.
Blast Off: Blast Off fairly bristles, he's not a sack of energon goodies you throw around to other grunts. Glaring, he pointedly shuts up, stiff enough to be made of solid cast-iron.
Onslaught: Onslaught follows, glaring at this other shuttle's back. Megatron or any other undesirables aren't around, so poor Skyfire will have to do. Again, through the connection there is no anger. And though he'll deny it, some concern has managed to seep through. "Blast Off, once you are well we must have an important talk."
Skyfire: Skyfire hardly cares. Blast Off said he wanted to go with Onslaught; Onslaught said he would take it from there -what else was he SUPPOSED to think? Still, after only a few more uncomfortable moments of silence, Skyfire finally reaches Blast Off's door.
Blast Off: Even though he can feel the faint reassurances through the gestalt connection, he doesn't think much good about that important talk Onslaught wants them to have. (Hasn't he been punished enough?) Eyeing the door, he wonders if his board game has been left alone with the door unlocked. More distressingly, he wonders if he can ever really relax again inside it again.
Onslaught: Onslaught barges in first, narrowly avoiding a playing board and turning to wait for them. "Well?" he snaps impatiently. "Are you slow because you're large or stupid?"
Skyfire: Skyfire growls, wings twitching as he follows Onslaught through the door. "I'm slow because I couldn't very well open the door myself. My hands where occupied elsewhere. And someone else barged in ahead of me, blocking my path," he says acidly, moving towards the berth.
Onslaught: Onslaught doesn't answer, merely glares.
Blast Off: The mech caught in the middle makes a mental opticroll, insulted about being treated like a thing of burden. Even so, dealing with someone who knows him is far more comfortable than dealing with this - wannabe spaceshuttle.
Skyfire: He isn't treating Blast Off like a thing! Rather, he was avoiding the direction mention of him in the hopes of avoiding further awkwardness! And he's not a wannabe spaceshuttle - he's the real deal! With an annoyed grunt, Skyfire gently sets Blast Off down onto his own berth, taking a moment to steady the shuttle to ensure he doesn't roll off. ...It would help if these things had railing, really.
Onslaught: "Excellent. Now leave -- your services are no longer required here." Onslaught comes to visually inspect Blast Off in greater detail. "When he is gone you will tell me exactly what happened."
Blast Off: Real deal indeed, quite the prize for comfort. Blast Off gifts Skyfire with the thanks of a scowl, moving away from the helpful steadying. He doesn't need your pity, mech. As for Onslaught - the sight must be a sorry thing. Stumps for legs, stump for an arm. At least he's not completely limbless, which would lead to even more mortifying situations. "Fine," he says, pinning Skyfire with a Look.
Skyfire: Skyfire isn't doing it because of pity, not that the 'cons would understand. With a final nod, Skyfire turns away from the berth and strides towards the door, not bothering to give Onslaught any further looks.
Skyfire: ::...I hope you feel well soon,:: he adds privately to the other shuttle, before he is gone.
Blast Off: Decepticons understand weakness - and Skyfire has just witnessed Blast Off under influence of his. It's not something he appreciates. Frowning back, he watches the mech leave. :: I don't need your sympathy, Autobot. :: The greatest insult of them all.
Skyfire: ::Then you don't have to take it,:: Skyfire replies simply, already away down the hall.
Blast Off: He snaps back. :: Save it for those who need it. :: Back in the room, the shuttle eyes his leader. What now?
Onslaught: Onslaught grumbles in relief as the Autobot retreats. He turns to the shuttle and regards him silently for several astroseconds, taking in his pathetic state.
Skyfire: ::I generally do,:: Skyfire replies, almost amused by the 'con's stubbornness, but trying to keep it out of his voice.
Blast Off: The shuttle looks steadily back at his commander, leaning on his arm to keep himself from overbalancing and falling over. Not pathetic, just injured. :: Go pity your weakling fellow troopers, :: he offers over the comm to the one no longer there.
Onslaught: Onslaught continues to look him over, and moves to the foot of him before falling back into a standing silence.
Blast Off: Frowning, Blast Off turns his gaze upwards. Threatening with punishment, or just disapproving? The uncertainty is hidden beneath his mask, but some of it likely goes through the combiner bond.
Onslaught: Onslaught stares back a little more, almost thoughtfully, then breaks the silence. "I remember something, Blast Off. Something I forgot when we re-learned our place and became good little Decepticons."
Blast Off: It takes a bit of an effort to keep himself perfectly still. "What do you remember?" He's almost sure he'll get a lection, or further corrections on his behavior.
Skyfire: ::Of course. I regularly go about, randomly pitying 'weakling bots'. Excuse me while I go do that.:: Now he's really amused! Sorry Blast Off, your surliness isn't throwing Skyfire off!
Onslaught: "I remember that I hate our leader. I can't believe I forgot. But then -- we had to, eh?" Onslaught walks around him a bit, oblivious to the second conversation.
Onslaught: "I am very angry with you right now. But...I loathe him."
Blast Off: Blink. He hadn't expected that. (Even if it was true.) "We did." Maybe figuring that he can't be much worse off than he already is, he continues. "But we always had the team." The silent accusation is audible enough.
Blast Off: :: Whatever, glitchface. I don't care what you spend your electrons on. :: Blast Off doesn't want to deal with you, Autotaxi. Go away and leave the 'Cons to their business.
Onslaught: "Yes. That was all that mattered. And now look at us -- we've allowed this to fracture. Swindle is little more than a black-market merchant, Vortex is completely decadent and Brawl is never around. But I never expected YOU to give in to this nonsense."
Blast Off: "I never give in," is the first thing that falls into his mind, and out of his vocalizer. Though - "what nonsense?"
Skyfire: Skyfire IS away! He's already back into his own rooms, after all. Skyfire just chuckles gently in reply, lacking anything else to say.
Onslaught: He snarls gruffly, though not necessarily at Blast Off. "I am tired of this nonsense -- this behavior you seem to think you can get away with. Angering Megatron -- what were you thinking? Do you want to offline, idiot?"
Blast Off: Blast Off readily ignores Skyfire's laughter in favor of Onslaught, who always was and will be a more important mech than the airshuttle. "There's not much else for me to do down here." And he'd already offlined, really, although perhaps not entirely by intention. What little can be seen of his face conveys the notion that the threat of offlinedness doesn't scare him much. (The thought of the tiny box does.)
Onslaught: "Nothing else but to disobey everyone with authority? For the love of Primus, I almost wish you had gone completely insane like your brothers." Onslaught rests a hand on a....non-unpleasant part of Blast Off's form.
Onslaught: "I'm not going to punish you -- you've been punished more than enough. I spoke with Megatron and I have done my best to make sure he never terrorizes you again. But you MUST behave, if not around me then around HIM. Obey THAT order, do you understand?"
Skyfire: And with that last bit from Skyfire, the comm line clicks off, severing the connection. You're on your own, Blast Off. Which is how Skyfire is 99.9% sure you prefer to be!
Blast Off: Glance goes to the hand resting on him before returning to Onslaught, sharper than before. He's not a freshly sparked soldier, Pit. The part about going insane like the rest of the bunch makes him pause, though. Onslaught doesn't know about his glitching processors, then. Good. "Fine. Maybe you can tell me why I've had to be carried by Autobots twice, instead of my own teammates?" He almost sounds hurt, if Blast Off ever felt that way.
Onslaught: "Perhaps because you want it that way?" Stony glare. "I've tried to keep the gestalt running. I know your brothers still communicate with you. Perhaps if you were in trouble you should have contacted us. We would aid you. Even Swindle."
Blast Off: "Want it?" It's just more convenient, really. Everything is peaceful topside. "I did. Swindle wanted a price, and the rest were quiet."
Onslaught: "I'll talk to them. But I was looking for you -- and I couldn't find you. This shouldn't be." He sounds a little angry, and doesn't bother to censor it. He never really bothers doing that.
Blast Off: Combatishuttle is used to an angry commander. "I was - out of reach." Offlined. Read between the lines, Onslaught.
Onslaught: ...."Yes." His anger dissipates -- somewhat. "And you aren't going to let it happen again. If you MUST be belligerent, do so to ME. I may strike you but I won't...savage you, imprison you..."
Onslaught: He trails off. Yeah, read between the lines -- Ons doesn't want to mention the intense claustrophobia. It's something he always felt he should stamp out, but never did -- or felt he could.
Blast Off: He stiffens at the reminder of the - box, instantly suppressing images and emotions trying to bubble up. Onslaught might be harsh, but he never exploited Blast Off's crippling mental weakness. "Fine," he finally offers, softer than it usually is.
Onslaught: Onslaught catches the tone and the rest of his anger melts. "Despite many actions I am not sorry for, I DO value you be in one piece."
Blast Off: Shuttle snorts at that. He still is, sort of. The piece is just smaller than it used to be.
Onslaught: "Now...do I need to call for repairs?"
Blast Off: Optic ridge raises. "Unless you've reprogrammed yourself to a medic while I was gone."
Onslaught: "No, of course not -- I merely thought you had already contacted one. You're good at that. Very well. We'll get you repaired and keep you out of Megatron's way. Next time he won't be so merciful and he won't just stop with you, either." Onslaught gives him a look.
Blast Off: Good at that? Color Blast Off insulted. Lowering his chin, he looks right back at his team leader, near challenging but not quite. "I already met one. He took care of my foot after you -" Shot it. "- corrected me." Light frown. "I think he replaced some circuitboards, too."
Onslaught: "Yes, I'd noticed that someone had.... Is there anything else you require?"
Blast Off: "... energon," is the answer after he mulls it over.
Onslaught: "I'll get you a large supply. I hear they're fixing the refinery, so that should help. Anything less substantial?"
Blast Off: There's a longer pause this time before he answers. "Legs." Blast Off avoids Onslaught's optics for some moments before meeting them straight on.
Onslaught: "The medic will of course fix that." He pauses. "And I am sure they will have a good set of wings for you too, of course. I'll see to that."
Blast Off: "What about wing-seams?" Both of them knows said seams are tricky things, complicated to make and do a good job of it.
Onslaught: "I'll make sure everything is done properly -- I'll hover behind the medic to make sure, if need be."
Blast Off: Shifting under the hand, he nods. (It's almost nice to have the Combaticon commander here, and not angry at him.) "Good."
Onslaught: "I figure you will need to fly off being...pent up."
Blast Off: ... frown. Was that a quip at him preferring to be alone?
Onslaught: Not at all. Ons gives him a brief, almost brotherly pat. "Comm me if you need anything."
Blast Off: He relaxes under the gesture. "Alright." Falling into a thoughtful and somewhat uneasy silence, he wonders if it's too much to ask for more reassurance. He doesn't speak up.
Onslaught: "I AM here to assist you, you know." It's almost a joke and he gives in to a rare display of friendship and gives him a short squeeze. "Not just yell at you."
Blast Off: "And to command me," Blast Off adds dryly. It's obvious enough for the other that he appreciates the gesture given.
Onslaught: "It can't be helped -- it's my programming."
Blast Off: "Then it should be in mine to obey." And it's very obviously not.
Onslaught: He sighs slightly, though not in annoyance. "Perhaps we'll have to work something out. After you're repaired." What that "something" might be Ons does not indulge, if he knows at all.
Blast Off: "Perhaps," the shuttle concedes, regarding Onslaught quietly.
Onslaught: Onslaught gives him one final pat. "Get well. Try to avoid getting slagged till then, soldier."
Blast Off: Blast Off holds back a sigh of his own. "I doubt I'll run into any." It wouldn't take a tactical genius to hear the sarcasm.
Onslaught: "Good. If you need myself or one of your slacker brothers, all you need to do is comm us." He heads for the door.
Blast Off: A snort instead of a laugh. "Onslaught." Tone is serious, stopping the other before he can leave.
Onslaught: Onslaught pauses and turns around at the door. "What?"
Blast Off: He hesitates. "I don't have a weapon." Combined with his rather sorry condition, it's a vulnerable feeling.
Onslaught: .... "Ah." Onslaught reaches for his blaster and tosses it almost casually to him. The mech only has one arm left, but Blast Off should be able to catch it.
Blast Off: Blast Off does - falling back against the wall for the needed support and balance. "Thanks." Quietly, knowing that Onslaught knows what it means for the shuttle to have a weapon in hand.
Onslaught: "No thanks needed. is that all?"
Blast Off: Pause. "Yes."
Onslaught: "Good." Onslaught leaves with a final two-fingered wave.
Blast Off: Blast Off lets him have the final word, nodding in return.