| abstract
| - The interior of the fortress is a revolutionary design; after the original Darkmount was demolished in the cataclysmic final battle between Galvatron and the usurper Avatar, Shockwave had seventeen years in which to develop uniquely Decepticon architecture for the reconstruction. Consequently Darkmount is entirely without elevators, stairs, or for that matter contiguous floors. Designed by and for a flying species, such concessions as "connections between floors" are unnecessary at best and a tactical error at worst. Instead the center of the fortress is hollow, a vast hive-like space encircled by projecting structural members like the ribs of a whale balanced on its end. Decepticons fly up and down between the levels, landing on the ledges formed by the ribs which separate each floor from the next. Moving about in the fortress without the ability to fly would be something akin to scaling a cliff face. Pounce's Den Boomslang's Hangar Main Spacebridge Terminus Simulator <99> leads to Darkmount - Simulator. Workshop <47> leads to Darkmount - Workshop. CMCC <112> leads to Darkmount - Master Control. Up <160> leads to Darkmount - Observation Deck. Out <80> leads to Darkmount - Landing Platform. Snowblind takes off from the landing platform midway up the tower. Snowblind has arrived. Razor has some menial duties to be doing, like... cleaning the underside of this here ledge. If he had anti-gravs, this would be amazingly easy. However, Razor doesn't. He isn't yet enough of a full Decepticon to have them installed. So instead, he has his legs wrapped around a spar supporting the underside of the ledge, and he's trying to wash it. Razor's legs are /killing/ him, too. "... Need a hand?" Snowblind leans over the edge of the ledge, looking... well, her visor is pointing down anyways. Curious as a cat, she heard something from the level below and wanted to check it out. Can't be too cautious. has to consider why anyone would offer him a hand. The only logical reaosn is so that the person could then yank it away and laugh. He climbs awkwardly around to look up and actually see whom it is. Oh, that new Decepticon. Autobots aren't supposed to talk with her. Razor says tiredly, "Look, I'll get this ledge done as quick as I can, lady. Then I'll get to whatever it is you need me for." Razor has to consider why anyone would offer him a hand. The only logical reaosn is so that the person could then yank it away and laugh. He climbs awkwardly around to look up and actually see whom it is. Oh, that new Decepticon. Autobots aren't supposed to talk with her. Razor says tiredly, "Look, I'll get this ledge done as quick as I can, lady. Then I'll get to whatever it is you need me for." "I don't really need you to do anything. I'm just offering to lend you a hand," Snowblind says. "If you're out here scrubbing this ledge, then you're probably as low on the food chain as I am." "Yeah?" Razor says sceptically. She's probably screwing with him. But here's the thing. If she's going to act servile, he may as well push her and see when and how she snaps. "Then go ahead and get down here." The underside of the ledge isn't all that dirty. No one usually walks on the undersides of ledges, though with anti-gravs, they can. Also, robots don't shed dead skin like humans do, so dust doesn't build up as badly. the only spiders are Insecticons, and they can clean up their own webs. "Well, yes. For one thing the only dust we get here is the occassional seeker exhaust residue or blow-ins from the sea of rust," Snowblind says. "So whose aft did you crawl up to get assigned this sort of pointless busywork?" Razor keeps at his cleaning work. Like any career screw-up, he's good at it, in a disgruntled way. "Me? Lady, you want the whole list, or just the synopsis? Torquing people off's the whole story of my life." "Well, you're in good company. After all, I'm sure you saw the report. And the punishment I was handed," Snowblind mentions casually. She lies belly down on the edge of the ledge and reaches beneath. Her fingers extend from nubs into long, thin, bladed claws, and she scratches a bit of oxidation she notices in one corner. Razor, like he lacks anti-gravs, also lacks access to the factional boardd and channels. has to properly demonstrate his loyalty first, and /knows/ how that will go. After all, he's done it before. But he doesn't need to tell her that. Razor says, "Mmmhmm. Here's to bad company. Wouldn't have it any other way." "Don't let it get around, but you're probably the first other Con I haven't been afraid to be around," Snowblind points out. "--Got a sander?" she asks mid-thought, picking at the rust spot. "--Not that you're weak, you're probably very well equipped, but you don't have that.... how to put it...?" She thinks for a moment. "--Predatory hunger! Yes, that's how I want to phrase it. I'm sure you'll get it in time." Razor considers his options, and he actually really looks over at Snowblind, instead of paying attention to his cleaning work, and in his optics, there is the look of someone who is wondering just how much energon he'd get out if he gutted her very, very carefully, trying not to spill a drop. There is also a certain uncertainty in his optics, as to whether he would be doing it because he's hungry or whether he'd be doing it because it would be hilarious. Then Razor looks back to his cleaning, and he mutters, "Funny you should say that, lady," and he hands her a sander, even grinning. Razor is playing a role, but it's not that much of a stretch for him. That's the worrying part. "Yeah, well, I did without so long I stopped feeling hungry," Snowblind replies, using the sander to take off the rust spot. "The best part is, when you stop being hungry... no one can control you anymore. There's no handle to be grabbed." "When you have nothing... you are freed to do /anything/." "And the 'anything' you want to be doing is sanding rust off the bottom of a ledge, lady?" Razor snorts, taking a file into a little hard to reach part. "Look. I was a factory overrun. Like... the state orders up however many. Says there are jobs for 'em. But there aren't. Some button-pusher /miscalculated/. So everyone's scrambling for odd jobs. And in the end, you're all just scrambling. You're 'con built, aren't'cha?" "I do what I like, when I like," Snowblind sniffs, lightly offended. "It's something new I've never done before. That makes it interesting." She is clumsy with the sander at first, taking off too much metal, but after a moment her motions become smooth. She learns quickly, if nothing else. "Miscalculations play into a lot of things. I was supposed to go to a barren planet to find energon. They were supposed to come back for me in a month. A month turned into four million years. That's a lot time without shelter, fuel and company." There. Rust spot gone. She seem satisfied, running a claw over it. "I was built towards the end of the war along with four sisters. At the time the war was already taking its toll, and supplies were getting low. The factory was in poor shape. We were stamped out of leftovers and third rate materials." "But you've always had a function. Something to be doing. A purpose in life," Razor prompts. Aw, yes, filing rusted hexnuts on the bottom of a ledge. He's living the dream. "Something to belong to. That's bigger than you." "Oh yes, cannon fodder is a /very/ good function," Snowblind complains. "That's why I'm the only one of my sisters left. And only because of a slagging clerical error." "It's something," Razor observes, rather neutrally. He moves on to the next rusted hexnut. "You have vast untapped potential because you are not tied to a function," Snowblind lectures a little. Razor snickers, and he prompts, "Yeah? Tell that to the recruiter. You know why I only joined up 'bout now? Because last time... last time, the recruiter refused me. Because there were plenty of factory-built 'cons who all did everything they wanted. Didn't have any room for a factory overrun. And wouldn't want one if even if there was." "I find his lack of faith... disturbing," Snowblind muses. She looks for other rust spots, since she is holding Razor's tool and effectively preventing him from doing his job with it. Wouldn't due to get a potential ally in trouble, would it? Or a potential friend. She could use one of those. Oh Snowblind, your inexperience is laughable. And probably life-threatening. "Well, here's to being made of third-rate materials or being a factory overrun!" she says, holding up the tool as if it were a beer mug in a toast. "You know, I don't have much -- what was your name, I didn't catch it? -- but when and if you're offduty, I'd be happy to treat you to a drink." Very much life-threatening. Blades isn't a cannibal, like the role of Razor that he is playing. Blades is just an Autobot serial killer. No, seriously, Repugnus went and got Blades a bound and gagged Decepticon for Christmas. He replies easily, "I'm Razor," and he finishes off the last of the rust - provided that she does that other patch that she looks like she'll do. He grabs the edge of the ledge and flips himself over it, landing on the ledge on his feet, and he draws one of his blades. Razor is dirty, and his paint is chipped. There are signs of old damage on his body. His blades, however, are immaculate. "Like this. You, lady?" Snowblind does indeed finish the last patch. "Snowblind. Or Snowcone if you ask Harrow. Nice to make your acquaintance." After she's satisfied with her handiwork, she stands up, and hands the tool back to Razor. Her chest camera gives him a good visual once-over. "You look like you could use some maintenance. At least you keep your weapons clean." Razor takes back the tool and puts it away. Then he puts the blade back on his back. "Snowblind," he says, rolling the name around on his tongue, tasting it. Then the reports were right. Doesn't look like she's in as much trouble with the Decepticons as she tried to let on - but she wrote some report that the rest of the Decepticons didn't like? "Well, why the Pit does Harrow call you that? Y'ain't a conehead. Anyway... ever tried to find a shower in a ditch?" He smirks. "I don't know. I'm just a recruit so one one gets my name right or cares. I'm pretty much everyone's glitch," she sighs. "Plus I talk to Autobots too much, which is giving me a world of hurt. I'm sure you can imagine. Or slag, maybe you wanna beat me up too for that. Maybe I shouldn't mention it. I'm too nice, I don't shoot at them... " she sighs. "I should just keep my vocalizer shut. Drinks are still on me if you want it. So's a shower." Spinister has arrived. Razor sort of leans in on Snowblind, uncomfortably close and up in her personal space, and he grins. He says breezily, "Yeah, sure, I'll take that drink... Snowblind." Talks to Autobots too much, huh? Boy, is she in for a surprise. "Maybe that shower, too." Snowblind manifests a pair of glowing eye-shapes and an outline of a mouth with a smirk on her visor. "Careful sweetheart. I'm bad luck." "Are we going for a drink?" Look down! It's Singe! Helmet off, his weird long pink hair stands out a great deal against his black armor. He smiles darkly at the two. "A fine outing with one of our newest recruits and one of our more...outspoken recon specialists." He brushes his bangs out of his eyes as he looks away from the two of them. "Tell me, how is being a double agent going?" He doesn't give that question a specific target before laughing. "Oh, let's just discuss it over drinks." He turns back around, smiling up at Snowbind. "Bad luck, but so beautiful. Have you heard about how Razor killed a particularly fat and loud recruit?" He flashes a smile at Blades. "A disgusting fellow. I'm in your debt, really." Razor pulls off an absolutely perfect Decepticon bow for Singe. It is, if anything, a bit too perfect, but maybe Razor's been studying the manual in his spare time, to impress Scorn? /Maybe./ He doesn't let himself have any reaciton to the double-agent crack. If they knew, he'd be dead. Then the Protectobots would have to merge with Whirl instead. Razor can't let himself think about that. Razor brags, "Yeah, I did it the /smart/ way - got a dragon to do the hard bit. If in doubt, use others for your dirty work, am I right? 'course, I did want to use Squatpunch's living innards to grease my swashplate," This is why Razor needs a shower. Snowblind's 'face' immediately goes >:| when she hears Singe's voice and disappears. Yes, literally >:| only turned rightside up. "Well, that's one way to climb the ranks isn't it? Kill everyone laterally and vertically until you reach the point where you're feared by your lessers and checked by your superiors." She turns away from Razor and towards Singe. "Oh, I do have to pass something on to you, Singe, from Shockwave." She leans down to meet him closer to eye level and her face displays Shockwave himself. "Remind Singe that he is replaceable." It's Shockwave's voice along with a video. She stands back up. "You are to keep your hands to yourself and your comments as well, Singe, because for the time being, Shockwave intends to use me as he sees fit. Maybe he'll get tired of me after he's done, and then he'll turn me over to someone to kill, but until then, /back off/." Her tone is sharp and irritable. She sighs. "As it is, it's almost time for another session of excrutiating pain in his lab." Singe flashes Razor a smile. "Absolutely. I can see why Spinister sees such promise in you." The Neb just smiles as Snowblind says her piece. His antigravs activate, and he floats up to face level with Snowblind. Stopping at eye level would be, well, kinkier then intended. "Let someone do your dirty work. That's why Shockwave is the king of the Decepticon way, Snowblind. You have no value, little drone. Shockwave has you playing the role of poor victim to the Autobots, but what will Shockwave do if you're found out? What if the next time you went off holding hands with that creature Wheelie or another Autobot, Magnus...or Repugnus had already been informed of your treachery?" He smiles, fixing his hair in the reflective surface of her face. "Then perhaps you'll be painfully reminded of who's replaceable." He finishesslicking back his hair, and gravs back to the ground. "Now then, I believe the three of us were going for a drink. Razor, could you recommend a dive? I feel like slumming...." He glances up at Snowblind. "More than usual." Razor's optics light up when Snowblind mentions another session of excruciating pain, and he mutters, "Wouldn't mind seeing that." He watches the interactions between Singe and Snowblind carefully. Singe, for all that he's a Nebulan, knows how to throw his weight around and how to show no fear. Snowblind's just posturing when she threatens Singe. Razor says slowly, "You... want a dive bar?" like he doesn't quite understand why anyone would want to go slumming. "...yeah, sure, I can do that! There's the Apocalypse..." Snowblind catches that. Her sensors tend to catch a lot of things. She looks over Razor's shoulder and chuckles. "Ask Shockwave, maybe he'd let you. Didn't know you were into pain.... I suppose with blades like that though... it would make sense." She opens a compartment on her thigh and takes out a little bit of money, handing it to Razor. "You'll have to excuse me. The air around here got really /foul/ all of the sudden and I have some extra work to do. Enjoy yourself, though. Slumming is... not my style." Scorn has arrived. Snowblind has disconnected. Singe watches Snowblind storm off, a slight smile curling on his lips. "Three's a crowd, I suppose..." He glances up at Razor. "Anything interesting about your new friend?" Of course Razor is into pain! Also, free money, score! Snowblind will probably want Razor to do her some favours later, which will be hilarious, because she has basically shown herself to be a milquetoast who retreats in the face of a mildly threatening Nebulan. Somewhat unthinkingly, he puts out a hand for Singe to sit on, if he wants. It gets hard, being short, and well, the Autobots always have humans around, and the Protectobots in particular usually have humans around, being as they rescue people from bears and stuff. Razor reports, "Snowblind? Kinda nihilistic. Lost her four sisters in the opening of the war. Was made out of factory second materials. She's way bitter about being abanbdoned for four million years due to a filing error. She's concerned that other 'cons are gonna beat her for that report she filed, and she's worried that chumming around with the Autobots is gonna get her in trouble. Gotta tell ya, boss, Snowblind's looking like a lady with nothing to lose, and I'd know. The dame could do anything, if she loses hope." Razor pauses and then rubs the back of his helmet, before giving Singe a sly look. "So, does that about cover it, boss? On. One last thing. She doesn't think I'm a threat," which would be why he got her to spill her whole life story for him! <> That familiar hiss of Scorn's voice is heard over the general comm, though for some reason she's nowhere to be seen. Where is she? How did she hear him say that? That question is answered soon enough by the flutter of barely audible wings, a keen eye likely to spot something tiny flitting about the room, getting closer to the two of them. "Really now, Razor, you know I'm the only one to get that title." The miniscule femme chuckles softly in her tiny mantis mode, landing smoothly on Singe's shoulder and perching there. She takes quite a bit of room on it, surprisingly, given she's the size of his hand. "Singe, so good to see you again. I hope my little lackey isn't giving you trouble?" The mantis nearly purrs, little scythe arms wiping idely against one another in a sort of 'preening' motion. Singe gives Razor a nod, landing on his hand "I feel like she's rather worthless as well, thank you Razor. Of course, let's hope she's incorrect about your threat level." He smirks and then spots Scorn, genuinely startled for a moment. He regains his composure after a moment. "Scorn! I see you've been through some changes, my dearest. And fear not, while he's not actively on duty, the new mech is still your pet." Singe rolls his optics. "Honestly Scorn, if you wanted pain, you'd let me brand you." Razor is genuinely surprised by Scorn's voice coming from apparently nowhere. Is she invisible now, like Boomslang? That would be big (and bad) news for the Autobots, if they don't already know. He looks around, trying to find the source of her voice and finally finds it. Razor says, not eloquently, "You're tiny. Erm. Mistress. Wow. You look... smashing?" More like 'smashable'. "Anyway, Singe is a piece of Spinister, right? And Spinister basically owns my skidplate when you aren't using it as furniture." This is the logic behind calling Singe 'boss', no matter how much it chafes his rotors. Laserbeak takes off from the landing platform midway up the tower. Laserbeak has arrived. Tiny Robotic Praying Mantis snorts softly. "Changes I wish were a little more.. tolerable, but it has its advantages." Razor gets a bit of a glare at his mention of her size, the femme scoffing before busying herself with a few strands of Singe's hair, looking somewhat marveled by it. Enough so that she actually starts nibbling on it. What? She's been very hungry lately. "True enough, I suppose, Razor. As long as you behave yourself. Which reminds me, I've a gift for the two of you, but I'll give them later when I'm a bit more.. able." The only thing to stop her munching away is when Singe actually speaks about.. branding her? This has Scorn look quite bewildered, maybe even a little angry if her bug face is able to convey such emotion. "B-.. Brand me??" She blinks, though soon sinks into a soft hiss, poking the Nebulan's cheek with a blade tip. Enough to hurt, but not to break the skin. "Don't get so ahead of yourself, /dear/." Like hell she's gonna let him do that. Laserbeak had heard about Scorn's...predicament, but Darkmount was still a rather large place. Using the scanning systems used mostly on spying on Autobots and...well...spying on Decepticons, he eventually makes his way to the main Atrium. He hovers down towards the strange Russian Doll scene, of a Con holding a Con, wearing a Con, and makes himself known as he perches nearby. Considering his last few issues of late with her, it is no surprise that he looks directly at Scorn. One can almost hear a word in his simple posture....... SOON. Singe offers SCorn a hard smile as the blade pokes into his cheek, drawing blood as he pushes it off of his face. "Tiny, but not harmless..." He smiles at her before looking up. "Ah, Laserbeak! What brings you to grace us with your watchful eye?" He gives Scorn a glane. "Not searching for dinner, I hope." Razor looks over at Laserbeak. If the bird is hungry, Razor hopes that Laserbeak doesn't try to eat Scorn while Scorn is on the top of Singe's head, because Singe is on Razor's hand! Then Razor would probably have to defend his boss's gun. Razor prompts, "So... mistress, why are you tiny, anyway? I thought you were too big, bad, and bold to go for the astropint-sized thing." Laserbeak looms over Scorn for a moment, then disappears back into the shadows. The intent was clear, that was all he needed Laserbeak has disconnected. It really isn't hard for Scorn to feel Laserbeak's presence, some second intuation warning her against the bird of prey in the room. Singe's addressing him only confirms her suspicions, glaring daggers at the bird, audibly hissing while lifting arms up high and flaring out wings to display their bright swirl eyespots. Clearly a threat display. She's unsure if it works, but Laserbeak moves off all the same. With a ruffle of her plates and a soft huff she returnsher attentions to the two, eyeing Razor a moment. "Of course I was. Though it seems that was because the idiots who built me actually left out those capabilities in the first place. Buzzkill, Needlenose, and Contrail stupidly thought it /brilliant/ to use me as a buffer to upload things to those pods. Seems the new programming... jump started. Admitedly, this is all new, so I'm having a bit of.. trouble switching from this mode." Singe considers this news from Scorn for a moment. "And so here you are, stuck in your current size..." He brushes a lock of hair back over his ear. "And how...permanant is your situation, Scorn?" He smiles, eyes flashing a hint of fire. Razor is learning many interesting things! Such as: Snowblind and Scorn were both apparently built by idiots. Razor doesn't think that the Autobot women have that problem, but then, he doesn't go around asking them. In Another Universe... Blades asks, "Hey Torque, were you built by a moron?" It does not go well. Back in This Universe! Razor suggests brightly, "Yeah, are you going to need to have all your stuff made tiny, too?" Tiny Robotic Praying Mantis ... does not like that look Singe is giving her, for once feeling a little uncomfortable with him. Usually she's the bigger one, so she has the control. But now the tables have turned. "Don't you get any ideas." She snaps, trying to keep cool, though signs of nervousness show as scythes rub against one another more. "I'll be back to normal soon enough, don't you worry." Turning, the little mantis snaps wings open again, now fluttering up and perch on Razor's nose, looking him in the optic while pointing a blade. "And /you/ shut up before I start keeping a tally of how many lashings you'll get once I'm normal." With that said she soon scuttles over on his shoulder instead, hunkering a little closer to his neck to keep away from Singe's rather unnerving look. "Of course you will be, love." Singe kicks on his anti gravs, floating away from Razor's hand. "Well, I bid the two of you good evening...Try to leave him with enough energon to deal with what's coming tomorrow, Scorn." He smiles in anticipation. "We'll be killing some prisoners." Razor shuts his lips, but he smiles beautifically at Scorn. Threaten him with lashings? Yeah, sure, that'll work. ...killing prisoners? Oh, slag him sideways. Maybe Razor can just... hurt them so badly that they then commit suicide? Ultra Magnus is going to beat Blades senseless when Blades gets back. Tiny Robotic Praying Mantis grumbles a little at Singe, but the prospect of killing prisoners brings her around somewhat, smiling as best as she can between those sharp mandibles. "Excellent. You need to get into training anyway, Razor. As much as I love you following my every whim, you need to learn the true way of the Decepticons if you're to be one of us." She waves Singe off and looks up at Razor, waving a scythe arm like a knowing finger. "Anyway, I think I'll be sticking around with you the rest of the day, seeing as moving about in this mode is quite the chore. Feel free to go about your day. Unless I need something, of course." Looks like she's sticking with him for now. Razor agrees amiably, "Sure do, mistress." More than training, he needs to figure out where those humans are! There must be a human-prisoner-restroom that he eventually will get assigned to clean. That is a /cruddy/ job. Who wants to do that? No one. Exactly. "So... today, mistress, I'm just cleaning ledges. Lemme know if you need to go anywhere else." Singe smiles, offering a mock salute, before transforming into his gun mode and falling...into the hand of Spinister, who is just there, suddenly. He eyes the two for a moment before flying into the air and transforming, helicoptering away. Spinister transforms into an Apache Attack Helicopter! A MYSTERIOUS ATTACK HELICOPTER! Oh look, pathetic former civilians in such destitution they're willing to stoop to menial labor just for a few scraps of energy. At least the ones still capable of working. Others try to find a corner to just hide in, not wanting anything to do with this other than a place away from the wild mechanimals that have started to roam Cybertron again. This all may or may not have something to do with Carjack meandering into the sector, in a slightly less cranky mood than usual. "Good slaggin' slag, it feels so much better to NOT be in charge of all those freakish medical sorts. Too much data work not enough, ehehe, -fun- work. Eeehehehehe..." That can't be good. Razor sure is pathetic, going around and using a sander to take the rust off the undersides of ledges. This is a pointless and degrading duty, but Razor is doing it anyway, and while he certainly has complaints, he's keeping them to himself. Something about the devil on his shoulder. Carjack passes by Razor... then stops back backpedals to him again, squinting a bit. Real scrutinizing squint, clearly looking him over. Maybe a medic would be able to see through the cheap paint job with his familiarity with Decepticon chassis? Could this finally uncover the dastardly Autobot plot? ".. Nah, you're still in too good of shape." Thrusts a finger in Razor's face. "Make sure it stays that way, deadbeat, or you'll end up at the end of my laser torch soon enough!" Then turns sharp on a heel and stomps away. Looks like 'Razor' gets to live another day. This time. "There, that one over there!" "B-b-b-but I'm trying! My servos aren't responding like they use to!" Carjack gives the nameless empty a kick in the struts. "Well at least the rest of you can be of use to Decepticon science, then. Guards!" A couple of randomly colored Seekers hut-hut-hut in at the bellow. "Take this dead battery to the operating lab." Any farther protests are drowned out as the empty is grabbed between them and dragged off, Carjack followeding behind rubbing his hands together in deprived anticipation. Razor feels a little tug. He /should/ go rescue that poor sap. That's what the Autobots would want. Or just slit his throat and get it over quickly for him. Which the Autobots would not want. Razor doesn't do either of those things. He just lets Carjack take the deadbeat, and he continues with his cleaning work. He can't save them all, and he has his mission: find the humans.
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