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| - DHQ Throne Room There are no other chairs in this huge room but the huge throne. Banners of ancient Decepticon warriors hang from the side walls, and a large, ornate metallic Decepticon symbol is set into the black wall behind the throne. The symbol is the exact same metallic shade as Galvatron's cannon. There's a strong resemblance to the Hall of Warriors on Cybertron, and deliberately so since while in exile here, they didn't have access to their homeworld. When Fleet walks, it is not with the usual slow-rhythmed clank... clonk... clank of most Transformers. Instead, he walks swiftly, and his feet fall lighter than is the norm. More a clink-clink-clink-clink instead. Now that clink-clink-clink echoes through the minimally-manned halls of the Decepticon Headquarters on Charr as he leads his newly assigned student towards one room in particular. "Almost there," he explains, expression cool and tone both neutral and polite. Artifice is standing in the throne room with his arms behind his back, hands clasped, toeing the floor and looking bored out of his metal skull. He is waiting for his mentor, whom he has never met, and whom he fully expects to be a complete tool. Arti doesn't need mentoring! He is the one who should be mentoring others! At least that's what he thinks. Fleet clink-clink-clinks into the room and inclines his head towards Artifice. "Artifice, I assume? I'm Fleet. Your, erm, new mentor, it would seem." Artifice turns to Fleet with a neutral expression on his face. He takes a measured step forward, extends his hand, and sizes Fleet up. "Ah yes," he says, "My mentor. Nice to meet you." His tone is crisp and businesslike. "What's on the agenda for today?" Combat: Artifice analyzes Fleet for weaknesses. Fleet returns Artifice's handshake, the motion as crisp as Artifice's tone. He holds the hand a moment longer than necessary, and as he does, his neutral expression is dropped. His lips pull back into a viciously frigid smile, cold and cruel as the ice tunnels of Alkor-Zephyr. "You needn't pretend that you take pleasure in meeting me, and if you aren't pretending... believe me, it will not be nice to meet me." That eerie smile vanishes as he drops Artifice's hand, and he returns to his former detached, clinical manner. He gestures towards the room. "First on the agenda is to clean the throne room, top to bottom." The Seeker points to a closet. "The supplies are in there." Artifice frowns at Fleet and puts his hands on his hips. "How does that help me in combat?" He protests, but goes to get the cleaning supplies anyway. He doesn't want to appear disloyal - especially not in the throne room. Fleet walks over towards one of the walls, then turns towards Artifice and leans against it, arms crossed. "I was not aware that we were only to instruct you on matters of combat. Any thug can throw a punch, after all, and no matter how good you are, someone is better than you. But if you must..." Fleet shrugs. "Patience and focus when things get tedious. They don't tend to in combat itself, but you'll find yourself more prepared when the fight starts if you have it, and the early moves of a fight often set the tone of the entire battle. That is, of course, not the *only* reason you're doing this, but since you're only interested in the fight..." Fleet trails off as he flips a tube of metal resembling the hilt of a dagger out of his right forearm and into his hand. Artifice is in the process of digging a mop out of the supply closet. He finds only a handle, so he props it up against the wall and dives back in to find a head for it. "I find that the best offense," he says, "can be a good defense. Function as an analyst, I tend to stay out of direct combat. But I like to think I know what I'm doing in a fight." He doesn't at all. "What's that?" He's momentarily distracted from his mophead hunt when he sees the object Fleet has in his hand. Artifice leans into the closet and grabs a plastic-packed mophead, his eyes glued to the icy energy dagger. "Was it?" He says. He drags out a mop bucket, fills it with water, adds floor cleaner, and then affixes the mop head to the handle, all while watching Fleet's weapon hand. He doesn't trust this Seeker. That is probably for the best. Fleet has treachery against the Decepticons listed on his official record, forgiven due to brainwashing. However, he deactivates the dagger and tosses it from hand to hand. "Mmmm," he answers absently, then falls silent for a moment. He studies the hilt, then finally answers, "Many warriors among our kind view cleaning as beneath them. During the starvation period, we only needed a handful of warriors - after all, the Autobots were as hard hit as we were, perhaps harder, and not as active, either. Sure, we needed warriors *sometimes*, but not very many or very often." He tosses the dagger hilt into his other hand and looks up, and that ice-cold smile flickers into existence for just a moment. "Turns out it's more energon-efficient to keep a warrior on hand who also cleans than it is to keep a warrior *and* a cleaning drone." Artifice dips the mop in the bucket of steaming, sudsy water. "Cleaning the throne room's an honor," he says, "But cleaning in general isn't my function. It's gumby work." He starts to mop in earnest now, dragging the mophead back and forth like a giant caligraphy pen, making irregular circles. It is probably painfully obvious now why cleaning is not his function. Something Fleet says has struck him, despite his distaste for the Decepticon, the comment about efficiency, but he doesn't want to admit that he thinks Fleet is right, so he files it away and will never mention it. "We're not in the starvation period anymore. We can afford to let out belts out a little, so to speak." "So we can," Fleet answers, straightening up, pushing himself away from the wall, and striding over towards Artifice. As he walks, he slips the hilt of his dagger back into his upper arm. Without asking, he grabs the mop from Artifice. He holds it up, then spins the handle, so that all the threads on the mop itself splay out from the rotation. While still spinning, he then sets the mop back on the floor so that the mop now forms a wide circle. With that, he moves it back and forth in broad strokes, cleaning a very wide swath very quickly before handing it back to Artifice. "And if you wish to gamble that things will stay that way, that is your business. But... while my function is not analyst, Risk Assessment is something of a passion of mine." Really! Check his skill list under his +finger! "While the likelihood of another starvation period is low at this point, this is an easy enough task to learn that it's worthwhile to branch out into it as a fall back. In fact, developing as many fall backs as possible is not a bad strategy. Remember: at any given task, any given function, there will only ever be one person who is the 'best.' All others who know that and nothing else are automatically more expendable. But the more *generically* useful you can be, the less expendable you can become." "You could be talking about specialization," Artifice says, "its benefits and its drawbacks." He takes the mop from Fleet and tries very hard to do it the way his mentor did. "The more specialized an entity, the less adaptable it is. That's why I try not to pin myself down. I try to blend into whatever environment I find myself. And I think I'm pretty good at it." Artifice thinks he is good at a lot of things. "Am I doing the whole floor?" Fleet smirks and once more takes the mop from Artifice. "No. You seem to get the point. Some what." He pauses and takes the bucket, heading back to the closet, where he pours it out. "Flight is inherent to our kind, more so for Seekers than many other Decepticons. Thus, many Seekers see themselves as being above many things." He puts cleaning equipment back in the closet then turns towards Artifice, brushing his hands off. "You appear to understand that no one is above doing their duty, no matter how menial." The brief smile flickers into place on his lips, then vanishes just as fast. "And you acknowledge the importance of being adaptable. Good enough for now." Artifice finally allows himself to smile. Despite himself, he finds that he does not utterly loathe Fleet. This Seeker is one to watch - both because of his knowledge and standing as well as because of that dagger he carries. "Thanks, Fleet," Arti says, earnestly. Fleet gives a faint nod and walks around Artifice, studying him. He circles slowly around the other Seeker, then adds, "We'll have another lesson, soon. I *do* still need to get a clear idea on your strengths and weaknesses, after all." He stops in front of Artifice. The smile flickers across his lips, and is gone. "So I can better train you, of course." Artifice watches, confused, as Fleet circles him. He stands rail straight and still, not entirely sure that he isn't being scanned. He knows a bit about scanning for weaknesses. "I look forward to it," he says. Again, that smile. "I very much doubt that," Fleet responds. He then turns and heads out. "Good cycle, Artifice. I'll contact you again when it's time."
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