| abstract
| - November 13 2011 (Repair Campus, Polyhex) --- Slipstream walks into the repair campus, her frame showing the obvious signs of battle damage. She had not been the only one injured during that incident with the Autobots but was willing to wait her turn. "Busy cycle for you doctor." she intones softly. Quickrazor looks up, startled. "Yes, I anticipated such." he says carefully. "I heard of the battle. Have a seat up here and I will see what must be done." Slipstream inclines her head and takes the berth, trying her best to look calm and relaxed despite the pain that flows from the injured sections of her form. "Did you want to check my spark while I'm here doc or wait until the full decaorn?" she asks softly. Quickrazor looks up. "I can do that now. I think we should take care of /that/ first." He flicks a finger in the direction of her overscorched chassis. "Forget to duck?" he asks, a hint of humor in his tone. His optics whir as he scans Slipstream from her helm all the way down, cataloguing and noting stress fractures of armor, burns, contusions, and a bit of shrapnel that looked painful as Pit. Slipstream snorts a bit to that question, "Oh there was no ducking to be had I'm afraid. But then I haven't been afraid to get myself damaged." she pauses though as he scans her, not wishing to disrupt the mechs' concentration. "I got in my hits and I took them, that is the nature of battle." Quickrazor snorts. "I am well aware of what happens in battle." He finishes his scan and straightens. "This can be done one of two ways. Whatever hit you fractured your primary plating in several places. They're not visible, but this means reduced protection. It can self-heal, which will take a decacycle and some energon additives to assist, or I can replace it, but you'll have to enter stasis." Slipstream cocks her head a bit to this information. "I really cannot afford a decacycle off Quickrazor. It's a task to reschedule my two training sessions plus my usual duties. I trust you enough to accept being in stasis during replacement." Although starting distant and muffled, there is a vague sound of music. After a while it stops, but soon after, the click-clack of metal on metal can be heard as Hookshot struts into where Quickrazor is busily at work upon Slipstream, well, at least will be soon. He walks into the center of the room, throws his arms out, and begins singing in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. Quickrazor nods. "If you have anything to take care of between now and next cycle, I suggest you leave and return when it is finished. You will be released tomorrow." Quickrazor turns and scowls. "Mute it! This is a medbay, not a concert hall! Primus." Slipstream was about to reply to that when Hookshot walks in and sing. The femme seeker outright grimaces, "Ugh.. who taught you to sing, I'm going to find them and squeeze their vocoder." she mutters. Hookshot glances over at Quickrazor, flashing him a large smile, but then proceeds to sing higher and louder. He takes a break for a moment, speaking in a voice that obviously had been modified to come out at a higher pitch. "I am a good singer, actually, or was. Now then, how about I start singing "Crash Boom Bang?" by the Hide and Seeker? It wasn't really designed for a soprano, much less a falsetto." Quickrazor scowls. "No! How about I remove the means to wail like a cyberkitten fighting over turf?" Slipstream shakes her head a bit and rises from the berth, "Give me a few moments to make some arrangements Quickrazor, then we can proceed?" she asks him. Quickrazor nods at Slipstream. "Absolutely." Hookshot shrugs his shoulders. "Now, that would violate the medic code to do no harm... not that Decepticon medics FOLLOW that code." He takes a step back in all of his mud-coloured splendour. "Clink Clank I'm coming for you, the beat is on and I got the groove. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and still you, you, you, try. Like lightning, CRASH, you're in my sight. Drop my bombs, BOOM yet still you fight. From my rifle, BANG, and out go the lights.... for yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu." Slipstream nods and smiles a bit to the mech, heading out into the science facility to do some comm contacts to arrange things so she can dedicate the time needed by the medic. Quickrazor covers his audials with a wince. "Okay, what do I have to do to SHUT YOU UP?!" Hookshot grins and drops his arms. "Take a guess! You are such a clever mech after all!" Slipstream offers loudly from the science facility, "Try a large tool to the head!" Quickrazor scowls. "Have you learned to keep your olfactories out of my personal life?" Hookshot shrugs his rounded shoulders as he takes a few slinking steps towards Quickrazor. "Not because of your prank, I assure you. I've had fun with this voice, as you can see." Slipstream yells from the other room, "Nearly done!" Quickrazor wonders idly what the femme is /doing/ in there, but decides he really doesn't need to know. "Berth, Hookshot." he orders, having come down with a very sudden processor-ache. Hookshot nods and complies with the instructions, hopping onto the berth indicated by the CMO. He taps his fingers on the berth in a quick succession, but then lets them rest still. Quickrazor nods and motions for Hookshot to tilt his head forward for better access to his neck plating. His fingers become tipped with microfilaments, flexible and suited for delicate work. Hookshot tips his head forward. "So... what's it like knowing the inner workings of so many other mechs?" Slipstream comes back in and retakes her berth, "Got everything arranged, I'm all yours when you are ready Quickrazor." Quickrazor retracts the plating and starts fiddling around. "I'm going to regret this, Sparkles, but keep talking." He glances at Slipstream and an unreadable expression graces his silver faceplates and nods shortly. "Hookshot, I don't know what you're getting at." "I'm not getting at anything. It's a simple, straightforward question," Hookshot says as a response. He keeps talking alright, so that the adjustments go smoothly. "Knowing how people work has to change how you think about people, and give you an advantage over them. I imagine if I understood so well how every piece fit together and what effected what... well, and also the amount of trust someone would have to afford me for me to go into their carefully guarded vitals..." Quickrazor peers at the glider. "Not all of it involved trust." he says with a smirk. Slipstream isn't sure what to think of that expression from the medic, it could be anything. What Hookshot says though earns a small bit of a frown. "I would disagree, it involves trust." Hookshot taps the berth again. "Well, if I wanted to I could pay a neutral medic to fix my vocoder. I have the resources to do so and not feel it a waste. But I came here to get you to do it. That is trust." Quickrazor looks rather thoughtful at this as he continues tweaking the volume, gain, and pitch controls. "I suppose you're right. I trust few, though." "You don't need to trust someone for them to trust you. And I trust you, not for the mech you are, but for your need to keep your position. After the previous streak of medics, I am sure you know you'll be under extra scrutiny, and you wouldn't do anything to truly sabotage me because, well, you might lose your comfy position here." Hookshot places a hand on his thigh and shifts his shoulders slightly, but tries to keep his head more or less still. "One doesn't always need to trust in people, but the status quo." Slipstream peers at the medic curiously now, wings shifting slightly. Then at Hookshot. She trusted someone, several someones in fact, and look where it got her. She sighs and lies back on her berth. For once the femme just stays out of it. Quickrazor does a few minute adjustments, checking Hookshot's voiceprint against the one in files. Still off by just....a...bit...there. Perfect match. He withdraws his fingertips, shifting them back to normal proportions, and slides the plating shut. "You really do think little of me, don't you. I am not in it for the position." There is a slight grin on Hookshot's face. "What am I to think of you?" he responds, finally hearing and FEELING his vocoder working right. "You fought for the position. You are a Decepticon. What else should I be thinking if you actually give me nothing else to work with?" Quickrazor looks down at the smaller mech. "You may call yourself a Decepticon, but I don't think you understand what that truly means, do you?" Hookshot snorts. "Honour and conquest, I am sure." Quickrazor cocks a eyeridge. "You have /no/ idea. Is it a joke to you? What do you take seriously, Hookshot? Certainly not a craving for battle. Credits? Companionship? Love, even? Is there anything you hold dear? It is entirely too easy to /live/ for a thing. Have you ever cared enough about a thing, an ideal, a /person/, to die for it??" After lifting his head, Hookshot turns to look at Quickrazor, somewhat amused. "Oh, but didn't you know Quickrazor, that it is easier to die for an ideal than to live for one? Your view and mine seem to be opposite. We can all jump into the glory of sacrificing ourselves for honour, love, or freedom, but that's the true coward's way, because they won't be around for the sparkache that comes after." There's a pause. "I live for what I am passionate about, but I'm not going to share that with you," Slipstream frowns a bit, hands moving to clutch over her chest. Spark ache she knew entirely too much about. Quickrazor scowls. "I do not believe that you are /capable/ of passion except as it relates to lining your subspace with credits." Hookshot chuckles. "Then you and I do not know much of each other and are happy to live with our assumptions. I see no reason to change your opinion of me either. Carry on, Quickrazor, carry on! I applaud you." Quickrazor narrows his optics and lowers his tone to almost a whisper. "Hookshot. You know and I know that you are /nowhere/ near as stupid as you appear." Hookshot flickers his optics, leaning closer to Quickrazor as he speaks lowly. "And so...?" Quickrazor stares down at the glider. "Stop acting like it and we shall get along far more easily." Hookshot snorts. "Sorry, no can do. Not except when we're..." he glances over to Slipstream, still talking very quietly, "...alone together." Slipstream comments now, "Easily solved, just put me under Quickrazor." Quickrazor nods slowly. "I can agree to that qualification." Raising his voice, he steps back, looking at Slipstream. "I can do that." He strides over and begins the preparations. Hookshot slips off of his berth, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck carefully, as if to make sure everything was put back properly. "There, that is so much better. Now how about I treat you to a /proper/ performance of Crash Boom Bang?" Slipstream relaxes and offers a smile to the medic. "I do trust you. Remember that." Quickrazor looks warily at Hookshot. "Quietly." He turns back to Slipstream, accessing her medical port and uncoiling his line, connecting with a soft click. He checks to ensure her systems are stable, then sends the coded burst through her CPU that puts her into medstasis. He removes the hardline and fiddles with the berth a little, changing its contours to fit a standard Seeker frame. Slipstream's optics power down as the burst hits her CPU and she drops into medical stasis for the duration. Hookshot rolls his shoulders as he watches Slipstream getting put under, but doesn't sing, not even quietly, He just watches with some odd sort of interest. Once he is sure she's under, he says, "Well, then, Quickzor, I get the feeling you got something more to say to me. So let's have it out." Quickrazor sighs, looking at the femme. He doesn't know what to think. Nova had told him a lot, and Quickrazor trusted her completely. Looking back up at Hookshot, he tilts his head, wondering what really went on in his head. "I do. Why the act? I know who you occasionally work for. I even have a fair idea of what you do. Who is the real Hookshot? What does he want with /me/?". Hookshot rolls his shoulders back and lifts his chin. "Mmmm..... I sure hope Nova hasn't been naughty and betraying my confidence..." he murmurs. He shakes his head and finally says, "We've had bad luck with medics. I'm just testing you," he says with nonchalance. Quickrazor stares. "Testing me. To see if I am a slagging /traitor/?" Quickrazor is, to put it lightly, torqued off. His optics glow a fiery red, and his fingers clench on nothing. "I am the furthest thing from a traitor you will find on this base! I lost /everything/, and the Decepticons have now returned what was salvageable to me!" Hookshot shakes his head, and then chuckles. "Traitor? No. Abusive? Yes. I could do without another Psykeout, thank you very much mister I have a needle and will use it cruelly! Nova's confidence in you has me convinced you aren't treacherous. There's a reason she cleaves to you, which means you are like her, like us. Had nothing, not even faction, and fought your way to the ranks. Am I right?" He crosses his arms over his chest, staring keenly at Quickrazor. Quickrazor nods warily. "My family was lost in one explosion of the Sky Tower. I had my training. That is all. I was Neutral-raised, of a Neutral and a Decepticon Seeker. Hookshot inclines his head. "We've all been neutral. Whether you like it or not, the three of us share a common bond. She wears her scars. You wear an obvious chip on your shoulder. I wear decadence. All ways to keep people at an arm's length. Knifepoint? Yeah. That was a spur of the moment improvisation between the two of us for kicks and giggles. He's a mech who knows how to have fun, even at his own expense. Not many around here like that..." He glances down at the glyph on his chest. Quickrazor actually has the grace to feel a bit ashamed, though damned if he'll show it. "I am rarely joyful, this is true. Moreso now than before..." He almost unconsciously looks at the medbay door, then catches himself and looks back. "You don't...you're not with him?" Hookshot shakes his head and lets out a guffaw. "Nope. I'd only met the mech once in a bar before we started professing our deep love for each other. I was surprised how well the mech played off of me. I'm telling you, when the war is over, he could really do well in entertainment." He glances at the medbay doors a moment then back at Quickrazor. "Anyway, with this out in the open, there's not reason for me to keep harassing you other than to keep up appearances." Quickrazor sticks out a hand. "Wait. I...will remove his sigil. That...was ill-done." An odd admission, until Quickrazor began tracing the seemingly random pattern on his chestplate. "Warhammer." A name-sigil, interwoven. "Blade Wind." Another, delicate in the flowing script of Seeker-kin. "Quickrazor." A hybrid etching, both and neither. And the invisible one, traced by violet energon dagger, there despite no marking at all. Hookshot crosses his arms over his chest a moment, staring at Quickrazor, and then drops his arms. "You take pride in your origins, I see. I guess it is important to know where one came from. No family for Hookshot, he was made custom with a few other mechs purely to entertain the crowds. Maybe my troupe was like family, but everything was professional between us; no bonding. So I honestly cannot understand your loss or will even try to." Quickrazor moves to a cabinet and comes back with a buffing-tool along with some metallic stuff that could only be classified as goop. "Hold still." He began painting the mark with the goop, which feels cold and slimy. Hookshot holds still. See? He can be very obedient when it suits him. Hookshot looks down at the sludgy substance. "Hee. Tickles," he says, and does his best not to shudder. Quickrazor powers up the buffer and pushes it against the sigil, where the purpose of the goop became clear- it had metallic particles in it, which combined with the heat, friction, and circular motion, quickly filled in the light etching and polished the area to a glossy sheen. "Here." Quickrazor grunts. "Fixed." Hookshot glances down at the spot where the etching was, wait a moment, then tentatively runs his hand over the smoothed surface. The buffering wasn't really something unusual for him, as he has had several etchings made and then removed in the past. "Well, thank ye kindly, Quickrazor. It looks good as new! I just need to get in contact with my detailer for the paint!" Quickrazor nods. "You're welcome. Have we an understanding, then, if nothing else?" Hookshot nods his head. "Some sort of understanding I am sure. No more digs at your and Nova Black's relationship. Unless you are really asking for it," The glider smirks. "I'm still going to continue to be eccentric, obnoxious, and air-headed when others are about, though." He flexes his wings. Ha. The real Hookshot, eh? If Quickrazor believes this is him... well... Hookshot idly wonders who he is sometimes himself. "I shall let you get to work on Slipstream." Quickrazor snorts. He's well aware of his lack of subtlety. "I will let you in on a small secret, glider. I have never had...what I have for her. So I do not know how to deal with it, that is why I seem...obvious." Hookshot shakes his head, laughing a little bit. "Well, good luck learning. No one can tell you how to deal with it. It's sink or swim on those sorts of relationships. However, I would work a little more on the subtlety, because, if you haven't noticed, our ranks are filled with jerks looking for any angle to burn one another. Sure, we have a few exceptions, but in general..." He shrugs. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who makes comments." Quickrazor nods. "Too many made and they will sorely regret it...and not necessarily at my hand. I understand what you say, though. I am trying." Hookshot crosses his arms over his chest again and squints at Quickrazor. "Just be glad Psykeout is gone, otherwise I'm sure your lack of subtlety could have endangered Nova Black... and that would have irritated me. She's tough but..." he shrugs his shoulders, "...So were a lot of the mechs and femmes he got to. I cannot give you hints about being subtle though... because those are trade secrets," Hookshot says as he flourishes his arms in a showy fashion to exaggerate the irony of the remark. Quickrazor's optics turned dead, flat red. "I would /end/ the one who harmed her. In ways that would make even the most depraved mind shake in terror. With my knowledge, I can make a mech beg for death just to end the agony. And it's not mere physical violence. It goes deeper than that. So Psykeout is no threat, nor is any other on or off Cybertron." Hookshot arches an optic ridge at Quickrazor. "Yes, but that would not undo the harm done to Nova Black," he responds pragmatically. "Subtlety will get easier once the glamour of love discovered wears off and turns into something more mature and easier to maintain," Hookshot says, as though he knew. Quickrazor nods shortly. "No, it wouldn't, but I would have the satisfaction of knowing that her assailant was beyond recovery, by the hand of one who would avenge her." The mere idea of this is making Quickrazor vaguely ill, and his spark whirled in its chamber, mirroring his distress. "I will get better..." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself as well as Hookshot. "Who did you love?" Quickrazor asks quietly. Hookshot smirks. "Me? Everyone and no one. It's hard to say. I used to be a performer. I did mostly acrobatics, but we put on shows that involved a story, and sometimes romance. I got too much into my roles and often found myself loving as the character I was loved, but though it felt real, it was all fake. Once I pulled myself out of that, I still had people falling in love with who I was on the stage, and flattering as it was, I knew it wasn't me they loved just as I truly didn't love my opposite for her, just her veneer." He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't speak from my own experience, but I listen and I observe. I see what works out, what does not, and begin to find patterns." Quickrazor thinks he understands, a little. "So you are all and yet none, beneath the masks." Hookshot nods his head. "It's in my function to be anyone but myself. This caused some bitterness and rebellion in my past, but I've come to accept it and use it to my advantage." Quickrazor 's gaze turns serious. "And that is part of being a Decepticon. You are not limited to your assigned function. You think, you feel. You are no drone. You have choices." Hookshot inclines his head. "That is true. I am what I make of myself. I was not designed to be a Decepticon, and yet, here I am. I use the skills my intended functions gave me in... creative ways to serve the empire. But the damage is done, and I am everyone and no one, and it would take a complete reformatting to clean out that mess, and then I'd end up losing what little self identity I carved for myself. It doesn't appeal to me." Quickrazor raises both eyeridges. "How about you try something, then? Be as close to yourself as you can when with me, and Nova as well, if you trust her enough." Hookshot snorts. "I trust Nova more than I trust you, but then, I've known her longer." Not by much longer, but he is not about to admit it. Quickrazor chuckles. "Then you should have no trouble being yourself around her. Just as we can trust you with...us. We are well aware of the potential for others to gain leverage because of our association." Hookshot shakes his head and takes a few paces away from Quickrazor, then pivots o his heel to face him again. "Either way, I'd rather let things continue the way they are and carry on being a jerk and a gentlemech, kind and cruel, humble and arrogant, and so fourth. I do not want to go through all that upheaval and spark searching again. I'm complacent as I am." Quickrazor looks searchingly at the glider, not at all sure of his words. "Fine. But if you torque off some mech and get ripped in two, I /don't want to hear it. Understand?" Hookshot raises his optics ridges. "Who is to say that whoever I am underneath is a better person anyhow that WOULDN'T torque everyone off? NOt worth the risk, no." He shakes his head. "I appreciate you confiding in me though. I shall not betray it unless you betray me first... but... I somehow do not think it is in your character to do so." Hookshot glances over to the unconscious seeker femme. "WEll, I shouldn't keep you from your work, nor should I let myself stay too idle. After all, the more idle I am, the more mischief that results." Quickrazor glowers. "Absolutely no mischief in /my/ medbay. Out. You're whole. Ugly colored, but whole. Don't get slagged." It sounds like an order. Hookshot snickers and gives Quickrazor a very elaborate salute, bow, and then walks out in a stiff-legged fashion, swinging his arms with exaggerated movements in rhythm with his march. Quickrazor exvents heavily and approaches Slipstream's stasis-locked form, shouting at drones for parts and tools and a cube to tide him over.
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