Pecking Order (Crosswire/Open)

[Blindspot]

January 21st, 7:18 PM
Aboard the Nemesis

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It had been a good day.

Blindspot’s current shift was nearing an end. Some drones were happy to get easy assignments, and others liked to stagger back to the barracks tired from a hard day’s work. Blindspot was more focused on being productive. As long as he had made progress during his workday, he was happy, and today he’d made a lot of progress.

He’d spent the bulk of the day repairing a command console. The decks were littered with such terminals, their functions varying individually. This particular one was used as an auxiliary monitor for several systems, such as propulsion, as well as the power grid. It had been damaged during the last Autobot incursion, and had remained broken for months. Soundwave seemed keen to get every last monitor up and working, and had assigned Blindspot as an assistant to a Decepticon engineer.

Blindspot had not actually done any of the repair work himself, but he’d helped as he was directed. He was also lucky in that the engineer had gladly answered his questions and explained what they were doing as they were doing it. The drone dutifully logged away every tidbit of information. He resolved to read further on these systems and the types of repair and maintenance they required, so he would be better-equipped to handle the process next time.

His partner had been surprised and clearly impressed by how well the soft-spoken, but intelligent drone retained information. He went to deliver his tools back to storage, leaving Blindspot with a handful of them to close up all the exterior panels now that the display was fixed. The drone squatted, re-affixing the smooth purple panels. He was squatting down next to the display, crowding himself against the wall to avoid blocking the walkway. As soon as he was done here, he was free to go refuel. He glanced up to the bright screen of the display. It had been dark when he’d arrived--dormant, dead.

He felt proud to have been useful to his superiors in this way. In Blindspot’s mind, it was a good day to be a Decepticon.

[Crosswire]

Not far off was the reason for so much damage done to many of the monitors today along with cases of rewiring and reverse effects when it comes to certain commands set upon certain knobs and switches. Of course, in the lost mind of the psychotic femme, one rule of the Cabin Fever Game is to not get caught so to avoid her life's last title being GAME OVER. A tire in the front and a thin heel in the back, her feet walked quietly against the ground with the aid of the rubber which muffled her foot steps whenever she pleased. Above that, the curve of what some might mistake as swagger but in reality, was a cruel and calculating walk. Right now, wherever she walked, that part of the world was hers and she would do as she pleased with that world. At this moment, she devious smirk on the femme spoke that she had more power in her mind than in actuality.

Her red optics gave a bit of a creeping glow behind her black visor as the lights in the hall she walked in, and then some, flickered before dying to leave the next few rooms and halls down in darkness other than perhaps a few computers here and there. Humming as if she was innocent and perhaps sane, the black armored femme continued her walk down the long haul as she heard the angered, slightly, muffled shouts of another. Her chuckle was dark, though starved of entertainment. She felt like she could really be evil right now and she wanted to use that energy on a specific individual that couldn't fight her off. Someone who would find discomfort in it, someone to amuse her... As the femme continued on, her form's paint seeming darker than the shadows against her very light grey metallic parts underneath theme, allowing at least that much to be seen.

A wide variety of wires in hand, her frame instantly stopped when she thought she saw light from a neighboring room not far from her position. Her optics did not lie, looking to her left, it appeared something was still lit and casting a glow with bled somewhat into the corridor.. Her black lips dropped the grin, her expression instantly angered as she tore down the hall somewhat quietly in a fast walk. It didn't take long for her to emerge from the shadows of the room Blindspot currently inhabited, her appearance slowly becoming visibly in the monitors light as she tilted her head curiously at this new.. Victim....

[Blindspot]

Blindspot jerked as the lights around him went out, and immediately stood, cocking his head and opening his sensor net. He had no idea what had happened, and in his mind, it could have been anything. Perhaps it was a malfunction. Perhaps the lights had been deliberately dimmed as someone diverted power to a different part of the Nemesis’s grid. Perhaps they were under attack. He didn’t hear any fighting, though, and didn’t pick up any activity around him (as Crosswire was not close yet), so he dampened his sensors once more and set about finishing his task.

At least the light of his display gave him enough illumination to see by. He was just snapping up the last panel when he noticed movement out of the corner of his visor, and he stood to give Crosswire due respect and attention. He bowed his head silently to the somewhat-shorter femme. Blindspot was not especially small or helpless-looking; he was a slim creature, clearly designed for speed of movement rather than brawn, but otherwise than that he would have appeared to her to be merely another faceless drone.

“Is this a drill?” he asked quietly, cocking his head curiously. His voice was the product of an obviously-damaged vocoder. It was a thin metallic rasp, a low, almost creepy sound that didn’t carry much inflection. His body language portrayed questioning attentiveness, like a dog looking to its master, but this was appropriate behavior for a drone.

[Crosswire]

Her smile grew once again, a bit of a devious smirk which drew a modest yet hyena-like fang to poke out against her shiny black lips which silently cackled in the dark. {"Peeeeeeerfeeeeect..."} She purred within the far, echoing, wrecked waste land that she called the far reaches of her mind. She watched him stand, though feeling it, trying not to appear menacing in any way, yet.. The chuckle she let escape her throat was dark and somewhat murderous as she invited herself into the room. Her rounded armor moving in step with her as the dark femme made her way into the light from the large monitor which bathed her Ferrari's alternate pieces with an ominous glow. In said light, it almost gave certain features of her a purple hue. As for her very light grey mesh areas, a blue highlight glow where it faced the source.

His voice, abnormal, amusing to Crosswire. Never caring enough on small details such as these to be turned away, she made no gesture, other than one of herding prey into a corner, that this femme would be leaving any time soon. After asking, without any display of warning, her face appeared to be directly against his despite the need for personal space that most required. "Hmmmmmmmmn you could call it that if you wanted." Her own body language demonstrating that Blindspot was in for a rough night.

[Blindspot]

Blindspot watched her approach, not a trace of fear in his initial body language. Her movements were fluid and predatory--well, so were many Decepticon officers. He just cocked his head to a further degree until Crosswire quite suddenly and unexpectedly invaded his personal space, her face nearly bumping right into the expressionless metallic mask that comprised his. Blindspot was not used to have this much femme in such a small amount of space, and he reached according by suddenly jerking backwards and banging against the wall behind him.

“I don’t--ma’am?” was the only thing the baffled and flustered drone could muster at first. There were a limited amount of explanations he could come up with that involved females slinking up to him in… in that way, with that expression on their face, but he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the possibility that she was… was… no, she had to have him mistaken for someone else. It had happened before. The drones did more or less look identical, unless one knew what to look for.

Goodness, that must be embarrassing for her. It would be best to nip this potentially-awkward situation in the bud. Blindspot held up a single hand in front of his chest, as if it would help him ward off Crosswire’s advance. “Ma’am, I think perhaps you have me mistaken for someone else.” The words came out in a harsh, staccato babble. Clearly, Crosswire had already succeeded in making him nervous. “I am VC-207. I have never met you before.”

[Crosswire]

Her very wicked, evil smile, slowly dropped as she looked down at the hand that warded her off as she took a step back. She returned a look at Blindspot's expressionless face, almost confused as she caught the tone of his raspy voice, taking another step back with a blink of those glowing red optics that lit up behind her black visor. The femme almost seemed slightly frightened by the raspy voice she had received in return, both arms up somewhat as if from protection. "Oh-oh, I'm so sorry.. I.. Oh no, Primus n-not again..." This Class A actress turned her back on the drone, clutching the wires in her right bawled up fist and dropped to the floor in a somewhat lady-like sitting position with her legs folded under her. Both clawed hands met her face which emitted sobs as if she had been having horrible unknown issues lately that she could bare no more. Her black armor kept in place against her very light grey, almost silver mech frame which shook with her uncontrollable sobbing which sounded choked as if the Decepticon wished she could end it so not to be killed for weakness.

[Blindspot]

Blindspot was startled and dismayed by her reaction. He wasn’t a particularly vicious creature. He was cursed, instead, with a disgustingly gentle disposition. In addition, Crosswire was his superior, and he hated to displease his superiors. He couldn’t help but feel guilty--it was programmed into him, and he reacted as if her mistake was his fault. “I’m sorry, ma’am!” he responded immediately.

He pushed away from the wall and took a hesitant step towards her, leaning forward slightly, his back bowed to convey an air of submission. Superiors often liked it when the drones bowed and scraped to them. Hopefully a reminder that he occupied a subservient position would ease the poor femme’s embarrassment. “It is quite all right. It is not the first time this has happened, you know. We do all look more or less the same, anyone could have made such a mistake.” He was so caught up in his distress over her emotional state that he didn’t consider the fact that, though he looked like many other drones, he didn’t sound like them.

It was not in his nature to question, though. He trusted his superiors unless they gave him a reason not to, and it didn’t even cross his processor that Crosswire was lying. He took another step, but made to attempt to comfort her with an embrace. He didn’t feel it would be appropriate. Primus, she was sobbing now, and the poor femme’s distress tugged at Blindspot’s spark. “Please do not cry--it is fine, I promise it is,” he assured her in his soft rasp, “if you’d like, I could help you find the drone you were looking for. I have mostly finished my duties here.”

[Crosswire]

The sobbing frame that tremor with weeping seemed to take on a slightly different form. Honestly, one could still mistake it for crying, but in reality, this sick and beyond horribly twisted femme was... laughing... You'd think of a hyena if you saw those top and bottom rows of jagged dental plates behind those pitch black lips curved in a malicious, crazy smile. Rather than erotic trembles one might find themselves in when bawling uncontrollably, it was far more stable and seemed to rise and then die down again until the laughing could return after another wind of oxygen (which no Cybertron actually needed) passed through her air vents with that foreboding vibe you always got from a cruel and rather vile Crosswire.

Her curvy frame rose a bit from its hunched over position just previously, sitting up with her arms brought to the collar-frame area that held the structure of her neck and shoulders. Said shoulders shook a bit as well with her laughing that was slowly sounding less and less like a mourning of some sort. Her jagged smile clenched, lips pulled back as far as her pained face would allow it, crooked as ever as that wild mouth of hers reached farther left than it did right. Her optics, glowing brighter than ever, were bulging and seemed to want to pierce that visor of hers with laser vision. Her clawed hands hell to her lap, looking down her more horrendous laugh started, Blindspot's two second warning of what could possibly go wrong tonight before her entire frame jolt to its feet in no time at all. Whirling around to both face the drone mech and advanced on him once more, she laughed maniacally with her jaws finally unclenched and open enough to allow her terrifying laughter to be heard by all. Her face aimed to be back in his personal space again, "No thanks, I was just kidding! I saw you, therefore, you are the one you're helping me look for!" Stepping back, her right hand talons swooped up with wires in grasp, out for him. "Murder presents?"

[Blindspot]

Blindspot began to detect the change in her voice, but he was still nonplused about it. He wasn’t the most social of creatures, preferring to spend his time alone absorbing data or mulling over what he’d learned. He was an intellectual at Spark. “Er, ma’am?” He asked again. Surely she couldn’t be laughing, not--oh. She was. Blindspot cocked his head, baffled at the behavior of his superior, and then she suddenly whirled on him, her jagged denta bared, her eyes wide and over-bright, her face drawn into a maddened rictus.

He took a reflexive step back in the presence of such a sight, only to have her push herself into his space again. He leaned away, stepping towards the wall once more, but not yet coming into contact with it--he still had room to move sideways, if she lunged. His earlier docility was starting to fade, and the drone was clearly growing anxious due to his superior’s odd behavior.

Her words didn’t do anything to allay his growing nervousness. “Oh. A joke,” he replied uncertainly, and then stared at her grasping hand, flinching away from it. Murder presents? What was going on here? The longer he stared at her face, the more he began to suspect that there was something… off about this femme. “Madam, I am not certain why you would be looking for me,” he finally said, with an air of determination, “but you are behaving most erratically. Are you well? Do you need to see a doctor?”

Here he perked up. Perhaps that was what was wrong. She was behaving most unusually, but Blindspot had seen stranger reactions to the stress of the ongoing war before. “I am a field medic, but if you are suffering a serious ailment, it would be best to see Knock Out. Still, I will not turn you away if you need my help.” He did not relax, not fully, because she was beginning to intimidate him, but there was a touch more confidence in his voice and his bearing. If she was ill, then he was on more familiar ground.

[Crosswire]

Again Crosswire couldn't care less when it came to one's personal space. No, this femme cared not at all how uncomfortable it must be to have such a volatile walking time bomb in this surprisingly tolerant drone's face. The smile hadn't shrank at all in this time, the same smile that normally bemused her victims. Victims of what? It was always different. Whether she had a fit of rage and killed someone, or perhaps she merely harmed another, maybe she only made one paranoid and unsure of their existence. It appeared she was rather skilled when it came to putting odd thoughts of her own into the heads of others. No matter what, if Crosswire takes any bit of interest in you, you're bound to not forget the occasion. Not a high honor, but a curse.

In a quick manner that might make the cornered flinch, she drew the delicate wires to her jaws before beginning to gnaw on them in order to occupy her gentle, destructive urges for the moment being. Tilting her head to the left so that it tilted near a nine o' clock position, she continued to nibble with the smile that had formed into a somewhat bored expression. Bored, but interested. Within the chewing, no change in expression, an odd and somewhat chilling laugh being released. "My name is not..... MADAM!" She snarled, clenching down upon the wires at the last M before yanking to completely ruin the remains of a computer's controls. After throwing them aside, all in a seconds, her predator-like growl led her to advance forward more and snap at Blindspot with those jagged fangs only to hold back at the last second and avoid his face plates. Drawing back, she gave a playful laugh, turning to walk away from Blindspot near the middle of the modestly sized room where she out stretched her arms and gave one equally modestly fast spin. Turning to face him, turning quick on her heel, she gave the mech a friendly smile that would lead anyone to know just how cracked she truly was. Tilting her head to the right to land in said hand while her left hand grabbed a hold over the arm just above the elbow for support, that somewhat malicious vibe came about that smirk once more. "It's Crosswire." Giving her optics a bat, the right side of her helm slipped out of her grasp as she eyed the monitor which bathed the two inn fluorescent lighting. Almost as if she wished to dismantle that as well.. "I don't need a doctor, I'm just kinda of crazy sometimes. Sometiiiiiimes, a little bit. A little bit sometimes. At times, a small amount, or a big amount, or a big small and little amount."

[Blindspot]

Blindspot did not flinch when she moved around jerkily. He was still being attentive, and there was still a certain amount of trust in his bearing. He jumped when she suddenly leaned in towards him, snapping, both startled at her proximity and a it flustered to have a femme in his personal space. It wasn’t that he disliked femmes. It was sort of the opposite. They possessed decidedly pleasing aesthetics, and he felt nervous and unaccountably shy when they got close to him.

Decepticons weren’t known for their reasonable behavior. Up until now Crosswire hadn’t done much of anything to indicate she was any more unstable than some of Blindspot’s other superiors. Maniacal laughter was sort of par for the course with them. As he watched her, though, realization finally dawned on him. Something was wrong with this femme. Something was very, very wrong with her. He was instantly on guard. He had no doubt that, if she wanted, she would be able to hurt him. Blindspot was not a very strong drone, being more focused on speed, and she was barring his exit.

On the other hand, she was sick. Blindspot felt the Spark-deep urge to heal rising in him in the face of her broken mental state. It wasn’t something he could control. It was just a part of who he was. He was momentarily torn, unsure whether he should try to beat a hasty retreat or if he should try and get this femme to accompany him to see Knock Out. He still wasn’t sure, but he did know that it would be in his best interest to keep her calm. He forced himself to outwardly relax, but he was watching her closely now, ready to leap out of the way if she suddenly became violent.

“Well, it is nice to meet you, Miss Crosswire,” he said, dipping his chin to her in genuine respect. Mentally unstable or not, she was still a superior officer. After all, she wasn’t a drone, so she had to be. “I am VC-207, as I have already mentioned. You said you were looking for me. Why is that?” He did what he could to sound conversational, but it was difficult for him to make the grating rasp of his voice even remotely friendly.

[Crosswire]

Taking a moment to drop her smile into somewhat of a phrase of trying to figure out what to do next with the helpless victim. Her left optic widened, the other somewhat narrowed for all to create and overall odd and questioning expression. Her arms crossed themselves during this time. Feet spread just enough to make herself harder to push over as this less gifted, strength-wise, drone spoke. It didn't even appear as though she cared for what he said, more concerned with her own current thoughts. Thoughts, Crosswire was thinking, therefore, Blindspot would shortly be in a bad place. Both glowing orbs behind that visor made of black tinted windshield both bulged, only making her murderous intent look more so frightening. Said optics adding a glow, reflecting off of her black armor, her oh so light silver, she jumped with a stomp of a her left foot with her right index suddenly pointing at the sky. "I'VE GOT IT! I'LL BE THE DOCTOR AND YOU BE THE PATIENT!" Had Miss Crosswire given Blindspot any real time to react to this? Nope, whether he wanted to or not, she stomped forward with both clawed hands brought forward to forcefully shove the mech onto the ground, in her hopes, in a seated position. Staring down upon him for a moment in the most menacing fashion, she plopped down in front of him with an abruptly loud SLAM! As if she could couldn't care less about wanting to catch herself. Staring directly into that mask Blindspot called a face, she somewhat scrunched her own in dislike. "I don't like that name, make up another one or I'll do it for you." It appeared the purple and grey mech would not be getting his answer to his question any time soon. "What's your favorite number? Does it make you sad?" The busty femme had already jumped to the next couple of questions, leaning forward for her chin to sit upon her knuckles with somewhat of a pout.

[Blindspot]

Blindspot was watching her keenly; he could tell his words weren’t getting through to her, and that wasn’t good. He fell silent after his initial question, waiting, watching, but even so was unprepared for when the femme suddenly burst out yelling. He flinched away from her on reflex, but it wasn’t far enough to be out of reach; Crosswire had no trouble grabbing at his shoulders, her talons scraping rather harmlessly off his plating. It was only by sheer luck that she’d missed grazing a sensitive tire--if she got her talons on one of those, it would hurt.

He landed rather heavily on his aft, and in a most undignified matter, too. He wondered if he should spring to his feet again. He certainly didn’t like the prospect of being in a helpless position before this clearly-unbalanced Cybertronian. She sat, though, and quelled his fears. This was good. Blindspot arranged his legs in front of him so that he could sit comfortably, resting his wrists on his knees. If she was sitting, then she was… well, not necessarily calmer, but he figured he’d have at least a split-second warning if she suddenly became volatile.

That thought was cast to the four winds as the leaned abruptly forward. Blindspot immediately jerked back, both startled by the movement and acutely aware of how much curvaceous femme he suddenly had in his personal space. One arm shot behind him to keep him from falling over. “Er, well, if you’d prefer, I do have a nickname. It is Blindspot. Or Spot,” he added with a half-shrug. At her rather bizarre question Blindspot shook his head slowly, scooting back a little to try to regain some elbow room once more. It wasn’t that he disliked femmes, of course. It was just… they made him so nervous, and this one was making him nervous for more reasons than the usual ones!

“I am afraid I do not have a favorite number.” Feeling he should add something, he went on, “I do have a favorite color, though. I must admit I am rather fond of purple.” He made a very strange sound after that. It was rather like steel wool being scraped over aluminum foil. After a moment of listening Crosswire would probably realize (if she was even paying attention) that this was the closest sound Blindspot could make to a laugh. “For obvious reasons.”

[Crosswire]

Her florescent optics stared him down. The rays reflecting off of both his and her armor giving a bit of an eerie cast as if murder was on the list on tonight's agenda. Murder, strangulation, psychotic exercises, demonic laughter, vile behavior. Though she seemed to smile upon Blindspot ever so innocently, all of these things seemed to bleed from those bright, red orbs. Her black lips allowed her more emotion in her appearance. More chance to corrupt others with her expressions whether by face or body.

Before the mech had soothed her lost mind with a response ( despite his harmfully, rasp voice ) , the femme watched on as her victim seemed to further express his dislike of her uncaring ways when it came to the personal space of others. Not that she really knew any better. Not that she didn't enjoy it. Her seemingly innocent pout had formed into a smirk even though he had moved almost frantically to gain distance so not to risk harm from the lethal femme garnished in black and silver. Her wicked smile only embellished her psychotic behavior further, as if prey's only warning to flee while the option is still available.

Blindspot, yes... She had to think she liked that name more than... Not that she could remember the other. What sounded like serial code to her had already escaped her tainted processor's grasp and blown away in the thieving winds. Either way, Crosswire approved and the crazed gleam in her optics seemed to let the drone before her know. For now, he had done well, he had appeased her needs. Blindspot would definitely be a lot easier to remember.

Her expression became slightly quirked as she refrained from tilting her head to the side and continued to stare dead on at Blindspot. The odd, somewhat unpleasant sound hadn't seemed to faze the Decepticon femme entirely other than kidnap her thoughts for a moment until she finally interrupted that it indeed had been a laugh of sorts. Her thought process quickly took on another turn; no, no it was not obvious. Why was the color purple so important? Crosswire herself could never entirely decide on a color, she could never make up her mind. Ah.. She knew why... "Squishies say a high ratio of the insane are rather fond of purple." Not once did she blink in that, staring him directly in his expressionless face plate in search of an answer.

[Blindspot]

There was no doubt that Blindspot was starting to get intimidated. Though he was a good and obedient drone, he most certainly did not want to die at the hands of a crazed femme. His efforts to remain calm weren’t working, and he was contemplating feeding her some excuse to scurry away. He still couldn’t help but wonder where she came from, and what he should do if (when) he escaped. Surely his superiors needed to know that this… maniac was loose, though it wouldn’t surprise him if they did, and simply didn’t care.

When Crosswire smiled, and silently showed her approval, Blindspot tilted his head attentively. The poor drone’s mind was a in a jumble, tangled between his own instincts, which were screaming at him to keep calm and try to make sure that Crosswire kept so, as well, and the instincts programmed into him, which were soothing his anxious thoughts at the knowledge that he had pleased his commander. That was good. He was being a good drone. Almost imperceptibly, he relaxed.

“I am guessing that by ‘squishies’ you must bean human being, and I wouldn’t put too much stock in what those backwards creatures say, anyway,” he responded a bit dryly. “They are not known for being terribly intelligent, on a whole.”