| abstract | - Moving in day for the femme known as Jackknife, or Jackie or even Knife to her customers. She tried to find the least occupied of the barracks rooms then proceeded to move right on in. A multitude of gun racks are mounted on the wall, each holding a weapon of her design. Some are completed and others are at various stages of assembly. Boxes of ordinance are stacked against another wall, each labeled as to what is inside. Hyperblast plods through the corridors at a slow pace: wait aside for someone to pass, continue moving, fold a turbine away so someone /smaller/ can pass, rinse, repeat. It's not hard to see him coming, nor does he miss anyone going by. He has been around here long enough to recognize a new arrival... His progress stops, and he stands in the entrance to the room, watching. Going over the new dossiers he's familiar with, in his own head. It almost sounds like he's humming to himself, but there's words. "... no, not that one ... wrong color, that ... Jackknife?" Jackknife pauses in pushing yet another large crate toward her barracks door, looking over to the mention of her name, "Yes?" she asks, looking up toward the larger and wide mech that appears to have some sort of construction alt form from his general shaping. "Right. Jackknife, Jackknife I presume. I trust that Iacon sees you well, Jackknife? Do you need help with this?" Hyperblast moves aside, swinging his arms forward in a little motion to assist her with the heavy lifting of sorts. "long-standing ... Unsure? ... I have heard good things about your work." Jackknife nods her head, "Yes that's my name." she replies, "And I am well, thank you for asking. Help is certainly appreciated." she tells the mech standing aside, "Just be careful with this one, it has some sensitive bomb materials in there. Wouldn't want to get yourself blown up. May I ask your name?" she asks, then a pause, "Oh have you? My name does seem to have a reputation." Hyperblast's tone is jovial, though any other hint of emotion is very effectively hidden by his facemask. "Yes, I have I have. I am ... hmm. Slightly surprised you would come to Iacon to work? Maybe conditions ..." His small hands lift the crate delicately, and he carries it in. "... though not unpleasantly so!" The crate is deposited to the next most similarly-sized thing with cautious slowness. "I've been led to understand you were working as an independent. For what parties?" One arm falls to his side, and the other gestures enthusiastically to his chest. "I am Hyperblast. Don't ask me why, I wasn't around to name me." He makes a reverberating sound like 'heh'. " Jackknife understands such questioning of course, she doubts that the head Bots got around to telling the troops under them the whole story. "I was an independent. Working for anyone that could pay me. Suffice it to say I am independently wealthy because of that. But with the war going on and the fact that I believe the Autobots are in the right, it was not difficult for the Autobots to convince me that my place was here with them, working to give them the technology to win the war." she states, then a smile, "Creators can have an odd sense of humor." Hyperblast bows his head a few inches. "Good, this is good, excellent, actually. If you believe on your own time, I can trust you have a good reason for doing so, and doing so in fact." He steps forward, mumbling something about 'whoever else' and 'connections of greed' while motioning for something else to move. "I owe you a toast to ending the war, then. And yes, I suppose they do. Really..." Hyperblast trails off for a moment. "I'd hazard a guess you will be getting more qualified assistance here as well." Jackknife nods her head to him, moving to the very last of her boxes from her old lab, "Of course my reason is no longer a selfish one. There is more to life than money. Money cannot by happiness. Nor can it buy your way out of trouble with Primus if you give evil a hand up in life." she replies, "You can toast me after this war is over, Hyperblast. Would you get this last box please?" then a nod, "Yes, I think I'll get better assistance here. Better access to things I cannot get on my own." Hyperblast plucks away the last crate and lifts it over Jackknife's head, carting it off easily. Maybe a bit too easily. "Yes, afterward would make more sense. I think we're going to get along just fine, Jackknife." He lowers the box with the same delicacy into her chosen quarters. "Tell me, though, what changed your mind. Was it something you saw? Did the Autobots approach you? Or maybe someone else? Both, in a way?" Jackknife follows you to the barracks and watches the last crate get put into place. The femme is a bit dirty from all the moving and traveling here. "The Autobots approached me. My mind changed because I realized that supporting both sides would only lengthen the war. I had to choose sides." "Ah, but why then? Why not before ... Of course, no one has precognition. I am glad to see you came around all the same." Hyperblast brushes dust away from the tops of crates -- and a couple of the bunks for that matter. Some more hums, 'why's and 'realization's muffle through his vocalizer. Jackknife replies simply, "I thought I covered that already. Do you mind if we continue this discussion in the wash racks? I don't want to work dirty." she notes. Looking up at you carefully as you mutter, "I do suppose though that age has a lot to do with it. With age comes wisdom and the ability to see things a younger self would not. I'll freely admit all I cared about for a long time was making a name for myself, to be known to be the best in unique weapons and pyrotechniques." Another "heh" from the mech. "We probably did, Jackknife. I like to be as thorough as possible. Covering trampled ground is never out of the question. You'd be amazed the different answers you can get to the same question, in application -- the different responses you can get to the same request... Oh." Hyperblast reels slightly. "I do not. It is not my place to keep you from your work. ... I can only hope I do not feel quite the same when I have more vorns on me, or that I won't need to. If you need time to adjust ..." Jackknife hms to that, nodding in understanding, but there's only so many times she'll repeat herself. She's already trying to get past your bulk in the door. But that's not going to happen until you move. She peers up at you, at that odd mask on the lower portion of your face, "You aren't keeping me from it, and you can come with if you so wish. After all I should get to know my fellow Autobots so I know what their needs may be for my services." then a little smile. Hyperblast flips sideways, pressing his turbines against the wall and muttering an apology. "I intend to. I doubt I'll have any need for your work, unfortunately." He's strangely quiet for a few moments to look at your face, but it's over as soon as he turns to follow. "Unfortunately. However, I may become aware of those that do, perhaps sooner than anyone else, I'd like to think." A buzz comes from behind him as he spins his turbines a few times. Jackknife moves past, hmming softly to your words. "Oh? And what is that Hyperblast. You look like you could take on Megatron himself with your size and bulk." she states, walking toward the wash racks with a unique gait that moves her frame subtly yet gracefully. "What is what?" Hyperblast clasps his hands together as he walks, though they intersect in a location some distance in front of him. "Your work? Its potential uses? Who I know? If you're bringing explosives into Iacon, I can make a reasonable guess that you haven't changed your line of work with your change of perspective. I'm not a fighter, but I can see over my own nose. Despite the way it looks." He wastes no time correcting, "Size is meaningless without intent. And I have no intent to take on anyone." One of his 'wings' scrapes the wall as he moves aside to let someone else pass. Jackknife replies to the question, "I was referring to your not needing my work, Hyperblast." continuing down the hall then taking a right into the wash racks. "Though who you know may come in handy as well, that is if you know those in the ranks that would need weapons." she states, then she gasps at what she sees, "Oh my.. a sonic setting. Oh I am so going to like it here." she muses. Then a hmm to the size comment. "And may I ask what you do with your size then? What is your function?" Hyperblast shuts his optics off for a moment, stewing. Oh, THIS was a line of inquiry he'd never listened to before, sure. "What I do is fly or stay in one spot, mostly. I'm in here because, apparently, they don't let mechs sleep in the labs." He stops a respectful distance away. "Yes. We recognize the need for cleanliness, more than I can say about the wastes." Jackknife moves into the racks and sets up the programming for the sonic first, starting at a low setting. She mmms as it begins, a look of content on her face. "Hm? That's an evasive answer Hyperblast." she states, "What do you do as a skill?" "Oh. Hadn't occurred to me." It hadn't, he was more apt to defensiveness. This was a better question! "I'm sorry. I study history, old, new, troop formations, what worked, what didn't ... what will. What should. And the prerequisites, of course ... old orders are meaningless if you can't understand them. Apparently I was fluent enough in ancient Cybertronian to pass, though I think the only way to make that judgment is to go back in time. And to what time, too." Hyperblast stares upward slightly. Jackknife ahs softly, "History, much to learn from it so we do not repeat it." she notes, leaning into the vibration as it slowly cranks up. "Mmm, this is lovely." she sighs softly, enjoying herself. "Maybe you can find a older Cybertronian that still speaks the old tongue and try your skill on them." she notes. Hyperblast looks down at the femme, finally. "Not only to learn from it, but to improve upon it. To act. Many mechs would claim to know the past and then seek to do nothing for it, or worse, pine for the 'good old days'. There were no good old days." His wings shift slightly on this note. "Our elders have better things to do than humor an observer, I find. Once I've proven myself in some way or another, that won't be an issue. Unless you know someone?" He averts his optics again. Jackknife hmms softly, looking thoughtful, then squirming a bit as the sonics hit their highest pitch. She's trying her best not to show just how good this feels after so long having neglected herself. "I may actually." she says, "I could contact her if you like, see if she'd be willing to talk to you in the old tongue." "That would be useful. I mean no disrespect to the academy that qualified me, but language is a unique thing, for obvious reasons. I'll refer people to you, and we'll call it a trade?" Hyperblast nods his head up, then down. He, in turn, seems to be trying to ignore the fact that he is in the wash racks. "... ehh, time ... If you have no further need of me, I will allow you to relax. I'm sure it's been a long cycle." Jackknife turns toward the programming to switch over the chemical wash, "Sounds fair to me Hyperblast." she replies to the trade offer, "I don't mind if you wish to stay... unless watching a femme bathe bothers you." she notes, a hint of a smile upon her lips. Hyperblast's speech becomes oddly stilted. "I try to remain ... professional, Jackknife." Blessed facemask, hiding his smile and enforcing that self-defined rule. He doesn't mutter anything between phrases. "Being in need of recharge can make that difficult. Enjoy having a decent fuel economy, I don't." He tries to chuckle, but it, too, sounds uncomfortable. "I'll see you again." With that, the grey mech turns slowly in place, and plods back the way he came. Jackknife hms softly to that, inclining her head, "Good cycle to you Hyperblast, nice to meet you and I do hope we will chat again." then turns her attention to cleaning herself as thoroughly as possible.
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