The Following Game

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[ occ: eeee im sorry for the late responseeee ]

Not only was she dying for repairs, but she had an owner that was a bit- over sensitive. She didn't have a word for someone who described a ship with such persona. Respect your elders.. She made a mental note to not talk about 'sigma' out loud. She also made a note that Jazz was easily humored, possibly by the expression she made. With ease, she attempted to cover her horror. It worked like charm.

After travelling through the ship, they finally came across the cockpit. As soon as he asked her a question about her previous working experience, she was swift to respond. "I did a few assist maintenance jobs at home. Let's say Im short of the electrican title."

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((OOC: No worries <3))

The kid’s incredulous face utterly delighted him, it truly did, and Jazz didn’t feel bad in the slightest for stringing Stormgear along a bit. It’d been a long while since he’d been able to lightheartedly joke around like this wih someone (other than Prowl), and especially since most of the joking was at his own expense -- Stormgear likely thought he was just a tad bit enthusiastic about his ship. At least this way she was more likely to open up a bit and relax around him.

Jazz ended up on the floor lying on his back, head poking into the open access panel. “Electrician? C’mere an’ lend an assist, then, I definitely am gonna need an extra set’a hands down here,” He waved at her with one hand as he shuffled to the side to make room. “See that one line right there? Can you switch the wires out with a fresh batch while I go ‘bout tinkerin’ with the sensor output?”

He set to work fiddling with the delicate (and ancient) innards of the sensor array in question. Casually, he asked, “So… where’s home, if it’s okay t’ask? You’re a little bit young t’be out an’ about on your own, aren’t you?”

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Tag: @jazz

As soon as Jazz said ‘lend and assist’, she was already on the move. Finally, something to do! She’d checked her utility belt and slipped passed Jazz with ease. She was already inside with plenty of room before he had even moved. If anyone could excelled in small spaces on team prime, Storm was the right person. That’s why she helped so much back on her homeship, because most of the electricians were too big to fit into some spaces. Most of the exploration frigate’s electrical panel entryways were the size of foxholes, and sometimes even smaller. But no space was to small for her.

Storm didn't bother to turn off the output wiring fuse. As an electrical conduit, any incoming shocks would be ineffective to her. Besides, since these wires were damaged, they were dead already. They wouldn't be alive until she replaced them. While she replaced the fuse wires first, she registered Jazz’s question. Home. She slowed down her movements. “Oh I wasn't always alone. My dad and I were the medical officers of an exploration frigate. I never saw Cybertron so that ship was the closest thing to home. Let’s say it wasn’t the greatest environment for a sparkling to grow up in, but it was better than nothing.”

The thought of her dad was pleasant. She really missed him. Even though he was her adoptive guardian, he was the closest thing to family she had. “Then the frigate got raided by a decepticon scout fleet. The ship was neutral, but since it harbored my dad and I, it was ransacked. I don't know where it is now, or how long it’s been since then. I was put into an escape pod before the event escalated quickly, then boom, I was on this rock.”

As soon as she’d finished, a miscalculation of her digits sparked one of the wire ends. Rather than yelping, she took the shock without flinching. If her previous studies on her anatomy was correct, the coils in her wrist would have conducted it into her fusion core. For the love of primus Storm, get your helm out of your skidplate.

Without a moment’s notice, she spoke to fill the silence she’d left. “Sorry If I told you to much, I normally forget I'm talking..” Then just like that, she continued with her work. It seemed as if talking about her home didn’t hurt. But every effort to not flinch of the mental pain punched twice as hard at her gut. Now she was more focused on not tearing up. She’d covered her true feelings with a fake expression of pain from another shock. okay now move the subject along.

“So, are you the Jazz that discovered the last energon reservoir with Cliffjumper on Cybertron’s final days? Is it true Cliffjumper saw an ancient holomap of the Solar System? And is it true you fought off an entire swarm of insecticons just to save Cliffjumper from Shockwave’s exploding base?!” She was getting all full herself. As she shrugged off another electrical shock, she pipped up a small apology for her sudden outbursts of curiosity. “Heh, sorry. I’ve been dying to ask you ever since you told me your name. A lot of the team prime members are legends from all the stories my dad told me. Knowing i'm in the same base as them- as friggin Optimus Prime- is absolutely terrifying.”

Within a few seconds, she was done with the wires. She spotted a blown fuse. She was swift to climb around Jazz, grab a fuse he’d collected from the base, and come back down to tinker with its input end. It was broken, but that was an easy fix. While she did this, her audicals were open, passively awaiting Jazz’s responses.

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Jazz listened quietly to her story as he worked with solemnity, frowning at the implications. The war had deprived so many bots of their home planet and had orphaned countless younglings… and though so few younglings had been sparked after Cybertron went dark, too many had been forced to grow up in (and grow up faster) in less-than-ideal conditions. It did’t take a genius to work out what likely happened to that frigate after Stormgear had been jettisoned in that escape pod. “M’sorry, kid,” he said, gently.

He jumped a bit at the electricity arcing over and zapping her. “Woah, hey, you okay? Gotta be careful in here, Sigma’s old n’cranky.” Upon closer inspection, however, Stormgear didn’t seem to be showing much of any emotion, really. Jazz had to hide another frown. It wasn’t uncommon to see bots have difficulty processing their grief ever since the fall of Cybertron, and so many opted to simply not even try. He wondered if that was what was happening now.

“Nah,” he told her then as he switched out one faulty part for another, “I don’t mind the talk. I’m a good listener - s’what I do, actually.”

He recognised the topic change for what it was then, and was glad to let Stormgear direct the conversation. Jazz let out a bit of a laugh at her next words. “Yup, that’s me, an yup, probably all true. Cliff liked t’downplay that last bit ‘cause it didn’ mesh with his whole reputation an’ all, but he was a good partner. Good agent. Quick on his feet an’ quick with his wits- careful!” He’d seen her get zapped a second time, and had to reach out to grab her hand to stop her from getting a third round. “You keep that up an’ I’m gonna demote you,” he warned sternly, which wasn’t so stern at all really but good-natured, with just enough weight behind it to hopefully get his point across.

“An’ don’t worry ‘bout OP. He might seem big, but deep down he’s still the nerdy librarian he was before he got all big - I know ‘cos I knew ‘im, an’ man, was he a nerd,” He paused, before huffing another laugh, “That goes for all of us, actually. We might seem like legends, but we’re bots, just like you, an’ I promise only a few of us bite.”

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During their conversation change, Stormgear had taken Jazz’s apologize with a simple answer: “It’s not your fault”. It had been a few months since her arrival on Earth. She was shocked by how- open she felt. Infact, Storm was stumbling over her current thoughts. Why had she suddenly spewed out her painful life story onto Jazz, an autobot legend she’d happened to meet an hour and a half ago. It didn't make sense to her, she needed an answer. Whatever, I’ll come up with a logical explanation later-

She was so in thought that she didn't notice the second shock. Stormgear had classified herself as a ‘conduit’, a cybertronian capable of ‘absorbing’ electrical shocks. It was a scientific abnormality she couldn’t explain. So when she was supposedly ‘shocked’, she didn't noticed until Jazz had reached and grabbed her working servo. She gave him a confused look. But it was nothing more than a split-glance. The tingling in her wrist coil, the sound of the third spark… Oh wow. “Wha-? Oh. Uh, sorry about that.” Her words dragged with hesitation. She didnt want to tell Jazz about the so called ‘electrical coil’ in her wrist, and how it was apart of entire electrical dispersal unit. It was one thing to tell someone about her past. However, she wasn’t going to ‘spill the beans’ on her current 'body crisis'. I don't want to tell anybody silly rumors, not until Ratchet sees my notes..

Now that her head was back into the conversation, her face turned into a new expression: surprise. “Wait, you're telling me Optimus Prime was a librarian?! That’s so cool!” A smile flashed across her intake. She carried it while she planted the new fuse into the wiring system. Job done, it was faster than she expected. “I mean, it sounds so- weird! What were you before the war? Uh, if you don't mind me asking.”

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Jazz gave her a bit of a strange look when he began to notice that she wasn’t noticing the shocks. Emotional numbness after trauma was one thing, but not reacting to pain -- and repeatedly ignoring electrical shocks that could wreak havoc on internal systems -- was a whole different game. “Be careful,” he repeated, a bit more seriously, “Don’t want you gettin’ hurt in here. A lotta these parts ain’t exactly standard-issue, either, so there’s more a chance that th’ next zap y’get might be a not-good one.” Hopefully, Stormgear would heed his warning. She evidently was a very clever little bot with a lot of skill (and handy for getting into tiny spaces!) but he would exile her to the role of ‘bot who hands me tools’ if needed.

He much preferred it when the conversation shifted to something more light-hearted, though he still kept a close eye on the kid. “Yep! He was a data clerk in Iacon for th’ longest time. Ain’ seen him lookin’ so at peace since th’ last time he was in the Iacon archives, tendin’ t’his flock. I think he still has a few datapads stashed somewhere, I know he saved a few before the Grid went dark an’ the archives went offline.” The day they’d lost the Iacon Archives to Decepticon fire had been one of the most demoralizing in the war, but Jazz hoped one day they might be able to go back and rebuild. Her next question nearly took him off guard. “Me? Hah, I don’t mind at all. I used t’be a ‘cultural investigator’. Means I wandered ‘round an’ did some people watchin’, and then wrote about it. I’m good at readin’ people, see, an’ I’m good at workin’ out how cultures tick.”

With a final tweak, Jazz finished up the repairwork he’d been doing on one of the more delicate gadgets that connected to the sensor array. “There we go. That should fix th’ long range scanners an’ bypass the need t’have the dish bein’, uh, attached to the ship, for it t’work. You up for checkin’ out the oscillators in the hyperdrive, or are y’done for today?” The oscillators were certainly something he wouldn’t be letting her stick her hand into, because the potential charge coming off of those were a lot more than what she’d been shocked with before. A bit of help in fetching parts, however, wouldn’t go unappreciated.

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There were quite a few things she wanted to tell Jazz. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, and he shouldn't worry about her getting shocked. She also wanted to ask him why everything in this ship was outdated. It’s age screamed all over the inner wiring. But she knew she couldn’t tell Jazz either of those things. Because one, she worried he wouldn't believe she was a walking electrical conductor. And two, she was sure he’d tell her to stop hurting sigma’s feelings. She mentally cringed at the second bulletin. Geez Storm, it’s just his ship.. Over a course of a few seconds, she settled for a nod. Obviously signalling she’d heeded his advice.

Her processor shifted back to the current conversation. For one, she still couldn't wrap her helm around Optimus Prime being a data clerk! When Jazz mentioned Optimus may have some data pads stashed, she made a note to ask the autobot leader about them. If she could keep her cool around the big guy. Even though Jazz said they didn't bite, she was worried that she might change that perspective.

“You can read people? That’s so cool!” Now that she was done, Storm sat and watched Jazz while he finished his side of the repairs. “I bet if you mix your super stealth skills with that, I’m assuming you're giving me the secret recipe of being awesome.” She cringed at her words. Why did I suddenly sound so cheesy.

Before she knew it, Jazz was done with his repairs. He asked her if they wanted to move onto the oscillators in the hyperdrive. But she was more dumbfounded by how the scanner dish wasn’t attached to the ship. Her cringe formed into a mask of horror. “T-The dish isn’t.. Jazz! You need to fix that!” She brought a servo to her faceplate. “Just because you told me that, we should stop for today. You and I are going to fix that tomorrow, whether you like it or not-” Her tone was filled with a tease. But she couldn’t stay serious to the end. The end of her sentence was interrupted by her own humored chuckle.

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Jazz couldn’t help but let out a good laugh at her words. “Well, if y’put it that way, guess I am givin’ up my secret t’bein’ awesome. Don’t go sharin’ it with others, yeah? Otherwise everyone’ll be awesome and I’ll have to step up my game.” Of course, Stormgear had no idea just how ‘super stealthy’ he could be -- there was a reason he’d been made the head of Autobot Intelligence.

Her gobsmacked expression at finding out the scanner dish wasn’t actually attached was another priceless moment he’d be sure to commit to his memory banks. “Kiddo, didn’ y’hear me? I bypassed the need t’have it. Nothin’ a bit of tinkerin’ won’t make better, anyways.” He had to admit, being perceived as the cooky incompetent older bot was a first, though he was more amused than anything else. It was getting a little late, now that he thought about it (time flies when you’re shoulder-deep in a ship’s inner-workings) and he ought to take the kid back to the base. “But if I guess my supervisor has spoken, then, the end of the work day has been called.”

The hyperdrive would have to wait, then, and perhaps tomorrow he’d also get a chance to show the kid that yes, the scanner would work without the dish being attached. “Alright, alright, cool it, kiddo! We’ll work on it tomorrow, yeah?” Jazz stretched a little, rolling his limbs a bit to loosen up joints stiffened by being in one awkward position for a long period of time. Casually, he meandered back through the halls to the docking ramp, which helpfully lowered to let them out. Once they were a good distance away, he called for a ground bridge.