There are Those

[Deleted]

Characters: @nines , @chronom 
Location: Nines's old workshop
Content Warnings: N/A
Plot Summary: Due to continuity errors, and her mysterious entanglements with Time, Chronon accidentally finds her self in the odd company of Nines’s old workshop.

[Deleted]

The workshop was large, the echoes of it’s former use as a store-apartment still present thanks to the it’s immense structure. It’s once bleak walls shouted of it’s last purpose, despite how covered they were in tools and blue-prints. Every bit of space was covered, save for the floor. A glimpse through the storage unit would cause any unimpressed emotion to be ephemeral, as intricate projects lay sprawled everywhere. Seven desks chalk-full of equipment lay unlit, hoary stasis canisters were stacked to the far back, seemingly broken.

It was a scavengers dream, spare parts were everywhere. Incomplete appendages decorated the sides of the walls wherever shelves weren’t clustered. Lights of every shape and size hung from the ceiling or remained dormant on the walls. Near the entrance were four berths, with medical equipment beside them. Anyone with sharp optics could easily notice all four were riddled with energon stains. Two had thick straps at the ready, awaiting less…cooperative patients.

There was not one gizmo the workshop was deprived of. The owner had it all: cortical psychic patches awaited use, a few torpid protoforms hung in more stable canisters, waiting to be imprinted upon. Armor designs and weaponry prototypes were positioned or more or less bundled nearby.

But near the center of the room was a mech, his mask buried in his servo while his elbow pitted into his desk. He was almost entirely encircled with desks chalk-full of stacks of data-pads, and cryptic mechanisms.

Nines continued to doze lightly, his grey and brown form only moving when his plating shifted to make way for his fancy venting systems with their unique way of exhaling. His backpack made it easy for him to partially lean into his seat, while he napped away his free hours, enshrouded in foggy dreams.

[Deleted]

Chronon thought that this would be a quick trip back to Cybertron, but no, the Spacebridge had to malfunction. The two-dimensional vortex had attempted to expand into three and it resulted in parts of her armor being burned away, even though she had immediately flooded her systems with coolant.

Chronon stepped out of the glowing green sphere that led back to base and it closed behind her. She looked around, taking everything in. There wasn't anything that stood out, like organic life or a vibrant hub for interuniversal travellers. It was just another standard, war-torn Cybertron. All the buildings around her were barely standing, what once provided structural support became jagged hazards to passersby, and most of them even had a few walls missing. All in all, not a nice place to be.

As much as Chronon would like to leave, she couldn't. She had a job to do, which is to map out this Cybertron and try to identify which universe she was in based on the events that caused them. But before she could do so, she had to fix her armour. She needed some carbon, preferably in the form of graphite, but diamond could work too. Unfortunately, she wasn't on Earth at the moment, or she could just ask one of the humans to get a few pencils for her.

Spotting a somewhat well-maintained store-apartment, Chronon tentatively opened the door and peeked inside.

"Hello?" Chronon asked. There was no reply, but she noticed a sleeping Vehicon and some very unwelcoming energon stains. Her servo went to the golden Autobot symbol on her chest. Hopefully the Vehicon won't wake up.

Chronon stepped inside as quietly as she could. A spectrometer would be pretty useful right now, but since she doesn't have one, she would have to look around.

"Note to self," Chronon thought as she flipped over various scraps, "Install spectrometer in battle mask."

As Chronon was thinking of what upgrades she could add to her mask, she accidentally knocked over some data pads, which clattered to the floor.

"Scrap," Chronon thought as she materialized her EMP blaster into her servo.

[Deleted]

A low groan could be heard as Nines’s visor dimly onlined, his shoulder plating shifting as they released sigh-like ex-vent, while Nines slid his mask farther into his servo, like a sleepy child who denies wake-up time by curling deeper into his covers. Alas, there was no escape from consciousness; for once awake Nines found it difficult to return to sleep once more.

The fact that someone was trashing around in his stuff meant he couldn’t afford to be recharging anyways. It was just aggravating for his precious off –hours to be interrupted. He could NEVER clock enough recharge in.

Nines’s right servo clenched as it rose, then banged against the desk; the official wake up call from Nines to Nines. The heavily Modified vehicon shoved his weight into his desk, his arms encouraging him into a standing position as he lifted himself. The vehicon rose to full height, his visor now brightening into its regular neutral yellow.

“Alright I’m up, I’m up.” Nines confirmed more to himself than his guest, as he turned to see a femme next to a freshly dropped item. Needless to say, he didn’t recognize her at all. Whoever she was she looked a little nervous. “Who the heck are you supposed to be?” Nines asked gruffly, as his mind spinning through the options and calculations of someone on his patient list.

“AH! Scratch that question.” Nines lowered his shoulders as his visor peered at her stance, “You must be that one femme who was scheduled in by her superiors. The one that was too embarrassed to check in herself. Well.” Nines glanced at the small clock in the corner of his visor’s screen, “you’re early.” Nines folded his arms. “Now. Get over here and take a seat. Let’s get this talk about your problems over with so you can get back out there and—well—feel better before you get shot.” His casual voice offered, gesturing with his good arm towards a chair not far from his desk.

[Deleted]

Chronon was quite relieved that she was mistaken for a Decepticon. Maybe it's her purple and dark gray color scheme? But to be honest, she had no idea.

Chronon had a second to think of her next move. What was that the Vehicon said? Something about being sent in by her superiors because she was too embarrassed? She supposed that's enough information to start acting.

"I... I'm so sorry for waking you up, sir," she stammered, turning up the innocence in her voice and widening her optics to look scared. "My chronometer is broken, and I didn't know how long it'd take to get here and..." She trailed off after she quickly palmed a dull golden scrap of metal. "Copper? Or brass?" It wasn't quite the bright gold of her symbol but it'll have to do.

Chronon raised her left hand to scratch her collar, making it seem like it was done out of nervousness when in fact she was trying to keep the piece of metal over her insignia. Her chest armor shifted subtly to lock it in place. As she did so, she inched hesitantly towards the Vehicon, stopping and widening her optics even more when she heard about being shot, only moving again when Nines gestured.

Chronon started constructing another personality for when this Moonwing imitation inevitably gets found out. After all, she wasn't the femme who was too embarrassed to find a psychiatrist. There are bound to be discrepancies between the femme and her character. She wasn't too worried about the cortical psychic patches though. She could probably win in a fight against a Vehicon, however modified.

"I don't want to get shot," Chronon said as she looked down towards the ground. Looking for carbon would have to wait.

[Deleted]

The vehicon watched the seemingly nervous femme tremble her words out like an innocent rookie. His comment about getting shot didn't have a positive effect, but often times the thought of being the victim to probable death wasn't too comforting for most. Most who still had some good reasons or thought they had a purpose to live. 

Nines decided to work with the femme's attitude. He'd seen it before, after all. 

"Try not to touch too much around here. There're items around these parts that should stay where they were put." Nines advised, taking out his pipe. His voice indicated he hadn't noticed her expertly executed maneuver, though it was obvious he knew she was soaking in her surroundings. As his servo cradled the head of the pipe, a crevice grew from his pointer finger. A lighter sparked the pipe to life, while Nines adjusted his seat, dusting it off a little before sitting back down once more. His visor flickered as it adjusted, much like someone might adjust the lens of a camera, or exchange their current lenses for reading ones. 

"Hmm." He grunted as he pulled out a data pad, "Please, take a seat. Now, first question. When, where, and why did you join your faction?" Nines asked, placing the data pad down. He knew the drill with these sort of shanks. He mentally prepared himself to give her some slack, as he usually had to whenever a newcomer came around with that look in their eyes. 

"No pressure about giving the 'right' answer. Be honest, and it'll make this easier for both of us. I've heard lots of stories of why people joined. Because of their beliefs, their hatred, their passions, and so on." Nines encouraged.