re_alignment_logs | Open: Just doing my job, ma'am

Entry tags:

Open: Just doing my job, ma'am

WHO: Elita One and anyone in/near Solus' Temple/AKA YOU
WHERE: Solus Temple and Quadrant, just note where you are and she can be there!
WHEN: NOW (plus minus a few days)
WHAT: Exploring the temple, conversations, etc.
WARNINGS: NONE

The corridors underground that would let people approach the temple without having to worry about what the temperature was at that particular moment on the surface were winding, complicated things, and while she was careful, it was hard to resist not going deeper, beyond the lit, well-constructed parts.

But she wandered the temple from her room down to the corridors, several times, mapping out which route took what time, and then the same for the corridors, mostly keeping to the finished parts... Elita also wandered the temple itself curiously, noting rooms, alcolves, crannies... In one of the lower areas, closer, she assumed, to Solus' forge, she found a pale, but opaque crystal that easily came out from between the crack in two large flagstones it'd been sticking out between.

In the light, it changed colour depending on how it was angled, though it lacked any obvious facets. Uncertain what to do with it, but vaguely reminded of stories of crystal gardens and forests on Cybertron at home, she took it with her as she left the sweltering heat of those lower areas, meandering upwards and out onto the surface.

The only issue she had with walking was that it took such time. She didn't really want to change her altmode, but was aware she ought to...

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Knock Out didn't seem aware of the intrusion until Elita spoke; when she did, it surprised him enough that he jumped and nearly fumbled the barely-cooled metal circle in his hands. He managed to keep a hold on it, though, and his fingers went tight around the metal...

And then, with an effort, he relaxed himself and offered a smile. He had no idea who this was, so it was in his best interests to play nice.

"Mm-hmm," he said, turning the rim delicately between his fingers. "Nineteens just don't flatter me~, and a full set of twenty-one-and-a-halfs have proven tricky to find around here."

Promise she won't punch you in the faceplates when it's revealed you're a Decepticon, Knock Out.

Optics flicking from Knock Out's optics and expression, down to the tight grip on the metal and back up again on the frame to catch the tension before it was forcibly put away with a smile, Elita dipped her helm in greeting.

High-strung; she'd thought she'd been obvious enough, since if she actually wanted to be quiet and go, ahem, invisible, she certainly could be and do so. It was hard, however, to not be somewhat confused over the random numbers tossed out, though within the context of the brief conversation...

"... I suppose Earth-related parts would be more complicated to get than cybertronian, even with the Junk Pile." And at least he could, apparently, make at least some of his own detailing so he had some options.

He'll appreciate that-- his faceplates are still in awful shape, the right side of his face abraded and ground away. He'll get to it.....

Soon.

And though the sorry state of his face often preoccupied him, he wasn't thinking about it currently. He was focused on this stranger, who because she was a stranger was also a potential danger. Oh, he'd heard all the idealistic declarations of truce, but that didn't mean he was going to trust blindly in them. Not when it was his own plating on the line.

So he put a table between himself and Elita-- under the pretense, of course, of setting the rim down on top of it. "Particularly parts that meet, ah, certain standards of quality. Oh, I looked, but it really just proved easier to just make my own."

Rather amazing that he hadn't done anything about it yet, not that Elita knew that. What she did know, however, was defensive maneuvers when they were done... even if she couldn't be sure why, though she said nothing about Knock Out going behind the table.

"Especially if you want four matching parts of the exact same quality." She shouldn't be amused, but she rather was. "I don't imagine most Earth-derived technology or metal could quite stand up to the standard quality we have..." Even if hubcaps wasn't necessarily... necessary, so to speak.

"Mm, you'd be right about that." He shook his head and tsked. "Oh, you can get away with it for a while, of course. These--" He indicated the tires rising behind his shoulders-- or, more specifically, the rims there. "--have lasted me so far, and I've been wearing them since I, ah, arrived here. But that doesn't mean I trust them.

"And it certainly doesn't mean I like the way they look, or handle. I'm not built for nineteens. I need bigger tires than that." So they're more than just hubcaps, thank you! He eyed the newcomer up-and-down for a moment, and added, "But you don't know much about tires, do you?"

All that does sort of float above her (very pointy and large) helm, since he hasn't yet had any reason to get any knowledge about wheels or anything similar. So at the end of all that, she laughed and shook her helm.

"I don't, no. Haven't had to yet. Previous alt didn't have wheels either." And this one? Certainly didn't, as she shifted and spread her back-mounted hull-panels slightly.

"And it's not been necessary to go into full disguise on a planet with no hover-vehicle capability yet..."

He nodded as her "wings" shifted, critical optics noting that, too. That was kibble, no doubt about that, but what a curious transform she seemed to have...

"Mm, so you're a flier, are you?" Suddenly, the wariness was back-- he knows what fliers think of grounds. "Well. No wonder you don't know anything about tires." He smiles, but it's a thin and insincere smile-- someone was suddenly expecting the worst.

"A flyer?" Optics flickering briefly in surprise, Elita shook her helm but quickly realised why he would assume so... at least from a cursory look and with the admitted visual similarity of the hull-panels to wings.

Helm cocking as she folded her arms over her chestplates, Elita wondered at the sudden reappearance of wariness. Something, obviously, to do with the assumption of her being a flyer, but why?

Flight-capable prejudice towards grounders wasn't something that was overly obvious in her reality, though most flyers of course carried some sense of... superiority.

"No, I'm not. My altmode is just as planet-bound as any car, I just use water to travel on." She paused, somewhat amused at the thought of an honestly flying boat. She'd almost not admitted to what her alt was, but if she ever transformed in front of witnessess, it'd be obvious anyway.

"It's just been arranged so I carry the bulk of eveyrthing like this. It's practical." Didn't overly slow her down since, while somewhat heavy, there was enough counterweight... and it was flexible enough like that to give her her usual mobility.

"Oh! You're a watercraft!" Knock Out's wariness melted away again in the tide of surprise. "I have to admit, I don't meet many of those." He leaned forward over the work table, optics bright and interested, and for all intents and purposes seeming suddenly friendly again.

"It certainly seems to be a capacious alt-mode, hm? Although perhaps a bit disadvantaged if there isn't a lot of water around."

All that back and forth got an arch look and she was quietly wondering if the flyers in his reality really was that terrible... nothing else would explain it, unless he, himself, had something against those capable of flight.

"I've been trying to find something suitable to exchange it for, but it's not been easy. As you say, on Cybertron... especially one lacking something like the Rust Sea currently, I don't have much use of it, no matter what I think of it personally." She said with a frown and shrugged. It's one thing when one had backup in the form of a whole crew in any case where her lack of viable altmode became an issue, or when she had access to a lot of water... but she didn't, at the moment, have either of those.

It made her feel somewhat vulnerable, even disregarding all the time it took to walk or run wherever she wanted to go.

"Have you considered a manual overhaul?" Knock Out asked curiously. Scanning a new altmode was the usual way most mechs changed their transforms-- at least in his experience-- but it was always an option to just straight-up rebuild. It was a more difficult process, but it was an option.

And it was a procedure he'd done more than once for clients back on Cybertron, before the war started. Just thinking about the design challenges involved made his optics light up.

She rubbed a chin, resting that elbow on her other arm as she nodded after a few moments. That was, of course, partly what she'd been considering, but she wasn't sure she'd want to do that with anyone not from her own reality...

Unless they were talking about the Firstforged themselves; that was slightly different.

"Partly, yes. I've got some proof drastic changes to or in my frame might work from home, but in most of those cases it's been through an unknown substance being added, or a complete rebuild after near-deactivation." And she wasn't sure it was such a good idea to follow in dear Grim's footsteps and do something like using Nucleon.

"Hm. Things aren't quite the same where you're from as where I call home, then." He echoed her pose, cupping one elbow with the opposite hand and giving his free hand a wave. "Oh, it's inconvenient to manually overhaul one's alt-mode, and we don't do it much anymore, but it is possible. No massive trauma or questionable substances necessary!"

It's an interesting thought, really, and she nodded, slowly, optics narrowing more in thoughtful curiosity than necessarily wanting to know more for herself.

"How does it even work? Stasis lock for the subject while you work around them, or CR chambers?" Though, CR chamber reformatting usually was due to massive trauma, again.

"Stasis lock, usually," he said with a shrug. "And then CR chambers for the first phase of the recovery after-the-fact, since operating in a pool of medical energon isn't exactly feasible. Not that CR chambers are available any more, at least not where I come from."

"We've only just developed CR chambers ourselves; the war left resources strained and while useful we didn't exactly have something like that to its full extent." Similar machines of less capability, to keep mechs from offlining immediately and sparks from extinguishing?

Yes, and those had saved many lives previously, but not CR chambers as such.

"They're very useful... But without them, has that... manual overhaul been possible?"

"Hm. Curious. We lost the use of ours during the war-- energon shortages, you see." But he wasn't really that interested in comparing the medical minutiae of their various wartime shortages...

"Ah. Well... in ideal conditions, yes, it's still possible...." But the tone of his voice made it fairly clear that those ideal conditions were not often met.

She really wasn't either, and shook her helm slowly after a moment.

"Not sure I'd want to try that without some guarantee it'd work, considering the huge differences in how we get altmodes... and what types we can get without any sort of interference." Because she'd rather not lay potentially her life on the line just to get a more usable alt structured around her current frame design without a guarantee it'd mesh with her physiology and usual frame capability.

"But at least it might be an option, so thank you."

"Certainly it's something to think about~." Knock Out smiled a salesmech's smile and sketched a little bow in her direction. "And I hope you'll keep me in mind, if you think on it further, hm? I do like a challenge~."

The attitude was enough to make her pause, and then Elita laughed, shaking her helm in amusement before dipping it in a nod in response to the bow.

"I suppose it is, and I will, if nothing else comes up. This isn't practical enough, after all." She gestured to herself, and then cast a look around the workshop again.

"But, perhaps I should let you finish with your work. It'd be a pity to leave you... non-matching." Slight teasing tone; she does understand the urge, but while she's as well appointed as possible around here, Knock Out, clearly, is a lot more vain than she'd ever be.

Knock Out's mouth twists wryly. "You have no idea," he says with deadpan sarcasm. "It is such a chore." He heaves an exaggerated sigh, then continues more seriously, "But I do have some rather delicate work yet to do, and the fewer distractions the better~."

Decepticon double-speak translation: shoo.

She can hear that translation perfectly well and chuckles, retreating to the doorway before pausing there.

"Much be terribly frustrating, yes. And I'll leave you to your work... distraction-less." She grins dryly before turning back around and leaving.

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Open: Just doing my job, ma'am

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