red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

The Start of Something Interesting...

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time. The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on. The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased. He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity. It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors. Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

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"Well no, it isn't fun. I've lost count of the number of times I've gotten rocks or twigs or muck stuck in or between my undercarriage."

His extreme distaste was obvious, given the look on the former noble's face.

"But it isn't worth flailing around in a panic over, either. From what I've heard, the medics have been stuck giving refresher courses on basic xenobiology to several panicked individuals."

"Ugh, yeah." Grimacing, Cliffjumper twitched, and at Mirage's expression he was struck both by the openness of it, and the ease with which they were talking. He shook his helm.

"Muck and bugs and whatever else is in all the slag around here that can get lodged everywhere... hate the fact that any battlefield basically becomes a mud pit, if we ain't fightin' in the streets."

The planet was way too wet and even when it wasn't, like, say, in a desert, the sand then got everywhere instead.

At least that was dry, but it could itch something fierce, especially if it had lodged itself somewhere but good.

"That's true, though," he couldn't help laughing again, some of the earlier tension bleeding out of his shoulders and wheel-wells unnoticed by Cliffjumper, "I ain't got it that bad, no matter how disgustin' it can be. Kinda surprised you ain't been among those, though."

Tilting his helm, Cliffjumper peered up at Mirage, both with some faint underlying incredulity coming from their class differences - nobles always seemed so slagging stuck up and prissy - and just amusement and some respect that Mirage wasn't reacting like that.

Cliffjumper wasn't the only one who was surprised, but Mirage was a bit too pragmatic - and easily swayed thanks to the pain in his helm - to question it much, not even in his own processor.

Trapped in an elevator was the perfect place for a suspension of hostilities, even if it didn't end up lasting past the doors reopening.

"Me?" Mirage asked, hand going to his chest-plates as though wounded.

"Hardly. I take Ratchet at his word about what harmful flora and fauna might be on a planet. "

He sniffed, before giving Cliffjumper a slow nod.

"Thought for sure you'd get upset by the dirt of it, if nothin' else." That was pure teasing, with a smirk. It lacked any annoyance or rancor which he might have lashed out with earlier, of in any other situation if he was actually angry or annoyed with Mirage.

At the moment, there was no actual meanness meant at all.

"So I guess that means you've got somethin' up on Sunstreaker and Tracks," he said with a snort and a glowing roll of his optics.

"More than one 'something' I'm sure."

Mirage sniffed again, only half serious as he hid a smirk. He waved a hand idly around in the air, imperious and languid.

"I am not going to roll around in it, 'no, thank you for the invitation Hound', but I accept the fact that there is little to do to avoid it on a planet covered in, and even named 'dirt'."

Cliffjumper burst out laughing, shaking his helm and leaning back against the wall behind him, surprised at his amusement. But it was nice too, because it diffused some of the tension that was squeezing his pistons and kept his field in tight against his chassis.

"I really don't get how Hound can like it so much, but it's nice that someone does I suppose. And yeah, we shoulda guessed how bad it'd get when we found out the name, shouldn't we?"

This was far better than he could've hoped for - and yet he'd rather it not have happened, but Cliffjumper was too anxiously wound up and amused at the same time to care too much at the moment.

"We probably should have, honestly. And Hound...Is Hound. Not much else to say there." Mirage agreed with a shrug.

"As long as he enjoys it, I suppose I can hardly fault him for enjoying it in the midst of his function."

His voice dropped to a low, dire murmur, optics narrowing.

"So long as he cleans up after himself in the washracks, of course."

He had to smother his chuckle at that, leaning over to hide his faceplate in his arms as they rested on his knees.

"And he's forgotten to do that a few times. I remember Spike crackin' up the first time it happened." There's been a lot of disgusted reaction and some people had slipped and it'd been... a mess.

He'd had to help Bumblebee as one of the victims of the mud, but that hadn't been bad.

"I. Noticed." Mirage growled out, faceplates scrunching up in annoyed remembrance. His engine revved up in a low rumble.

"I don't know how many times he's done it. But the first time I found the washracks in that state had best be the last time, if Hound knows what is good for him. He can dirty himself as he pleases, but I draw the line at having to bathe in his grime."

Mirage's growl just had Cliffjumper laughing into his arms again. He agreed with Mirage, but it was still funny.

"Guess that's why that outside hose was installed," Cliffjumper said, voice partly muffled against his own arms and weaving slightly from residual laughter, "not that it ain't been useful for everyone else, too... At least we can wash off quick before gettin' inside."

It was a boon for when patrol or battle had ended up particularly muddy or grimy, which also made sure as little muck as possible got tracked around inside the Ark.

Mirage's growl melted into a pleased sound, and a surprised smirk flickered across his face

"A hose? Ah, so that's what they did. Good, I was starting to wonder what results Hound and the others would bring."

After all, it wasn't Mirage's fault that a good half dozen other terrified crew-members had been present when he'd laid into poor Hound, and had ended up nodding in the same panicked agreement as the muddy scout. In that case, he could see why Hound - or no one else - had approached him afterward.

His temper had been quite shameful that day.

Perhaps Hoist and Grapple had been swept up into his demands and had added the spigot themselves?

Looking up from his arms after a last few chortles, Cliffjumper tilted his helm. Thinking about it, he had no idea why that hose had been put up, or when. He'd only found out after a particularly miserable patrol when it'd been pointed out to him, before he was even allowed inside.

He'd been really cross before he realised why he was being waved away.

"What, you had somethin' to do with that?"

He could actually see Mirage... or Sunstreaker and maybe Tracks too, be responsible for yelling loudly enough about disgusting muck in the Ark. Mirage might be accepting of the mud when it was outside, it seemed like, but it was quite obvious he didn't like it when it was anywhere else.

"Perhaps."

Mirage shrugged, all languid confidence in his slump against the the wall.

"I might have been a bit harsh on poor Hound when I stepped in mud up to my wheels in the washracks that day."

He grinned widely, splaying his hands out in false innocence.

"If anyone else in the 'racks with him was intimidated with him and decided to take some initiative on their own...well. Good for them."

Watching Mirage splayed out up against the wall and the implied confidence displayed in the lines of his frame, Cliffjumper had to duck his helm and look away. Usually those sort of movements were hidden (at least to Cliffjumper) behind - or maybe overshadowed by - Mirage's uptight, precise noble etiquette.

Cliffjumper was sure some people found charm in that, but to him it was grating and annoying, but the funny thing was, Mirage displayed less of it than, say, Tracks. In some other cases the other scattered nobles Cliffjumper had seen through the war might have displayed the same level of stiffness, or less.

Mostly more, however.

Anyway, Cliffjumper knew when his annoyed acceptance that Mirage was attractive (and his disgust of himself at the same, a noble, really?) had slid down into something more and which had led to Cliffjumper ruthlessly trying to ignore it.

That one time he'd caught Mirage displaying something similar to this; a surprising ease of confidence and command. Not military command either. More like...

Optics narrowing, Cliffjumper pushed those thoughts away.

"Pretty good idea, if, ya know, you hypothetically were responsible for sparkin' the idea and all that."

"'Hypothetically', of course," Mirage agreed with a tip of his head.

"Perhaps someone will take claim for the new addition and we'll be able to narrow it down, but until then, I am simply satisfied with the results as they are. So long as it is actually used."

Still amused, Mirage still trailed off with a sigh, refocusing on the dark ceiling lights and the continuous lack of motion of the elevator.

And it was getting warm, the air stale and heating even from their idle systems. Thankfully, the time was almost up.

"I know I've used it more than once, at any rate, and I've seen a few others too," Cliffjumper said with a grin and a wave of his hand, shifting in his seat and trying to ignore the preliminary warning about raised temperatures.

Nowhere near dangerous or even a little questionable yet, but the longer they stayed in here... Of course there was ventilation, but an elevator wasn't made to contain several mechs for any length of time.

"Some water right now would be really fraggin' nice..." that was as close he'd get admitting it was getting warmer in here for now and the fact that water was good for cooling off, "kinda funny how used we've got to water by now, though."

"Agreed," Mirage remarked, contemplative gaze not falling away from the ceiling tiles. "Especially with a light crusting of ice- it makes a nice contrast on heated plating. It is certainly useful for many things, provided that you can avoid the rust."

He allowed himself a wistful expression only for a moment. Shifting in place, the spy finally stood up all at once with a heavy sigh, as though the pleasant thought was too much to contemplate.

"Well. I'm tired of waiting, and this heat is only going to aggravate my processor ache back into being. So. If you will excuse me."

And with that, Mirage hopped up into the thin side-railings of the elevator, bracing himself up into the corner with a hand on the door frame. The other hand was already reaching up for the sealed latches of the ceiling panels.

"Luckily we're pretty well protected," Cliffjumper mumbled in agreement and then looked up at Mirage, optics flickering, as the mech stood up and... somehow managed to fit his feet on those thin railings that ran around the elevator.

"How the flying frag are you doin' that?" Cliffjumper asked as he stood up, squinting at where Mirage's feet were positioned. It didn't look like there was enough space for something like that, even with Mirage's feet being angled.

At least the crack in the ceiling as the latches were undone and one panel was pushed out let cool air from the elevator shaft rush in. That made it all the more apparent how stifling it'd actually gotten in the elevator.

"Easily," Mirage says, smug and distracted; relieved to finally be doing something. The bolts from the panel fall freely down from the ceiling, clattering carelessly.

"It is all in the balance - and ankles."

The breeze from the elevator shaft is more than welcome, and carries echoes from the floors above and below. He drops the panel down as well, just past Cliffjumper's feet, before offering the minibot a hand with smirk just barely visible in the gold glow.

"Well. Here is your chance."

"Easy he says..." muttering, Cliffjumper snorted and shook his helm, crossing his arms over his chestplating, "like fraggin' scrap that's easy..."

He tilted his helm back as the trickle of fresh air strengthened into a breeze as the panel clattered down at his feet, quickly taking a step back as it fell down and was about to snap at Mirage but the noble got there before him.

So he stared.

Frowned, and shifted in place.

"Not sure this is a good idea. Can you even lift me?" Okay, it was really improbable Mirage couldn't lift him and Cliffjumper did take the offered hand.

It was just that Mirage was pretty slagging finely built, slender and relatively thin-armoured... Mirage's size and general probable strength would still imply he'd be perfectly capable of lifting Cliffjumper up.

"Of course it is. I'm limber and doing things like this is my job, so I get practice."

Mirage waved his hand flippantly, before clasping Cliffjumper's hand tightly.

"And yes, though I won't object if you jump at the same time."

Mirage winked, before stooping and tugging, heaving the minibot up with surprising strength, straight up toward the opening in the ceiling.

Edited 2014-06-20 07:30 (UTC)

"Yeah, I guess---hn!" He jumped, yes, but it was still somewhat surprising when Mirage yanked and the jump stretched out into a lift. He couldn't resist kicking his legs, and the lack of purchase made his spark surge out of the pulse and the reflexively grabbed the wrist of the hand holding his.

Then immediately let go when he could reach the edge of the ceiling and the opened panel into the shaft, pulling himself up and probably making more frustrated noises than what was absolutely necessary.

"Scrappin' slag..." Finally getting up on the ceiling, Cliffjumper resisted the urge to rub his arms and shift and whatever else to settle the staticky feeling and instead looked around.

It was darker in the shaft than the elevator had been, since there was more space and his headlights and Mirage's running lights couldn't reach very far. It was still enough to see the darker suggestions of the nearest floor's door, a fair bit up, the elevator's brakes and the smothering darkness far above.

He supposed it was interesting to see an elevator shaft from this end, and could possibly be useful at some point... maybe.

"So... uh, what now?" Cliffjumper looked to Mirage, then jerked as a humming sound rushed through the elevator shaft, echoing. He had his gun out before he thought about it. It might have been an interesting sound if it weren't that they were sitting in a dark elevator shaft with a breeze running through---

Below them, in the elevator, the light flickered on, and a thin trickle of light could be seen seeping through the doors of the floor above.

"... Great. I mean, that's good, but couldn't it have happened a bit sooner?" Cliffjumper said with a huff and pretended not to be embarrassed he'd pulled his gun out as he stuffed it back in subspace.

"Don't kick or grab me, grab the ledge-!"

Mirage snickered in between a huffed out grunt or two under Cliffjumper's weight. He couldn't really dodge while helping the minibot up, so he was relieved when the red mech managed a better hold. He stared up into the opening, waiting for Cliffjumper to get his bearings.

"Now you move and let me up-"

Mirage's started burst of static when the lights and power came back on was rather undignified, and he gave the elevator doors a glare.

"-Oh, of course. Red Alert, you're never going to be able to convince me you weren't watching or listening this entire time. That was far too well-timed." Mirage huffed out in the direction of the nearest speaker.

"Jump back down, Cliffjumper. I guess we'll be going out the mundane way after all."

Edited 2014-06-21 09:33 (UTC)

Muffling a snigger at the nosie Mirage let out, even if he hadn't had the most dignified reaction either, Cliffjumper grimaced and eyed the distance between ceiling and floor.

Great.

Well, nothing for it, and he was not going to ask Mirage to help him down. For several reasons. So with a scowl, Cliffjumper edged over the hole, keeping his hands on the edge of the open ceiling panel, and dropped down.

Hanging there in the air for a moment or so, slowly swinging as he dangled, Cliffjumper then let go and dropped to the floor with a thump.

"Well, that was an adventure."

Mirage sighed, disappointed in the well-timed end to the power outage.

He was almost looking forward to dragging the minibot through the elevator shafts with him. Might teach the mech some respect for his craft, after all.

"Well, since you're down there, hand me the panel and bolts, would you?"

Mirage reached down, not bothering to drop from his perch on the side-rails.

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