Putting Together the Pieces

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A place that gets very little in the way of visitors, at least those whom enter and leave under their own power. And so Shockwave is stereotypically alone in his lab. As the body of one test subject sparks for the final time, Shockwave begins to severe the head of the latest individual to fail to live up to his expectations.
With the head severed, Shockwave moves to a seperate table that faces the single visible doorway in the lab, placing the head on it and lowering a cover over it as he begins a scan (which nicely means the head can't be seen).
The Decepticon scientist hits a seperate control once he commences the scan, and intones for whomever is listening on the other end of an intercom, "Control, please ensure additional subjects are obtained, supplies are currently exhausted."
And who should appear in Shockwave's doorway not long after that than Blast Off, definitely looking the worse for wear. The shuttleformer has been leaking energon, though it has dried up into more of a slow stain than excessive gushing. He holds a cloth to a wound on his arm, and there are dings and dents all over his body but his legs seem the worst of all. One leg has a definite limp and the other looks scorched. 
 
The Combaticon shuttle pauses to scan the room with violet optics before finally speaking- his voice sounding a bit weary. "I was told to come see you."
Swindle comes into the lab soon after Blast Off, carting with him several boxes. "Hey, did you want some parts?" he wonders aloud, "I got a fresh supply. Dirt cheap, too." He peers around the boxes and spots Blast Off. "Oh, hey Blast Off," he says, "Coming in here to get fixed? You're in luck, I brought brand new parts in."
As the silence of his lab is broken by the voice of Blast Off, Shockwave looks at the shuttleformer. Within a few momnets he's already assessed the smaller Decepticon, and begun analysing the various wounds. Were he capable he might scowl at the clear waste of energon on display. As it is his 'face' merely glows a constant level in Blast Offs direction.
With his typically emotionless voice, Shockwave intones, "Indeed, and clearly you need my attention. And an opportune moment as I had desired a meeting with you and the one identified as Swindle."
And at just that moment Swindle wheels in his boxes. Shockwave shifts his gaze to Swindle, looking over the boxes to see if anything is moving in them. "How convenient."
It's a good thing Blast Off didn't get mistaken for a test subject- but he doesn't know that. The shuttleformer takes a step forward, his foot slightly dragging. "Yes, I am in need of some repair." He'd rather not talk about it if he can avoid it- just get the repair. That step stops, though, and he looks up at the cyclops. "...You did? ...About what?" 
 
Swindle enters the room and the shuttleformer turns to look at his teammate. "Yes. ...And I hope you have some spare wings in there." Not that shuttle wings are exactly common.
Swindle peers at Shockwave peering into boxes. Nope, no moving parts that are self-motivatedly moving (nor twitching dismembered limbs). "Oh, really?" he says to Shockwave, "Interesting. Well, pitch away, what's on your processor, Shockwave?" He then points to a particularly large box on his wheeled cart dolly. "I think this one has what you're looking for," he says to his Combatibro.
Turning his attention back to the injured person in the room, Shockwave resumes a visual inspection of the shuttleformers injuries, "It does indeed appear that you require significant repairs. And possibly better combat training." Well clearly if he was better in combat he wouldn't be so injured.
Shockwave moves to an empty table, which appears to be made to hold a Cybertronian body of just Blast Offs size. There's stains that are clearly of old energon, though some of the stains are not of quite the right colour. Indicating the table with his right hand Shockwave intones, "Lie down, so I may commence effecting repairs." Shockwave taps some buttons on the side of the chair, and far above some whirring and buzzing can be heard.
As he waits for Blast Off to take the indicated place, Shockwave intones to both Combaticons, "Yes, regarding something you mentioned when Scorponok was addressing everyone about his taking command of the Decepticons." Oddly, for anyone who may be looking, the bodies of both Decepticons who were executed that day (or what remains of them) appearto be on seperate tables further in to the lab.
Ouch. And we're not talking the injuries. No, the combat training comment immediately places Blast Off on the defensive. He straightens up, armor plates bristling- only to suddenly wince in pain. A black hand clutches his brown arm as he glares at Shockwave. "I am a *Combaticon*. My training is *excellent*!! I was..." What was he? Well he had a run-in with the blue and annoying variety otherwise known as Blurr. Admitting this is hard though... especially since he got pretty thrashed in the end. "Well I was ambushed and I certainly fought back and showed that Autobot the error of his ways, but didn't completely escape injury. But such is combat." He shrugs, like *no big deal, right*? 
 
As Shockwave indicates he should lie down, Blast Off begins to head to the table, turning to look at Swindle and his boxes as he does so. "Ah. Excellent. My wing needs repairs in particular." Indeed, the shuttle's wing looks like something was shoved under its metal skin- something that burned and caused some major circuitry damage. That injury is the cause of the shuttle's limp, since his wings are mounted on his legs. 
 
The injured Combaticon lies on the table and only then really notes the bodies on other tables. Yeah, that isn't worrisome at all, right? His optic ridges furrow down, then even more so- suspiciously- as Shockwave brings up Scorponok. He glances to Swindle, then back to Shockwave. "....What about it?" The shuttle's gone just a bit tense.
Swindle looks at Shockwave questioningly. "Oh, what was said that you're so interested in?" he wonders, an edge of suspicion creeping into his voice, and a hint of defensiveness as well, though not for the same reason as Blast Off. He unloads the dolly of all the boxes in the meantime.
There's a soft hum of engines and the whine of servos from moving wings as a certain yellow (pointedly yellow, at that) cryo-condor flies his way into the lab and settles himself in a suitable perch, wings folding in as he surveys the state of the lab, and those currently residing within, with an almost casual disinterest. Nothing is said, though, not unless spoken to first. After all, it appears there are conversations taking place, and it is often times best to not interrupt such things. Not when they can be recorded.
Because Shockwave is going to relent on his opinion of Blast Offs combat skills with such arguments lacking in anything but an emotional conviction, "Were you appropriately trained then you would have anticipated such an ambush, and would have either avoided it or turned the ambush around and caught the Autobot off guard." The logic in this statement is irrefutable as far as the one opticed scientist is concerned.
With Blast Off on the table, Shockwave is able to get a better idea of his injuries, and indeed that wing will definitely have to come off. "I assume you will require the pain dulled before amputation?" There's definitely the sound of a buzzing from above, almost certainly a series of saws warming up.
Shockwave moves over to the box with the replacement wing in it, bending to open the large box Swindle had indicated, reaching in to pick up the component within, which is indeed a suitable replacement wing. As he does so, he intones, "You had mentioned that you had some knowledge of Junkion" At which point he turns back to look directly at Blast Off, hitting a control on his arm the shuttleformer is very suddenly restrained on the table. And don't think the arrival of a certain little bird goes unnoticed, as he walks back to the table now restraining Blast Off, Shockwave glances at Buzzsaw for the briefest of moments, his glowing optic going very dark for that moment.
Swindle nods. "Well, yes, of course I do. Junkions do a lot of dealing and trading. One of the best places for parts in the system. Why?"
There's an immediate *BUT* on Blast Off's lips (under that faceplate), followed by the click of a vocoder coming o0nline to protest- and then silence. His protest remains unsaid... because 1) Shockwave kind of... has a point, and 2) trying to explain just why exactly he was taken off guard would probably be more embarrassing than anything else (he had his arms full of wine at an enerwine shop and was just heading out the door when he was surprised by Blurr). "..." A long pause and he finally does say, while failing to meet Shockwave's gaze, "It was complicated." 
 
The shuttle doesn't notice Buzzsaw just yet, having his optics on Shockwave. "Yes... the legends about it at least. It's said that long ago Junkion was aprosperous place, but it fell into ruin- and its inhabitants started scavenging their civilization just to survive- and when THAT got scarce they started scavenging *each other*. The last Cybertronians to visit that place never came back, and now only horror stories remain. If Scorponok really did leave Megatron there he is no doubt dead by now." 
 
Suddenly- restraint. Blast Off tenses and can't quite help but jerk back just a little. "That's... that's not neccessary..." Being a flier he is NOT fond of being restrained.
Buzzsaw gives Shockwave a curt, if not polite, nod of acknowledgement when optic is turned his way. The bird settles himself back in and shuffles to better survey Blast Off's state, taking note of damage and otherwise, each scratch and scrape carefully documented for the sake of later reference before he clicks his beak, a soft, scratchy vocal emitter coming online as words are spoken independent of his beak's movement. "And this was the work of whom, now?" 
 
No sense hiding. After all, 'hiding' was not his intent here, merely observation. Still, the more that others believe he can melt out of the shadows, the better, and this time the remark is more to give Blast Off the sense of unease than anything as the bird's crimson optics settle on the bound combaticon. "For intel purposes," the voice emits, "of course. Please, be as concise as possible in describing how these injuries were 'acquired'."
The shuttleformers resistance is, while illogical, unsurprising from such an emotional individual. In an effort to make his latest subject more compliant, Shockwave comments, "It would be undesirable to have you further injured while replacing your wing should you involuntarily move during the procedure." Plus, it makes it far easier to question Blast Off if he can't leave.
As Blast Off describes what Shockwave may already be aware of regarding Junkion (well he can read), the scientist doesn't show any sign of if he already knew this, "And given your personal abilities, I assume you are aware of the planets location." A statement of fact rather than a question. Shockwave proceeds to open Blast Offs chest, and locates his pain receptors, tweaking them briefly (though oddly before he switches them off, he turns them up significantly, for the briefest of moments).
Swindle shrugs. "Well then either someone's very, very lucky, or someone's been mislabelling the origins on the parts I've been getting," he says.
Blast Off should be good to go, right? Just get this repairs and get the smelt out of here and surely Shockwave won't care how the injuries were obtained. Yeah, should be a piece of cake. And then- Buzzsaw. D'OH. The shuttleformer winces at the "voice", head snapping around to stare at the bird. "Buzzsaw! I didn't... uh...." He blinks. "Just an... an Autobot. Some Autobot." He glances away, wishing he were somewhere esle about now. Looking back- darn, Buzzsaw's still staring at him. "Well... it was /Blurr/." More silence and delays as he suddenly finds some random spot in the room fascinating. And yet... Buzzsaw is still there. "Well... I was in Vos, on... on an errand. He showed up, being as annoying and self-satisfied as ever. So we fought, and he grabbed hold of my wing but I shook him loose and fired my wing mounted laser at him and probably blew him to smithereens and well, that's that!" 
 
Now he's back to Shockwave, still pressing against the bonds uncomfortably. "Well, no, but I assure you I can hold quite still. It's not like I'll just run off or something!" Ha ha ha. Then he grunts a little as Shockwave opens his chest, wincing in pain and trying to jerk back with a sharp intake through his ventilation systems, then HUFFing loudly as the pain is increased. "Hey! I feel that! It's- ah-!" And then it's gone. The shuttle stills again. At that point he can finally relax a little. A little. He eyes Shockwave a bit warily though. "Well, yes, I am familiar with its location but have not been anywhere near it in quite some time."
Buzzsaw clicks his beak in thought again. "So, these injuries are sustained by an as of yet unidentified Autobot. Pity." He drops down to perch just above Blast Off's head, peering (upside-down) at the Combaticon. "Unfortunate, even. Makes it so difficult to gather intelligence when no intelligence is being collected by others. Still, I do suppose that is to be expected when dealing with hardheads like you who can't properly think beyond their trigger-finger. Unless... we are both mistaken and there is more you're not telling?" 
 
He shifts, tilting his head as he records every last detail while keeping well out of Shockwave's way while the Decepticon works on his patient. "What about identifying marks? Attributes or abilities? Anything we can use to make sure that the Autobot menace is identified and, if warranted, publicly displayed for all to see. Better yet?" He clicks his beak again and leans down, "brought to justice and interrogated to ensure none within our ranks are...covering for him, or her, without proper reason. You know...root out the traitors and corruption before it takes hold."
"I trust then that you will be able to provide me with it's exact location. If the planet is as lethal as it is rumoured to be, then it may merit some investigation." Quite why and how Shockwave intends to investigate the planet is anyones guess.
Shockwave looks in Swindles direction, "You are admitting that the parts you are supplying us with are of an origin you yourself cannot confirm the validity of?"
Shockwave turns his attention back to Blast Off, and with the pain receptors shut off, and the subject restrained, he inputs a command to the systems which proceed to lower a series of tools from the roof, buzzsaws (not the birdy kind) proceed to begin cutting off the injured wing, with more delicate tools removing the remenants and cleaning the fixtures ready for the replacement. Shockwave meanwhile returns to the head he was scanning, removing it from the scanner and placing it on the table in plain view. Curiously it looks identical to Onslaughts. Shockwave doesn't even seem to register Blast Off explaining how he got his injuries, no matter the fact it seems to have Buzzsaws attention.
"I'm usually pretty sure," Swindle says, "But hey, as long as the parts work, no harm no foul, right?" Ah, the pitfalls of black market dealing.
Blast Off finds himself staring up at Buzzsaw and a very sharp beak. The nervous staring shifts into a narrowing of optics as he's called /hard-headed/. I am *not* triggerhappy. Nor am I the hardhead Combaticon- I think Brawl is down the hallway." HUFFFF. The rest of the line of questioning seeps into the cracks of his armor, though, and soon he's glanced away again. "I told you. Blurr. He's blue. And annoying. Has a stupid head crest and an arrogant smirk on his annoying face." Because Blast Off is one to talk about arrogance. Optics ridges furrow down and he seems to be keen to leave it at that- until loyalty is questioned. Now his gaze snaps right back to the bird. "What is THAT supposed to mean?!" 
 
His attention is reverted back to Shockwave as the other mech cuts into his wing. It should hurt, but doesn't, so he settles once more- at least until the not-Onslaught head appears and Blast Off does a double take, tensing again, before realizing Shocjkwave isn't collecting Combaticons. He hopes. "What is *that*?"
 
Then the question about the coordinates registers. "...Uh, yes. Of course, I'm a space shuttle. I know space. As well as if not better than anyone." So modest.
"Oh, so it was Blurr, not an 'unnamed Autobot'. Interesting." The bird's disembodied voice conveys equal parts interest and sarcasm. "Future records regarding the injuries are hereby noted as Blurr's incurred wrath." His wing pats Blast Off's head while he leans down to stage-whisper into his audial receptors, "see? I knew you were better than those other bullet-sponges." 
 
Buzzsaw shifts to study the damaged wing being removed, noting the injuries. "Would you say his...preferred style of combat is precise? Or simply swift and overwhelming?" He takes his time in the recordings before turning to look back at Blast Off, recording the response given.
With the old wing gone, Shockwave brings the new wing over, commencing the process of attaching the new wing to the nicely cleaned up connections. As he allows the tables automated setup to do this, Shockwave returns to Blast Offs chest, examining it for any related damage, and making tweaks here and there as he spots points that could be improved upon. As he works he responds to Blast Off, "That is what remains of an individual who had outlived his usefulness in his previous role. Unfortunately he did not have the stamina to survive even the initial experiments his new role demanded."
Shockwave looks at Buzzsaw, "I will require a full and unedited copy of your recording for later examination. These injuries may highlight inherent weaknesses in Blast Offs design, which can then be improved as a result." Shockwave looks over at Swindle, then over at the headless body in the background, before looking back at Swindle, "I believe I have another use for you at this time Swindle." And then turning back to Blast Off to state simply, "As stated, I will require the exact coordinates."
Blast Off huffs at that, too. "I'm not a bullet "sponge", I'm a *Combaticon*!" Which is probably a glorified bullet sponge. The Combaticon then bristles a bit more. "His preferred style is ANNOYANCE. Then smirk, then get in the way and then ATTACK. Then smirk and be annoying some more. Ad infintum. And the only thing OVERwhelming is my disgust. The self righteousness these Autobots have is *astounding*. They really think they are *all that* and that we are somehow some kind of uncouth ingrates for not bowing to their Prime." Ugh. 
 
Those comments Shockwave makes don't put Blast Off any more at ease. He eyes the head dubiously. "Well... uh, yes. Some don't. They're not great warriors- like a Combaticon is." In other words- he's SO VERY USEFUL. He now looks up at Shockwave. "Very well, I can send the coordinates to you once I am repaired and mobile again." But not before, if he can help it.
Buzzsaw turns to give Shockwave a nod. "Naturally. All records will be readily accessible to those who may need them in order to either identify weaknesses or potential signatures that will better identify our foes." The condor turns to direct his full focus on the combaticon strapped to the table. "Blast Off, dear...formidable if not paper-thin Blast Off, I have one question, and one question only to ask you before I continue on." 
 
He shifts his perch, opting to settle on the combaticon's chest so he can level his crimson optics at the marksman's own. "You would not lie to cover up your own ineffeciencies, hiding behind a veil of petty insults towards a foe that bested you, for the sole purpose of covering up valuable intel that may help us wipe this plague off the face of Cybertron, would you?" The voice pauses. "Answer carefully, and deliberately, as you've already started by...well, listen for yourself." 
 
There's a pause, then playback kicks in. 
 
Blast Off : "Just an... an Autobot. Some Autobot." 
 
A pause. 
 
Blast Off : "I told you. Blurr. He's blue. And annoying." 
 
Buzzsaw, even with that expressionless beak, can't help but look smug.
As the automated table systems finish connecting the new wing, Shockwave tests the connections from within Blast Offs chest, confirming that the wing is indeed working within required specification. As he works he merely intones, "I have not shut down your internal transmission systems. It will be significantly more efficient if you upload the coordinates while you are restrained." Or perhaps the restraints only come off after the information is uploaded... who can say with Shockwave.
The scientist is about to replace Blast Offs chest when Buzzsaw lands on it, despite the insides of the shuttleformers chest still being exposed. However given how accurate the condor tends to be, Shockwave merely intones, "I trust you will do no unnecessary harm while sitting on Blast Offs insides Buzzsaw.". Key word of course is 'unnecessary'.
As Buzzsaw starts in a near interrogation, Blast Off is getting to be more uncomfortable by the astrosecond. He stares up at the bird, optic ridges furrowing as the playback takes back. Of course, there's a definite bristling as Buzzsaw points out the paper thin armor (which is TRUE). "I am NOT THAT FRAGILE, I am a space shuttle and have very intricate and sophisticated armor and it ...it just requires extra attention, is all." 
 
As Buzzsaw goes on though, Blast Off's optics widen. "I BEG YOUR PARDON." Now the shuttleformer starts fidgeting against his restraints, feeling quite unhappy here. "What?! What.. I... how can you say that, I HATE that Autobot. I would'nt hide anything because I want him dead even more than YOU do! I..." He cringes as the playout ends. Staring, there's a silence and then.... "ALL RIGHT. I was... I was... well I was in Vos... making some purchases. And... and I..." His voice grows a bit sheepish. "I... I kind of had my hands full." He doesn't look at Buzzsaw. "With... items, and... that's when Blurr ...surprised me. I DON'T KNOW WHY HE WAS IN VOS." 
 
Then Shockwave insists on coordinates NOW. "But..." He looks from Buzzsaw to Shockwave and back again, then down at his own very exposed chest. "I... uh." *siigh*. "Alright." Now sounding a bit surly, he starts looking through his systems for the info. "It will take me a moment to bring up the correct star chart..."
Buzzsaw is silent for a while as Blast Off explains the full situation that transpired, the 'ambush', and indeed even admits to certain...underlying accusations. Nothing is said, though, not to Shockwave's query, nor to Blast Off's transmitting of the coordinates, nor even that he is indeed perched atop something very, very delicate and sensitive until certain armor pieces are put back in place.... 
 
Finally, though, he offers a curt nod and leaves so Shockwave may resume, adopting a perch somewhere 'safe' (for Blast Off, at least) to study the other pieces of broken mechs in the room. "Thank you for your cooperation, Blast Off. This information shall prove valuable and useful to the greater good of the Empire. You have done well to divulge what you have." 
 
He leaves it at that, falling silent as he sorts through various things recorded thus far, making careful cuts and edits, redacting certain statements, compartmentalizing things for use in different fields... Indeed, it would not be long before Shockwave gets a transmission with the details of the injuries as requested, as well as the nature in which they were acquired. "I recommend, Blast Off, that in future dates you travel with a companion to ensure that, at the very least, /someone/ is watching your back while you are not."
Shockwave merely intones, "As it appears your repairs can now be completed, I suggest transmitting sooner rather than later." Well, Shockwave clearly doesn't want to be kept waiting. As he begins replacing Blast Offs chest armour. While there remains smaller injuries, evidentally Shockwave is almost done with anything he cares to fix, "Once we are finished here your remaining battle scars can be repaired by one of the other medical stations." It's almost like Shockwave only had Blast Off directed here long enough to get what information he needed out of the Combaticon. But surely he wouldn't do such a thing.
Blast Off listens, a captive audience (literally), and trying to stifle a case of nerves. But finally Buzzsaw relents. Blast Off tells himself that the reason he has a case of nerves is simply because he's restrained and for no other reason. Blast Off still finds himself relaxing just a bit. "Thank you. Well of course, I am an avid supporter of the decepticon cause." Right. 
 
"Well... yes, obviously if one of my teammates is around..." He glances to Swindle, "That would be preferable. But I'm a space shuttle, I don't always have the luxury to have /company/." There's a pause, and he quickly adds, "Not that I want company anyway, I'm built to be alone." 
 
Blast Off glances to Shockwave. "Uh- yes, yes of course," he mutters and gets to work sending those coordinates. "There. I...oh." Wait, he has to go to ANOTHER medic? He stares in disbelief and considers a protest... and then says nothing. Restrained against the table, looking up at Shockwave of all people... it might be better not to complain. "...understood."
Buzzsaw is silent, not much caring what Blast Off has to say at this point, though he is still recording for later referencing. "You are a shuttle, Blast Off. You do not /need/ others to keep up with you when you can carry them yourself." 
 
The condor pauses and finishes his data sorting, straightening up to look back at the combaticon. "Though, if Blurr is indeed prowling around Vos, I may have to make a point to visit there and scout out some opportunities to glean what I can from his operations. Perhaps even identify his usual spots and arrange for an ambush in kind to deal with his bothersome existence."
And with his job done (or is that, with the information obtained), Shockwave releases the restraints. He confirms the coordinates are now in his files, backs them up multiple times and encrypts all copies. Not that anyone can see he's done this, as he is careful to ensure even Buzzsaw can't decipher the commands he gives his computer.
With that done Shockwave gives a brief glance over Blast Off, confirming only minor dents, scratches and the like remain, "You may now leave." He looks at Buzzsaw as he intones this, making clear he means everyone in the lab. He the returns to work on other projects, ignoring both Combaticons and the bird.
"Very bothersome, "Blast Off agrees without even having to think twice. "In fact feel FREE. He was in the upper levels- far higher than some scruffy groundpounder had any right to go. Rid the planet of that scrapheap's pathetic existance. Because if you don't, I WILL. In fact, should you find him and want the skilled shot of a sniper to take him down, PLEASE give me a call." And he means it. 
 
And then finally- the restraints are lifted. The shuttleformer scrambles a little too quickly, perhaps, to get some space between himself and that table. But apart from a wince of some slight pain from moving too fast, he does feel better and the worst of his limp is gone. "...Very well." He looks down at his leg, thumbing what's left of the injury and clicking his wing back and forth. "...It is better. Thank you." He makes a point to try to stay on the good side of any medic. Primus knows he needs them often enough.
Buzzsaw nods faintly, clearly distracted by other things. "Your recommendation and offer of execution is noted." He then turns to glance at Shockwave before the remark about the shop closing is registered. Without a word, he spreads his wings and steps off his perch, gliding towards the door to travel to another perch in the hallways proper, once more busying himself with his own data organization.
Blast Off is just happy to be getting out of here in one piece. With one final glance and nod to his teammate, and then to that disembodied not-Onslaught head, he proceeds to make his way out the door.
Swindle follows Blast Off out, thankful that he wasn't the one under the knife, so to speak.