1163/The Hills Have Optics

**Darkstar has posed:**
THOOM.

THOOM.

THOOM.

    Darkstar stood before the set of doors leading into the laboratory at the bottom of the long stairwell. His arms were crossed, with one hand clinging to a datapad. His red optics stared straight ahead, as if he could see through the thick metal doors to the mechabat behind them. His expression was flat, unemotional, unreadable.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth, having cleaned up the /mess/ from Blot a few cycles earlier, and taking a sanitation shower, he was back to work, trying to get the little EP emitter prototype put together... He then looked over to the door, he knew who THAT knock belonged to, was very distinct heavy knocking of a hollow head with issues regarding personal space.

      He stopped for a moment contemplating a response in his head, grinning as he'd reach over and press on the button he used to speak through the intercom just outside the door. "Hello, you've reached the lair of apathy and not giving a frag, the complaint box is on the other side of the room, what is it Darkstar?" He'd snicker.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar was all business it seemed. "Open up, Private. I need your assist with something of critical importance to the future of our war effort..." That pretty much summed up his reason for being here. After having left the mechabat's 'lair of apathy and not giving a frag' to the mechabat himself for quite some time it was clear that he was even less concerned with 'personal space' than ever.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would sigh, and rolled his optics, not even getting a comment about how that 'complaint box' was the door back up to the repair bay. He'd press the button on the intercom and with a loud buzzing, the doors to the lab would slide open and allow Darkstar passage through, Goth would lean back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and fiddled with the tool in his hand, optics settled into a half-shuttered position.

      "Yeees?" He'd ask, quirking a ridge.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar stepped into the laboratory and marched right up to the seated Decepticon. His arms unfolded and he set the datapad onto Goth's lap with a light flick of the wrist servo, allowing the device to land softly. "I need your processor," he began before his arms crossed once more. "Three scenarios I need programming data for. The first..." he pointed to the datapad. "An FTL jump pattern for short-range leaps. Designed to evade incoming fire from ballistics and short to medium range linear fire weaponry." All work and no play they say!

**Goth has posed:**
     "Well, that isn't new." He'd huff, leaning his cheek into his hand, and squinted down at the datapad that was unceremoniously dropped in his lap, hed pick it up and start reviewing what was on the datapad as he listened to Darkstar, he'd then reach over to his keyboard and brought up a blank document to begin work. "Mmmhmmm?" He'd acknowledge, raising a ridge.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar stared at Goth for a moment after the 'mmmhmmm' that sounded a lot like the mechabat was trying to suggest that he had better things to do. "What do you mean... 'Mmmhmmmm'?" he asked directly, optics flashing a moment and he stepped forward to take a look at the document being prepared. "The second... A jump pattern to counter more explosive weaponry. Medium range leaps designed to avoid shrapnel, energy mines, grenades..." The spacer's right hand fisted and uncurled a handful of times in succession. He was irritated... It was clear to the observant, and perhaps even those with a lesser capacity for keen observation alike.

**Goth has posed:**
     "You said three scenarios, I was expecting you to immediately go into the second and then third." he'd state apathetically with his same expression as before as he brought up two more, and labeled them and imputed what they where for at the top.

      Goth would take note of Darkstar's irritation but seemed to pay it not to much mind, for a change, going about things like this was typical.. Which it was.

      On that note, Goth's desktop was a cluttered MESS of different types of documents and files, and he had a number of things open, mostly a lot of the weapon designs he'd been brought, and, or, was currently working on on top of what he was working on.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar took a deep vent this time, a low rumble escaping him as he leaned forward a bit more to place his hands onto the desk so that he could breech that personal space bubble that Goth was so fond of to an even greater extent. "Third... A jump pattern to counter massive explosions. City-leveling blasts. End times level explosions..." Now why on Cybertron would Darkstar ever need to program for that particular scenario? "That will be all," he finishes, still leaning with his hands planted upon the mess of a desk. It took another moment, but like a turbo-moth to an enerflame his gaze eventually would drop to glance over the weapon designs below. "What are these? Side projects?" he asked, tone low and rumbling as he picked up one of the devices to look over what was visible.

**Goth has posed:**
     That third one did get a ridge raise out of Goth, but it wasn't completely out of the question, end of the world, or no-win situation simulations where things that were made for trainees to go through, at least from what he could gather from the simulation records.

      He went about marking a file for it though, leaning away from Darkstar as he got uncomfortably close, and Goth would give the spacer something of a stink optic, but he would only grumble.

      "Hm? Yes, Attempting to create a electronic pulse emitter to temporarily incapacitate those I am targeting, so far my biggest issue is finding here to mount it." he'd explain. "Then there is attempting to perfect a type of tracking drones to use, actually used one of my prototypes the other lunar-cycle." He'd point out.

      "...So, what has your wires in a twist this evening?" He'd finally ask as he typed in the documents, starting to impute all the code jargon.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar hums thoughtfully and sets aside the datapad he was holding only to pick up the one that showed what at least appeared to match Goth's description of the electronic pulse emitter next. "Ahahah... Might I suggest that you mount it in yer' maw? There's no practical value in doin' so of course, but just think of the AESTHETIC!" Grinning now, the spacer was satisfied that Goth was taking his project seriously enough that he grew visibly less tense. Still, that didn't mean that his reason for being so had gone anywhere.

    "My wires? Hah..." Darkstar was transparent, and for the first time he realized it. "Something about the Dead End Fight Club disruption... The Mimic that was present- if it was indeed only one of them," he'd add quickly given Goth's theory of the matter. "It was very skilled... Took advantage of the situation, an' evaded capture despite vast numbers of opposition. Not only that, but that mech that broke all the rules seemed ta' show up at just the right time to create a solid window for the Mimic's shenanigans."

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would give Darkstar a raised ridge. "...On one claw, I can understand your reasoning there, on the other, this is.. the third time I've received that type of suggestion and I'm not quite sure how to take such." Just because he bites things doesn't mean he has to use his mouth for everything! At least that's where his train of thought went.

      "However that would require ensuring it doesn't interfere with my sonar and I can seamlessly switch between the two." He'd explain, turning back to his work on the documents.

      "Hmph, yes...I somewhat figured that mech and the mimic where one in the same, slightly wondering if they have holographic projections, much like that one Autobot we fought at the mines." He'd explain, thinking back on his conversation with Sixshot. "Sixshot has suggested that a report should be filed." He'd frown. "I did not recall seeing a badge on the attacker." He'd add.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar laughs and shakes his head, "You remember when I was saying that there MAY in fact be more than one of those Mimics out there?" The spacer squeezed his right fist tightly until his servos made a whirring sound beneath the tension. "...You ever see any of 'em make alliances with anyone other'n one of their own kind before?" There it is. The thing that really had Darkstar wound up, that the Insecticon shape-shifter may actually have formed an alliance with a Cybertronian.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth lets out a thoughtful hem. "No.. Mostly because such an ability would be so rare, it would be near impossible that they would ever cross paths unless they were created together." He's muse, glancing back at Darkstar, slowly coming to his own conclusion. "...Do you suspect someone in your fight club may have done such?" He'd ask, tilting his helm.

      That train of thought did bring a few thoughts to his helm about the programs Darkstar had asked for, that ridge of his slowly raising up once more.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    "THE..." Darkstar begins to correct Goth. "THE Fight Club. It ain't mine, nor will it ever BELONG to any one individual," the spacer explains, optics flashing once. "I suspect that someone I have never seen before who decided ta' make their debut by shirking our club's rules by attacking the Lieutenant may indeed be workin' with one of the Mimics who happened to choose as their target the very same Decepticon that he was fightin' moments before."

    "Probably the same mech who shot me with a rocket before runnin' off," Darkstar notes then after removing an e-cig from subspace. "Only Decepticons attacked that night. Just the L.T. and myself... Notice that? Lotta targets, lotta neutrals, even an Autobot... Only Decepticons on that attack list." That's when the e-cig was sparked and Darkstar took a long drag.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth rolled his optics at the nitpicking of words, but would then look over when he got the alert for said report over on the little notification pop up he'd get on his computer and nodded, glad for the idea being taken seriously, he'd then let out a hem again as Darkstar explained, thinking. "So, what is your theory then? Do explain, I do have ears larger than my helm after all." He'd say, gesturing for Darkstar to start explaining.

      "Because I will even say, that Lunar-cycle got so chaotic I was having trouble keeping track of the events from my rooftop perch." He'd explain.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar shrugs his pauldrons, and even bristles slightly at the thought that he may have left out something that wasn't in the report that he'd filed using one of the unlocked datapads from Goth's desk. "Pretty much sums the whole thing up, doesn't it? I think that the Mimic is gettin' smarter... We know that some of 'em are, so it only makes sense that if I was all alone in th' world I'd eventually find m'self lookin' for some allies of suitable stock. Plenty of opportunists out there... Could be there are bots workin' with the fragger without really knowin' what it is, however unlikely." Another venting of thick white smoke fills the air around Darkstar's helm as he takes a moment to consider other possibilities.

    "Thing definitely is holdin' a grudge however ya' look at it. I'm sure it knows exactly who we are, an' what we've done to the others like 'im." Darkstar took another puff of e-cig and vented yet again. "You seemed ta' downplay the threat before. Any particular reason for doin' so you might wanna share?"

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth's ear twitched as acknowledgment to Darkstar that he was listening as he worked. "Hmph, not a unlikely conclusion, it is definitely something to consider, one of many possibilities." He'd say, thinking on it, Darkstar wasn't exactly wrong on that line of thought, Goth could see that being a case if it wasn't another, this whole 'Mimic' situation was still rather new, and left many things up in the air.

      He'd then glance back. "Well Assuming It cannot replicate alt-modes, all we would need to ask them to do, is switch into their alt-mode." He'd state as one way to tell. "Another would be that they would not have personal information that we've shared with one another, specific items." He'd rattle off. "Case and point, access codes." He'd hem. "I assume your smart enough to be able to tell the real me if there where the chance it took my vistage, or we where in the same room."

      He'd then spin his wrist. "Unless they did deca-cycles worth of stalking, or some how got access to personnel files, there is more than one way to tell if one is smart enough." Goth bring his hand down and stop typing a moment as if he'd realized something. "...But this is all speculatory, from a hunters perspective." he'd finally add.

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Darkstar gave Goth credit for being a smart mech, he really did. Numbers, formulas, complex calculations... All were the mechabat's domain, and in these things Goth certainly did excel. Darkstar was a fighter and a survivor first and foremost, despite the mechabat's success in those arenas as well; however unlike Goth it was all he excelled at and he did so to the maximum. "How many mechs ask Megatron for identification when he gives them an order? Soundwave? Shockwave?" The spacer already knew the answer, and the answer was 'nobody'.

    Another long drag finished the e-cig, and he squeezed the remains within his palm before tossing it into the waste recepticle nearby. "Any codes it wanted to know... All it'd have ta' do is torture 'em out of one of our 'loyalists'. You an' I both know not every mech has 'nough grit ta' hold back under that kinda pressure." Turning slightly it appeared as if Darkstar was preparing to leave the lab. "I'll be back for the data later. By the way... You didn't ask me."

**Goth has posed:**
     "Hmm a fair point, however I suspect they would not be bold enough to go for such a target,." He'd state, not voicing the thought that, if there are those so incompetent to not be able to tell our leader from a imposter then, well... He'd let out a huff at the thought alone. Whoever failed THAT sort of prescription would likely face much, much worse at the hands of their real leaders then if they just failed anyone else.

      Goth would glance over and quirk a ridge, mentally wondering if Darkstar was now trying to mess with him... Though, it was interesting to see Darkstar in a.. Stressed, state of mind, at least from what Goth could figure. "Hmmm Why?"

**Darkstar has posed:**
    Fear addles the processor like few other stimulants, and fear is exactly what those who were confronted by an even slightly irritated Megatron would be feeling when the orders arrived at their audials. Few had the keen senses that Goth did, which only meant that the number of those who would likely be fooled were indeed many. Darkstar reached the doors leading out to the stairwell, and with a hand tossed back in farewell he left the lab with one last word. "You didn't ask me to TRANSFORM, Bats..."

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would look over and give Darkstar a flat look. "Please, no one can mimic you knocking on a door in such an /annoying/ manner, nor your impeccable timing to come in right as I am working, or be as demanding as possible without thanks." He'd huff. Yeah no that was Darkstar.

      "I will say however your apparent stress over the manner is concerning, but you'd never willing state that such a thing exists so no point in asking." He'd add on, with one optic closed. "Furthermore, sound form the weight of your pede steps is correct. in comparison to your height."