A Meeting of Unlike Minds

As far as meeting places go, Bloodhound's choice is rather... decrepit. The coordinates she sends lead to a pile of junk in what passes for the backyard of one of the Dead End's endless rundown shanties. It's part of a natural courtyard formed by adjacent structures and boasts privacy from the surrounding streets except for a few narrow alleyways. It in fact boasts very little else. While the late hour has kept many residents off the street, there's still an occasional passer-by who limps down the road and the view from the sky is completely clear.

Resting on the mound of parts is a familiar bi-framed femme with her dim optics pointed towards the plump waning sight of Luna 2. She's not entirely awake but not entirely asleep either, subsisting in a low-power state on as little precious energon as she can while remaining aware of her surroundings. Old habits die hard.

Pharma lands on the particular coordinates specified, finding little more than what he expected in a place like the Dead End. "Well, at least it's private, I suppose. Somewhat." He chuckles, not really appearing too fazed by the decrepit state. The doctor swings an interface cable back and forth casually. "So are you ready, then?"

The sound of Pharma's landing rouses the empty from her torpid state and the lights of her frame brighten as she pushes herself onto her feet. Bloodhound shakes her head free of drowsiness and grins at the cable in the doctor's hand. "It's not much but it's enough. Before we do this," she cautions. "I want to be clear: I want upgrades, more than just a handful in one three-cycle session, but I'll sell myself or work for you or whatever you want to call it if you can give me that, keep me in good condition, and I can trust you." Her gaze hardens again as she regards the medic with a serious but not accusatory stare. "I'm not looking for a two year fling or a short-term business deal where you'll throw me away if I become inconvenient or you find a better buyer."

"Well I can't make any promises as of yet, I'm afraid." Pharma replies. "After all, as I said, I don't know you very well. Nor can I guarantee security in the future, for you or for anyone, really." He shrugs. "But then again, they are your upgrades. You are no longer in dire -need- of them, so it's your choice."

"Of course," Bloodhound concedes. "I guess I'm wasting time with words now. Come on, let's go inside." Gesturing the doctor to follow her with a clawed hand, the empty ducks into an open doorway to one of the shacks. Inside the single-room home is as spartan and rusted as one might imagine and with a modicum more privacy than standing outside. Bloodhound isn't done leading though as she crouches by a section of scrap-covered floor to pull away a piece of sheet metal and expose a concealed ladder. "This little shack has a secret or two," she mentions with a mischievous smile. "While 'facing under the stars is lovely scenery, I figured a respectable doctor like yourself would want more privacy. After you."

"Well, around these parts, I suppose. We wouldn't want to get caught off guard by scavengers or criminals or some other rough crowd." Pharma replies, nodding as he climbs down the ladder. The place is as much a wreck as he expected it would be. "I'm just surprised you didn't request some place a bit more secure."

It's a short trip down the ladder and the inside of the basement proves similar to the room above. It's cramped and dimly lit by a single overhead light, but also packed full of storage containers and shelving. A few more legally questionable compounds are visible inside one open barrel.

Descending the ladder second, Bloodhound draws the sheet metal back over the hole, sealing them in. She relaxes as she reaches the bottom and leans her back against the ladder's frame, leaving Pharma the rest of the room as impromptu furniture. "We're secure enough here," she assures confidently. "The previous owner used this room as a stockpile for drugs, circuit boosters mostly, and was careful to keep nosy sorts away."

"He was almost careful enough," she adds with a grin while extending a hand. "Now let's see how honest we've been with one another, shall we?"

"Heh." Pharma peers at the compounds in the barrel, nodding. "Yeah, medical-grade circuit speeders to be precise. Not an uncommon practice among empties." The doctor observes. "They'd collect the remains from containers that had been thrown out, or expired containers there were never used."

He puts one end of the cable in her outstretched hand. "I suppose so." Pharma intends on letting her see a -few- things, but there are also some things that are more sensitive.

Whatever Bloodhound's own intentions are, she's not hesitant about linking up. Once she has the end in hand, she reaches behind her neck and plugs it directly into a concealed slot. Her side of the connection goes live and offers a simple handshake for, at the moment, READ access under tight control.

Pharma returns the handshake, and she will become acquainted with much of what the public knows about him already: He's one of the best doctors on the planet, having trained under Cogwheel at MSE. He excelled in everything medical from the very start, and even his instructors were amazed at his talents. Currently he spends most of his time working at the Iacon's Deltaran facility. It's no surprise that he did such a swift yet excellent job of repairing her despite her extensive injures.

While the doctor's memories are offered, Bloodhound spares them only a glance once the connection is established. Tidbits of her own life are offered in return; her life long ago being trained for the Primal Vanguard and serving on myriad worlds. The memories are pleasant on the whole until the Vanguard's decline before the Interrgnum. The available memories stop before the end of her military career and without preamble the floor seems to drop out of the connection entirely as the empty requests a much, much lower level link to gain free access to Pharma's memories and brush against his psyche. That a link at that level would expose just as much of herself in turn, or that it's normally reserved for the very intimate, doesn't seem to be a concern.

Outwardly, Bloodhound watches Pharma casually as she folds her arms and gets comfortable. In contrast to the normal disorientation of a first connection, she hardly seems to notice it. The femme's not a stranger to cabling up.

Pharma isn't too disoriented, either. Perhaps it's because he is a doctor and therefore knows all of the inner workings of interfacing already, and thus knows what to expect. He watches casually as Bloodhound's memories of the Vanguard, both good and bad scroll past. The doctor himself has mostly good memories of his own past. His instructors and classmates all seemed to regard him very higly, and with good reason.

However, when she tries to nudge deeper, he seems to resist a bit. She is allowed to see a little more, though...it seems not everyone -always- thought well of him. There is one mech who ended up hating his struts--Starscream. Starscream was once a classmate, but he grew jealous of Pharma when the 'favorite' student graduated with high honors while Starscream was expelled for breaching 'ethical' boundaries.

Bloodhound shares some more memories in return but continues to push for lower access. She's not after his memories, she's after the doctor's emotions and his mind itself, and guides in that direction with a series of mental requests. More breadth and depth of her time in the Vanguard is provided and a pattern begins to emerge. An abysmal rate for cybertronian rescues or encounters with Quintessons and long stretches of time spent fruitlessly searching. For her part as a scout, Bloodhound seems to have hardly noticed, with memories of exploration and encounters with local wildlife marking her happiest moments. Afterwards came a decline. Orders to pull back from planet after planet as the Primal Vanguard began to shrink in the wake of Cybertron's energy shortage. The matter was and still feels like a thorn in the empty's side and her rapid dismissal and disposal pass rapidly almost as background noise. A fruitless search for work lead eventually to the Dead End, although not yet to the body she had when she stepped into the clinic. Further memories are still restricted as Bloodhound tries to barter them for much more.

Hmm, it seems it's not specifically what he's done in line that she is after, but more of an overall baseline perspective of the world. Well, from what Pharma has gathered of her thus far, he doesn't think she'd be bothered by it.

So she might find that despite his exterior, the doctor is in fact rather arrogant (although perhaps with his extensive skills it is not without reason) and doesn't give much of a slag about anyone save for himself--he also fairly completely lacks morals. He is very much a believer in survival of the fittest as opposed to a rigid structure of rights and wrongs. What is necessary, is necessary.

Bloodhound gives as much as she takes in return, finding the current direction a heartening improvement. The femme herself is... tangled mentally, less like a loose bundle of cables and more like a rope that's been knotted for strength. Two disparate aspects, a sharp, intellectual mind with a scientific patience and rigor that may mirror Pharma's own, and an instinctive and more free-flowing one, are blended into a surprisingly coherent whole. Bloodhound finds little concern with the doctor's arrogance or selfishness, and even finds reason to agree on the former. A similarly healthy ego exists within the femme, bonded instead to the wealth of her long-lived and hard-lived experience as well as a rather unique perspective which she's somehow developed. Her own morals are sparse, eroded by time rather than naturally baren, but comfort is drawn from a more simplistic worldview that living hand-to-mouth has forced. But while Pharma's selfishness is shared and understood it is not entirely appreciated. With some view now at the doctor's mind, Bloodhound is looking for a hook to anchor herself to; not intimately, but in her search another side of the former-beastformer is exposed. A bitter distaste for the current government and authority in general and two painful, shocking betrayals. One is revealed to be her dismissal from the Vanguard, the source of the other is for the moment still a mystery. With a little more prodding that will no longer be the case, but the same short slide that it takes to expose that will also erode the last layer of mental separation between either of them. Knowing the empty completely will cut both ways.

Pharma's morals hadn't been nonexistent from the begining...he'd been a good mech, at first. But they kind of faded away naturally when the DMF's administration started letting him get away with -anything-, because he was their best and they dared not lose him.

Plus, he hadn't exactly had the best counsel, either. When moral dilemmas arose, he consulted Starscream, who...didn't exactly have any concern for the sanctity of life and encouraged Pharma not to, either. So it was down the slippery slope that led right into today. Well, at least he can appreciate her similar lack of concern for others.

Bloodhound smiles in quiet contentment as she experiences Pharma through their connection. It's a comfortable and pleasant experience for her even without any intentional stimulation, something she's familiar with. A heartbeat of sorts becomes palpable within her mind. There's an overriding feeling of incompleteness and lacking or a general wrongness that makes itself regularly known. Her current frame is a vast improvement and one the femme still isn't complacent about, but it still doesn't feel quite right. The mantra of her mind is 'upgrades' but what in detail is elusive, by nature rather than missing permissions. Traits of a beastformer, claws, a toothed maw, and a body with predatory poise and verve; like her old body in the Vanguard but not as bounded. Bloodhound's urge is driven by a feeling and accordingly plays itself out in other feelings. She knows how she wants to feel and is less concerned with how it makes her look. It's also unlikely that her urges would be easily satisfied as the vagueness of her inner demon makes it difficult to pin down and satisfy. If Pharma can fill that need, it's self-evident that he would earn a blind loyalty, as well as a smattering of more sentimental emotions.

"Just one more nudge, Mr. Magic," the ex-soldier says quietly as she conjures pleasant mental nuggets and slides them over the link. It's a bold-faced manipulation fed by a desperate urge that she cautiously hopes the doctor can sate, but at the same time she is starting to like him a bit.

  Pharma considers this...hmm...it's hard to put a finger on this beast-like form she wants. Hard to give her exactly what she wants if he isn't quite sure -what- it is. But he will definitely try. If it would earn him her undying loyalty...she could be -very- useful. No doubt she has skills, having been part of the Primal Vanguard once.

He accepts the pleasant feelings, though he does realize she is trying to manipulate him. But he's curious what it is exactly she wants from him? Yes, the upgrades, but is there something -more-?

There's a mixture of feelings from Bloodhound's side of the link. The thought of being useful is met by memories highlighting her extraordinary sense of smell and the recent murder of the house's previous owner. It was a slow process full of stalking, waiting, and patient observation before the repaired femme made her move. Her desires from Pharma are simple but broader than only sating her need for upgrades. The empty has been fending for herself for an entire million years, no doubt making her one of the longest to do so, and there's both a weariness and agitation from her current lifestyle. Bloodhound wants certainty in her next meal and reliable care, little more than the basics of life, but there's also a nagging urge to do something more. A longing for a Decepticon badge flashes through her mind; while not yet a member, the ex-Vanguard shares their dislike for the current government and resents it harshly for her betrayals and the collapse of 'her' Primal Vanguard. Pharma's own association is wedded to disgust but subsumed into a timidly hopeful opinion. Anything Autobot sparks feelings of jarring emotional pain, ones Bloodhound is vehemently against repeating, thus her own search for \*anything\* she can latch onto within Pharma's own mind to insure against his manipulative and selfish potential.

There's also a desire for acceptance and basic companionship that a chance encounter with a beastformer has recently rekindled. While not nearly as strong as the other forces that drive Bloodhound's psyche, a kind nod might not be remiss in her day-to-day and as much as he's willing to indulge her more sentimental feelings, Pharma may have another mental leash to hold her by.

As she opens her mind to the doctor, the white and brown empty allows him an honest view while she continues to probe in return, not resentful of his mindset but aware of the danger it presents. Flashes of memories, feelings, and senses pass back and forth at a disorienting pace. It's enough to drop an unaccustomed mech onto their skidplate, but Bloodhound - for reasons she still doesn't share - manages the flow like a normal conversation. She steps forward towards Pharma and places a single claw upon the emblem on his chest, gazing optic-to-optic. The touch travels over their link and fans out across the doctor's sensors like a ripple across warm oil, soothing but light. It ends with a feeling of suction as Bloodhound pulls on the connection, this time pressing for rather than offering an unshielded interface that bares them both completely.

So, she wants several things, does she? Well several related things, besides upgrades, that is. It seems, overall however, that it's companionship that will provide an escape from her lonesome and long suffering existence up until now. Someone to care for her, listen to her, and be with her.

But if she hates Autobots so much, and wishes to be an enemy of the establishment, why search for these things with Pharma? After all, she knows who he is and what he stands for. He wants want is best for the entire Cybertronian race, and if that means some of them have to be sacrificed, well then so be it. If some methods that are...less than pleasant need to be resorted to--well what choice does he have? Survival of the fittest, one law that reigns supreme across the universe. For survival's, sake, there can be no boundary. How else does a species become stronger? How else could it ever stand against the universe's relentless onslaught of dangerous obstacles thrown its way?

But what does he want on a more personal scale? Well, as an intellectual he has a natural desire to learn more about the world around him, more specifically about how living things function. Knowledge gives rise new technology, and new technology gives rise to power. And power makes one more likely survive longer out there in the harsh, cruel world. So why are the Autobots so different from Decepticons, anyway? The two groups may disagree on methods, but in the end they all -want- the same thing, don't they? That being for Cybertron to prosper for millenia to come.

He passes along a bit of encouragement...to put her past where it belongs--behind her. No point in stewing over the Primal Vanguard's disbandment. Everyone who has been in existence for any significant amount of time has lost something or someone they cared about or had hoped would last forever. Everything must come to an end eventually, right? The sooner she accepts that fact, the better off she will be.

The reason for pursuing Pharma seems to be, frankly, that the empty doesn't see any better options at the moment. The doctor's sheer medical skill is recognized first-hand and there's some hope that his clout can shield her from the problems she normally ties to Autobots - assuming again that she makes an exception for him. Bloodhound's optics narrow at the advice to move on and the sentiment is met by a vitriolic anger at how readily Cybertron has discarded its valuable things in the name of selfishly preserving power for a few. In the ex-Vanguard's mind, Nominus reigned over the golden age of their race and the collapse of the Vanguard - driven by failures of a corrupt Cybertronian government to manage its resources - lead to the present, pitiful state of their race on a galactic scale. While she accepts a need to balance population and prune useless cybertronians, it's a matter that Bloodhound would much rather let someone else execute.

Another tug is made at the connection as the empty drops another mental wall concealing more memories. Like a curtain parting a full half of her life is exposed all at once and the highlights flood the link. 'Her life' may be misleading as the memories might seem oddly familiar to the high-caste doctor. A mech's mind with a scientific alt-mode, the same one whose core still makes up her current frame. Primary programming school and training at an institute of science for chemistry and related fields. Graduating to work at a molecular and atomic science lab in bright Polyhex under a mentor fondly recalled as Chromate. The mech's career was pointed speedily upwards by his talent with mechanforensic analysis in particular and within only thousands of years his expertise placed him in a high standing within the lab. Then came a fateful and traumatic end to the shiny middle-caste life. Police stopping Chromate and the mech during a night time walk, panic and weapons fire, and huddling lost, shocked, and confused in an alleyway. Being cornered by the same officers soon after and a moment of mortal terror turning to relief as a beastformer - Bloodhound - intervenes. An awkward and standoffish relationship, overtime, softened and grew closer with the pair finding common interests, a pleasant contrast, and some much-needed company among the shanties. Interfacing followed although the memories are only offered in glimpses and eventually the mech and the femme came to balance one another down to the finest detail.

Bloodhound's death, recent to the present moment, is presented last as the deluge ends. The mech's unprovoked victimization by police is the second betrayal and it rings with the same crisp and fresh bitterness as the other. The femme - for mentally she is as surely one as when they first connected - regards Pharma now impassively while she gives him time to process what he's been told. The scienceformer Spectrum and the beastformer Bloodhound both stand before him, the body partly one and partly the other thanks to the doctor's work, and the mind somewhere in between. She wasn't lying when she'd said she had no name.

Ah, Spectrum's story is met with a great degree of academic fascination. It would appear that even though Bloodhound had died, a good portion of her code had remained in Spectrum's body due to their very frequent and deep interfacing habits over a long period of time. It's not something Pharma has seen much in the past, particularly not between an intellectual class and a disposable beast frame. The doctor is quite intrigued by this.

The apparent betrayal by the police is met with a distinct lack of concern or empathy. The past is the past. Besides, this story is awfully one-sided. There's no evidence of why the police had come after them, at least not yet--and if there had been good reason, or not. Of course, the doctor believes there -can- be good reason for just about -any- heinous act of violence or cruelty. Helping people often involves not only healing the right ones, but -destroying- the ones who are a threat to the continued existence and prosperity of the Cybertronian race. She has no more right to judge those she knows so little about than they do her.

To that, Bloodhound shares enough to defend her position. To date she still doesn't know of any reason good or bad for the police, and the Vanguard is reiterated as factual proof of the government's collective betrayal of their purpose to help the Cybertronian race. While Pharma's black-and-white mentality strikes a minor chord, the ex-beastformer's own world is a little too self-centered to appreciate that such heinous acts could be directed towards her. The Senate and Functionist Council both are a threat to the rest of the race and should be dealt with - thus her Decepticon leanings - and the empty's own life has played out a similar story within the Dead End. While she has victimized an uncountable number of harmless disposables, Bloodhound's namesake skills have remained most focused on more disruptive elements within the sector; drug dealers, abusive police, greedy profiteers... it's not a process the femme is wholely unfamiliar with but even so her own apathy falls short of Pharma's.

Peering intently through the jetformer's optics, Bloodhound feels out his mind for a second time, rehashing old ground and collating her findings. The Autobot is examined with a methodical, scientific scrutiny - and found lacking. A more emotive aspect takes over as her thoughts sift for common interests, emotional desires, and other handholds - then finds too few. Pharma's intrigue and interest in her utility are noted but for the exposure of ongoing access to her frame and reliance on him for survival... Bloodhound's mind begins to distance itself as she frowns lightly.

The chance for a 'one night stand' of sorts passes across the cable. One more upgrade session, a beastformer frame or an analogous root form, in exchange for a single chance to catalog, record, or otherwise study her unique mind.

Pharma frowns slightly at Bloodhound's arguments. No...she's just like the rest of them. Ignorant, selfish, and arrogant. Refusing to see the fact that Autobots and Decepticons ultimately do want the same thing for Cybertron, but simply disagree on -how- it should be done.

He shakes his head, and suddenly pulls the cable out, severing the connection. Turning away, he sighs. "I'm sorry Bloodhound," he shrugs. "Or should I call you Spectrum? Anyway, I don't think you will find what you're looking for with me....I'm still not even completely sure how it was you hoped you'd find in me in the first place. You know who I am, and what I am."

Spectrum calmly grasps the plug in her neck and removes it once Pharma severs their connection. The accusations don't receive a mental reply before the link breaks and Bloodhound weathers the criticism silently. "I do now. I wanted to be sure," she replies plainly. It may be a missed opportunity but there's no love lost. Truth be told the ex-Vanguard took some minor joy simply in interfacing that deeply again, the last time was no doubt... herself.

She reaches over and rests her end of the cable on Pharma's shoulder. It is his after all. "Think what you want of me. Based on the data I have the Decepticons are the right path forward. The current government has too many members out for themselves and the movement Megatron started is the best way to wash them out." The empty's explanation is factual and dry. Some of Pharma's mood and thoughts had a chance to bleed over before he unplugged.

"And they're less likely to betray me," she admits, airing her selfish impulse out in the open. "For what it's worth, I like your mind better."

Pharma smirks. Oh, he isn't so sure about the 'less likely to betray' part. "Less likely to betray you? Oh I wouldn't say -that- so fast." She hasn't met Starscream, has she? "I may be an Autobot but I do know some of them. They aren't any less likely to betray you than I am, trust me. And to be honest? Knowing what I know about you and what I know about Megatron's mantra, he -isn't- likey to approve of how you've treated your fellow disposables. You see, he likes to keep a reputation about himself that makes him look like somewhat of a hero and a sympathizer toward the indigent masses. Anyone who compromises that image, or is likely to, he tends to treat with contempt." Yeah, just ask Starscream about that one.

"Unfortuntely if you -are- planning on joining them anyway, I'm afraid I can't give you any more upgrades. You see I'm kind of on the opposite side of this conflict, and I can't be caught -helping- the enemy."

Now it's Spectrum's turn to frown. The memories of Starscream are fresh enough in her mind and without any of her own experiences to draw on... they don't paint the prettiest picture.

"Slag if I do, slag if I don't," she mutters dryly in thought. Her optics glance towards the loose data cable, already missing the ease of communication it offered. The prospect of a Decepticon betrayal was, honestly, a possibility she'd quietly been keeping out of mind.

Pharma sighs. "I guess I didn't let on everything you did." He admits. "You caught that Starscream used to be a colleage of mine, right?" The doctor sits down again, leaning back somewhat casually despite the rough surroundings. "I used to go to him for advice, and everything. He made me what I am today, in fact. But he's become so jealous of the fact that I graduated and he didn't, that he attempted to kill me. Almost did, in fact..." he shakes his head. "He even dragged a few others in." A pause. "Look, Starscream thinks the world -owes- him a huge favor, and always will think that way. So it doesn't matter who he betrays, if it'll get him what he thinks he deserves, he'll do it. He's good at sweet-talking, though. I'll give him that. It's probably how he got his -position- with Megatron in the first place."

As Pharma sits, Bloodhound takes a spot nearby and props up one knee on an adjacent barrel. After being in his head, she feels familiar enough to stay closer than the ladder she was leaning on earlier. "My plan of leveraging a common cause won't work on him," she concludes neutrally to finish his train of thought. "The Decepticons are going to attract malcontents but the Autobots have their share of corruption already and as this conflict drags on they're going to waste more resources protecting themselves. One side has to give."

"We wouldn't have to protect ourselves so hard if we didn't have to worry so much about terrorists." Pharma points out, shrugging. "Both sides will have their faults and weaknesses. But look at it this way, Bloodhound. -My- side is the side that is already offering to give you the upgrades you want if you swear your oaths of loyalty and enlist. I don't know if the Decepticons have already done as much for you or not, but given your current lack of military hardware or capability to fight in their petty gladiator fights--I doubt it."

Having recently had the full breadth of the empty's memories in view, the doubt is well founded. "I already enlisted - \*twice\*. You know how well that worked out for me," Bloodhound answers, mostly to vent her rising frustration at the difficult choice before her that had formerly been a simple plan. Some of the old hound was bound to return eventually.

Pharma sighs. "Well, it is your decision, ultimately." He's honestly fine with either. She's useful to him either way, given that he has, unbeknownst to her, turned her into a inadvertant spy.

Bloodhound raises a hand to her temple and the pump in her chest, freshly fixed and barely audible now, takes on some of its former volume as she tries to reconcile the conflicting paths in her head. The pump hums at length as the empty turns inwards.

Abruptly the pump drops back to its normal tone and one optic turns to Pharma. "What's your plan for dealing with Autobots who are a threat to progress?"

Pharma shrugs. "It wouldn't be my decision. But generally those who are insubordinate or unproductive are disciplined appropriately. Betrayal warrants more serious punishment, obviously, but...that isn't exactly my call. I'm a medic, after all." He stands up again. "Well Bloodhound, I do have work to get to. But you know how to contact me should you decide to join me. However if you do join the Decepticons, don't expect me to make any special exceptions for you should we ever cross paths again."

"Of course," the femme agrees as she nods. "If that happens, I hope we don't. It would be... wasteful."

Her hand drops and Bloodhound offers Pharma an honest but weary smile. "Thank you for the visit. I needed your perspective... now I need time. I'll let you know my decision by radio, whichever it is."

  "Right. Best of luck." Pharma nods and takes his leave then, climbing out of the hidden basement and back out onto the streets.