Nyon Alley Adventures: Part One

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++ Nyon ++

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++ Nyon ++

Blast Off arrives in Nyon on a cold, clear night under a sea of stars -and the cover of darkness. He's here for another one of his deliveries, courtesy of Swindle, to the rebels of that city- "Team Trouble" to be precise. The shuttle arrives on time, and at the unloading bay, then waits for his cargo to be unloaded. Not a word is spoken that doesn't have to be. The Combaticon has always been rather aloof- but right now he seems as distant as those stars in the sky. Everything is rote. There is no reaction, even to workers trundling up and down his cargo bay.

For Blast Off just recently got out of prison. He was tricked, captured, tortured, and nearly had his spark extracted- saved by the last moment by Starscream, the other Combaticons, and the Decepticons. And now he wears the Decepticon badge. Well, not here, not outside Kaon, here he keeps it hidden. But he is a Decepticon now. A soldier. And maybe that's for the best. He can focus on that- he KNOWS that- and it can keep him from thinking about anything else. Thinking of what happened to him, every confusing thought and action, the things he learned when he got back, and how... how \*cold\* and blank he feels now. His defenses were all shattered, and... it's left him numb. Withdrawn inside himself. If he can't keep the world away physically, he'll keep distance inside.

Someone has to be the lookout. It's a long, boring, lonely job, which, to Shiftlock, is the best kind right now. She's feeling pretty cold, withdrawn and empty herself. She barely wants to move these days, and all her outbursts are either anger or inappropriate desire. All of these symptoms, when taken together, are a clear indication of residual trauma and shock.

She doesn't even realize who that shuttle is, not at first, as she watches the unloading in progress, preparing to radio ahead to the team, but after a few minutes it dawns on her.

Her optics widen, and ducking down behind the edge of a rooftop to stay out of sight, she tentatively radios ahead. << Blast Off...? >>

Blast Off lies there in shuttle mode as the workers unload most of the cargo. Once or twice, someone even comes in with slighty muddy feet. At most, that garners a flat, <<Wipe your feet before coming in.>> And then he leaves it at that. He hardly even cares. It's just what he \*should\* say, so he does. It is difficult cleaning his interior, after all. A shuttle should maintain themselves properly.

And then that voice broadcasts over the radio at him. The result is a flood of emotions... if emotions were a tidal wave striking an outside window pane. It's like he watches it hit from a distance. It's close enough that he feels the vibrations, but the glass keeps him from being swept away. Hmm. Perhaps he's built a wall again after all. Just... a different one.

The emotions range from relief to ...anger, though at the moment he's not sure why that is. All he knows is Shiftlock stormed off in a huff, leaving him behind to walk straight into a trap. Then his real torment began. When he returned to the Forge, he discovered that Barricade had thrown Shiftlock out of the Decepticons for good- AND placed a kill order on her. What the SLAG? So... apparently there's some indignation mixed in there as well. It's just... it's just like he's looking at them all from afar, watching someone else experience these emotions. And last he knew, she was angry at him. He tries to think of something to say, fails, and so doesn't say anything at all.

Shiftlock takes that silence as being ignored intentionally. She knows he can pick up her signals but she also remembers his nature: Distant, uncaring, and thoroughly through with her. Her spark sinks a little more. She wishes she could goad him into hurting her, to feel repentance through suffering and pain, to hurt outside so she doesn't hurt as much inside. Now is not the time. Now is business, not personal matters. She's learning.

<< Look, you need to respond, >> she says, forcing calm and control, trying to stuff everything down and transform it into a mote so tiny it no longer exists. << Is this deal going down or not? >>

Blast Off knows all about stuffing emotions into a pocket of nothingness- he's a practiced hand, after all. But her response confuses him enough that he does finally respond. The transmitted voice is as cultured as always, but completely flat and emotionless. <<....What deal?>>

She probably shouldn't have spoken up. She's not supposed to let the Decepticons know where she is. She should have radioed ahead to the others instead of initiating contact but now it's too late to take it back. There's only damage control. << With the rebels. You're here with Swindle's packages. >>

Blast Off continues his oh-so-helpful flat, spare communication. <<Yes.>>

<< You gonna kill me after this is done? >> Shiftlock asks just as flatly back.

That causes Blast Off to blink inwardly. Wait, what? <<W- what? Why would...>> He has to think a moment. Shiftlock did actually cause a reaction there. A muted one, but now he finds he needs to continue. <<Of course not. Why would you think that I would?>>

<< Because you were hanging around the Decepticons. Because Ratbat put a bounty on my head. Take your pick, >> Shiftlock states. She's peeking over the edge of the roof like a Kilroy.

This produces the first real huff from the shuttle since his recent jailbreak. His voice is still fairly flat, but there's a trace of indignation now. << If you really think that, then why contact me? >>

<< Because I'm apparently super skilled at making stupid mistakes, >> Shiftlock retorts with a faint whiff of self-depreciating humor. << It's my outlier ability: Make the worst possible choice at any given intersection of options. >> She vents audibly. << I'm the lookout here for the rebel cell. I contacted you because that's my job right now and it didn't register to me immediately who you are. Sorry. >>

<<Ah. I see.>> There's a long silence as the rest of the cargo gets unloaded, and empty crates get put back in place. Blast Off isn't sure what to say, or even what to think right now. That swirl of emotions continues pounding against the window pane, and he spends some time just watching that mentally- pondering what it means but not feeling the gumption to try and find out- or get closer to it. Eventually, though, he finds himself asking, <<So you are working with the rebels now? I... heard you were kicked out from the Decepticons. I... heard Barricade issued a... kill order on you.>>

That breaks Shiftlock a little more. That wound had barely started to scab and now it's burst open. << ... yeah, >> she says, drained and remorseful.

The cargo bay is empty now, and Blast Off receives the all-clear signal. He starts up his in-flight systems as he thinks about this. The shuttle is pretty broken right now himself, and it's hard to respond well to others when you're lost within yourself to begin with. Still, he hears the anguish in her voice. That part of him that wanted to be there for her once flickers to life briefly. << I know you are... angry at me, but... I will not tell Barricade, or the Decepticons, where you are. >>

<< ... Angry at you? >> Shiftlock's confused. << I'm not angry at you at all. I thought you were ... you were done with me. Disgusted by me, since all I ever did was hurt you. >>

And now the shuttle is confused, too. He mulls that over for a moment as his flight systems come fully online. He could fly off now and simply be done with it, leaving it all behind. Part of him would like to. What he faces here is... difficult. People are difficult.

Instead, he radios back, << You left... you seemed angry. I...>> He pauses, trying to get his processor to work and envelop all of this properly. Sometimes he still thinks he's trapped in one of Feint's hallucinations. << Done with you? Disgusted... No, I... that's not true. I...>> Another pause. << .... Where are you?>>

<< Across the way, rooftop. I don't think I can go over there safely, I know you're not killing me right now but that's no guarantee the rest of them won't. I kind of have to stay hidden right now, >> Shiftlock explains. << ... I was angry because you embarassed me, but I suppose... I had it coming. I was jealous, too... and hating myself for it. >>

Blast Off listens to this, frowning inwardly. Embarrassed her? How? He thinks back to the last time he saw her and... hmm. The main embarrassment he remembers is getting pinned underneath a giggling Shiftlock. Somehow... that isn't a pleasant memory anymore, but it's not Shiftlock's fault, it's Feint's. And jealous? What's that about? The inward frown continues. At this point, he'd like to actually \*see\* her, know it's really her and this isn't just another trick pulled by Shutterfly- or Feint- or someone else. Maybe if he can look her in the optics he'll know if she's full of lies and deception just like all the others. << I could meet you somewhere. >>

<< ... All right. Just... if you're gonna kill me, make it fast, okay? >> Shiftlock replies, moving out of sight. She radios coordinates ahead.

Blast Off sighs a little inwardly at that, too, but in this day and age, perhaps that distrust is warranted. He doesn't reply- he's not sure what to say anyway. But he does take the coordinates, flying off towards them- instead of back to Kaon. He arrives there quickly, transforming to root mode and looking around. He's a little wary, too. He doesn't \*think\* Shiftlock would betray him. She's been one of the very few people he trusts, in fact. But he wants to see her, look her in the optic. And if she's working with others, those others might not be as trustworthy.

He stands at the location, waiting for her to appear. He keeps a wary optic on the rooftops in case someone is lurking up \*there\* too.

Shift comes out of the alley, staying in the shadows. There's nothing boisterous or joyous in her demeanor now - she's beaten down, broken, and some how ... /less/. The lighted lines along her body mark her presence in the dark but she seems hesitant to step out any further.

"... you gonna do it?" she asks, voice quavering, as if she's preparing herself for the end.

Upon spotting the femme, Blast Off experiences a little bit of relief at the sight. It IS her- this isn't yet another trick. Not so far, at least. He notices how beaten down she seems, and has to wonder exactly \*what\* the slag happened between the last time he saw her and now. Then again, he's had his own traumas to deal with as well. She may notice he seems somehow even more distant that usual. There are freshly repaired cuts on his chest- though his rocket feet have finally been repaired. They are, in fact, the only thing that really looks polished and new about him anymore. His demeanor is dampened, even for him. Both individuals have been beaten down by life lately, and both show it. However, he still keeps that sense of dignity- and his head remains up.

At her question, he simply stares. Then, slowly, there's a faintly nonplussed expression, followed by that same flat voice touched with a trace of annoyance at even being asked that. "Of course not. What do you take me for? Drift?"

She flinches back at even the -hint- of Blast Off's annoyance. Shiftlock steps a little further back into the alley, and the light of her optics turns downwards, indicating where she's looking. It's not at his face. "..." She can't speak, not for a few seconds anyways. Her brain module claws at her body to speak, to act, to do something, but it might as well be disconnected from her thoughts, a lump of dead lead weight.

Finally it relents and gives her permission to speak. "...You tried to kill me once before. It was your job."

Blast Off looks at Shiftlock, confused by her silence and shyness. She is not acting like herself at all. It's actually rather... sad. Not that the shuttle knows what to do about that right now. He does know how to respond to her words, though. It brings out the longest string of words he's said since he was freed. "I thought you didn't remember any of that. That was also a long time ago. And then I \*saved\* you when I could have easily killed you, and was supposed to, and then you... well, you helped me. And then ...you helped me again. And then we went on... well, we went to that Coffee shop and... Drift and Quantum \*ruined\* all that and then I... I learned you were \*young\*. Very young. And you were mad at me. And..."

He stops and blinks, feeling... is it a bit hurt by her distrust now? "All I have ever done since we became... allies... is to attempt to treat you with... some respect. Not that I think you ever... noticed. Or cared."

Shiftlock is crushed by the weight of those pitiless words, dropping to her knees.

Soft sounds of choked sobs bounce against the walls.

".... I wish you'd kill me!" she gasps. "I wish you'd punish me for everything I did wrong!"

Blast Off is most definitely NOT sure how to respond to \*that\*. He just stares at her in complete and utter confusion now. "...Why?"

".... all I ever did was hurt people. Everything I did, every thing I tried, all the good I tried to do, all the kindness and joy I tried give just turned around and became pain and ashes!" Shiftlock cries. "I can't do anything, I can't help anything, I can't protect anyone, I'm just -- I'm just refuse!"

Blast Off's first response is a bitter one. "Welcome to life..." He mutters sourly, and crosses his arms to look away. But as she keeps sobbing, and then calls herself \*refuse\*, the shuttleformer blinks and turns to look at her again. There's a long stare at that, then he turns to place a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I think I see why you never appreciated being shown respect." He drops down his hand to look at her. "You have none for yourself."

"Though \*why\* that is, I do not know. You ... helped me when I was injured. You..." He stops and blinks. Hmm. Well, or was that was Mercury? It's so confusing, he doesn't really know. "Well... or maybe that was Mercury. Do you blame yourself for things you did while you were her? Give yourself any credit for them? Or... well, she was you? Or..." Again, confusing. If it's confusing to him, though, he imagines it must be even more confusing to her.

"... almost two hundred years, Blast Off. Two hundred years, she wore my body, used my voice, made my decisions, took my name. I was a prisoner in my own body, like a spark wrapped up in a nurturing vat," Shiftlock explains. "But even when she had control it wasn't so bad. She was always there in my mind, comforting me, encouraging me. She knew we were trapped together and she made the best of it. She carried me along and got us through all the danger. She protected me....."

It dawns on Shiftlock and stabs her more than a million white hot blades. "... she loved me. And... and now she's gone. Now I'm empty and she's not there anymore and I don't know what to do without her guiding me -- I feel like... like... old paint peeled off and left behind!"

Blast Off listens to her quietly, violet optics shining from the front of the dark alleyway. He nods slowly. "I can ... understand that. Like I said to you once before, I believe that was a loss... and it is logical that you would be in mourning. You might well feel cast adrift. And... you were." He takes a moment to glance upwards, towards the sky filled with stars shining high above. "I have never experienced anything like that, but I know... what forced seperation is like. I was seperated from my team for a long time. I'm still seperated from the stars... and from Combatron." Of course, he was seperated from his body, too, and almost was just a few cycles before \*again\*... but he's not going to mention that.

Then he looks at her. "And since that day you've... done what exactly? Made a few mistakes? Stumbled and fell? Don't you think most people do that? Especially when they are new- when they're learning? You're only 200 years old. You are \*going\* to make mistakes. But speaking of that... was helping me find a place to stay a mistake, then? That was \*after\* Mercury. Was the way you handled Drift during our failed... well, that night at the Coffee Shop.... how was that a failure? You lived. You were... rather impressive, given the circumstances... I thought, at least."

Then his optic ridges furrow down some. "And now you... what? Want to throw it all away? Think you deserve to die? To be punished? What have you ever really done that is so terribly, truly awful to deserve that...finality? I can't think of a thing."

"I thought that if I gave out of myself to those that need it, it would help them. Instead, now I have mechs that feel betrayed. I never wanted to hurt anyone, I didn't think it would hurt anyone, but when I look at their faces, I... I see that I hurt them. I did exactly what I swore to myself I'd never do," Shiftlock laments. "How do I fix that? How do I take it all back? I don't regret giving comfort and affection to mechs that seemed to need it the most, but... I guess I didn't know the rules. Mercury didn't tell me it was wrong. She was connected to her entire colony, giving them all strength and love and compassion. ... I didn't know that doesn't work here."

That causes Blast Off to have to think, for it sends in a flood of emotions again pounding on that window pane. The fact is, HE feels a little hurt and betrayed by her, and he's not even sure why. The flood of emotions is not welcome, and he shuts it down, crossing his arms and looking away. "I... I don't know."

"Then that's why you should kill me," Shiftlock states with resolve. "It's justice."

Blast Off looks at her again, totally nonplussed. "Fine. I'll transform and bring you back to the Decepticons. Maybe Motormaster- that's a nice fellow. And he can do all sorts of unspeakable things to you, then tear you apart, limb from limb. That would be justice, right?" His voice carries a trace of sarcasm now.

Truth be told that scares the shell out of her. She flinches, panting a little in fear of the thought of it, but she tries to steel herself to her fate. Be brave, Shiftlock! You can at least do that, right? ".... y-yes."

Blast Off considers THAT response a moment, then decides to just \*go\* with this. He has a point he suddenly wants to make. He takes a step towards her, optics narrowed. "Of course, we'll expect you to show \*full\* repentance Shiftlock. They will want you to \*beg\* and \*plead\* for their forgiveness. You better be prepared to grovel- to get down on your /knees/." He moves towards her, coldly pointing to her armor plates. "And this? You might want to loosen those up before we get there... I expect he'll tear them off you before he's done. He'll be stripping you down to \*nothing\*, after all. You deserve \*nothing\* less."

He takes another step, getting dangerously close this time. His violet optics shine coldly into hers. A hand drifts down, closer to her interface panel, though he doesn't touch it. His voice is ice. "You might need to loosen \*that\* up, too. You pop open that thing for so many others... I'm sure HE won't want to be left out." He adds, "After all, it's the \*least\* you can do for all your crimes, right? You wouldn't want someone like Motormaster to feel like you didn't CARE, would you?"

It's a bit more than she wants to contemplate but she's going to make it right somehow. She deserves this cruelty - at least she believes she does - and every word stings like the lash of a plasma whip. She's trying oh so hard to be brave, but a few miserable whimpers escape her lips. She's already on her knees and she keeps her head bowed, hands on the ground in front of her.

Blast Off gets closer and her transformation plates lift and angle, grounder body language for fear and anticipation; a few flutter like the wings of a nervous bird, her t-cog clenched up, whining at her to transform and flee. She commands it by will alone to stay in place.

"Y-yes, sir," she stammers. The words escape her lips and fly away before her mind has time to process and understand what she's agreeing to.

And yet, she's nothing but obedient to all this. No pride, no rebellion, no fight. A broken bird indeed.

Blast Off stares at that, and her response... and whatever he's thinking he keeps to himself. He leans in to whisper, "Spoken like an obedient piece of refuse. And that's how he'll treat you. Motormaster, or whoever gets their hands on you, will make an example of you. He'll strip you down, peel your circuits one by one, do whatever the slag he likes with you. He'll expose you for everyone to see and violate everything you are, and once he's taken \*everything\* from you... he'll dispose of you."

Blast Off's tone is complete ice- it's even making the subzero cold of space seem warm and friendly. "Your death won't be slow, either. No, I imagine ALL of this will take time. He'll need to make an example of you, after all. But you deserve this, right? This is what you really want?" He lifts himself up slightly to tap his chin. "Of course... I suppose Rumble may have to witness this. So will I. We'll get to watch the life get choked out of you... slowly. It might break that stupid little Miner to see you die, but... hey, you deserve this, right?" He looks around. "I imagine you might even have friends here who would miss you when you're gone, too, but.... hey, that's not important anyway. The only thing that matters is being punished for your sins."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Shiftlock -screams- at Blast Off. "Are you trying to make me go crazy?! No matter what I do someone gets hurt and no matter what I choose it's always wrong!!"

Blast Off looks down at her, optics burning. "I /want/ to hear something that actually makes \*sense\* from you." He brings his head down to hers again. "Are you REALLY so ready to throw your life away? To meekly give it over to someone who would do THAT to you? Do you really think someone like that would actually CARE? That sacrificing yourself to them would somehow absolve you of these supposed sins of yours and make everything BETTER? Or even somehow make things RIGHT or make anyone you think you hurt feel better?"

Blast Off crouches down, staring her optic to optic now. "If you gave yourself to someone like that, they would use you, abuse you, and throw you away like a worthless toy. And forget you ever even /lived/ the next moment. And it would accomplish \*nothing\*. Someone like that? He'd laugh- then go off to find his next victim. There would be no justice, only cruelty. Have you ever tortured someone, Shiftlock? Have you ever tormented someone simply for your own amusement- just because you /can/? Have you ever killed someone- watched the light snuffed from their optics?" There's a sudden wince as Blast off recalls a far too recent memory, then he shakes it from his head.

"What's YOUR great crime, Shiftlock? Hurting someone's /feelings/? I am a soldier. I've seen the worst of Cyberton on the battlefield. I've seen cruelty. I've witnessed crimes. I..." There's another brief pause, and he adds more quietly, "I've probably participated in a few. And there is \*nothing\* that you have ever done that could compare to the viciousness I have seen. Or... experienced. Your "unforgiveable crimes"... are only in your head."

"...." Shiftlock is trying to process all this, trying think it through. Her own experiences are so limited - only a month or so without someone else making decisions for her, so she's still wobbly on those brand new mental legs.

"I... I've never tortured anyone, no. Not on purpose. I have ... memories of things that Ratbat made us do." Now we're getting somewhere. "He made us do terrible things, Blast Off. He made us do them and then tried to force us to forget, but it didn't work. Rung... Rung accidentally made us remember."

She looks down. "That's why I swore that once I was in control I'd never hurt anyone. I'd only try to love them and make them happy. I wouldn't do the same things we were forced to do while merged."

Blast Off finally relaxes just a little, leaning back with a sigh and looking up again. "What happened when you were merged and forced to work for Ratbat...is unfortunate. I imagine you \*did\* do some rather... questionable things then. But not of your own will. The one who is to blame for that is Ratbat, not you."

His gaze returns to Shiftlock. "Have you made mistakes? Of course you have. So has everyone. You've hurt people- unintentionally. But... well..." He blinks and tries to think how to put this. Motivational speeches are not his thing. But he tries... she seems to need it, and it lets him forget his own troubles for at least a time. "You actually feel remorse for that, right?" She probably feels far more remorse than he would in the same circumstances. "Someone like Motormaster would /never/ feel remorse. He would never try to "make things better" or "make up for his sins." He wouldn't even care. The fact that you do... it means you... well, you aren't half as evil, cold, or worthless as you seem to think you are. To feel remorse... is a trait only the compassionate possess." Blast off looks downward now... he's not really compassionate, or remorseful, himself. Or he doesn't think he is. But it makes no sense to him to see Shiftlock keep beating herself up for something she isn't.

"Throwing your life away... or punishing yourself isn't an answer, either." Violet optics look up at hers again. "The only way you can ever hope to make things "better"... or right, or to make those you care about happy.... is to be around and ...try. If you're dead, that's it, end of story. There's no redemption then. For you or anyone else. If you are alive, you can still try. You can do your best to pick up the pieces. But you have to have some \*respect\* for yourself first, Shiftlock... and only then, when you've found that strength inside /yourself/ can you ever hope to give it to others. Only then can you truly give \*yourself\* to others."

"I guess... I guess I'm not strong then. I'm not strong enough to help anyone," Shiftlock says less miserably. She's quieted down a little, internalizing Blast Off's words, and trying to apply them, understand them, take them into the deepest parts of her memory core. "But... how do I stop myself from causing everyone else pain? I'm not sure how to do things the -right- way. No one ever told me how that works."

Blast Off finally stands up and crosses his arms, looking up at the stars. "Do you want the truth? You /won't/. Not at first. You'll make mistakes. It's part of the process. No one's BORN perfect, Shiftlock. It's a learning process. It takes time. You need to \*give\* yourself that time. Try things. Learn things. Grow. Find out what works and what doesn't. If it doesn't work, don't do it again. Though... I won't say /that's/ always easy, either." He shakes his head. "And you were dealt a difficult hand. You didn't come online and find yourself... well, like someone like me. I was created Astro Class- High Caste, only the best all around me and available to me. Perfection all around. Thus \*I\* was able to pick that up quickly, and it's why I've always been sophisticated and knowledgeable. But even /I/ took a little time to get there."

Blast Off- snobby and conceited? PERISH THE THOUGHT.

He looks back to the femme. "You woke up... in the gutter, basically. You've had to dig yourself out of it. But YOU are not refuse. I've seen fire in your spark. There is strength there, you just have to find it. And... well... that's not a journey anyone can make for you. That's a journey you have to make yourself. You set goals- and then learn how to make them happen."

"It's... it's like target practice." Naturally, the sniper thinks of a weapons analogy. "When you buy a brand new gun, you have to go sight it in. The first time you shoot it, it won't hit the target. It may not even be close. You have to be patient, though, take your time and sight it in, adjusting bit by bit, shooting and adjusting further.... and you get closer and closer to the bullseye. And then- finally- you HIT that bullseye. But even then, your rifle may get knocked out of alignment sometimes. That just means you need to go and readjust your sights again. But it won't take as long the next time. And... so on, and so on."

Drawing her knees up to her chest and looking up and over at Blast Off like a small, defeated child, Shiftlock is paying attention to what Boff is saying. Bless his spark he is really trying, but there are things not being said that Shiftlock needs to hear if she's going to slap that necessary bandaid over her soul. The comparison to a sniper rifle goes waaay over her head. Yeah, she knows about weapons, but how is life like that?

"Thank you," she says, appreciative that someone doesn't think of her as trash. That does help, because she liked Blast Off and agonized over the damage she didn't realize she was doing to their social interactions. "I've been trying things, though, and nothing's working."

Blast Off looks to Shiftlock as she draws herself up in a ball. The shuttleformer glances back, finds an empty crate, and proceeds to sit down on it. He subconsciously mimics her, shows some solidarity with her, without actually moving \*closer\*. But he's not far, either, and he places his hands on his knee servos and thinks. His optics dim a bit. He'd like to help her, he... just isn't sure how. The shuttle had hoped he could just up and leave, but Shiftlock being one of the few people he trusts in the world makes her someone he wants to know is... safe.

Looking back up at the stars, he sighs a little. "I... don't know if I'm the one to help you with that. You desire... to help people. To... not hurt them. I am a Combaticon, a sniper, an assassin. I was Primal Vanguard. All my training ...is on how to \*hurt\* people, not help them. I'm not some... hero, Shiftlock. Or some bleeding spark. People just annoy me. However, I... I could teach you self-defense, still. How to fight for yourself or others... Otherwise, I... I don't know."

Shiftlock moves a little close to Blast Off and just leans against his legs. TOUCHING. Deal with it, shuttle. "I just don't know what is expected of me in this world. I don't know how to act around people, what all of this means. Mercury's way of thinking was very different from everyone else's. Barricade... was the only one who just wanted to help me without me doing anything for him. He never asked for anything in return, he just ... he just helped me because he said it was the right thing to do."

She trembles a bit, her voice strained with grief. "And I betrayed him! I hurt him so much that he doesn't want me around anymore! If.... if I can't make someone who was nice to me stay, if I'm so bad they want to kill me, what good am I to anyone? Do you see why I think that?"

Blast Off looks down and what is she doing, wait, she's...she's...OMP she's TOUCHING HIM. It happens slowly enough that it doesn't completely freak him out (Primus forbid she had tried to hug him, what with his recent jailhouse memories). He stiffens at the touch anyway, then looks up at the stars until his fuelpump rate returns to normal. Okay, better. Now he can relax and look back down and hear what she has to say. And... what she says is difficult.
"That... well..." He glances away. "I don't have an easy answer for that. You just... find your niche, and do it. Do it well. People are confusing. And annoying. I... don't understand why he did that. Slag, even \*I\* think that was cold. But...I don't know.

Maybe he had his reasons. Maybe he was blinded by his hatred of... who was it, Whirl? Sometimes it's hard to forgive certain things." He starts absent-mindedly picking at the ceramic tiles on the heat shield of his arm. "But if so, think of that hatred. Think of how it hurt you. That hatred probably isn't the path you want to take, then, is it? If you don't want to hurt people? Hatred... and I include /hatred for yourself/ there... only causes more, well, hurt."
The picking at his shields continues. "You think you're such a terrible person?" His picking stops and he looks down at her. "I've seen cruelty. I've seen extremes of viciousness you couldn't even comprehend. You? You wouldn't even /register/ on that scale. \*I\* would register far higher than you, in fact. You don't even know what I'm capable of, what I've already done, and yet you're so worried about hurting /my/ feelings, and other people's feelings, that you think that makes you a terrible person?" He shakes his head. "You're far too \*nice\*, if anything." Looking back to her, he adds, "For what it's worth, I don't want to kill you. Even when it was my /job/ to do so, something just... you just didn't deserve it, that's all. You still don't. I..." He glances away, "...I don't want you to die."

"You're one of the few that doesn't," Shiftlock says. Looking up, she notices him picking at himself. "... Why are you doing that?" she asks, curiously.

Blast Off blinks at that- and quickly pulls his hand away and down again, like a kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "What?" The truth is, all this talk about \*feelings\* and trying to do the right thing and trying to help Shiftlock and admitting that he \*likes\* her and doesn't want her to die and.... it's all a bit nerve-wracking. It also brings to mind past atrocities he's seen... and perhaps a few he participated in, stirring up the uneasy memories of a soldier. The hatred he experienced during his incarceration at Kolkular- the leering Pharma, the violent mental hallucinations. And finally, all that he missed when he got out of jail just now... finding Shiftlock not only gone but banned forever. Life has been just a bit... unsettled lately. "I wasn't doing anything."

Shiftlock innocently points at the marks on Blast Off's heat shielding. "You're hurting yourself."

"I wasn't!" Blast Off's hand suddenly comes up again and begins picking nervously before he even realizes he's doing it. That makes him turn his head and look down, like.../oh/. Then he looks up at her. "Well, I mean... it's just..." The picking stops but his hand remains clasping the arm, now followed by a wing elevon twitch and shifting on his seat. "I'm... not used to... talking about this... kind of thing."

Shiftlock thinks and reasons a little more, plumbing her own depths as she watches Blast Off's distress. At last, she smiles just a little bit at him, hopefully, warmly. "Then you don't have to any more. I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable."

Blast Off stops fidgeting long enough to look back at her. "I...uh..." He glances off again, bringing a hand to start scratching at the back of his helmet before he brings that down to his sides again as well. "Don't be. You're the most pleasant thing that's happened to me in... quite some time."

That makes Shiftlock smile even more. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Blast Off. It's... It's a little different for me. Mercury is a Mutacon, she's connected and interfaced to every member of her colony. It's not something so... personal, or invasive. They support each other and cheer each other up that way. So... I thought it worked like that for everyone on Cybertron."

Blast Off listens, then gets what he thinks she's saying, and blinks, turning his head to look at her with a slight shake of the head and wave of the wrist. "N-no, I didn't mean it like... like \*that\*. I ... wasn't talking about ... \*that\*." He glances off to the side and mutters, "Not that it wasn't \*nice\*, but..." He shakes his head. "No. I wasn't talking about Mercury, or the things that happened when ...she was around."
Another wing elevon twitch. "I just... meant it when I said you are one of the very few people I... trust. Which is..." He looks down the alley and says quietly, "... a pleasant change of pace. Primus knows most people /aren't/ trustworthy."

"And I trust you too," Shiftlock says with a bigger smile, cheering more. "I'd fight for you, that's why I wanted to. If nothing else, you're my friend, and I'll always be a friend to you, as long as you want me to."

Blast Off turns to look at her, and hopes to remember this particular mental image for quite some time. A soft near-smile curls on his lip plates (under the faceplate, of course) and he simply savors the moment. It makes him a little happy, and also a little sad. He's not quite sure why. Actually, maybe he is, but... no, he'd rather not think about it. Now's not the time anyway. Shiftlock needs time to... grow.
That thought leads to another, however, and the warmth cools slightly, with the cold prickle of concern lapping at the edges once more. His face tilts up, starlight luminating the browns and grays that blend so well in the dark alley. "I /hope/ that's true. I hope that the only reason you said you'd allow such cruelty to be inflicted upon you earlier is because you knew I wouldn't ever really go through with it. I'd like to \*think\* so, at least. I'm.... not sure. But- you finally fought back. It \*took\* you too long, but.... you finally fought back and screamed at me. Showed some fire. THAT is more along the lines of what I wanted to see."

"Uh... very well, then! Good! This is a good first step, Shiftlock. Anything you can do to arm yourself with knowledge can only help you in the long run. NEVER allow yourself to be a turbo-sheep. NEVER allow yourself to be lead to slaughter." He finally relaxes a bit, though he starts trying to scoot back and away from the femme's grip. "Manners and etiquette... well, there's a lot to learn. I.. I think it would help to have some sort of... setting. Somewhere to mingle, rub elbows in a relatively safe environment. Or well... actually, before we do that, perhaps some basics... It would be nice if there was..." He starts looking around and out of habit \*almost\* says wine before suddenly feeling sick to his fueltank. Ugh. After his jail experience, he's not sure he'll ever drink wine again.

Looking back to Shiftlock, He frowns slightly. "Well... a drink. I suppose straight energon fuel would work for our purposes. Perhaps some hors d'oeuvres... well, if we could find some. Probably not, not... here." He sighs a little. "Well, maybe actual food and drink aren't important. Not now. No. We can focus on the bare bone basics. We could focus for now on... on manners? On greetings and... the proper way to... relate to people." BECAUSE BLAST OFF IS AN EXPERT ON THAT SUBJECT.

"How do you... usually greet people?" He's not sure he wants to know. He continues anyway, though. "Pretend I'm a stranger you just met. How do you introduce yourself?"

"I thought I was going to go crazy because you were angry with me but you wouldn't tell me the -right- choice, just what all the wrong ones are. How am I supposed to know what to do when no one's told me the right way to do things?" Shiftlock asks simply, feeling a bit more at peace.

Blast Off blinks and looks at her, and speaks his truth. "I think... I think that's because no one \*does\* know. It's... something everyone has to figure out by themselves." Certainly that was largely his own experience. "I mean, besides etiquette, and manners, and..." His hand moves up and down as if he's chopping some order into an imaginary row. "I am a shuttle, and they told me all the things a shuttle should know. And... I'm an excellent navigator, and pilot, I know all about ...most of the known universe, and how to behave myself and present myself with the dignity and poise expected of someone of my station. And, well, the rest...." There's a flicker of confusion. Space shuttles learn etiquette, but they don't spend a lot of time socializing. They don't \*need\* it, right? Not with the lonely jobs they are expected to carry out. "I think the rest is trial and error. Which is taxing, and that's why I generally just didn't bother." That and he never seemed to do well at it himself, and he expected himself to be the best. Anything less wasn't... proper.

"So if no one knows the right way, why is there a wrong way at all?" Shiftlock asks innocently enough. Welcome to Dealing With Children, 101.

Blast Off opens his mouth and raises a finger to immediately say.... something. Then his finger just kind of... stays there, his mouth yawns open, and he realizes... that's kind of a stumper. He glances from side to side as he mentally searches for what to say, exactly. "Uh, well...." He delays a bit. The mouth closes, the finger finally comes down and he looks at her, expression sober and intent. "Because your "wrong way".... seems to lead to you being hurt or killed. I'd... I'd say the "right way" doesn't lead to lasting harm, okay? The wrong way does. Usually." This \*is\* a guy who does assassination work from time to time, after all.
"Certain ...guidelines help...society. I suppose. Like manners, and etiquette, and soaking up the knowledge of past and present. And once you do that, then... well, that's what all your tests were for. Now it's time to apply them in real life, and..." He searches again. He is so not good at this.
"Aaand.... well, trial and error. Something." He blinks, and can't help but say, "You... need to learn the rules, and I think you're still in that process. Once you learn the rules...." A rebellious little smirk plays upon his lip plates, "...Then you can break them." He looks sharply to her. "But you need to know \*what you're doing\* first. Even \*I\* didn't rebel against authority until I knew what I was rebelling against!"

"Well that's what I've been trying to say!" Shiftlock replies exasperatedly, arms in the air. "I don't have the manners and rules and etiquette and all that! Barricade gave me some history lessons and some information on the structure of the government but that was it - he said that was all the functionists required a new spark to know before they were assessed and assigned to their job!" She flops her arms into her lap. "He said it helped make us all easier to control by making us ignorant."

Blast Off almost matches her flailing. "Well I don't know!" The shuttle is feeling way out of his league with this conversation. But her talk of manners and etiquette grounds him back a bit, and he stops the hear the rest. Wait, he knows this subject. Maybe he isn't going to sound like a total plebeian here. His arms come down and he responds, "Well, yes. As a High Caste, I received more than an average education. Again, we are expected to be knowledgeable and ..."learned". But there were things they did not tell even us, things I had to learn on my own." His optics darken. "And over time, I learned \*too much\*, and it landed me in trouble."
He sniffs. "But that is neither here nor there. You should do anything you can to thwart being "easy to control" and while it may be cliched, it is also true: /knowledge is power/." He shrugs stiffly, flicking his own armor plates back as he turns to the femme. "I suppose if you ever care to learn some \*proper\* etiquette and manners, how to mingle with the upper crust- even if you don't care to stay there, then... well, I could probably help you with that, too."

The one thing that stuck out of what Blast Off said was 'you should do anything you can thwart being 'easy to control*. That made 100% sense to Shiftlock and is in no way an encouragement to her already rebellious nature except it is, Primus help you all. Knowledge is power. Learning means taking power out of the hands of others and putting it back in your own. Knowledge, therefore, is freedom.*

Shiftlock sharply snaps her focus on Blast Off and stares at him with the sort of intensity you'd expect on the face of an Inquisitor or predator focused on its prey. She places her hands on Blast Off's legs and kneels in front of him, staring up at him. "SHOW ME EVERYTHING."

Thank heavens no one's here to see that. It would look -so wrong-.

Blast Off would actually approve of that. Rebellion is good. Not being a turbo-sheep is good. That renegade side has always been there in the shuttle- that strong sense of self that bristles at being ordered around and told what to do or think. And indeed, arming yourself with knowledge is every bit as imprtant as arming yourself with weapons- even in war or other times of strife.

However, there's a moment where it's a little hard for him to concentrate on that. Specifically, when Shiftlock grabs his legs and stares up at him from rather close by. Leans in to him and then says THAT. The shuttle freezes, fuelpump rate shooting up through the roof as he stares helplessly down at her. Part of him doesn't like the close proximity, and part of him is finding he DOES. OH PRIMUS she has NO IDEA what EFFECT he's having on him with her clutching and the intensity of her face and.... No, no, that would be UNCOUTH. Ok, calm down, calm down, think other thoughts. The shuttle's mind races. Lollypops. Ah yes, lollypops. THAT finally cools the Combaticon's circuits, sending him back to reality and the task at hand. Mostly. Just.. ignore those hands grabbing his legs right now. Ahem.
His engines stutter just a bit as he begins to speak once again. "I..I..uh... Yes. Wait, what? Show you what?" He's still frozen solid. "Oh. Manners? Yes, I could... I could show you ... a lot of things. ETIQUETTE. I meant ETIQUETTE. I can show you THAT." Cough. "Um, what did you want to know?"

Shiftlock flails her arms above her head. "EVERYTHING!"

Blast Off would remind himself to breathe, if he actually did. OH the THINGS he'd LIKE to TEACH H- NO STOP THAT. \*inward slap of self\* AHEM. Gentlemech. Aristocrat. Shuttle. OKAY.

"Uh... very well, then! Good! This is a good first step, Shiftlock. Anything you can do to arm yourself with knowledge can only help you in the long run. NEVER allow yourself to be a turbo-sheep. NEVER allow yourself to be lead to slaughter." He finally relaxes a bit, though he starts trying to scoot back and away from the femme's grip. "Manners and etiquette... well, there's a lot to learn. I.. I think it would help to have some sort of... setting. Somewhere to mingle, rub elbows in a relatively safe environment. Or well... actually, before we do that, perhaps some basics... It would be nice if there was..." He starts looking around and out of habit \*almost\* says wine before suddenly feeling sick to his fueltank. Ugh. After his jail experience, he's not sure he'll ever drink wine again.

Looking back to Shiftlock, He frowns slightly. "Well... a drink. I suppose straight energon fuel would work for our purposes. Perhaps some hors d'oeuvres... well, if we could find some. Probably not, not... here." He sighs a little. "Well, maybe actual food and drink aren't important. Not now. No. We can focus on the bare bone basics. We could focus for now on... on manners? On greetings and... the proper way to... relate to people." BECAUSE BLAST OFF IS AN EXPERT ON THAT SUBJECT.
"How do you... usually greet people?" He's not sure he wants to know. He continues anyway, though. "Pretend I'm a stranger you just met. How do you introduce yourself?"

She thinks about this for a moment, face scrunching up, tapping her chin.

She then stands up and offers Blast Off her hand with a really huge grin. "Hi! My name is Shiftlock and it's nice to meet you I hope you aren't evil and here to kill me because then I'd have to beat you up!"

Best greeting -ever-.

And this is where Blast Off realizes he's got his work cut out for him. Reaaaallly got his work cut out. Hoo boy. Two black hands come up, half-flat, half-finger pointing up, as he tries to think of what to say to that. "Uh... well..." His optics glance to the side, then back. "Okay. That's ... uh... that's... a start. Kind of. Let's start with the BASIC basics. Simpler, Shiftlock. Try simpler. Remember that brevity is the soul of wit." One hand starts pointing upwards, emphasizing the lesson. "The first part's good. The rest might... might shock more... sensitive sparks. People expect something more along the lines of... "Hi, my name is Shiftlock, it is a pleasure to meet you". You might shake their hand if you wish, or give them a polite nod. And perhaps, after you say that, to mention how... how nice the weather is. It's a lovely day, isn't it? Nice day for a flight. Ah... or drive, in your case."

There's a pause. "I.. I would leave it at that. I think... I think the part about "I hope you aren't here to kill me or... or I hope you aren't evil or I'll need to punch your face in"... might \*possibly\* be frowned upon in polite society." Just possibly. The hands come down and he tilts his head at her. "Most people won't be trying to kill you. And the ones that \*are\*... well, they're not going to reveal themselves so easily. In fact, sometimes your worst enemies... may be the nicest of them all. And that's simply because they want to get close- and get you to drop your guard."

"Sooo... just 'Hi my name is Shiftlock?'" the fembot asks, tapping her chin and thinking about it. "It seems so ... boring. No energy. No excitement." She sighs and shrugs. "Well, fine, if that's how it has to be, I guess not everyone is interesting or enthusiastic about getting to know people." And we know that Shiftlock is VERY ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT KNOWING PEOPLE. \*cough\*

Blast Off nods his head. "Yes. Boring is fine... at first. Try to be calm, reserved." Of course, he's speaking of what HE would do. "It gives you time to study and assess the situation. Judge if the people around you might possibly be trustworthy, or not. And no... not everyone is interesting. Nor does everyone want to "get to know people". Some of us... generally don't like people getting in our faces... or our business. A polite person gives some... space, some time to get a sense of the situation. "Energy"... can come later."

Shiftlock rubs her chin, thinking about this. "I think you have good advice, Blast Off. I think this is worth holding onto. But!" She suddenly stops, moving that hand away from her chin and using it to point upwards, "I need more knowledge and just greeting people isn't going to cut it. You've got me thinking, and I think I might need your help." Standing fully upright, arms folded across her chest, she smirks in an every so 'Hot Rod'-esque fashion. Help, he's rubbing off on her! "I want to get access to the files on the experiment performed on me."

Blast Off immediately states with full confidence, "Well, of course I do..." \*cough\* "But yes, go on..." He tilts his head to follow her as she stands up now (thereby relieving him of a little of that oh-too-close stress). Thinking is good. Needing his help... is... probably good. Now his head tilts slightly sideways, too. Hmm. "...Where are those files?"

"I don't know. I assume Ratbat has them somewhere as he's the one who owned me and commissioned the experiment," Shiftlock states.

Blast Off looks up at her. Oh great. This means that right after he finally \*escaped\* the Senate's clutches... she might be asking him to go right into the HEART of their territory to help her. Part of him is thinking oh slaaaag no. He never wants to meet with anyone named "Pharma" or "Feint" ever, ever again. EVER. There's a brief moment his optics might even flicker with alarm. A wing elevon twitches at the thought. "I... I see." He looks away, down the alley.

Then... he realizes what he's doing. Is this... is this fear? He's a Combaticon. Is he going to live his life cowering in the shadows now? That doesn't settle well with him, either, so he turns to look at her once more. "You'd.. want to break into his offices, then?"

"Well I'd better find out where that information IS first," Shiftlock says. "I don't want to run past a firing squad just to find out I went to the wrong building." At least in that respect, they're in agreement. "So I'll think about it. Just, if you ever happen to hear anything about secret experimentation files or anything, can you tell me about them please? I'll do it on my own so that you don't get trapped."

Blast Off nods approvingly. "Yes... good! That is \*thinking\* something through before just running in blind. Very good. And yes, I will keep my audials alert for anything." Her last comment causes him to pause, head slowly leaning up and back. He wonders what she's heard. The last time they talked was just \*before\* he went off and GOT trapped.

That memory casts a dark cloud over him, and he crosses his arms. Funny, that whole experience hasn't even come up yet. Much less what happened /later/. Not that he has any desire to bring it up, either. If she doesn't know he was imprisoned again.... maybe that's for the best anyway. He has a feeling she'd feel guilty about THAT, too, and she's JUST now decided not to sacrifice herself to torture because she's "such a bad person". No, better off NOT bringing that up.

The shuttle glances off, then his optic ridges furrow down. Still- he is no coward, no helpless babe. SHE is far more the helpless babe, and she's worried about \*him\* getting trapped? "I can take care of myself, Shiftlock. I am a Combaticon warrior. If you need my help, you only need ask."

"Well, I'm trying to think of both of our well-beings. I'm all right, I can take getting killed, I mean, it's going to happen to everyone eventually right? Nothing we can do about it when our ticket is finally punched. Just try to enjoy life until it's over. I'd much rather work to make sure everyone else is happy and safe before myself," Shiftlock beams. Yep, bad mood over, thinking has begun, and boy does she ever need it.

"I'm gonna go tell the others you're here with the goods, so you stay there, all right? Thanks for talking to me Blast Off. You're the best shuttle ever."

Blast Off listens to that... and it reminds him of the final point he needs to make. Or at least TRY to. He nods, smiling slightly at being "the best shuttle ever" (he knows) then a finger of one hand comes up again. "Before you do, Shiftlock... One final thing." The shuttleformer stands up, violet optics gleaming as he looks down at the femme. "You don't want... to hurt my feelings, correct?" He takes a step closer to her. "...You like me, right?"

Shiftlock beams up at him. "Blast Off, I -never- wanted to hurt your feelings, and I more than like you, I -love- you!" Perhaps not in that 'conjunx endura-walk-down-the-aisle' way, but it's very much there. "Until you proved yourself to be some kind of horrible awful murder-monster, I'd fight at your side and come to your rescue and try to help you whenever you needed it and believe you when you say you're telling me the truth. I mean, if that isn't showing love for someone, what is?"

Hearing her say "I love you" is surprisingly hard for the shuttle, and Blast Off falters for a moment there. He wasn't quite expecting to react to that, but there was something there, but... but no matter. He shoves that aside, like so many things. At least he has practice at denial. There's a cycle of ventilation systems before he continues. "There is one thing more. One... very important thing." His intense look returns and his gaze bores into hers. "Promise me something. /Promise me/ you will never, ever throw your life away because you believe you are \*worthless\*... or disposable... or deserve to suffer and die. Promise me that, and then... then I'll /believe you/. You don't want to hurt my feelings? Promise me one thing- NEVER throw your life away like it's a piece of trash."

He looks up to the stars, still shining down on them from above. "I often look up at the stars, you know. I... I wish I could fly among them again, but... just knowing they are still there, and I can see them, even if it's from a distance.... it ... it matters. It brings... some peace to me." He looks to Shiftlock. "You're... a star, too. And if your light stopped shining, it would... it would make the sky that much more empty."

"I won't throw my life away uselessly. I promise. I'll fight to stay alive as hard as I can." Shiftlock means that very much. "I guess what I was trying to say, though, is that I care enough about you, about people like Rumble and Hot Rod and even Drift, that if it was either you guys or me, I'd choose you guys. I guess I'm too scared to live with the thought that I might have been selfish in choosing my own survival over someone else. I'd rather die knowing that while my loss might be painful, I did it because I cared enough about all of you to see you live."

Blast Off has to keep himself from picking at his heatshields again, since that last admission was rather... sentimental. Not exactly what the "hardened combat warrior" is used to saying. He deliberately puts his hands to his side, then looks up at the stars again. He glances to her as she makes her promise, and the shuttleformer feels a sense of relief. It's good to hear. The rest... he listens to, though he may not quite understand it all. But then again, he's not the selfless sort. He is capable of caring, possibly even capable of self-sacrifice- but only of select people important to him.

The Combaticon nods, at least understanding enough of it to say, "Good. I am glad to hear it. That's... growth, Shiftlock. And as for sacrificing yourself for others... well, I won't tell you that's right or wrong. Some people choose to give their lives for a cause, or for another person. That... well, that's their choice, I suppose. But that choice is still a different one than throwing one's life away like it's trash. Because that... that has no meaning, in the end." He looks to her. "It has no... self-respect. And THAT is what I wish for you to see- to have in yourself."

Shiftlock reaches over and puts a hand on Blast Off's. "Don't pick yourself. You don't want me to hurt myself, I don't want you to hurt yourself. Respect yourself enough to keep your shield plates on - and I'll respect myself enough not to throw myself away. I'll work on my problem if you work on yours. Deal?"

Blast Off freezes when she does that, then nervously flicks his hand away, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. Then he realizes that's just more nervous reflexes, and the hand comes down to fold upon the other so it looks like he's doing something other than avoid her touch. Really, Shiftlock, if you thought he was touchy about \*touch\* before, wait until someone tries to hug him. He works to shove the memories of Feint out of his mind and coughs, looking away.

"I... uh, yes. Yes. ...Agreed. It's... it's a matter of pride, after all. They can take everything else away from you- but they cannot take your pride. Your dignity. Never let them take... that." He frowns under the faceplate, and hopes... HOPES... that he kept that during his ordeal. He... tried.

Primus knows he \*tried\*.

Shiftlock frowns, but not because Blast Off has offended her. She's noticing something here. "You seem... twitchier than I remember. Are you all right? Did... did something happen to you?" UH OH, SHE NOTICED.

Blast Off looks pointedly away, quickly replying with the defensive kind of "Nothing." that often indicates \*something\*.

Shiftlock smirks. "I don't believe that, but... I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. Which means talking about something you may not want to, but if you ever do, I'll be willing to listen."

Blast Off glances through the side of his optics to the femme. He... appreciates her leaving him alone. The shuttleformer debates telling her briefly, but... for one, his preferred way of dealing with trauma is to pretend IT NEVER HAPPENED. Denial is his friend. This will work, surely. Also... Shiftlock has finally made some progress, it seems, and telling her that when she left him he walked right into a trap and his worst nightmares began... might bring her guilt and self-destructive tendencies right back and.... no, now's not the time. He finally just gives her a silent nod.

"All right then, the team's going to get worried if I don't check in. I'll let them know you're here with the supplies Blast Off. Good to see you again, and thank you from the bottom of my spark." Shiftlock gives him one last cheerful look before turning to dash out of the alley.

Blast Off nods and watches her go. His... distant star. His gaze remains on the last spot he saw her as she disappears, then finally tilts up towards the stars in the sky... and for a moment, at least, he soars among them once again.