Ask Scattorshot

"....oh no....not again....ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

⚡️;; It wasn’t the sort of formal setting that Thundercracker had anticipated; Autobots were clean and proper mechs, weren’t they? As the door slid aside and he took a hesitant step forward, he noticed quite a bit more clutter than even he liked at his workstations. Datapads and pieces of servers strewn about the space, old monitors flicking text across them at blinding speeds, and just barely enough room for extra seating. To him, it felt more like a workshop than the main office space for Cybertron’s most technical mind next to Primus himself.

     Not that he was one to judge, but he absolutely was. 

     “That’s alright,” he replied, gingerly shaking the mech’s servo before taking the offered seat. He had seen this mech in action on a number of occasions in this particular form, and if something had managed to take him out, then it wasn’t something he was about to prod into. “It’s uh, nice ta formally meet you, though.”

     His digits drummed against the datapad in his servos almost too anxiously, but Thundercracker fought to maintain a cool, casual nature; he wasn’t quite sure what Scattorshot himself preferred, so he thought it best to stay relaxed. “Well… gettin’ started, then. Right. As you know, Ah’m Thundercracker–former scout and technical infiltration specialist. Which, uh, Ah sorta guess is a fancier term fer “Hacker,” heh. But, Ah’m lookin’ ta start fresh in life, an’ Ah figured that applyin’ the skills Ah have fer the greater good would probably be a good place ta start, y’know? Ah was referred to yer postin’ for a security operations post by Prowl, an’ after reviewin’ what you all had up there, Ah think Ah’d be a good fit for it. …If it’s allowed, anyhow.”

     Oh, he was bad at this. Very, very bad.

Controlled-Chaos would be how Scattorshot would describe his workplace. Everything had a place and eventually it would end up where it belonged...unfortunately Scattorshot always found other things that needed fixing and sometimes fixing something meant making a bigger mess first. 

It wasn’t exactly what he preferred but it’s what he was used to. Unfortunately he could tell the seeker didn’t share the sentiment. He didn’t want to make Thundercracker more nervous by drawing attention to it, but he certainly hoped it didn’t distract the other too much.

He listened for a moment as Thundercracker introduced himself. He flinched slightly as his interviewee described himself as a ‘hacker’. No one liked Hackers much, especially Scattorshot, as it was always his systems getting broken. However as Thundercracker finished speaking he could honestly say he was more interested in him now than before.

Scattorshot nodded and spoke “I read your recommendation.” He picked up the copy of the recommendation that he was sent and briefly scanned it. It didn’t say much about an ‘infiltration specialty’ but it did have some small excerpts about technical skill.

“Hm. That means you know more than just the basics, which is good.” Still, he couldn’t say Thundercracker was in the clear yet.

TAGGED BY: @sparkofcombination​

TAGGING:  YOU. Have a good time.

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?  

“Scattorshot”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?  

“Ya caught me...It’s actually Scattorshot....”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU’RE CALLED THAT?

“Probably because it’s the name I emerged with, but that’s just a guess.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

“Heh, taken. No regrets about it either.”

5. WHAT ARE YOUR POWERS AND ABILITIES?

“Well...I mean I have these missile launchers that can become bigger missile launchers. I dunno if that’s a power, but that’s certainly an ability. I also do a little bit of tinkerin’ with computers. Okay a lot of tinkerin’...and it’s less tinkerin’ and more kinda overhaulin’ everythin’ on them.

6. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?

“Wow you’re the first one to guess I got eyes under this visor! They’re green.” He thinks.

7. HAVE YOU EVER DYED YOUR HAIR?

“My helm used ta be blue before my upgrade. Does that count?”

8. DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

“Just Red Alert.”

9. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?

Yeah for a while I had a pet scrapmetal named Mex...haven’t seen him in a while....I haven’t heard anything on the news about him either though so there’s that.”

10. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

“Water.”

11. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES OR ACTIVITIES YOU DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?

“I like ta play video games. I used ta help program and make them before the war. I find it relaxes me when I need to.”

12. HAVE YOU EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

“...Yeah...let’s not talk about that...”

13. HAVE YOU EVER… KILLED ANYONE?

“I said let’s not talk about it...”

14. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

“Animal? Erm...Cybertronian?”

15. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS.

“Well I don’t recharge as often as I should. Or...refuel..and I kinda overwork myself. Whoops...”

16. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE?

“Can’t say there’s anyone more influential for me than a Prime. Specifically speaking Optimus Prime and Vector Prime. Those two really made an impression on me, and I can’t even begin ta tell ya all they’ve taught me.”

17. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL?

‘Heheh. Well I dunno. Cybertronians don’t have the same rules as humans when it comes to this.”

18. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

“I used to a long time ago, back in Altihex. Taught me all I knew about computers and other tech, but it was so long ago I can’t remember it’s name”

19. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS SOMEDAY?

“I don’t think Cybertronians can reproduce either. But it would be nice ta settle down with a certain someone.”

20. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANS?

“Do you mean....like internal fans that regulate body temperature, or are you talkin’ fans that sit on a desk? ‘Cause I got a few of both.” 

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

“Water.”

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

“Like organic coverings? Hm...Red kinda likes the stuff, so I think if I had ta wear something, probably a nice hat.” 

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

“Sure do! Red’s probably the best thing ta happen to me.”

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU?

“Well I’m....I’m....Uh....I don’t know...”

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

“I dunno...hm...maybe ten or fifteen?” He’s being generous with his numbers.

26. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?

“It’s a good number.”

27. FAVORITE DRINK?

“I don’t drink much other than regular energon, but I do like sweetened warm energon sometimes”

29. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE?

“Altihex before the war. Most beautiful place in the universe. It’s...not the same anymore as you’d imagine. The closest second is Earth. Talk about a beautiful place.”

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE?

“Lots of people interest me. Which quality specifically”

31. WHAT’S YOUR DICK SIZE?

“What’s my what size?!”

32. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

“I think I’d rather go surfing on lava.”

33. WHAT’S YOUR ‘TYPE’?

“The serifs family is pretty interestin’ if ya ask me.”

34. ANY FETISHES?

“Well that’s rather forward of you.”

35. TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

Smirking. “C’mon now that’s a secret best left behind closed doors” It’s both. That means it’s both.

36. CAMPING, OR INDOORS?

“Well...I guess that depends on when and where and what I’m doing. But probably indoors. No chance of rain, or cold inside” 

37. ARE YOU WAITING FOR THIS INTERVIEW TO BE OVER?

☀️ ;; “So, you… well then.” Rodimus had not been introduced to many of those that Optimus had surrounded himself with in command, and to meet one of the inner circle in such an… awkward fashion. A smooth, cool expression washed over his faceplates and, casually, he offered the other his servo. “Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Rodimus Prime, former–now restored–leader of the Autobots, at your service. Now… what is it that you’ve got here?”

☀️ ;; For a moment, the Prime simply stared at his newest charge; he had never seen this mech before, nor heard of him. Pits. “Optimus has been removed,” he said carefully, “and I have stepped back into my role as Prime to take care of things. I thought word had already spread throughout the troops. …What is your rank, Scattorshot?”

⚡️;; While open and brightly lit, Thundercracker could not help but feel incredibly uncomfortable and claustrophobic in the grand waiting area. His digits flexed around the datapad that contained examples of his code cracking, but his processes could not focus on the particulars of his skils and experience; right now, he was simply worried for his future. After so many weeks of searching, he had been denied for nearly every position he had applied to. From menial tasks such as cleaning and courier routes to even higher-profile jobs with private firms, the proverbial door had been slammed in his face nearly every time.

    If he wanted to survive on this new Cybertron, this was his last shot. At least, it felt that way. Perhaps if he tried to widen his skillset again, then maybe someone would look at him as though he wasn’t going to blast their helm off in the next five nanokliks. Of course, he couldn’t blame any of them for having little faith or trust in his abilities–nearly every example he could give of going into systems to find and repair problems involved wartime Autobot systems. His former opponents didn’t always enjoy seeing someone using that as proof that they could do the job.

    Because what was to say he wouldn’t possibly do that again?

    As these thoughts and more swelled within his mind, the receptionist motioned for him to return to the front desk. He did so swiftly, keeping his wings tucked back in a show of submission; if he could be polite to them, maybe they would pass that word up. They showed him which floor to proceed to, and what door to knock on, and then sent him on his way. Yet as he moved across the room towards the lifts, he could have sworn they were saying something into the building’s commline–likely to security to keep an optic on him.

    It was a short trip up to the sixth floor, which opened up to what he believed was the entirety of the building’s technological infrastructure. Sleek, polished walls made the space feel both open and controlled at the same time, and lights and displays flashed notifications, status updates, and… Primus knew what else. He followed the winding hall to the nondescript door that the receptionist had pointed out, where he froze.

    On the other side of this door was likely the mech that would decide the next step of his journey. Was he truly ready for what would likely be the hardest-hitting rejection that he was to receive yet? Only time would tell.

    Thundercracker took in a deep ventilation of air before pinging to the door. It was now or never.

Scattorshot was nervous as he heard the door ping. He knew he probably shouldn’t be the nervous on as the employer but he was anyway. Quickly he pushed button to allow the seeker in. As soon as the door open he was welcomed by the sight from a familiar face.

Familiar but not quite the same. The seeker looked like he was nervous himself, and the way his wings were tucked in looked unfamiliar as well. He wan’t too familiar on the body language of seekers or fliers in general but he didn’t really recall Thundercracker holding them like that before either. 

Still he had a job to do.

“Hey there Thundercracker, c’mon in and have a seat.” he said gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. 

“I’m pretty sure ya know who I am but I’ll introduce myself anyway. My name’s Scattorshot.” he said extending his arm over the table for a handshake. “Sorry, I’d usually stand but uh...I think my doctor would have my head” he said with a chuckle gesturing to his injured leg. 

You never really knew what you relied on until you had it no more, and Scattorshot was relearning this, as he grumbled to himself as he felt along the hallways wall. He too was currently missing something he relied on in his day to day life. 

His visor. 

He had accidentally misplaced it the previous night and was unable to find it on the account of...well...he couldn’t see. His far-sighted vision was always a hindrance to Scattorshot, but he had always been gifted or outfitted with his visor, but when he never really thought about just how much he needed it. 

That is until now. During his search for his missing visor he had somehow managed to leave his room without noticing. Somehow. By the time he realized he was not in his room he had already been completely turned around, and was forced to hug and follow the wall. 

“...upgraded my weapons, and whatever but my optics? Nope...” he mumbled to himself as he slowly made his way along down the never ending hallway. He had always been thankful for his upgraded frame, but every now and then he wondered just how useful this frame was in everyday life. 

He sighed and focused on the wall again; no point in thinking about it, he just had to get back to his room. Or somewhere. 

⚡️;; Somehow, Wing Saber and Prowl had actually come through on their promise. Thundercracker stood outside Central City Command, his wings held stiffly, awkwardly in their sockets. It had been centuries since he had attempted to do anything like this, and, much like everything else in his life up to this point, he wasn’t quite certain he remembered how to approach the situation: interviewing for a job. The two Autobots had allowed him the clearances to at least start some entry-level work with the planetary leadership, and given that he had been turned down for two other low-skill endeavors recently, he was silently praying that this would actually work in his favor.

   All he had to do now was impress someone that he had attempted to offline on a number of occasions. Wonderful.

   Taking in a deep vent of air, the Seeker finally marched himself into the building and over to the receptionist sitting near the front. He smiled sheepishly and said, “Uh, howdy. Ah’m here ta see Scattorshot fer an appointment.”

   The receptionist gave him a quick look up and down, though he couldn’t read their expression. Finally, they replied: “Very well, I’ll send him a ping. Please have a seat and I will let you know when you can head up.” With that, they pressed a small button on the desk’s glassy surface. Show time.

Scattorshot let out a startled yelp as he heard the ping come through. He rubbed his helm as he came to the realization he had been fallen into recharge in his office...again. Red Alert would not be happy if he found out. 

After giving himself a few moments to steady himself he checked the message sent 

<< A Thundercracker is here for an appointment with you>>

Scattorshot stared at his screen for a few seconds . He didn’t realize it was already that time. He sent a ping back for his receptionist to send him up, he couldn’t keep the ex-decepticon waiting after all. 

Ex-Decepticon. 

Scattorshot repeated that to himself as he readjusted his elevated leg. He had to be fair to Thundercracker. The war was over and all he was doing was looking for a work, and he couldn’t deny Thundercracker’s previous work experience was promising. 

⚕ -|| “Oh, I can definitely agree with that. Gunfire means problems–usually ones that lead to mecha stopping into my medbay. I suppose that sort of meeting isn’t going to be as common as it once was. You’re a, ah, very good example of that, my friend.”

    Red Alert’s vocals were teasing and kind, though he wasn’t sure how Scattorshot would react to it. Neither one was much of a conversationalist, but they had become rather close over the last century–at least, he thought they had. After the mech’s accident it had felt natural to return to Cybertron with him, rather than allow someone else to care for the damages. Perhaps it was years of commaradery speaking, but after so long, he couldn’t imagine things any other way.

    It wasn’t long before they reached their first destination: a lift that would lead them down to the main floor of the new medical center. He pushed the seat inside, and sent the command for it to take them down. “So,” the CMO began, hoping to keep their talk light, “I don’t suppose you want to just go straight home, right?”

Scattorshot couldn’t help but chuckle at the medic’s words. He was among the first to come in from a non war-related injury. Not that he really remembered how he got injured, but he had been told a time or two...or a hundred.

He was just glad Red Alert had come with him to Cybertron. He knew the other medics would have cared for him just fine, but he’d always been more comfortable with someone he knew around. 

“Nah, I don’t really want to go home, but I guess there’s no where else for me to go right now” he stated matter of factly. He wanted to explore their new Cybertron a little bit but he figured he’d have to wait until his leg was fully healed. Or at least until he was out of a hover chair.

+ @ask-scattorshot

⚕ -|| Highly-polished floors seemed to glow from the lights that shone above, remaining in such a state even as the two large mecha passed over it. The CMO pushed a hovering seat in front of him down the hall, an old friend perched comfortably in it. At least, he hoped the other was comfortable; much had happened in the past few deca-cyles, and he was hesitant to say that even he was relaxed in any way.

     Red Alert had remained silent since they had left the recovery room, and it was odd to admit, but it was getting to him. After resetting his vocoder, he smiled and finally spoke: “Well, it sure does feel strange to be home, doesn’t it? Not to mention, home and not being shot at. Can’t say I’m used to that anymore.”

It was over-all a quiet day. No one had called nor had anyone really struck up a conversation with him. Not that Scattorshot minded, after all this was a medical institution, and the silence let him hear his own thoughts. It was nice. Yet at the same time it wasn’t.

His mind swam with the thoughts of the most recent events. He wasn’t there by choice, but because he was in dire need of it not too long ago. A small ache in his side, and left leg reminded him of it. 

He was snapped out of his own thoughts by the voice of the medic pushing his hover chair.