#but I only bothered to poke that looking for size data do not quote me

[ironclawallosaur]

??? since when does "great" mean "monstrous"? Will marine biologists be horrified if I use the common names of Bubo virginianus, Pinguinius impennis, Otis tarda, Podiceps cristatus, Ardea alba, Lanius excubitor, Stercorarius skua, or Parus major? What about the Great Barrier Reef or the Great Lakes?

Honestly, calling them "the great shark" would be clearer, even if it sounds a little silly written out like this, since they're quite large and impressive and also not white. Maybe the Great Mako Shark?

I'm 100% in favor of calling them "white-cheeked shark" since at least that's distinctive, even if it's veering into Stupid Sunbird Names territory. It's kind of how I've thought of them since you told (well, the world in general) about it.

And then... as the internet has long pointed out, "white" isn't exactly a term free of baggage either.

so I'm not sure that's an improvement?

if I was to talk about a “white shark”, how many of you guys would know what species I was referring to?

[black-strike-otp]

part 87

♫♪ I am not your pet, not another thing you own. I was not born guilty of your crimes. Your riches and your influence can’t hold me anymore. I won’t be possessed. Burdened by your royal test. I will not surrender this life, is, mine~ ♫♪

More small tidbits. Since tonight’s Halloween, there won’t be another chap tonight, and only one posted tomorrow as well, just an FYI!

Music lifted through the air and carried a melancholy tune through the shipyard. There was only one small craft in the large room void of bots. With the topside landing strip and lower hatch, this area was obviously hardly used. A thin layer of dust covered the majority of the room though it appeared someone had made a genuine effort to clear the area of some of it at one point and gave up.

The soft sneeze caused Blackout to flinch. He looked down at Novastrike’s apologetic smile as she sheepishly lowered her audio receptors.

He gave a small shake of his helm. Offering a brief smile, Blackout casually strolled over to the Jaguar. This had been their first meeting at the seeker’s vessel while on the Nemesis. Meeting in their rooms was unquestionably stupid, and speaking too frequently in the med-bay was risky business. They couldn’t depend on the option of just flying off the Nemesis and relying on late meet ups anymore; such frequent jours spent off the ship for even brief interweaving amounts of time was bound to come to Megatron’s attention if it hadn’t already.

Infiltrator poked his helm out first. The beast’s red optics looked to Blackout, then to Novastrike, then to Scorponok who offered a click in greeting. He turned around, wishing his tail as he returned inside the ship.

Assuming that was the best indication they were going to have that it was okay to enter, Blackout followed the dragon slowly.

The Jaguar clearly wasn’t built to have someone as tall as himself on board. It didn’t surprise him; he was above even the average ‘tallest’ bots. Slumping his shoulders, Blackout bowed his helm as he grumbled and squeezed himself into the tight space.

It came to some surprise to see a sight he hadn’t witnessed in generations. With bow in servo, Nighthawk drew the thin cable hair along those strung up along the violin. He hadn’t even considered the melody to be more than a recorded backdrop to hide their words, but with dark light adding to the atmosphere and almost pained look upon the medic’s faceplate, he played on the harmony.

“Gosh,” Novastrike whispered as she revered the seeker with envy. “I didn’t know Nighthawk could play an instrument. That sounds absolutely enchanting. Who wrote that?”

Light flickered in Nighthawk’s optics as he glanced slightly to Novastrike with embarrassment. He dropped his equipment from his shoulder and placed it neatly in a lined box on the floor. After snapping the case shut, he leaned forward in his seat to tap a button. The recording began to fill the area from his playing outside of the ship; muffled within the Jaguar.

“It’s an original,” Nighthawk admitted sheepishly.

“You play so lovely,” Nova murmured, nervously scuffing her pedes on the floor. “The song really draws a lot of pain, though.”

“That’s because it was written in a fit of pain,” the medic stated as he pushed himself up to stand.

“I’m surprised you still have that,” Blackout grumbled, nodding his helm to the instruments case as Infiltrator wound around the chair to retrieve it. He disappeared further into the ship to place it back where it had been stored.

“My sire got it for me,” he grunted in answer somewhat angrily. “I would never get rid of Roi Têtu.”

Raising an optic ridge, the giant mech snorted softly. “‘The Stubborn King’? An interesting name.”

“‘The greatest slave in a kingdom is generally the king of it’,” Nighthawk quoted with a simple nod. “Roi Têtu has been a fine friend to me over the years, and has reminded me of my more humble beginnings. I would never simply sell off or trade a trusted confident.”

Flicking her audios, Novastrike peered sideways up to Blackout. He offered a slight shrug. The name made little sense to him as well. He had believed it to be some silly reference to how musicians felt as though they were slaves to their weapons whim.

“I didn’t call you here for your interpretation of my work,” the medic spoke up firmly, walking over to pick up a datapad from a stand.

Blackout shifted his pedes, feeling a slight throbbing ache in his neck already for keeping in this hunched position. He watched as Nighthawk’s projector on his pad flashed out a large map. For a moment, the obsidian giant was confused by the moving dots on the screen. Then he looked through the large holographic screen to meet the seeker’s smug expression.

“This is a live feed of the cavern system where the space bridge is kept, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed,” Nighthawk agreed.

“Isn’t it dangerous to have more than just a screenshot,” Novastrike offered quietly.

“Why do we have an active ledger of what’s going on in the mines?” Blackout mused.

“Most likely to keep an optic on the workers,” Nighthawk stated in a voice that suggested such a question was obvious. He glanced to Nova as he went on, “I would agree with you on this normally, but I have a secure network hidden in the ship transmitting the feed.”

Blackout scoffed. “Safe? Even from Soundwave’s detection?”

Wincing slightly, the medic resized the screen display smaller so that he could easily meet Blackout’s optics. “I believe so,” he murmured nervously. “I used a data transfer developed by Soundwave himself.”

“How in Primus name would you get a hold of something like that?” Blackout asked with wide optics. “How can you even be assured it’s something Soundwave made?”

“Because I was given that encryption stick eons ago when it was a prototype Megatron had ordered so that Decepticons could hack into Autobot databases,” the seeker growled. “No one is as clever or capable of hacking a system as fast as Soundwave; he’s been a walking computer server since purging much of his emotional core for more space in that helm of his. So he invented these transmitter data sticks. They’re meant to go undetected and change their method of discretely taking data to go undetected as long as possible. Since I programmed it only to the program with the map for the mine, it’s even less likely to be found out; not to mention it’s recognized coding on our ship.”

Narrowing his optics, Blackout let out a slight vent. “Soundwave does happen to be preoccupied with decoding the Iacon relic locations,” he mused in a deep voice.

“The Iacon relics?” Nighthawk echoed.

“Long story, and one that doesn’t matter much at the moment anyway,” Blackout stated, pressing his pointer and thumb digit in the space between his optics. “How soon will you be ready to depart? Novastrike, Scorponok and I have practically everything we need on us; and I’m not risking stealing anything from this blasted ship and having Megatron hunt me down and throw me around the ship like he did you.”

“Thank you for that reminder,” the medic badgered with a flick of his wings. “Infiltrator and I are more than ready to go. Everything not taken off the Jaguar by the Eradicon and Vehicon is still here. We didn’t bother bringing anything into our room.”

“Fair enough,” he grunted, crossing his arms. “Let’s watch the feed for a few days and determine our best course of action-”

“Already done,” the seeker confidently chorused, tapping a few keys on his datapad. A collection of areas were circled and lit up red.

“These clustered spots are recorded high activity areas I’ve noticed backtracking the data saved from these maps. They’re where the majority of the guards are stationed, where they trade off new sentries, and where most stand around. The higher the traffic area, the more marks there are.”

Humming thoughtfully, Blackout squinted at the screen. The seeker extended its size a few more ratios for him to examine better.

“It looks like our best route goes here,” Blackout muttered, ghosting a digit through the map.

“-leads us here,” Nighthawk stated, drawing his digit in as well.

“-goes through this area-”

“-and finally we’re lead here, which is a high concentration zone.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” snorted the large mech.

“I’m not an idiot, Blackout,” the seeker retorted hotly. “Tthere’s no zone that is clear of high-risk areas. Anyway, as you can tell, it leads us in to this tunnel and down in this larger chamber is where the space bridge is kept, see?”

“I’m not blind, mech.”

“Good to know, then I guess you can see we’ll expect high resistance once we hit the space bridge.”

“If we make it that far, we need to be in and out as fast as possible,” Blackout stated quietly, his optics narrowed at the screen.

“Well, obviously,” vented the medic, looking down to Scorponok and Novastrike. “Scorponok, I assume you can help make us a more clear path ahead here?”

The bug nodded as he indicated at the chart, giving a chirp.

“Infiltrator and I are going to remain here to make sure the area stays clear while you two get the space bridge activated. Scorponok should join you when we’re sure the area had been cleared of anymore bots.”

Letting out a quiet breath, Novastrike looked up to Nighthawk as she exclaimed, “Why? Shouldn’t we all stick together? Or at least have Scorponok or I stay with you to help-”

Nighthawk gave a swift shake of his helm. “Two reasons why I suggest this: one, as medics, Infiltrator and I have a deceptive quality. We’re valuable assets, and bots are less likely to use lethal force on us upon sight. The ‘Cons may even be unaware of the breech and we might be able to fib through medical engineering in explaining that a radioactive energy is emitting from the space bridge and we’re on standby and can not allow any bots further in to the mine at the time until the workers are through, and then we’ll be called in to surveillance their injuries. That might buy us some time with some.”

“Secondly,” he continued, “Too many of us grouped together is going to give off a suspicious vibe. Blackout himself, or Scorponok and you, could most likely operate the bridge alone. If we require immediate assistance, we can always hail you to come while someone still ensures the bridge is active and protected for us to hurry through if we need to.”

“I still don’t like it,” Novastrike hissed, lowering her ears.

“Nighthawk’s the mech with a plan,” Blackout pointed out. “He’s been spending time staring at this map. I can respect his evaluation. He didn’t get the nickname of jaguar for nothing.”

Slightly confused, the little femme looked from Blackout to Nighthawk.

“I thought that was the name of his ship-”

Knocking Blackout in the shoulder with the back of his servo, the medic spoke loudly over Blackout’s snickering as he went on, “I believe this is our best course of action, and I think we should initiate it tonight.”

The snickering instantly stopped.

“Tonight?” the Decepticon Hound snorted. “What’s the rush, Nighthawk?”

“You’re telling me you’re not eager to leave this Pit anymore?” the medic jeered.

Shaking his helm, the shadowy mech spoke calmly: “Just seems a bit of a nervous rush.”

“Well I am nervous,” hissed the seeker. “You try sitting in that room all day, wandering the halls, bots staring at you and slipping you glances. They’re reporting on me Blackout; constantly keeping watch.”

“We risk the exposure of the data stick as well,” Infiltrator finally spoke up quietly. “Although it is hidden, it’s also Soundwave’s device of manufacture. He would recall exactly whom was aware of these sticks and who they were dispensed to. There were not many, and there is an active bot on this ship was knowingly had one of these.”

Giving a slow nod of his helm, Blackout looked down at Novastrike’s trusting optics. She gave a firm nod of her helm, optics blazing.

“Alright,” he agreed, offering his palms in a pleading motion as he shrugged. “But you had better come packing some serious weapons, Nighthawk. Don’t leave all the offlining to me.”

Scorponok gave a slight hiss in defense of the seeker, lightly jabbing Blackout’s pede with his pronged drills.

Offering a peacefully serene chuckle, Nighthawk flashed his fangs in the most grim smiles as he spoke gently, “I’m still more than capable of taking care of my share of bots, young mech, don’t you forget that for a nanoklik.”

~

Novastrike sat on the edge of the berth as she watched Blackout move about the room. Picking up the few tools things they had, the giant mech subspaced them in various compartments of his frame. It was like having what those humans referred to as cargo pants? Was that the term? She couldn’t remember exactly; the very idea of looking into the species on this ship seemed highly inappropriate and frowned upon.

Apparently humans were considered too stupid and ugly to be viewed or expressed in any other term than being stupid and ugly.

Behind him, Scorponok would scurry along on the floor to pick up the junk Blackout dropped to the floor carelessly. It brought a smile to Nova’s face to watch as he dumped the items down a chute that would lead to the small furnace on the ship to be melted down.

“Blackout, dear, could you sit and relax for just a moment?” she whispered. “You’ve double-checked the same cupboards at least a dozen times now.”

“I just don’t want to leave any of our supplies around,” he muttered, venting.

“You’re hovering. Are you... nervous?”

A stiff laugh escaped Blackout. He smiled at her with a boastful expression. It deflated somewhat as she placed her servos to her hips and raised an optic ridge.

“Only of throwing us into another mess,” he finally admitted uncomfortably.

“A mess?” she stated while looking to his haunted faceplate. “Geez- Blackout, dear, us coming here isn’t any fault of your own-”

“If it’s not my fault, than it is my own damnation come for me. Why else would we end up right in the servos of the mech I’ve spent my entire life following, bowing to, pleasing at every turn?”

“So, you’re blaming karma?”

Scraping his servo against his faceplate, Blackout let out a heavy growling sound in the back of his throat.

Placing a sympathetic smile on her faceplate, Nova tapped the berth beside her. With a relenting grumble, the big mech stalked over and sat down to join her.

“You know, Nighthawk and you are a lot alike,” she murmured, standing up so that she could lean into his side. “You both like to shoulder responsibility and blame, you both enjoy beating yourselves up, and you both are have some of the most burdened sparks I’ve ever met.”

Growling quietly, the ebony mech muttered as he looked away, “We’re hardly alike.”

“Yes, you are,” Nova assured him, caressing his armor with feather-light touches across his side and chassis. “Maybe stop searching for a reason to hate yourself, and start looking for the reason to love yourself.”

“You and your mercy and compassion,” Blackout growled quietly, reaching over to pick her up.

Squeaking, the small femme looked down the span of her significant others armor. The panels reflected such little light; dulled once. Even sitting the floor looked so far away from this height. She moved her optics to look at Blackout’s as he held her at optic level, curling his servos around her slightly.

“Must you be so loving and wise?” he taunted lightly with a smile.

“It’s just an obvious observation,” she disagreed with a small shake of her helm. “Maybe you should speak to Nighthawk some time about how he’s feeling? You know you two could probably do a little bonding-”

“Ugh, no thank you.”

“You’re the worst. Give him a chance. Look how well you two can get along when working for the same goal.”

“Our spitting and griping is getting along well to you hmm?” he questioned softly, grinning.

“Hush,” she scolded, reaching out to touch his cheek with her servo. “I just want you to be happy. You should love yourself, as much as I love you.”

“I’d say I’m pretty happy with what I’ve got here in this room with me,” he stated, turning his optics down to Scorponok as the bug chirped and then up to her.

Giggling softly, Novastrike leaned to press her lips against his mouth lightly.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Mmm?” Blackout grunted in the back of his throat, pressing a kiss against the top of her helm.

“Can you promise me that you two aren’t going to go at it once we arrive on Cybertron?”

“I hadn’t offlined him thus far. I think I can agree to those terms.”

“Then maybe you can try opening up a little more when we get back home?” she offered.

“To him?” Blackout scoffed, pressing his forehead against her lightly. “I doubt that.”

“We’re going to need all the help we can get if Cybertron is still in disarray,” she pointed out, stroking his cheek gently.

“That doesn’t mean he needs to know my sappy feelings, Novastrike,” he reminded her with a quiet, rumbling laugh. “I don’t need a psychiatrist.”

“No, you need a friend.”

“What do you call Scorponok and you, hmm?”

“I think it’d be good for you both,” she pouted, pressing a kiss to his forehead with an expressive ‘mwah’.

Grunting, the large mech lowered her from his faceplate with a vent. Gingerly he pressed her to his chassis, hugging her against his thick armor.

“We’ll see how it goes,” he admitted quietly. “I’d rather focus on the task at servo, for the time being.

“Just looking out for your well-being, darling,” Nova replied, innocently snuggling against his chassis as she dared to look up at him with her wide-eyes of wonder.

Letting out yet another vent from his systems, Blackout swiftly glanced away from her with a pout. A soft laugh escaped her as he glanced back, grinning from her intoxicating joy and the brimming smile on her faceplate.

Wrapping his servos a fraction tighter against her frame, the dark armored mech squeezed her closer as he hummed. The sound only matched by that of her own purr as she nuzzled securely into his own armor with a sigh. Very soon, they’d be free of this oppressive place, and everything would be fine again.