2017-02-24 Forget or Regret

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Forget or Regret
Date 2017/02/24
Location Lost Light - Science and Medical - Science Labs
Participants Blast Off, Chromedome
Summary Blast Off has a warning for Chromedome.

For the less destructively inclined scientists aboard the Lost Light, there's the communal labs, an open-plan space broken into sections, not outright stated but implied by the location of specialized equipment. From tools used for geological survey to those required for the more volatile chemical experimentation, the many workspaces in the lab have it all.

Aligned neatly along the back wall are storage compartments, each large enough to hold a minibot if need be, and equipped with individual keycode locks. There are nameplates in alphabetical order down the line, the neat organization breaking toward the end, where new editions follow a haphazard attempt at alphabetization. Left of the entrance are several reinforced paneled doors next to transparasteel viewports, leading to easily observable isolation rooms.

Workbenches and stools take up the majority of the labspace, most of the benches having clearly been bolted to the floor for safety. A large multi-paneled door is set into the wall to the right of the entrance, hinting at more storage space for extra stools, or large equipment. There's a smaller door with a significantly more robust lock than those on the personal storage sporting a sign reading "HAZARDOUS MATERIAL: no unauthorized entry" on the same wall.

Chromedome sat in the lab, during the after hours. The ones where there weren't many mecha milling around. Yes, he knows that Perceptor had made the labs a place of work, and therefore research is done in relative peace for the majority of science mechs without their own personal labs. His personal study- that of mnemosurgery- is mostly theory and not usually practice, for very well known reasons. Tonight though, he decided to take his research to the labs instead of the library, not because he wanted to get away from Rewind, but because he believed he could concentrate better in an area designed for study. There were no expectations of visitors (other than his conjunx), and so the mech who finally had his memories back was going to settle down for a long night of research compilation.

That research is about to get interrupted. It begins quietly: a shadow in the doorway, scanning the area for any unwanted visitors. But no, they are alone: just Chromedome- and Blast Off. The Combaticon moves silently, making his way inside the lab with a minimum of fuss. Violet optics scan the room, faceplate on and hiding most of his expression, as per usual. Blast Off is here on business and there's a subdued but pointed focus to his movements. Blast Off approaches Chromedome from behind, finally stopping where there is still a good amount of distance between them.

When he speaks, his cultured voice is quiet and flat. "Chromedome."

The mecha in question jumped, turning sharply around to where the voice was. "Oh. Blast Off. You scared me." Chromedome says, which he figures was the point. Taking in a quick once over to how Blast Off was holding himself, it was something serious. Slowly swivling on his chair to where he is facing Blast Off face to face, he asks, "So, what can I do for you?"

Blast Off doesn't answer at first (yes, it was the point). The Combaticon remains standing where he is, looking the Autobot over with a cool, aloof gaze that gives little away. He steps a little bit closer, taking time to move his hand over some research equipment on the table next to the mneumosurgeon, the dark digits contrasting with nearly see-through tubes and and jars. He taps the glass once, then looks up to Chromedome. "It seems you stay fairly busy these days. What sort of work does a mnemosurgeon... or is that a former mnemosurgeon?... get up to in this post-war world, I wonder?"

Chromedome ... just stares at Blast Off. "Well, I research. Mostly. Trying to see how mnemosurgery can be used in other applications outside of a war environment." He starts off slowly, feeling a little more wary of Blast Off. "Why do you ask?"

Blast Off stares back. At least for awhile, then he returns to intently studying that equipment on the table. "I see." His voice remains flat, even, emotionless. "I'm simply curious about those more... modern day applications a mnemosurgeon might have at his disposal. You must have quite an array of knowledge... a very personal history on a lot of people."

Chromedome watches Blast Off, watch him idly touching the glasses. Playing coy.

... He is trying to intimidate? Why? What did he do?

"Yes and no. Memories that are left behind are usually very fragmented and incomplete. Some things stand out more than others but I can't say I know a lot of personal history or knowledge that other mecha had."

Blast Off shows his first sign of emotion, albeit subtle, as optic ridges twitch. Chromedome seems to be playing pretty dense here. There's no way he's forgotten Whirl or Vortex already, is there? And he HAS to know Blast Off's connection to Vortex at least, if not Whirl's. But the sniper stifles any other response, instead returning to his investigation of the glassware. "Surely you'd remember more recent.... subjects, correct? I've heard tell you offer your services even now, here on this very ship."

Chromedome bristles, visibly. "Excuse me. I do no such thing." Denial is his best friend, although... he knew Blast Off is here for some reason. It couldn't be that he was still angry for erasing Vortex and Whirl's memories, is he? That is all in the past. His addiction is past. He rather not be accused of altering memories on the side.

Now it's Blast Off's turn to slowly turn his head and give Chromedome a little dubious look, one optic ridge lifted slightly. "Chromedome, we both know that's untrue. Why lie to me? My brother may be in security, but I'm not." He puts down the tube he was holding and straightens to look at the Autobot. "Besides, it's post-war, the Autobots wouldn't still be hiding secrets, would they?"

"What is this now? Pretending to be friendly?" Chromedome snaps at Blast Off. "What is your point of being here and trying to play at being intimidating?"

'Play at'. Chromedome felt the words leave him before he could reconsider. This...probably made it worse.

Blast Off blinks once, still gazing at the Autobot with cool violet optics. He's silent a long moment as he mulls over what Chromedome just said. The sniper's trigger finger twitches, then slides along his thumb. "Play at? Oh, I assure you, I'm quite serious." He tilts his head ever-so-slightly. "I assure you, if you knew me at all, you'd know I'm not *playing* at all." The shuttleformer slides to the side of the table, taking one step closer to the mnemosurgeon before stopping again, hand resting on the table's edge as he studies the other mech. He's still the picture of quiet, subdued restraint, however.

"Surely, even if you have trouble remembering some things, you remember our reputation, Chromedome? We Combaticons made quite a name for ourselves on the battlefield, after all. Perhaps you even saw a little of it firsthand..." His optics darken just a shade, "...When you rummaged around Vortex's head recently."

Chromedome leans back from Boff, even though there was still a decent distance between them. However, his overall demeanor remains cool. "I saw a lot in Vortex's mind. In fact, his mind is fragmented and unorganized. Most of the thoughts are chaotic. Are you still upset that Vortex manipulated me into erasing his memory?"

A shadow crosses over the Combaticon's face as soon as Chromedome says he *saw a lot in Vortex's mind*. He glances down to the table Chromedome sits at, noting its contents, before looking back up at the Autobot. His voice remains relatively cool, though with a slight growing edge. "So, you think I'm upset? Why? Do I have reason to be? What do you do with those memories? Keep them? Research them?" His tone drops down, a definite edge to the next words he says, "Use them later?"

If Chromedome could make faces... he would be making a rather puzzled and mildly disgusted one right now. "What? No. Anything left in my mind is a fraction of what came out of the connection, that's all. Sometimes it comes up. Sometimes it doesn't."

"Hmm." Blast Off frowns under his faceplate, adopting a more aloof manner again as he turns to look at nearby lab equipment next to him on the table. He lifts a black finger to idly stroke along the edge of a small box that happens to be placed there. "I see." He presses the flat palm of his hand on the box and shoves it away. Now the sniper's violet gaze returns to Chromedome. "That's good to hear, then."

Blast Off suddenly rolls his shoulders back once, stretching a little. "You see, Vortex never should have come to you, but he did. /Fortunately/, we're all friends here now, aren't we? Autobots and Decepticons in a post-war world, moving forward together and no longer looking behind us. No longer working *against* one another. It's positively inspiring, right? The past is dead and gone, and that's where it should remain, don't you agree?"

Chromedome peers at Blast Off. "I don't understand this air of crypticness you are... using. How about you be more straightforward with me?"

The Combaticon's optics narrow. "I'm saying that if you harbor any potentially... unfavorable memories of us Combaticons in that pointy head of yours, you'd be advised to keep them to yourself... or forget them altogether." Blast Off's expression is icy now, his optics glittering like cold stars. He lifts a hand to his chest. "Don't get me wrong. This is post-war, we play by the rules like everyone else now. But if you ever use Vortex's... or Whirl's... memories against them, or us, we *will* have a problem."

"Is... is that what this is about?" Chromedome is surprised, then he loosens up. "Of course not Blast Off, the memories I seen is confidential. Between me and... well, my patient, for lack of a better term. I really don't want to use them against you..."

He then gives an involuntary shudder, one of Vortex's memories coming up slightly. "Yeah... I wouldn't... do that." His visor dims in thought about what Tex feared.

"Your... patient," Blast Off mutters, optics still narrowed. The Combaticon doesn't trust mnemosurgeons. He doesn't want anyone messing around inside his head; he can't understand for the life of him how Vortex and Whirl thought this was a good idea. You guard your secrets, your inner self at all costs. But the damage is done and now he's cleaning up the mess. All too easy a thing for him to slip back into, he finds. He spent millions of years doing this for Onslaught, after all.

He frowns again at that odd shudder, staring as he wonders what that was about. "That's good to hear, then." He doesn't sound convinced. "Because it certainly sounds like something someone with your... skills would do back during the days of the war. Using memories, *taking* memories.... even planting memories. Maybe even... planting programs? Hidden subroutines?"

Chromedome stares at Blast Off. "That takes some doing to plant things. I couldn't even handle that. So, to your unspoken question, no- I did not tamper with Vortex or Whirl's memory any more than just erasing the memory they wanted me to erase."

Blast Off still doesn't neccessarily 100% believe Chromedome, but barring kidnapping the Autobot and siccing Vortex on him, there's no choice but to take him at his word- for now. Under his faceplate, the sniper's lips thin to a narrow line. "Very well." He gives Chromedome a small nod of the head. That does at least make sense- that it would take time, time which Chromedome might not have had. "It did cross my mind, yes."

His optics return to a more normal violet shade as he glances down to the table once more. "You'll understand, perhaps, that these things might... concern us." the Combaticon straightens, hands returning to his sides as he faces the Autobot. "They were foolish to ask you to do such a thing. I will say this- should they ever ask you for this again, I would ask that you contact *me* before proceeding." Hopefully he can put an end to any such future nonsense, and, worse case, at least supervise the situation.

Chromedome looks down in thought, then back at Boff again with a nod. "Will do."

This went as well as it probably could. Blast Off gives Chromedome another nod. Onslaught ought to be pleased with this, which means Blast Off is pleased. Well, as much as he can be without knowing for certain if their secrets are reallly safe. He's done what he could, however. Unless Chromedome does something stupid later, that is. The sniper turns on his purple rocket foot and quickly exits the room.

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