Circuit Crawling

[Perceptor]

Day 18, late. Semi-private thread. Please message to pitch and idea why you should be present, if you would like to join.

To say that Perceptor is pleased with his next assignment would be very much a lie, even if there is a small sliver of anticipation flitting through his systems. Oh, certainly he appreciates the challenge of attempting to pick out invasive, subversive code and hardware deeply embedded in a mech's systems, but such a task also means that, yet again, another of his mechs has been tampered with in the first place.

Especially frustrating is that the mech responsible is Shockwave. Fragging Shockwave.

Perceptor's temper is already stretching thin, just by being on Pz-Zazz, a world that seems to affront every single one of his sensibilities at the same time. Being forced to play nice with Shockwave and his mechs is not making things any better. And now, to find out that the mad genius had long ago tampered with Magnus?

Unforgivable. And yet, of course, were he to say as much to Shockwave, the Decepticon would undoubtedly twist logic in a dance of dogma and cant until it all sounded oh so fragging reasonable to anyone listening.

Perceptor pauses in preparing the last of his tools, taking a deep ventilation to calm his nerves. Something about that mech just puts his metaphorical dander up merely by thinking about him. It's frustrating.

Speaking of frustrating... // Ultra Magnus? I do believe that you were due in my laboratory already. If you would please join me, that would eliminate the need to request an escort for you. //

Because for all Perceptor knows, there may be some sleeper program Shockwave installed to force Magnus to put up a struggle in exactly this situation to protect the malignant coding.

[Ultra Magnus]

//I'm en route,// is Magnus's rather clipped answer as he makes his way through the ship with a long, purposeful stride. //Had to stop and help Glyph pick up the data pads I knocked out of her arms on my way down the corridor.// And fend off her odd, flustered reaction to him. She acted as if his stopping to assist her was something so out of the ordinary it warranted a wide-eyed stare. He is, in fact, still embarrassed by the whole thing.

He has yet to fully recover from his discomfiture by the time he reaches Perceptor's wing of the science deck. It does little to improve his disposition or his lack of enthusiasm for this impending examination. The scowl on his face speaks volumes for how unhappy he is with the turn of events. He stops just inside the door and glowers, crossing his arms.

"Are you just that eager to pick my head apart?" he wonders caustically.

[Perceptor]

"Are you just that eager to remain under whatever dubious influence that Shockwave may still retain over you?" he counters swiftly, scowling at Magnus's confrontational air.

"Now, I suggest that you make yourself as comfortable as you can on the berth, so that we may get this process initiated. The sooner started, the sooner done. And then you may flee my apparently so-unsavory company to your spark's content," he adds tersely, pointing the the berth so mentioned.

[Ultra Magnus]

The only thing that stops Magnus – who has spent most of the day in an agitated state that has only grown worse with prodding – from taking a swing at Perceptor is realising how wrong that reaction is. Can he really be so spun up?

The thought sobers him somewhat and, though still brusque, there's an apologetic air about him. He simply nods and seats himself on the berth, then stretches out. Comfort is an impossibility given the reasons for his being here at all; he stifles a sigh.

"It isn't you," he says stiffly. "And I didn't intend it that way."

[Perceptor]

Perceptor is unaware of just how close he's just come to having significant portions of delicate parts of himself rearranged. That's probably a good thing. He is, however, very suddenly aware of how his own response had lacked... couth.

He heaves a sigh, bowing his head and staring down at his tools for a moment. 'Nor did I, Ultra Magnus," he offers at his most formal. "I should not have allowed myself to indulge in expressing my displeasure at yet another of Shockwave's shenanigans at the inappropriate target. It was excessively rude and inappropriate. My apologies."

Fortunately, Magnus had probably ignored most of what had come out of his vocal processor, once the multi-syllabic words had started flowing, and had likely missed the underlying message: Perceptor cares.

After all, his own Ultra Magnus would have.

[Ultra Magnus]

"Shockwave has that effect on people," Magnus mutters, fists tight at his sides with the thought of that smug, one-eyed bootleg privately gloating over how deeply he's sunk his barbs. Magnus has no idea how intrinsic the software was made and can't be sure how much of himself now is a result of the programming. He was less aggressive in his younger days, certainly; was he only slotted with the Wreckers because of his power and newfound taste for beating his problems aside rather than thinking around them?

He's about to grab the edge of the berth so he has something other than his own hand to break before he stops, blinking, and looks curiously at Perceptor.

"What has he done to you?" Something drastic, Magnus assumes, to rile the scientist. His own Perceptor tended to keep an almost unnaturally cool head at times.

[Perceptor]

Perceptor cocks his head at Magnus with a look of confusion. "Me? What do you mean?"

Other than repairing Perceptor's damages to a point that he was mobile, and then pokepokepoking with that constant assault of oh-so-reasonable logicrubbish, Perceptor cannot honestly say that Shockwave has laid a hand upon him.

His friends, though... the mechs he has assumed responsibility for... That is another matter altogether.

[Ultra Magnus]

Magnus takes in that baffled expression with a growing sense of chagrin.

"I assumed he'd done you some wrong," he says. "I'm sorry." He shuts off his optics for a moment, letting his head fall to the berth. "So… you're supposed to take my head apart. Is that it?"

[Perceptor]

"Ah," Perceptor replies, nodding. "He... baits me with his logic, and his so-perfect explanations. He is too reasonable, and possesses an answer for all concerns. I do not trust that."

"But, no, he has not harmed me. Not personally. But I will not forgive him for the harm he has caused others. Yourself, for example. Or have you already forgotten that it was to me that fell the task of repairing your systems after being freed from his company?"

He frowns, sighing as he looks away to study his tools. "I suppose that it sounds rather petty and childish when explained like that. I do not trust him, though, and I fear what evil he may create. Worse, that he makes such evil sound so... so logical and necessary. He manipulates, and what he cannot manipulate, he destroys."

He turns back, trying to meet the other's crimson gaze with forthright calmness. "I find that that offends my sensibilities down to the very core of my being on nearly every level, and it offends me to be forced to stand idly by and wait for his machinations to harm yet another friend."

[Ultra Magnus]

The fingers Magnus broke earlier in the day, the fingers that have had no time to mend properly during his cathartic rampage through the simulation room, twang painfully as he makes fists almost by reflex when Perceptor brings up Shockwave's tactics. For an instant, he feels a remembered twinge in his chest as well.

"He's very good at getting rid of anyone he can't control," he agrees in a low snarl.

[Perceptor]

"But not perfect," Perceptor replies darkly, a thin, humorless smile spreading across his features. "And I plan on seeing to it that he becomes accustomed to failure." No one messes with Perceptor's "family", and, disparate or not, like it or not, this curious blend of mismatched Autobots from all corners of reality are his new family.

"Now," he continues in a lighter tone, turning back toward the berth, "I failed to answer your previous question. I do apologize, Ultra Magnus, however, I am afraid that I cannot, in good conscience, limit my examination to your 'head'." He turns back and offers Magnus an apologetic look as he pats the berth.

"I had mere suspicions before, when I performed the previous full systems scan upon your arrival. Your confirmation, however, that Shockwave has tampered with your functions, requires that I perform a much more thorough and complete scan of all systems and processors."

"You know better than anyone that he does not easily relinquish anything - or anyone - that he has claimed ownership of, and I will not allow him to retain whatever hooks he has undoubtedly placed within your systems. Additionally, I promise you, Ultra Magnus... I will not allow anyone else to harm you while you are in my care, nor will I place any blame upon you for whatever your systems reveal. Even if, by chance, he has implemented a security trojan to defend those additions that result in your unwilling attempt at violence upon my person."

"Unfortunately," he adds, and the door to his domain cycles locked now, "I cannot allow you to endanger anyone else aboard the Event Horizon. I realize that this makes me no better than him, however, I am afraid that I cannot allow you to refuse any portion of this scan. Please understand?" he asks, genuinely sorrowful.

[Ultra Magnus]

Magnus says nothing to Perceptor while the scientist explains, and even when the doors audibly lock, he offers no reaction. He's trying too hard to sort out his simmering annoyance with the circumstances to be alarmed or otherwise with the conditions being given.

"Just," he mutters with disgust he can't suppress once there's enough of a pause that he assumes Perceptor is waiting on him to say something, "get it over with." Uncurling his fists is possibly the most difficult thing he's done all day and the broken digits crackle again with the movement. For once, he's grateful it hurts; it gives him something else to focus on than Shockwave. He looks briefly at his hand, taking in how those two fingers sit just slightly off the proper angle.

He puts his hand back down in bleak confusion when he realises he has no idea when, exactly, he hurt himself.

[Perceptor]

"I will be as swift as I can, Ultra Magnus, but... it will not be a brief task," he apologizes.

Perceptor's hand darts out with surprising quickness for one who professes to dislike combat, grabbing Magnus's wrist before he can fully pull his hand away. "What happened?" he asks, voice firm, but gentle with worry as he tries to draw it back up to examine more closely. "How long have you been injured, Magnus? Why did you not see me sooner?"

[Ultra Magnus]

Magnus resists Perceptor's tug at first, confusion briefly switching back over to anger at the uninvited contact. He's here to have his circuits checked, after all, not his hand. But he shouldn't be angry, he tells himself; Perceptor is simply doing what Perceptor does, and the clinical crispness of the hold is a balm in its own right. It reminds him of the Perceptor he knew, who reacted in predictable, detached ways.

"I… didn't realise," he admits, much chastened by having to explain. "I – I don't know when it happened." He stares at his own hand, baffled – and worried.

[Perceptor]

Contact is about to get a heck of a lot more invasive than merely holding his wrist, and this is what irritates him? Perceptor is about to go systematically crawling through every circuit and system from the inside out! How does grabbing his wrist even hold a photon to that!?

And that's before Magnus admits that he has no idea how long he has been injured.

Perceptor's expression hardens as he releases Magnus's hand and turns sharply to wheel over a small cart that is the same height as the berth Magnus is resting on. He's angry. Unbearably angry. So angry, that even he is surprised, and his every motor relay is all but trembling. It's foolish to be so upset over a mere few fingers which are damaged, but immanently repairable... but Hound's loss earlier in the day is still far too fresh, and Perceptor has not yet taken the time to mourn. It does not matter that it had not been his Hound; they had been like enough to one another - minus the spark - that it's been giving Perceptor flashbacks to that dreadful day ever since.

He pulls Magnus's hand over to rest upon the tray, fetching several tools out of subspace and arraying them about the white mech's hand as blue optics seek out red in a thin glare. "Do. Not. Move. I must repair this."