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Post by Mirage on Mar 27, 2011 20:38:10 GMT -5
Month 1, Week 2, Day 1, open
Barricade did some serious damage to Mirage during the battle, but it was not enough to keep the spy down for long. He never did like being stuck in the medical ward. Once he was physically repaired and his cloaking technology was returned to functionality, Mirage went invisible and got the hell gone from that place. Possibly, he has made some medics very angry with him for leaving without being properly checked out.
Mirage's destination is one of the non-sim training rooms. According to the schedule, a new arrival has the room booked.
Mirage owes this arrival quite the debt, and Mirage intends to pay it.
Stepping through the door, Mirage takes in the white mech with the swords with a cool, appraising glance. Interesting. Interesting and deadly, Mirage thinks.
"You would be Drift? If you are willing to spare a moment, I would speak with you, please."
Mirage carries himself with confident ease, his dialect and inflection clearly that of the upper echelons of society, High Iaconian to be specific. If Drift has ever met an aristocrat, he should be able to spot Mirage for one born and bred.
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Post by Drift on Mar 27, 2011 20:49:52 GMT -5
Drift is practicing one of the long, sweeping attack patterns with the twin blades. It's about the only peace he has right now, and for a long while, getting lost in the rhythm and focus of the cold steel.
The strange voice startles him, and he has to force his reflexes down from repeating the same attack pattern, but in earnest upon the intruder. It took him a moment to place the mech standing there. Well, at least he was standing now: last time Drift had seen him, he was carrying the mech toward medbay.
He doesn't place the accent, but he knows it's mechanometers above his own. It seeps culture and polish and education: everything he's not. Which makes him...a little wary. Why would anyone want to speak to him?
You want proof of that? Drift tips his blades into their scabbards, approaching warily. "What do you want?" He hears every iota of difference in those words.
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Post by Mirage on Mar 27, 2011 21:58:43 GMT -5
One corner of Mirage's lips quirk up at Drift's wary almost-challenge. The spy moves to lean against the wall, lounge there really, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
"I'm Mirage. I believe I owe you my life," he says, head tilted slightly as he studies Drift. The new mech's armor style is intriguing. Attractive, yes, but Mirage doubts it was designed for looks.
"So I have come to give thanks and acknowledge that debt."
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Post by Drift on Mar 27, 2011 22:11:28 GMT -5
Drift studies Mirage's posture. If Mirage was this relaxed around him, it was either an insult--that he didn't consider Drift a threat--or was a feint. That it was entirely sincere? Does not even strike Drift as an option.
Still, he's not entirely naive: Mirage has his arms folded over his chassis, protecting the spark chamber. It was something.
But the words...yeah. Drift would really rather these Autobots start punching him. Wing got it. Wing knew the language he'd understand, what would get through to him. It was not...this.
"No debt," he mumbles. His hands remain on his swords' hilts, but loosely, as if for comfort. "Don't owe me anything." He frowns. "Besides. He got away before I could kill him." Which means, to Drift's mind, that was a failure.
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Post by Mirage on Mar 27, 2011 22:48:11 GMT -5
Mirage assumes the easy posture because Drift is obviously a warrior, and Mirage wishes to see how the warrior reacts to one seemingly unconcerned. Mirage doesn't really do this, realize why he is doing this consciously; poking for reaction, doing this type of recon, is entirely second nature to him.
"You kept him from killing me, which he surely would have done," Mirage continues, "I am not made for frontline work."
He shrugs one shoulder, the movement graceful and unconcerned, "You can accept my acknowledgment of the debt or not, but honor dictates I acknowledge- and repay- it. Silly of me, perhaps, to still cling to such a code, but I am and ever will be a gentleman. I'll not let this war strip me of my breeding."
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Post by Drift on Mar 27, 2011 23:01:46 GMT -5
Drift can't quite shake the sense that he's being measured, in some respect. The last vestiges of the calm he'd gathered from his practice were shredding away.
"You should probably leave that sort of thing for those who can handle it." Just to balance the scales, he lets his optics travel over Mirage's frame, looking for any sign of weapons. "Not really a lot of safe places around here." There probably are, but he arrived in the middle of an assault, which for all he knows is 'normal'.
He frowns at Mirage's little speech. He's got no problem with the whole 'honor' thing--he feels the same about Wing. Saved his life, and he...deserved better than how Drift had repaid it. But tying it to all this 'gentleman' stuff? No.
"Thought you were an Autobot." He pauses, meaningfully. "Isn't that supposed to mean that 'honor' doesn't just belong to you?"
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Post by Mirage on Mar 27, 2011 23:50:22 GMT -5
Mirage has no visible weapons. His build is light, that of a Cybertronian racer, old lines, yes, but classic. He takes no offense at the obvious appraisal; in fact, his half-smile threatens to become a full-blown smirk.
"I don't believe I said it did," he counters, "and my choice of allegiance has no bearing on my personal sense of honor. Quite the opposite, actually," he adds dryly. "You'll find that the word means quite different things to different Autobots, and that some could care less about it at all."
"This," Mirage taps his sigil," is what you make of it, and I have seen some make of it a mockery. So I'll keep to my personal ideals for the time being, if you don't mind.
"Also, I am a hunter, Drift, and a spy, one of the best extant. One does not excel at those functions by staying in 'safe' places."
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Post by Drift on Mar 28, 2011 6:50:18 GMT -5
Drift is really coming to dislike, well...you know...words. Hate. Loathe maybe. And the fact he can't find the right word to describe how much he hates words and their slippery ambiguity is a case in point.
And Mirage's seeming amusement at him is also not helping. There were things Drift did well--really well. Talking just...wasn't one of them.
He frowns, optics flicking to one of his own Autobot insignias. "So," he says. "If no one seems to agree what this thing means, how the Pit are we on the same side? What are we--supposedly--fighting for?"
His mouth flattens. Drift has all the subtlety (and charm) of a hammer, so he's inclined to think of spies as a bit...shady. Like sitting within shooting range of the enemy and not shooting. But he's still sort of flattened under Kup's tirade about everyone having a place and a function and Drift guesses that means spies, too. "Maybe you need to work on some contingency plans," he says, finally. "Because I, personally, wouldn't like to count on 'random stranger and female showing up to save my aft' happening a lot."
He rubs his hand idly over his throat, where Barricade had torn the energon line. The Decepticon played exactly the way Drift would have: ruthless, expedient, needlessly violent. Not something that light-armored, weaponless 'hunters' should go after. Which begs the question:
"How do you 'hunt' without weapons?"
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Post by Mirage on Mar 28, 2011 10:33:17 GMT -5
Mirage sees in Drift someone who is much more like himself- albeit sans ivory tower breeding. The outward amusement hides the uncomfortable feeling that Mirage feels whenever he must inwardly admit that as a hunter, he is also a killer.
His brow furrows and his levels a less amused, more considering glance at Drift when the warrior asks about the why they fight. "For those that choose, the reasons are usually very personal. However..."
Again with that elegant shrug, "We, collectively, believe that no one race has the right to rule another by force and against the people's will. We see the horrors perpetrated by our opposites and we chose not to participate. In most realities, it seems Neutral eventually ceases to be an option, and so we choose as our personal ethics dictate. As I'm sure you did."
His expression turns a bit rueful as he answers the rest of Drift's arguments. "I erred," he agreed, "I have never hunted one of those mechs before, and underestimated his savageness. I should have paid more attention to Skyblast's talks, I suppose, but when he and I are together, my attentions are usually... elsewhere."
The half-smile returns. "I am not without weapons," he says as his sniper rifle appears in hands, cradled against him and in no way pointed toward Drift.
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Post by Drift on Mar 28, 2011 11:10:15 GMT -5
"Personal," Drift echoes. "can get you in a lot of trouble." His reasons are personal. But then again, so were his reasons for joining the Decepticons. The only thing that hasn't changed is his need to win the war. To make Cybertron better than it was.
Drift decides to match Mirage's nonchalance with his own, moving so that Mirage would have to turn to track him, just on the periphery. Pacing, in very, very slow motion, concentrating on the movement, the shift of balance, of weight. "Your side isn't much more innocent, you know." He turns his back to Mirage for a klik, before walking back, just as slowly. "Autobots have their share of 'horrors' they've participated in. More noble reason doesn't make war any less ugly." The core of his current discontent, which he's handily throwing onto everyone around him.
"And if Neutral isn't an option any longer...maybe we're at fault." They'd had to hide, after all, the Circle of Light buried in underground darkness. He'd thought them cowards, but maybe there were worse things than that for those who could do something other than kill.
Those unlike himself. He was good only at the one thing. Might as well do it for the right--the better--reason. He hoped.
Whatever Mirage is implying about Skyblast sails entirely over Drift's head. Mostly because what he might be implying surely isn't something to blurt out to a relative stranger. Interpersonal relationships are sort of...liabilities with the Decepticons.
It's hard to break a lifetime of training that's kept you alive: the weapon isn't aimed at him but the move is sudden and that's enough for Drift to pull his own gun. And unlike Mirage, he's aiming at the center chassis.
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Post by Mirage on Mar 28, 2011 23:32:04 GMT -5
Mirage possibly disappoints Drift by not turning to follow his movements. Oh, Mirage keeps a watch on the warrior using his peripheral vision, but if Drift moves out of sight, Mirage will not flinch over it. Nor does Mirage flinch when Drift pulls his own rifle. The spy's posture remains relaxed, outwardly unconcerned.
He chuckles, the sound dry and devoid of humor, "You say my side as if it is not your side as well. I think your choice was made even more recently than mine, Drift."
"I'm not oblivious to the horrors done by either side in this war. I avoided choosing as long as I could. Both sides were destroying our world, driving her to ruin and death for no reason," Mirage's voice grows softer, wistful, "Most of those here can barely remember a Cybertron without war, beautiful and shining. Yet for me, it is a close and recent memory."
"We're all at fault, regardless of faction, and can only look for redemption each in our own way."
Mirage studies his fingertips for a few moments, the says quietly. "Your shot would miss. Mine would not."
For once, there's no arrogance in Mirage's voice. He isn't bragging. He's just stating truth.
"But I don't shoot my allies." Unless it's a spar in the sim room, of course.
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Post by Drift on Mar 29, 2011 5:51:52 GMT -5
Drift possibly manages to look embarrassed as he sheepishly lowers the gun. In the grand scheme of How to Make Friends, he's failing abjectly. It didn't matter in the Decepticons--he'd earned his SiC rank there because of how damn good he was...and not his winning personality. Here, though, that stuff sort of matters.
"Uh, sorry." It's actually sincere, though it might not sound that way. "And yeah. Kind of...new at this." 'This' whole Autobot thing.
Drift gives a bitter sort of smile. "Cybertron before the war wasn't all that great, Mirage. Maybe for you," he shrugs, "but not for everyone." It was that discontent that had driven him to the Decepticons. Oh sure, it was beautiful and shining...and mechanometers over his head, literally.
He's nettled by Mirage's claim of superiority. Not many were Deadlock's equal in the 'con side. So he hits back. "So, what are you wanting 'redemption' for, anyway?"
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Post by Mirage on Mar 29, 2011 8:44:09 GMT -5
"Oh, I know it was not everyone's ideal. That is why Megatron started the war in the first place I hear, rising up through the gladiator ranks and gathering his first soldier there.* Though that could be mere propaganda. Certainly, they are no longer 'downtrodden underdogs' among our people," Mirage admits with a casual wave of his hand.
His rifle returns to subspace, and Mirage shifts his position a bit on the wall, bringing his arms up and lacing his fingers behind his head.
At Drift's rather pointed question, a shadow falls over the spy's face. He shakes his head.
"No, I'm afraid not. I've only told one other person here that story, and I don't know you. Suffice it to say that my willful refusal to choose led to the death of someone very dear to me."
"That is all I wish to say about the manner."
He shifts subjects, or tries to, "I take it you have not met a Mirage yet in your reality?"
*Wait, but that's IDW, you say! But no, this was also set up in Dreamwave, and a good portion of Megatron Origins was originally specced as part of Dreamwave continuity. This may of course cause confusion for some people.
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Post by Drift on Mar 29, 2011 10:08:17 GMT -5
"It's not propaganda." Drift considers saying more, that he was one of the ones Megatron recruited, with his promise of a better Cybertron, one where mechs could live in freedom, no one ignored, no one left out. But Mirage's handwavey attitude, and his dodging of Drift's question doesn't make him feel like spilling that out. Mirage is proving to be...way more judgmental than Kup.
He wants to snap that if he'd met a Mirage, that Mirage had pretty squarely Failed at Spying, but realizes before the words hit his vocal queue that that would be giving too much away. After a moment, instead, he mimics Mirage's dismissive handwave. "If I have, he was pretty forgettable."
Drift steps back, less withdrawing than a feint. "So you owe me your life, but apparently that doesn't include the truth. Good to know."
He honestly doesn't know why he'd expected it to be different here. Still, he spent how long in the Decepticons, in his own hostile reserve? He can do it here, if need be. As long as they let him fight.
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Post by Mirage on Mar 29, 2011 13:50:01 GMT -5
Mirage sighs. Again, people are misunderstanding him, reading into his words what he does not mean.
"And would you be so free with your most painful secrets, your failures to someone you just met?" Mirage asks. He sounds terribly tired, as if he's had this conversation before and does not expect any better outcome this time. "Is it it not enough to admit that I've a death like that on my hands and on my conscience? Even that much I've told precious few, Drift, but I felt that you deserved some sort of answer."
"You saved my life, and so I do owe you a life debt. That does not give your right to know my every detail, or to be instantly my intimate."
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