Sadist of the Noblest Blood

[Flame]

OOC: Month 1 Week 2 Day 3. Follows on the events of Operation: Codename Stalking. Open.

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In some ways, on some level, Flame finds the idea of what he is not only allowed but tasked to do distasteful. He has to play with fire retardant foam. This is repellent on principle.

Nevertheless, it must be done. He still handles the dispenser tank as if it might get him dirty, setting it down on a counter and promptly putting a full pace between it and himself. He has no real concern for the stuff doing anything to him – it isn't glue – but he is a flame-throwing vehicle. The idea of fire retardant foam is a nuisance; the actual substance annoys him. At least he's here to ruin its effectiveness… in that it also apparently renders some Decepticons helpless. That is, he supposes, a sight worse than simply hampering weapons.

"You are here," he says to his patients – perhaps that's too generous for the test subjects, "for a good reason." Tangentially related to their attempted mutiny. Punishing that isn't Flame's task and he leaves those thoughts for another time; one hand not quite resting on the foam tank, he presses the other to his breastplate with his fingers splayed, a dark star on the golden flare. "Together, we will thwart this vulnerability that affects so many in the ranks." His gaze falls on the slighter of the pair and briefly, the air of magnanimity about him turns sinister. He still hasn't forgiven the sticky situation that got them all here in the first place.

[Vortex/Valerie Wei-Li-Zhao]

Blue, blue optics.

It difficult to remember how many delightful times he’d pulled those out of some poor, screaming fellow’s face. Somewhere along the line though (possibly the moment he’d tried to glue gun the good doctor, but the heli didn’t know this just yet), Vortex’s life had taken a drastic and thoroughly ironic twist; now he’s peering up at the face of hundreds of past victims with the threat of grievous bodily harm in store for him in the very near future.

In way, the helicopter had been waiting for this.

He remains silent throughout Flame’s speech, sprawled indolently over one of the medical berths with an air of quiet concentration. Who did this doctor remind him of? It was hard to pin down any single visage in his memory banks when expressions of terror warped faces so thoroughly. Pale orange face and bright blue optics.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re gonna treat us real well, doctor,” he says, visor brightening in a smirk once Flame finishes talking. “I’m guessin’ dampening the pain’s gonna tamper with the results though, huh?”

[Brawl]

"Don't try and fancy it up with your fancy-talk!" Brawl growls, slouching on a berth adjacent to Vortex's. "You're gonna experiment on us and we gotta sit here and take it or else Scourge'll blast us. Just get it over with, doc."

The tankformer pushes himself off the berth and advances toward Flame. "But don't think you can go doing extra stuff to us just 'cause you think it's fun, 'cause if you do you'll be taking a long trip out three different short airlocks," he threatens, attempting to punctuate his words by jabbing at Flame's chest with his index finger.

[Flame]

Flame isn't sure how to address Vortex's question largely because he has no idea if exposure is painful. Though he plans for it to hurt the vile, glue-slinging little glitch in any case. He can, however, address Brawl's concerns. He starts by making a grab for the hand poking him, because Brawl is being unspeakably rude and throwing him off balance.

"My task," he enunciates clearly and slowly in clipped tones, trusting the smaller tankbot might be able to follow, "is to put an end to this bizarre weakness, if possible. I have no interest in experimenting on you." He frowns, more petulant than anything. "Now if you please, sit. Down."

[Vortex/Valerie Wei-Li-Zhao]

Oh, if only poor doctor Flame knew what he was getting into trying to make it painful for Vortex. This was probably about to turn very very strange very, very quickly.

“This isn’t an experiment?” Vortex quizzes, cocking his head ever-so-innocently. “I mean, you’re here and we’re here and we sorta don’t wanna be here and there’s chemicals over there...” He taps his mask thoughtfully for a moment before loudly stage-whispering, “Brawl, I think he’s lyin’ and he’s doin’ it right at our faces.”

[Brawl]

Sorry, Flame, all the polite Decepticons are in the other space cruiser.

Brawl's hand is grabbed. He looks like he's about to slug Flame, but then he remembers that he has Orders to Cooperate. The tankformer satisfies himself with giving the other tankformer a murderous look and sulking back to the berth he was sitting on.

He jumps back up, fists raised, when Vortex stage-whispers. "What!? But I just told him not to do that!" he growls. That's the way he remembers it, anyway.

[Flame]

"Tests," Flame patiently corrects both of them, enunciating in such a crisp way that he hisses the word, a sound at odds with his bright, amiable expression. "Yes, you have been forcefully volunteered for this, but that has no bearing on my procedures. However… perhaps," and he turns downright frosty with supercilious disapproval, one brow arching higher than the other, "you'll think better of any future mutinous ventures?" After all, assaulting Commander Scourge is what got them here. Flame himself may only be in a probationary period, among their ranks by the good and generous graces of command, but he knows better. Even if he has trouble holding his tongue on occasion.

Pointedly, he then readies a hose attached to a clearly-labelled tank of all-purpose cleaner.

"I need to establish exactly what reaction occurs after exposure," he explains. "If you have prior experiences with the fire-retardant chemical, please explain in as much detail as possible." He slings the hose over a conspicuous piece of scenery. "I'll apply only what's needed for this initial test, and it can readily be washed off again." And he waits patiently for whatever response is forthcoming.

[Vortex/Valerie Wei-Li-Zhao]

“Oh, totally. Lesson learned,” Vortex chuckles in reply, waving a hand dismissively. Yeah, mutiny? That was going to happen if the helicopter had any say in things. Revenge mutiny. It was a bit complicated what with his boss being reprogrammed but Vortex had a will.

And when Vortex had a will, things either went to hell or they just descended into a chaotic nightmarish mess. He’s not sure which one he wants just yet; he’s still simmering too much with hateful seething at the entire debacle to decide. Some cooling needed to happen before the scheming.

“‘Fraid not, doc,” he says in answer to Flame’s inquiry. “Never had the joy a’ facin’ off with Inferno. Kinda weird that he’s the only guy with that stuff- you’d a thought them Autobots would a’ taken advantage of a problem this widespread.” The helicopter snorts derisively. “Guess they had some ‘issues’ with it.”

[Brawl]

"I didn't mutiny!" Brawl all but shouts, slamming a fist down on his berth. "Scourge started it! Everyone was shootin' so I started shootin' too! That's just what you do! If you were a real Decepticon you'd know that."

"Ain't ever been shot with anything like that before. Plenty of flamethrowers, no fire-retardants. Huh. Just like the Autobums to have a perfectly good weapon and not use it because it's inedible," he says, managing to suggest an eyeroll despite his featureless visage.

[Flame]

Flame is perhaps, at times, almost fanatic in his loyalty to command, but he has his reason. It is deathly quiet and cast in lurid hues; he has no desire to be startled awake by Spinister hunched over his bunk because Flame didn't speak out against something as insubordinate as firing on Scourge.

"So long as you learned your lessons," he says prosaically and hefts up the foam sprayer. He files away for his report their observations on the use of foam, or lack of use, in their reality. It might be nothing, or someone higher up might find a use for it. "Now that we've established neither of you has been exposed previously, this test will be to determine just what reaction is caused." And without further ado, he opens the valve full and turns the hose on both Combaticons at full blast.

[Vortex/Valerie Wei-Li-Zhao]

Remind Vortex to make Spinister’s very life annoying sometime in the future.

“Gettin’ lectures ‘bout mutiny from an ex-Autobot is exactly what my day needed, you know?” The heli supposes it makes a lot of sense for an ex-Autobot to be conducting this test though. If the allergy was true for some other universes as well, things could probably get a bit awkward.

Sense doesn’t really make up for the nozzle of fire retardant pointed their way though. Vortex takes a moment to cringe before Flame opens the valve. And then things get a bit... messy.

“Fzzt!” Vortex says as he short circuits.

[Brawl]

"Agh! Hey, shut that off, I wasn't ready!" Brawl demands, trying to fend off the foam with his short-circuiting hands. It doesn't work too well, and he ends up with the stuff on his face and chest as well.

[Flame]

Flame is as good as his word; once they start reacting, he closes the valve. Only enough foam to induce that reaction. It just happened to take a copious amount.

"Instantaneous short-circuiting," he murmurs, stepping aside to note the effects in his log file. He spends a minute or two typing away, detailing how much foam was applied to which parts of their bodies and what length of time passed between contact and reaction. He includes the nature of their reactions as well, noting the way Vortex lost the ability to speak – something he finds especially intriguing. The extent of the dysfunction caused by exposure is fascinating. Not in the same ways he was fascinated by how the Decepticons he once injected lingered for many long cycles, twitching, choking, drowning in their own fluids as the rust corroded couplings and caused chemical breakdowns in the material of the lines themselves. It had been amazing to watch cerebral coolant seep out through optical seams.

He blinks and looks at his hands, realising he has been standing here motionless while he remembered. He flexes his fingers, shakes his head, turns back to the Combaticons.

[Vortex/Valerie Wei-Li-Zhao]

“Fzzt-ahah!” Vortex manages to rasp, wiping the retardant foam off his face. He takes his time rebooting his vocalizer, wrapping a hand around his throat as his visor flickers unsteadily and he groans, “Zzzt-oooh. Oh thatzzz- that burns.”

He trails off into some properly maniacal giggling, curling in on himself on his berth as he twitches from the uncontrollable misfires of his motor relays.

[Brawl]

Brawl frantically tries to wipe the evil white foam off himself, but his hands are covered in it. In short order, he's a short-circuiting mess. There's actually a wisp of smoke rising from his turret where it attaches to his back. He winds up slumped on the floor.

"You're gonna- fzt -fix this, right?"