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[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

Month 2, Week 1, Day 1. Lounge. Shortly after the Autobots announce their existence at the UN. Open.
__________________________________________

For a mud ball that is covered in swarming short lived parasites, Earth is such an intriguing place! So many factors to consider, so many possibilities, and such an unpredictable species.

Onslaught doesn't like unpredictability.

So now that he is off planet and back in Ship, he fully intends to do more homework and keep his plans up to date. He does it by commandeering one of the lounges, the one that has a handy wall that is nothing but TV screens. And right now, he has them tuned into as many channels as possible, watching news report that detail the Autobots announcing their presence to the world, and the impact it had on the pathetic weaklings that inhabit this planet.

It is exactly what he expected to hear.

"Autobots are so predictable. These humans-"

"Are not, I assure you."

Suddenly, Onslaught is not looking at news reports. He is not looking at hundreds of channels. He is looking at one screen, one giant face.

One very, very smug face.

With pink glasses and a mullet shaped like a shark fin.

"What is this nonse-!"

"Do me a favor and shut up, please. Now, bring me your leaders. I have a business proposal."

[Needlenose]

Needlenose, as it so happens, is sprawled back in one of the lounges. He had been the one using the lounge beforehand - those viewers are great for video games - but he had given it up willingly because to his mind, research into Earth's media is valid research, indeed. And it gives him the opportunity to get an even better bead on Earth trends!

(One trend he's fast figuring out: hard core video game playing is mostly for uncool nerds, and while he is smart, the last thing he is is uncool. Simpler social games with intuitive interfaces are the wave of the future!)

He sits up and then leans forward, optics narrowed with interest at the appearance of the human face in front of him.

"Leaders-plural," he murmurs quietly, then glances at Onslaught to see if the Combaticon has caught that.

[Frenzy]

Several minutes later, Frenzy scurries into the room. The constant, low-level invective cuts off as he gets a look at the wall of human face.

An optic-stalk twitches.

Then he flings himself behind cover. A pause, so brief as to go unnoticed, then he darts to the nearest ship-connection that's also behind cover.

He slams a data-spike in hard and fast, silently cursing having to interface directly with the ship systems. But he wants this dealt with. Some fleshy meatsack hacked into his systems!

[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

Oh yes, Needlenose, he caught that little slip of this human. It is something he files away for later. Maybe he will use that bit as part of his next objective:

Keep the human talking.

Which is best achieved by not provoking the human. No, this calls for a little game of 'play along'. He gives a little tilt of his head and taps his audial with an ear, reminiscent of a how a human would do it, then crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"Done. They shall be here as soon as they are done discussing more important matters, mister...?"

"Powell. Porter C. Powell. I represent one of the more influential corporations on this planet. The rest is on a need to know basis and you, good sir, do not need to."

The glint of silver from the corner of his optic band notifies him that Frenzy has begun his work. But he never looks in the little hacker's direction, instead keeping his focus on the screen, standing perfectly still. "Aha. Well, mister Powell, I certainly hope that whatever you are offering is worth our time. If not, the consequences will be severe."

But what Onslaught doesn't know is the troubles that Frenzy will run into. Whoever hacked into Ship's systems, is a master. It is heavily encrypted, contains various counter measures, trap doors...Tracing it will prove to be nearly impossible, and cutting it off will perhaps prove even more difficult. It's almost as if the ship has been tricked into believing that this is an actual transmission with top authorization. What's worse?

"I am sorry, but that information is not for your ears, or whatever is your mechanical equivalent. Oh, and call of your little hacker. I assure you, his efforts will prove to be for naught."

Powell knows, and the defenses are actively changing, and Frenzy will find himself facing an even greater challenge.

[Needlenose]

"Ah, but even failed attempts have their worth," Needlenose answers cheerfully as he pulls himself from his seat and saunters towards a panel on one of the walls. He absently, and rather blatantly, in full view of Powell, pulls the panel off and removes a standalone datapad from subspace that he then hooks into a port. He is not really doing an in-depth trace, not of the sort that Frenzy is doing, but he is reviewing what the computer has to say about the signal on a 'surface' level, using his Mayhem-level clearance to check it.

"You know," he observes out loud, seemingly chatting to Onslaught, "we could just go to another lounge. I'm betting if we just ignore him long enough, the fleshling will just get bored."

[Frenzy]

If Frenzy gave two tugs of Ravage's tail whether or not Powell knew he was there, he wouldn't have come into the lounge at all. He just finds the Wall O' Powell obnoxious.

Then Powell opens his mouth.

Frenzy chitters invective, one eye-stalk swiveling towards the viewscreen wall. What he's finding in the systems is... interesting. Nothing he's going to shut down anytime soon. Nothing he needs to shut down, either. The temptation to just shut down Ship's entire receiving array is awful strong, though. Best hack in the world is piss-useless against disabled hardware.

His mouth-spines ripple in a chuckle. Frenzy's trace vanishes into nothingness. The meatbag wants to talk to High Command? Let him.

If there's enough left over to stuff in a Ziplock baggie, then he'll have some fun.

Skippable.

[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

What is Needlenose doing? Onslaught follows the other Decepticon from a corner of his optic band, while seemingly still facing the vidscreen with Powell. Now, what would the best course of action be? Play along, or keep the human talking? "Perhaps. It is a better alternative then listening to our 'friend' sputter." Oh, why not play along. Powell contacted them for a reason, he will become agitated, but he will not cut off before he has what he wants.

Judging from the way Powell squints his eyes, Onslaught is about to be proved right. That smile he wants to punch into a pulpy stain is still firmly in place as well. But he is about to be proven quite wrong.

"See, now that is where you are wrong. It would be sputtering if I had nothing valid to offer. But I do. You see, you have something I want, and I have something that you want."

If he could, Onslaught would raise an eyebrow in an unimpressed fashion. But alas, he lost his face. But the tone of his voice still gets his intent across.

"Really now, and what would that be?"

Powell just smirks, reaches into his desk, and puts something on the table. Something that makes him stand a bit straighter in surprise and interest.

"This."

An Energon cube.

[Needlenose]

Needlenose, despite lacking a face, really has a pretty poor poker face. His antennae perk, his optics widen in surprise, and his wings flick.

He recovers quickly, but for a moment there, his shock was evident.

As he continues, however, looking back down at his little stand-alone, he chatters cheerfully, "Righto! So just who's been feeding you information about us?"

[Sable Conolly]

Scourge stalks into the lounge. He could just send Slugslinger and have Slugslinger claim to be Decepticon leader. That would serve the human correct. However, he cannot afford not to make a display of dominance in front of the troops; forget the human entirely.

He ignores the screens and stalks over to one of the video game consoles. Then, Scourge turns and asks Needlenose, "Did you ever install Knights of the Nine?"

Now, he appears to just be here to play video games. If the human is at all informed about the Decepticons, he might assume Scourge is in charge anyway, and if he does, that will be quite telling.

An Autobot ploy?

[Starscream (Movie)]

Starscream follows Scourge into the room. (Observe the loyal second-in-command, trailing at his leader's heels.) Unlike Scourge, he does not ignore the video screen with the smug human on it. He walks straight toward it and flips the power switch on the wall behind it, attempting to turn it off.

[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

Needlenose's reaction has an immediate effect: It shows that yes, Powell's smirk can get more smug. It's only made worse by his question, and there is a thick helping of arrogance when he answers.

"No one. Which is exactly why you should not underestimate us. We have the means and the knowledge to make your lives miserable, should you decide to turn down our proposal. Please: Do see that as a challenge. So would we, and we never lose."

Onslaught keeps up his poker face even as his master saunters in to act like a flunky who likes video games. A clever attempt, but judging from how Powell follows the black Decepticon's movements, he doesn't But if he knows who Scourge is, or how important he is, he shows no signs of it.

Then in comes Starscream! When he walks up to the screen, Powell still has that serpent grin on his face. When Starscream presses the button there is only a mere flicker(*), but that is all that happens.

"How cute. And judging from your alpha-behavior, you must be their leader. The pleasure is all mine. Now, I am a busy, important man, so I won't waste any more time now that I have your attention. This pink marvel is what we like to call Ore-12. It is a highly potent and clean power source, and we can get you a considerable supply. Though we do want something in return, of course."
____________________

*: Those with knowledge of Ship's systems can realize that this means that it switched to an alternate power stream.

[Needlenose]

"Oh, sure," Needlenose answers Scourge cheerfully, "though you know you're not going to be able to use the weapons and armor unless you bring up your reputation a bit, right?"

He glances up and back towards the human. "Information just doesn't spring into existence unbidden, but really, human, your reach looks pretty limited from here, hmmm? At the end of the day, we're in an interstellar space craft, and you're not." Oh, sure, this group might have means to get beyond the solar system that the Decepticons don't know about, but bragging about such, or about remote control methods, or whatever else, in the end, all of it reveals something.

For example, the switch to back-up systems, easy enough for Needlenose to observe since he's monitoring the situation. That says something, too.

[Sable Conolly]

"That's why we have console commands," Scourge murmurs back to Needlenose.

Now, Scourge did not ask for Starscream to be here. Scourge does not want Starscream to be here. So of course, Starscream is. That's how Starscreams work.

When the irritating human insect assumes that Starscream is in command, Scourge makes a sputtering noise, hand clenching into fists of rage. He turns to Starscream and gives him a steady, level look that indicates that if Starscream agrees that he's the leader, Scourge is going to punch Starscream's head down through his body and out his left afterburner. He turns to Needlenose and comments, "Interacting with vermin is an indication of dominance now? I thought it was just pathetic."

He stalks closer to one of the cameras and asks, "Who are you working for? Is it the Autobots?"

[Starscream (Movie)]

Starscream doesn't agree that he's the leader. He doesn't disagree, either. Let Powell go ahead and keep whatever false conclusions he's come to.

"Interacting with vermin is a waste of time, yes," the jetformer says, nodding to Scourge before turning back to the smug face on the video screen. "Which is why I'm going to keep this as brief as I can while dumbing it down enough for your primitive brain to understand, human. Imagine you've made a miraculous discovery and found a colony of sentient insects. Let's suppose one of these insects contacts you and tells you it's hacked into your communications and is sitting on a valuable resource. It wants to negotiate with you for the resource. Do you trade with the insect, or do you just dig the industrial-strength insecticide out of storage?" he asks. It's a rhetorical question.

[Onslaught/Octavian Comstock]

Powell side-eyes Needlenose, his smirk decreasing into a much smaller one, but still full with smugness. What the hell, he has time to provoke them. "As far as you know. Not to mention that at the end of the day, you are the 'superior' race who had their defenses penetrated by a-" Finger quotes time! "-'inferior' race. Doesn't exactly paint you in a good light, now does it?"

Oh, and Powell sees your reaction, Scourge. "I suggest you work on your composure, mister Black. You are far too easy to provoke."

He taps on his desk, once, before leaning forward in his seat, an eyebrow quirking up while his smirk widens back into one that is so incredibly smug that it would make the other Starscream jealous. "I can guarantee you that we do not work with the Autobots. Call it a conflict of interests, if you will."

When Starscream goes off on a rant he raises a hand, and comments "Quiet son, your act was cute before, but now the grown ups are talking. So run along and...Brood in your corner, or whatever it is your robot chicken kind does."

Then Powell nods at someone off screen, shifts his attention back to Scourge, and folds his hands over one another.

"I let myself get sidetracked, pardon my manners. My time grows short. So I will cut down right to the chase: Here are coordinates to prove that we are very much legit. I guarantee you, this will be relevant to your interests. Consider it a down payment, a show of faith, with no strings attached. We will re-establish contact once you have been there, and see if you are more...Receptive. Until then gentlemen, have a pleasant day."

And then the transmission finally cuts out, the screen going to black.