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Goa Firestorm

Goa touches down from the wind shaft. Long slagging cycle... long couple of cycles, for that matter. He might be fresh off a recharge cycle, sure, but right now he only wants to be free of the repair bay's magnet-grip, as much as he hates leaving Slipstream alone... or Starscream and those crystal samples. Slag's sake, he needs something else to look at before his subroutines of paranoia burn a loop in his processor. Goa sits down unceremoniously on his usual bunk, optics and temples buried in his hands.

Firestorm’s attention perked at the sound of Goa plopping onto his bunk, the femme peeking her head out from her own to look down the fall and spot him. "Hey... You alright?" A twinge of concern passed through the link to him, able to feel his own emotions.

"Been better." He looks up with a faint smile, not having noticed Firestorm there... he isn't as aware of the link, not enough to get a bead on her location... but he can certainly pick up on the sentiment, with or without its help. "You're ... taking all this pretty well. Do you even know what they're doing up there? In repairs?" Goa draws his lips thin. He's never entirely sure what to expect from Firestorm in regards to the substance...

Firestorm’s optics lower at his question, her expression looking mixed, "Yeah... I know, but I left as soon as my own repairs were done. I... don't want to be part of that. Not again." Hints of sadness and anxiety trickled down the line, the femme caught up in her memories somewhat.

Goa throws down heavy locks on his own databanks, so as not to dwell himself and produce a feedback loop. "... you too, huh?" He takes a few steps and crouches next to Firestorm's bunk, so he doesn't have to shout. "'S why I'm down here, sis. But, you know... I think Slipstream wouldn't mind seeing a friendly face." His smile disappears... the mech looks generally grim. "I had a chat with Megatron about you."

One corner of her lips tugged back in thought of visiting Slipstream, her optics darting here and there upon the floor. "I... guess I could. I was there when it happened. I can't just avoid her...” But her attention was immediately grabbed at the mention of Megatron, the femme's head jerking up to stare at Goa. ".....What'd you tell him?"

Goa looks up into Firestorm's optics, unsure what he's picking up off of her. "Nothing he didn't already know." He steeples his fingers, much like he always does when he's metering his speech... "I got the records about your facility. The one they did that in."

"They were destroyed. It's ... emptying. Maybe not disappointing. It all lines up..." He flicks a data chip between his fingers, "It's just so vague. Dead-end."

"So he was keeping tabs on it..." She took a moment to process what he said, turning it over and over in her mind as her gaze shifted away from his and off into empty space. "I wonder if he's telling the whole story, though. Even if the facility's destroyed there still might be scientists or others still online from it."

"Wonder, do you?" Goa chuckles nervously and rubs at his flank -- the memory of a crippling wound rings over the link... "I try not to. But you're right. We should keep checking that roster Slip compiled." He, too, stares at the empty floor now. "... I did a little more looking for our builder, as well. Got nothing." Feels like there's something he isn't saying.

Firestorm moved to lean lightly against her brother, their helmets connecting with a light thunk. "You'd think there'd be something... You sure?" Lids lowered half-mast over her slightly dulled optics as they shifted in his direction, her side of their link pressing some at his own curiously.

Goa jumps a little as Firestorm thuds against his shoulder, but ... seems finally accepting, reaching up to pat her helm, to comfort, almost as reflex. "Oh, there is." He tugs at the upper block of her helmet, trying to work out the shape. "It's just beyond me. Got to find someone who builds. Someone who knows someone... lead to our culprit. Or someones." His dialogue becomes a little nonsensical as Firestorm's mental probing reaches to the nonverbal, jumbles of data and suspicion, sometimes in logical order, sometimes not. There's a clear hint of amusement to it all, towards the end... "Slipstream has some funny ideas. Like a collaboration of two Cybertronians that parted ways in the war..."

Firestorm was more used to his nonsensical ways in general by now, so she didn't even bat an optic as he started to ramble. "Well, that's not a bad idea, really. We honestly can only guess at this point. Hopefully that'll change and we can get our answers." She gave an audible sigh, her wings twitching slightly before she shifted back up to face him, "By the way, I wanted to ask before. Where'd you get the new look?" A boot gently nudged the now gold accents of his own feet.

"If I'm stuck down here in the dirt just 'cause of some builder's vendetta, I've got some internal support frames to pick." Goa's processor wandering is quieting down now. "Oh... Oh. Right. I uh... I get a little caught up when I fight..." He looks over at Firestorm, finger and thumb holding her forehead plate in place, which he wiggles a little. "There's a femme running the body shop now. The one out west of here?" His optics half-lid as he realizes something. "... underground?"

Firestorm’s optics crossed as they peered up at his gripping fingers, his wiggling making her face contort slightly though it didn't hurt. "I know the place. Wonder if that drone who ran it keeled over or something." Her eyes flick back to their original place as she focuses back on him, "They look expensive though." She nudged his foot again.

"If I told you they weren't, what would you do? Fly over to get all ritzed out?" Goa smirks and lets her face go. "I haven't seen him. Maybe..." He puts a hushing finger to his mouth and looks around the bunk, wide-eyed-- "Maybe it was /foul play/." The roller giggles in a juvenile way and draws his legs up to perch on the bunk, escaping the nudging and scuffing. "I'm gonna go out there again when they fix Slip and Shred. She's got me working to pay for a new pair of antennae... it's actually... nice. Pleasant."

Firestorm raised a brow, not exactly getting the joke, but she smiled anyway in an 'Oh Goa' type of way. "Huh, you're actually working? You must really want those antennae, or you like her." It was Firestorm's turn to have some fun, the femme chuckling softly as she poked him.

Goa keeps chuckling, but crosses his arms over his chest. "Since when do I avoid work?" He props himself up against the corner of the bunk, facing Firestorm. "Neither. I just like a break from topside." A smirk grows on his faceplate, and he continues in a much lower volume, "From being a rank-n-file Decepticon. Can wear someone like me down." He seems nostalgic, almost longing...

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