Slipstream is at her bunk, seated with right leg crossed over her left, both legs straight ahead of her. She's sipping on an energon ration as she reads her data pad. Trying to narrow down the choices from her earlier research.
Goa stumbles into the barracks and practically face plants across the foot of Slipstream's berth. "Night," he mutters, muffled but clearly sarcastic.
Slipstream jerks a bit as you pull that move. "Hello to you too Goa." she states, "I got my list narrowed down a bit."
Goa grunts and rolls his helmet to the side so he can see. "How narrow are we talking?"
Slipstream replies, "Started with 21 candidates, I'm about three fourths of the way through those, I eliminated seven. So have 13 candidates left." she cocks her head at you, "Give me a few minutes and maybe I can eliminate a couple more."
<Radio-NEU> Over Power transmits, "Attention, Cybertron. This is the one and only Over Power, with a message for a certain Autobot leader. In the name of Megatron and the glorious Decepticons, I, Over Power, hereby challenge you, 'Optimus' 'Prime', to a battle beneath the shadow of the Spire of Freedom. Should you choose not to come, I will proceed to destroy your beloved monument. I promise - it won't be any trouble."
<Radio-NEU> Over Power transmits, "Come alone. As if it needed to be said."
<Radio-NEU> Optimus Prime transmits, "... Your challenge is accepted."
Goa rumbles as he pulls his legs up, practically curling around the femme's feet. "Eliminate by what criteria?"
Slipstream's optics flicker at her radio. "Huh didn't know we got that channel." she mutters, then waves her hand as if to dismiss it. "First if they were on Cybertron at the time. Then by if they would have access to the fleet. Then by if they would have a motive to sell the Bots the energon." she scrolls through what she is reading as she speaks.
Goa blinks his optics on and off slowly. "Good enough." He flops one arm over his face, then after a moment his eyes illuminate it with a bright glow. "Did he say Spire of Freedom?"
Slipstream mmm hmms, "He did." she replies, still scrolling, "Not planning to go out there to watch are you?" she asks.
Goa leans up on one elbow, suddenly less sleepy. Fascinating ability. "Can't say I'm not interested to see what happens to that ... thing." He scoots up along the inner edge of the bunk forwardly, peering over Slipstream's shoulder to the data pad, still propped on an elbow. "And you?"
Slipstream states, "I am going to focus on the task at hand, which is...” she taps on her data pad then shows you the new list, "Getting this list down to 10 possibilities. If I add some new criteria I may be able to eliminate a few more." she turns her head to peer at you looking over her shoulder. "Comfortable?"
Goa smirks, careful to elevate himself /away/ from the wing. "Quite." He squints, then widens his optics. A finger shoots out and taps the data pad rather roughly -- "That one. Old medic, right?" His arm goes back to his chin. "Don't eliminate any more medics or the like, if you can rationalize it."
Slipstream looks back to the data pad as you tap on it like that, "Yes, not on Cybertron at the moment though." she pauses, "Why would a medic be either a spy, a traitor, or just in general stupid enough to sell Con energon to the Bots?"
"Right. Rationalizing." Goa shifts on his elbow, slightly bumping the wing under him, but he jumps away apologetically. "Mechs of that profession get obsessive. Get weird intentions that you can't wrap your processor around if you try. Humor me here."
Slipstream grimaces a bit to the bump then nods her head, "All right, continue." she says, moving a hand to gingerly rub the spot you impacted.
Goa puts on a plaintive, please-don't-kill-me look. "While you're humoring me, is there anyone operating in Cubicron?"
Slipstream cocks her head to this, "Of course there'd be one in Cubicron."
Goa looks grim. "Just one?" He narrows his eyes, "Ex-'Con?"
Slipstream hmms, "Let me check." she brings up the 'Con medic that is on the list of potentials and scrolls to the last known location...
+Roll: Slipstream rolls against her Intelligence Stat and succeeds by 5! The total roll was 5.
Slipstream nods her head, "Yes, this one went to Cubicron for some medical reason and never came back."
Goa nods slowly. "I'm heading down there next cycle. Need a break from the button-pushing." He stops with his helmet tilted away. "You're welcome to come."
Slipstream nods to that, "Sure, best to have a wing mate." she quirks her lips a bit and then turns her data pad off. "So what were you up to while I was recharging?"
"Had a chat with Firestorm. Managed to un-glum the poor femme a little bit." Goa leans closer, seeing how long it takes to irritate the seeker. "Pep talks aren't really my style, but it worked out. And she didn't try to kill me. I'd call it a success on all fronts."
Slipstream doesn't back away when you lean closer, optics looking at your very close face. A hand reaches up and strokes a finger against your beard. "It's good you are looking out for her Goa." she smiles a hint.
Goa crosses his eyes downward, then looks back up. "We have a lot in common. It's the particular lot I hoped no one would have to /have/ in common with me, but at least we... it's something." He inclines his helmet down and head butts Slipstream with the conic crest. "Maybe I should see if she wants to tag along? Slagger's always reading or something. Always bored and sleepy. Or angry," he adds with a huffing chuckle.
Slipstream hmms softly to this information about you and Firestorm having things in common. Her optics flicker a bit at the head butt, hand moving away from the beard as if she took that as a hint to stop. "You can ask her." she replies.
Goa looks sad, moving his free arm to thumb his chin himself. "Oh, no. My vocals seem to have failed, I can no longer talk to glowy people." He fans himself mockingly. "That makes life as a Decepticon difficult, you know. I know Shockwave glows all the time. Most of you fliers keep your engines hot, too-" He clams up, smiling widely.
Slipstream shifts her wings back just enough to brush against you, she gives you this odd confused and amused look, then giggles, "Mmm well takes the right reason to make the engines hot Goa."
Goa takes this as a cue to shift the weight of his upper body to rest on the flier's chest, rubbing his cheek on hers in an awkward interlocking of helmets. He pauses for a quip, but says nothing.
Slipstream's optics dim a bit to this contact, reaching up hesitantly she lays a hand on your helmet and strokes along the groove. Her other hand moving back to your beard to guide your head just a hint. Her lips are very close now, they move a bit as if she was going to speak. But nothing. She looks you in the optics, trying to read your reaction.
Goa's lenses dart around slowly, unsure what he's gotten himself into -- but there's an unreal calmness in there, one that looks like it's been unfamiliar to him for some time. At least until he dims them to a dull maroon as his lips fall into the open embrace, engine stealthily revving.
Slipstream closes that wisp of a gap between lips, it's a soft press and is held for a few seconds before she pulls back just a little as she reexamines your oddly calm yet darkened optics. Her maroon has gone several shades deeper, almost seeming happy... content.
Goa idly licks the upper lip of his slack jaw a moment before his eyes click back to a wide, loud scarlet. A smirk quickly creeps onto his face. "That seems to have fixed it."
Slipstream's optics flicker back to near her normal hue of magenta, "What needed fixing?" she asks, still close, hands still remaining where they are.. beard and helmet groove.
Goa snorts, grinning whole sparkedly. "Never mind." He shifts his legs to a comfortable position as well, sprawled such that he's finally not threatening any area of wing. "... Credit for your thoughts?" He doesn't dare move his face, choosing to relish the close view of Slipstream's features.
Slipstream's optics shift slightly, like she were actually narrowing them. Then she hmms, "I'm thinking I'll do this again." then presses her lips to yours, this time a little firmer and contact held longer.
Goa's eyes flash with surprise-- "mmmf!--" before calming again. His hands wander to her helmet now, cradling one side, thumbing a corner on the other.
Slipstream moves her head just a hint, speaking softly with her lips brushing just barely against yours, "Do you want me to stop Goa?"
Goa chooses not to reply but instead lock Slipstream in a deeper kiss, angling his face to the side. The mech's squirming unreadably -- maybe still confused, maybe just happy. He traces down the top of a wing, so cautiously his shaking hand frequently breaks contact.
Slipstream naturally shivers to the wing contact, accepting the deeper kiss as her optics dim back down. The hand on your beard moving off to join the one on your helmet. Fingers shifting along the grooves there.
<Radio-NEU> Over Power transmits, "That's right, Prime. Run. Run away. Preserve your life, preserve yourself, and let the fact that you were forced to cheat rankle in your honorable little soul. And know, too, that I'll be waiting for our next confrontation. And this time, I won't let you walk away so easily."
<Radio-MIL-DEC> Over Power transmits, "This is Over Power. Prepare a repair bay for me. I'm coming home."
Goa shudders reciprocally upon the feedback in his antennae, ventilation fans buzzing to life along his sides. He lifts his mouth back away, wobbling light headedly. His gaze downward is through a haze, clearly he's quite pleased -- just pleased, not self-satisfied, surprisingly.
Slipstream smiles to the shudder she gets from you, murmuring softly, "Perhaps we should stop before someone walks in here and catches us..." she stops there, shifting her hands down to rub her fingers against your cheeks.
"Perhaps? Did that stop me the last time I gave you this much trouble in the barracks?" Goa swoops into a quick peck on the femme's lips. "You're right. This time. I can't say I was paying much attention to the radio. Did you catch any of that? Maybe we should look like we're on duty just in case?"
Slipstream mms softly to the quick peck, then nods her head, "No it didn't. And all I have to do is tap on this data pad and have you point at it like you saw something to look busy." she notes, slowly moving her hands from your face. "As for the radio, sounds like someone took on Prime and got his chassis harmed to me."
Goa rocks his helmet forward, tracking her grip as long as he can. "Like I saw something. Immediately after falling on top of you like a klutz. Sure." He lifts himself up and sits again at the foot of the berth, beaming. "Want to go check?"
Slipstream smiles as you follow her hand, "If you fell on me on this berth right now then that would look like a different type of busy." she muses, "Go check on a mech that should know better than take on Prime alone when we can stay here? You serious?"
The imposing Over Power touches down from the wind shaft, ignoring the rest of the Decepticon forces as he makes his way to the Energon Cooler. Idly, he inserts his energon chip, refueling; blazing red optics light up as he finally glances around to look at who else happens to be in the area.
Goa laces his hands together over his knees as he balls up at the foot of Slipstream's berth. "As always." He follows with his optics the sound of footsteps, and soon after, the unfamiliar mech walking into the barracks. Smirking maliciously, he greets him with a brief wave of the fingers. "You must be Over Power."
Slipstream glances over at the newcomer to the barracks as she holds a data pad in her hand. She smirks a bit at Goa, "Mister obvious." she teases softly, then looks back to the data pad to add a few more parameters to narrowing down the list.
Over Power's voice rumbles as he addresses Goa, eyes tilting down at the smaller Decepticons. "I'm afraid I don't know your name," Over Power replies, "But that is correct. I am Over Power."
Goa snorts at Slipstream quietly, then nods to Over, squinting curiously. "Not subtle, are you. Popping out of the blue and stomping after the Autobot leader? Name's Goa."
Slipstream offers to the newcomer, "Name is Slipstream." tap tap tap, there's one off the list... scroll through the next profile... tap tap... another one off. "Maybe he had titanium torsion bars for it." she quips, smirking a hint.
Over Power rumbles in assent at the names before - sounding like he's in a good humor - replying to Goa. "And what about my name makes you think I'm anything like subtle?" he inquires, sounding deeply amused as he unhooks himself from the fuelling station. "I ground his servos into the dust before he cheated. I let him run. I proved my point."
Goa turns to better face the mech and reclines, ankles hanging from the edge of the bunk, hands locked over his midsection. "Not your name, just your shouting on the radio. Nothing wrong with flamboyance. So why didn't you finish the job?" One of the shorter mech's arms prop up between the side of his helmet and the surface of his seat, lazily.
Slipstream finishes tapping away and offers Goa the data pad, "There, list is down to five now. I'm going to get my recharge in before I have to go on patrol duty. Have Firestorm look it over, see what she thinks."
Over Power cracks his neck to the side as he looks down at Goa. "He ran," he says simply.
Slipstream shifts her legs around and nods to Over Power, "Good on you then." she states, then lays down on her back, hands on her lower torso just under her canopy. "If you two mechs don't mind, I'm shutting down now."
Goa takes the tablet, smiling at the flier thoughtfully for a couple more clicks before standing. The mech is indeed shorter than his size would've suggested, though it could just be his posture. He paces slowly, stepping in next to Over Power to snag a ration, then ambling down the barracks hall. The data pad he holds in one hand appears to display profiles, dossiers. "Good." He says ambiguously, filing it back in his cab. "Maybe one day I'll be out there to chase him down."
"Maybe one day you will," Over Power agrees as he walks away from the Barracks. "Let me know. I'm happy to hold him down."
Goa scuffs to spin about on one tire, walking backwards. "Don't mind if I take you up on that." With that, he levitates off into the wind shaft to some fool's errand or another.