Series: The Ghost Unit (2)
Title: The Art of Dealing
Setting: IDW Transformers, inspired by the "What's Wrong with a Little Destruction" verse by ajremix

Prelude 2: The Art of Dealing
"He who makes great demands upon himself is naturally inclined to make great demands upon others."
~ Andre Gide

Approximately 8000 B.C.
Not too long after the Dynobots have disappeared without a trace.

"Don't you think I don't know exactly what you're doing," the black mech hissed, evincing more displeasure than any were used to seeing from the usually cool, controlled Head of Intelligence officer. It was a point of pride for all those who worked closely (or even distantly) with him to know that not a single mech was able to joke about Intel being anything but stone cold brilliant after five minutes of exposure to their highest authority. The mech truly was just that brilliant. "You're trying to ask for far more than would even be remotely possible before scaling back to something we'd agree to just to get rid of you."

Data interpretation was what they did for a living. Manipulation was the part of data interpretation which kept them alive, and he'd seen the great big and bad Wrecker coming from a mile off on this one. Crossing his arms, refusing to sit down as he glared optic to optic with the triple-changer, making note of the battle scars etched in the armor plating of the green colored mech. None of the physical battle weariness was even close to present in Springer's optics, however - and that was the only thing which had allowed him sufferance to talk this long. When mechs believed, a way could be found, the Intel officer knew.

"Give me one good reason why I should go with this plan of yours." It wasn't a challenge so much as a flat out demand for data and facts he could work with, something which would actually make him believe that the Wrecker's plan might work. Still - he couldn't possibly think they hadn't tried before, the black mech thought, processors bringing up several files simultaneously, from personnel data to psych profiles, each whirring through the constant information flow running through his processors.

"Because this time, we're going to do it a little differently," came the uncompromising reply.

A datapad was placed gently on the desk between them, the gentle gesture belying Springer's intensity. After a moment a black armor plated hand reached out and picked it up, the encryptions locking the datapad known and unlocked within instants. Information blossomed across the screen, patterns and data weaving through in a wild, outlandish plan. It was one which Springer had obviously known right from the start would appeal to the Head of Intel.

Turn the chaff into gold. Take the resources which are misused, misunderstood or just plain tossed aside and set them to something vital. Essential. Desperately needed. Maximize your underestimated resources.

There was no way, the black mech realized as he perused the data, patterns of mistakes and errors and Intel failures highlighting the need for what Springer proposed, that other elements in the command structure had not noticed this research. Someone, somewhere, had to have wondered at the data pull brining all of this together must have caused, and as discreet as the triple-changer had been... a soft ping at the end of his firewalls caught his attention and the black mech allowed his optics to dull slightly, the ghost of a smile to edge his faceplates.

#Motion supported in full,# the ghostly echo said, devoid of any emotion.

#Right on time,# he responded dryly.

Another presence pinged clearly though the communications link, riding the signal exuberantly. #Slag yeah! We'll back this one up!#

Lowering the datapad, he met Springer's optics once more, amused at the sudden suspicion he was greeted with - clearly, his moment of inattention had been noted. He even let his amusement show briefly, because unsettling the Wrecker was a rare occurrence and he fully enjoyed those moments when he could be the source of it. "Let's talk." The growing gleam of victory in the Wrecker's SIC's optics was cut short at the sharp, sudden grin sent his way by the black mech. "Oh, this is just starting. Don't even think this will be in any way easy."

The Head of Intel's resources were stretched horribly thin. And he had absolutely no objection at using the Wreckers' resources in return for freeing some of his own in order to set up their little project.

Current Mood: bouncy