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Post by Taggon on Sept 2, 2016 6:21:29 GMT
“Remember your oath Taggon? Do you recall when you boasted to me of how you’d dedicated your life to restoring Cybertron to peace by erasing all corruption from it? I remember child still becoming a mech marching confidently to the conversion center, believing that becoming a vehicon was going to change the world for the better.”
“I...that data was lost. If I was something before re-assimilation, then I was clearly foolhardy and reckless.”
“If you think you still aren’t, then that’s a mistake. Look at what you’ve done in your grief and solitude.”
“I do not know what you are referring to.”
“You know precisely what I am speaking of. Now what of this new title of yours? Do you genuinely like being called ‘demon’? Find your logic, and with it, your senses.” “…You have no idea what you’re proposing.”
“On the contrary. I know precisely what I am suggesting. You just don’t like it.”
======~
Taggon was lost, but that was nothing new. He’d flown his ship far away, his destination a directionless one. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what he was doing, and didn’t have a plan. He knew what he could do, he just had mixed feelings on it. His usual calm had abandoned him like a bad business partner. The Avacons had yet to realize he was leaving them, or straying away. They’ll know soon enough. I destroyed any means that I know of them tracking me. They’ll either deploy scouts to find me, or make an assumption I’ve done what I have. Either way they’ll know any minute. Taggon scowled at the com-line device on his wrist. He knew it wasn’t too late to turn back.
But after all he’d done for them, and after discovering what they really stood for—he couldn’t have had a more powerful distaste in him mouth. ‘Avacon superiority.’ Taggon heard the sly remark that was always passed by Airwatcher or Ichor to an enemy if they were winning a fight. He found he suddenly hated that saying with a passion. His agitation swirled in his helm as he thought of what he was really going to do in the end: Join the Autobots. Blast you Ceft. It was the only logical solution left, otherwise he was doomed to wander the universe alone. The thought of having to join the same faction as that Captain Astrinal didn’t make Taggon skip for joy either. There had to be another purpose, some other place he could go to, and to find answers. Logical answers.
Taggon’s feet wandered another mile away from his ship. He didn’t know exactly where he was on what planet, but keeping track had been irrelevant. Being an assassin for the Avacons had built up a strong appetite for violence, now that he was denied senselessly killing mechs and femmes (innocent or not) he had grown restless. Oddly enough a faint energon signature was able to be conceived from the surrounding area. Avacon technology did have its perks. Taggon grunted before following where the faint energon signature was. Whatever he was tracking could take his mind off whatever moronic philosophy he was having to cope with in his mind. Although more hunting never shut it up. Taggon slowly navigated towards the source of the energy signature, gradually approaching the location---
Scans would easily pick up on his activity. His restlessness had also turned to carelessness, and he was not cloaked in any way.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 3, 2016 14:39:19 GMT
Taggon was beginning to get his bearings, beginning to calm down inside enough to realize how idiotic he was being with the approach to the energon signature when it began to rain. He walked through the overgrowth, seeing the first drops before him, simply beginning to think that perhaps they’d clean his armor some. He didn’t have any like for water though, so he supposed he’d have to run along. It was then a sizeable drop splashed into his arm, and Taggon saw the little mark it left behind after hissing. Wait---what? Taggon arched a brow before it began to pour from the gathered clouds.
-
The vehicon sprinted for the energon signature, each stride of his was wide, as he dug his heels into the ground within an instant, bolting for the signature. If it was consistently growing stronger with each passing second due to him approaching it, then it had shelter. Acid was burning into his armor. The vehicon’s visor began to sputter, as it’s light lost the defiance against the onslaught of acid. <system failure Oh no.
The site for the shelter was just four feet away, and Taggon’s visor went black; obscuring his vision. The vehicon was running blind, and it wasn’t long before the warrior tripped over a large root, sending him slamming into the ground, skidding for the lab. The lip of the outstretched segment of the ruin provided enough cover for Taggon so that as he laid flat on his chest in the mud, the acid only tickled the backs of his heels. Taggon lifted himself form the mud, wiping where he knew his visor was instinctively. Come on. The visor flickered back online, granting him sight. Taggon arose to his feet, trying to get his bearings as he leaned towards the cover more, inspecting himself briskly. His attention was drawn away from his wounds as he saw a small drone in the area. It seemed the drone hadn’t caught sight of him yet—though he was completely exposed, and had just made a large splat in the mud.
Still. It was best if he avoided combat at this point. He hadn’t done a full damage analysis, and it was best if he tried to retreat into this lab. The mech would try the entrance, seeing if it was blocked or locked…
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Post by Taggon on Sept 5, 2016 15:14:55 GMT
“Balance-check mate. Get your act together already.”
Cut-Up’s mocking (yet oddly brotherly) voice was something Taggon could hear in his voice. The young vehicon inhaled and ex-haled as he checked the entrance. It was completely blocked by rubble, no windows or other entrances were visible. Taggon knew he couldn’t rely on his visors multi-ray vision in order to detect another way in. His visor was barely remaining online as was. The vehicon inhaled and exhaled after he brushed his servos over the rubble barring the entrance. Slowly, he was working his way out of the small muddle of anger he’d been neck deep in all week. As Taggon gave into a slight measure of repentance, his instincts told him he was not alone. His optics slid to the ground beneath the entrance first. Sure enough, there was a smooth indication of something like a sphere navigating across the mud.
The tracks led into the greenery to the corner of his optic. Taggon silently prayed to Megatron that the source of the tracks wasn't behind him. Then he remembered he was not a Decepticon either, and mentally sighed. His servo slowly drew a long sharp claymore, before he slowly turned to see if anything was behind him. Just his luck, something was. Only the strange drone had made no effort to conceal itself. Taggon reviewed how previously he’d made some of the most rookie like maneuvers in arriving to this abandoned site, as he levelly met the monotonous gaze of the drone. It wasn’t of Avacon origin, to his relief. He slowly took a step back, as he kept a servo around the claymore’s hilt. Taggon didn’t bother speaking though. The light pitter-pattering of rain against the small drone’s body told Taggon that it was quite immune to the acid rain. Unlike his armor, which looked as if he’d encountered someone with a subsonic repeater, the spheres armor was as unscathed as it was smooth.
Taggon was ready for a combat, though if this were so, he’d let the drone make the first move. The only scans that seemed to be working told him more energon signatures were coming from beneath him. Which meant surprise surprise, the old abandoned lab was not abandoned. Just really, really old.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 7, 2016 0:37:14 GMT
Taggon steadily stared back at the drone. The sphere was pulling out no weapons, its simple eye just watched him, analyzing him. Taggon knew when he was being looked at like some sort of specimen, and he didn’t like it in the least. Closer inspection of the drone told him that it was of Cybertronian origin, which was good news and bad news. The good news was he wasn’t about to become an experiment or reality show for some random alien, the bad news was that Cybertronians were more often than naught either Deceopticon or Autobot. It was odd the drone wasn’t shooting at him, considering the cons had no doubt thought him dead, and the Autobots would have just killed him on the spot. Perhaps this was an ancient Decepticon laboratory, which hadn’t been up to date on the events of the war. It sounded like as credible as it was likely, hence, Taggon allowed the drone to continue scanning.
Killing it would probably trigger some hidden auto turrets anyways.
Taggon looked back at the blocked entrance, narrowing his eyes behind his dim red visor. He raced along the walls, until he discovered a small opening in the barricade he hadn’t noticed before. The brush near beside the entrance hung over what seemed to be a shadow. As the moonliught broke through the clouds like a defiant torch, Taggon saw the light catch on a small portion of what was behind the brush. Taggon furrowed a brow as he knelt to the ground, gently pushing aside the brush to see a small hole that lead straight into blackness. Only a handful of miniature blinking lights offered the shadows company. Taggon noticed that there were indentations by the entrance. The small circular drones, or someone else had taken this route. The hole was small enough for a Taggon-sized person to crawl through on all fours.
The vehicon didn’t have much of a choice, as the rain began to blow towards the cover due to a change in the wind. Grunting, the vehicon checked his servo’s default arm blasters, before he crawled, brushing past the plants that camouflaged the hole. He would continue through the small entry path, on guard.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 8, 2016 14:55:11 GMT
Taggon’s small passageway evolved into something more of a walk way, which lead to a vast corridor; a dome like chamber, supported by four strangely made pillars. A great light lit up the chamber from what looked like a tubular shaped power generator. His scans told him this was the power source he had been tracking. Just viewing it from afar told him that someone did occupy this ancient place. Otherwise this core would have run down years ago. He changed his visors line of sight to the pillars each pillar had a few platforms attached to it, as well as monitors and other machines, none of which Taggon believed he was familiar with. Any moron could have noticed the fact that simply walking throught eh room wasn’t an option, since it was flooded in with the acid rain. The vehicon’s line of thought was interrupted as his auidos heard the small orb like patrol unit roll in his direction, its ever watchful purple eye fixated on him. He was beginning to think more and more that someone was controlled the drone to keep a tab on him. The vehicon didn’t like that thought at all. Even if he made it across this chamber, the drone could simply roll in the water, going the easy way to keep up with him.
Taggon turned back to looking at the pillars. Where’s a grappling hook when I need one. He thought regretfully. The narrow hole he’d come through didn’t grow into a larger entry point enough for him to back up and have a running start. The pillars were too far apart for him to just jump from one to the other. He bet his life that whoever was incharge of the facility either had platforms they could order to come out of the ceiling or the pillars to create a boardwalk of sorts. He didn’t have that luxury. Any thoughts Taggon had about not going deeper into the complex were marks of small erosion he saw on the passageway he stood in. Sometime or another, rain came trickling in through the passageway to add to the small waterlogged chamber. He still needed to go deeper into this lab for cover.
He returned his gaze to the chamber. After a few short minutes, he looked at the orb right in the purple eye. “Not much for visitors eh?” Taggon muttered, before kneeling down to the acide. Pulling out the toughest super-heated daggers out of his inventory, dipping them in the acid water before throwing them at seemingly random places in the wall. The tough metals of his daggers wouldn’t give into the acid easily, and before the acid had mucha chance to bite into the metals, it was used to help the dagger plant itself in the wall. First the daggers would pierce the wall, and then the watery like acid would steam from the knives heat, creating a brisk sealant between the tool and the wall. Taggon thus climbed across the wall by gripping onto the knife handles, scaling horizontally to the opposite side. After a few toilsome minutes flew by, the vehicon had made it to the other side. He didn’t bother waiting for the drone. It would probably follow him. He glanced around the room of probably the most unique technology he’d ever seen before he went on. He didn’t find too much beauty in labs, though he could always tell how much effort was put into it. Hence, the vehicon walked through the entrance to the next corridor…
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Post by Taggon on Sept 11, 2016 14:34:04 GMT
((Pfffffft, I knew that KB, I was just posting that it had a purple eye because I was seeing if you knew it actually had a blue eye. Cough Thanks for telling me, my bad cough XD ))
Breathing quietly, Taggon heaved his shoulders. Avacon reflexes and enhancements were always useful, but that didn’t mean that noting took effort. He continued exploring, finding himself in a room full of pod-like tubes, almost similar to the design of the power core. Most of these large oversized see through pipes seemed to hold nothing in them. Taggon felt something churn uncomfortably inside him, as if something in his being were stretching, groaning at the sight of these tubes. He was in a lab. He remembered being reconstituted into a vehicon’s build. Or waking up looking like everyone else in the same room anyways. A wave of nausea flooded through Taggon as he shook the feeling. But his feet had taken himself elsewhere. He was gazing into one of the tubes, where he saw the black-outline of a figure. He rubbed the haze away form the glass, gazing into the glass, beyond the liquids to see a young vehicon, his visor offline. Various chords were connected to his helm, as programming streamed into his processor---
Taggon blinked, as reality returned to him. The obscured form of the mech lay motionless in the tube, as indistinguishable as it had been form a distance. Taggon felt that queer sensation in his spark, as it wavered a warning to him of what was to come, or what it still remembered in the bowels of his subconscious. Taggon furrowed his brow. This was why he hated laboratories, they reminded him too much of where he’d been bred, and plagued him every step of the way. Taggon looked at the bizarre technology. Someone had been here…scans were beginning to crack and ring in his audios. His helmet had taken much damage. It’s functionality was most likely barely holding on. Before he continued to travel through the liar, the orb that followed him blocked his path, speaking in a disembodied voice. Taggon kept one firm servo around his claymore before he answered. “I…” Taggon started, hesitantly. Then the drone croaked something odd. ‘Evolve tool…’ Taggon furrowed a brow at the statement. He frowned behind his mask, wondering ofr an instant if this facility was of Avacon origin. No. Otherwise the systmes would be either friendly, or simply trigger happy. He narrowed his optics at the sphere like drone. His visor remained focusded on the drone while his actual optics were fixed upon what lay ahead. The drone was reluctant to provide him access for a reason. This wasn’t just a question. This perhaps was something that the drone’s own security systems were counting on him to answer. “I am looking for Answers…and perhaps my host.” He stated. No point in lying. It wasn’t in his programming anyways. He didn’t come to this particular place seeking philosophical knowledge, but somehow, he felt he might find a few things if he was honest. He was having a hard time finding a purpose at present anyways. Though if his mysterious host turned out to be a nutjob, lad assistant or zombie-in-a-monkey-suit was the last thing he had in mind to ‘answers’. Speaking like this was typically considered dangerous. Especially in a lab.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 12, 2016 15:05:39 GMT
((No worries KB, it’s perfectly fine to call Tagsy by T-19. : 3 ))
The pause was killing him. Taggon shuffled form one foot to the next restlessly, as the drone silently seemed to count to ten before answering very simply. With that the spherical probe shuttered off. In the second that ticked by, Taggon wondered if it was organizing itself to screech into a siren, calling in some kind of horrors to kill Taggon. When it only turned optic color as well as its voice, Taggon mentally sighed with relief. He’d been in too many bad labs. He never portrayed any emotion, after his rattled emotional minutes in the forest he’d been able to piece himself together enough. It was a loose wall that now guarded his emotions, but he knew he could manage to hold himself together unless his tongue slipped into a rant. Or his thoughts dashed to the questions that had been plaguing him for weeks.
“Greetings to you as well.” Taggon said, venting inwardly, trying to pretend he wasn’t surprised that the drone knew his vehicon tag number. How---Have I been here before? He heeded the smaller bot, remembering how his hands were still clenched around a claymore hilt. The drone seemed to be pleading for him almost as if he were a friend to not engage in any kind of combat, or to keep that pose. Taggon found himself staring down at the claymore. He’d keep it sheathed, but he’d keep his servo ready. “I only use my weapons if necessary.” He nodded, agreeing steadily before he took one cautious step after another, further he ventured itnot the dank quarters of the lab.
Taggon’s visor flickered more once he entered the darker room, the light mechanics seemed as spent as the machines around them. The young vehicon grunted at the sight of the dismantled mech. He seemed cleanly intact though. Inspection and scans declared the evidence that he wasn’t being scrapped he was being delicately reassembled. Taggon saw a ghostly white figure seated in the other corner of the room, calmly fiddling with small shapes made out of a thin material. It was a femme. Like him, she concealed her face behind a mask, save for her jewel like optics that were fixated upon one of her crafts. It was obvious she was the ‘creator’ as she was the only thing completely intact, and not shaped like a circle.
The ex-Avacon approached her with a few steps, though getting closer wasn't allowing him to see her any better. “You must have been low on options if you came to this planet. Then again, the war is spreading like a forest fire.” Taggon neutrally spoke to the femme. He was assuming she was neutral at this point, since his HUD couldn’t attach her technology with anything he’d seen previously in his databanks. He coughed a little, his weary systems thoroughly strained with all the pressure he’d been through throughout the weeks. Still, if he was going to be 'polite' and maybe learn a thing or two, formalities took priority.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 13, 2016 14:28:22 GMT
Taggon eyed the seat, as the seemingly emotionless scientist commented on how hard it must have been on him to travel here. He noticed she didn't have any holes in her armor, whereas he was covered with them entirely. The acid rain had not being something enjoyable. The vehicon grunted at her gesture. He granted a second of his attention to those interesting white figures she had masterfully created. There was a miniature army of them, all in different shapes and sizes. The vehicon dared not touch them, but they were worth the unspoken flattering attention he gave them. The vehicon was uncomfortable sitting upon a seat in a lab of all places, despite how hospitable his host was being within these first minutes.
Taggon just shrugged, leaning against the wall. "I am fine." He responded to every thing that had spoken to him in the room, referring to his health, as well as the offer of him sitting down. The vehicon felt edgy in this lab, in his experience, labs were meant for experimenting, whether the subject was a guest or a prisoner. He didn't trust what could be on the energon. The fact that one drone seemed to be completely friendly and nervous while the other hostile and cautious was something he called 'good cop and bad cop'. It was an ideal set-up for some kind of...trap. As if I had a real reason for existing right now anyways. Taggon thought, though he knew if he said it aloud around Ceft, the mech would sternly grip him on the shoulder. Ceft had always said life was a gift, able to talk on and on about religious jabber that Taggon had only half the heart to listen to at times. Taggon kept himself as well composed as he could, tired and damaged as he was.
"You were not alone when you came to this establishment were you." He pointed his chin at the dismantled body, also remembering the dim figure in the tube. He mused to himself reasons of maybe she ran from the war. A lost loved one? Maybe that was who this mech was. Taggon filed through questions in his helm. "What was your purpose, and what is your purpose right now?" He found himself asking. To him, it sounded like a fair question. vehicons were created with specific purposes, while others simply acquired their own.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 14, 2016 15:07:56 GMT
No matter who he'd been, or where he'd been Taggon had always sensed a master hand behind everything he did, gently flexing its fingers as the strings tugged at Taggon's limbs, as if everything he did was intended to be done. For once, Taggon felt as if Chaff had sensed those strings as well. Perhaps one reason he so desperately clung to his unpredictable habits was his way of breaking free of those invisible restraints, to show the master hand that no, he was no one's puppet--but it seemed in his appetite for collecting new personalities, he'd unfortunately become his own puppet, as he skipped, jumped and hopped form one personality's restraints from another, until he was tangled in a mess caused by his own struggling. Like a victim caught in a web, he struggled more, and tangled himself more, only twisting himself into more trouble.
Unfortunately, Taggon had never escaped that 'hand' that stroked the back reaches of his mind. He'd felt it caress him again and again as he was upgraded, and especially when he joined the Avacons. It was his programming...or so he thought. Taggon seized up this femme as she answered him the way he feared she would. No answer regarding existence. And a second mention of him being an evolved tool. Taggon's vehicon nature told him he desired a faction, and above all, a purpose he could cling to for the rest of his life, so he could fight and function in piece. But some part of him seemed to be waking up inside the more that 'hand' flexed, as if all his talks with Cybertronians who weren't programmed stirred something in him, some part of him he couldn't speak of. This part of him always made his gears turn, his processor scream with questions. It was murmuring much to often. He wanted a way to shut both up so he could think clearly again.
"I am sorry for your loss, especially for your master." Taggon said, though there was a numbness in his voice that rippled through his iron wall. He re focused on the femme. He tried to keep his eyes off the body. He didn't mind the fact that those drones were gone though. They agitated his senses only a degree more. This femme was generous enough to reveal she could give him some privacy with her. He had a rousing suspicion that somewhere were concealed weapons. The mech remained vigilant. Her own question made him arch brow.
"I was caught in the rain outside. My armor could not tolerate the onslaught. I caught shelter. Caught an energon signature, and found my way in here through the only entrance available." Taggon answered. "Speaking of, why am I called 'evolved tool'. I have earned a name beyond my number...which I still do not know how you retrieved that data...my name is Taggon." Taggon answered. 'Evolved tool wasn't something he liked very much. His visor flickered once more.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 15, 2016 15:01:28 GMT
He was picking up interesting signatures from the corpse, but it was hard to focus on when his helmets vision was flickering, and his Hostess was taking one step after another towards him, commenting quietly on what he was, and what he’d become. She spoke of others who’d broken through the ‘barriers’ and had made it out alive on the other side. That was a very small handful. Possibly only a pinch of a handful of vehicons who ‘figured it all out’. But Vehicons weren’t meant to think. Taggon was realizing that with programming, even if the vehicon broke free of those mental bonds, and his wits grew, the creator still won in a sense: The vehicon was doomed with primitive desires for purpose, and became predictable. KB was reading him like a book---and some part of him felt like she was eagerly turning the pages. Althoguh eh was still struggling with etches of his programming, something he feared would plague him for the rest of his life.
She wasn’t talking to him that way someone would who was showering him with flattering compliments, no, she was a scientist, and he was under the microscope of her optics. He was something that had her interest, as unfortunate as that was for him. Taggon resisted the incredibly powerful urge to take a step back. Suddenly, having that custom-look frame upgrade didn’t make Taggon feel so special about himself the way her green eyes looked over him, taking him apart with moving him once in deep analyzing. Taggon took a small breath. Perhaps going down a conversation she knew he’d go down would prevent her from…doing this sort of thing. The way she spoke told him she knew him more than he would have been comfortable with.
“If…you played a part in my creation,” Taggon ventured, as the femme swept her eyes over his hole-riddled armor, “Then what did you do, and why?” Taggon asked hesitantly. It was a big assumption—though the way she was acting, the way she seemed to know him a bit, know his number…it was the only reason he could think of. Somehow she was involved in his actual vehicon creation. “If I was not created by accident, and I did not come here by accident, then there was a purpose behind the way I came to exist.” Taggon said slowly. Logic was something he was leaning rather heavily upon today. Taggon drew a sharp breath as his visor shut down, the extremely dense and dark glass composing little to no vision. The poor lighting didn’t offer even the haziest of images. Unless he took off his mask, he was as good as blind.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 19, 2016 14:51:01 GMT
Taggon quietly remained where he was, as he could hear the small pistons of the femme’s body click near to him. He really was disliking how she was examining him. Those bottomless emerald eyes were boring into him, he could just feel it. Kb went on to tell Taggon that yes, he’d had a purpose, but she never specified what it was. It was already an unspoken word: ‘war’. He and his generation had been made smarter, due to the ‘kindness’ of a scientist. He slowly took a step forward, pretending that he had not lost his vision, though something in the scientists voice told him she already had pieced together his blindness. If only his visor would work again. Taggon blinked behind his visor as she continued to inform him.
“So. I was created by a mech who defected, and I was one of the few to walk out this---complex alive.” He was glad that no lights were turning on to show him any dead carcasses for vehicons. There remnants would be long gone, like their screams, but he knew if he could see his optics would search for them. “Considering the events of my lifetime, that sounds about right.” Taggon sighed, gripping his claymore’s handle a little, as he took another step forward. The femme had finally given him some space to breath, so he’d take advantage of that. The sounds of other things opening and working in the lab made him grit his dentals. This femme had the power to bind him to a berth and start taking him a part if she wanted to, to see if he worked. Taggon decided he’d have to keep an audio keened, for any sort of weapons that might creek out of the walls.
His mind switched back to the reason that he could truly think. Despite how ‘off’ this femme seemed to be, she was providing him answers. The reason he could think beyond his programming sometimes, and was beginning to wear it away was because someone had wanted him to. That meant that indeed, his situation hadn’t been entirely a mistake. If he was built to think, then that meant that he was built to thrive in some ways. Thinking had gotten him far—he’d run away from a complete two factions.
“How do I know if I have failed my original purpose? Vehicons are made to fight and kill. You gave me the processor capacity to calculate on my own. My progress is that I have run from two factions. Was loyalty meant to become an element in my personality to dwindle, or---or am I supposed to keep ‘evolving’ as you put it?” Taggon tilted his helm slightly to the side, “Was I given a better purpose then fighting?” He asked cautiously. Despite a previous conclusion, he needed to know this. If he was made to think rather than fight, than that meant that he was something else. His mind lept elsewhere, as names of other droens flooded his mind. Slapfoot, Cut-Up, Stalaken.His mind was bubbling with questions for the first time, eversince he was put through Shockwaves academy. He needed to know everything…but at the same time, his fascination had to be cautious. He did not know if the femme was going to try to dissect him.
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Post by Taggon on Sept 25, 2016 14:58:22 GMT
Taggon couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt as if his limbs were being full of lead. The vehicon excused the feeling entirely, deciding he was simply tired. The scientist hadn’t laid a servo on him, he was fine. His mind swirled with the answers he was receiving, the indications, the philosophy and the knowledge he was deriving. If he had no initial purpose, if he hadn’t botched his main objectives(since he didn’t have any) and if he was living and venting. Taggon thought on this.
If he had originally been made without any objectives, yet had been engineered for battle, this meant that logically speaking, he was a fully sentient being. He had been a true living thing all along. It all made sense. His ability to think more, his ability to dodge his programing slightly better than some of his brothers. He’d been sentient all along. The programming had simply been…as barrier. It was still inside his head, but if all it was, by a reasonable standard, nothing more than a blockade.
But still. He had been created. He’d been programmed. This indicated that his ability to survive was what had been the specialty of this vast experiment. Ultimately, he was made to survive in rougher spots, if he was hearing this correctly. So he was something else. Though his artificial spark was beating heavily, he remembered that he hardly knew this femme. She was a scientist, and proving to only be reasonable. He couldn’t see where she was going or had gone anymore though. The thinking quickly made Taggon realize how hard it was becoming to move. He’d played right into this femmes hand. With great effort, he tried to lift his servo to unsheathe his claymore. Before he did so, he made note of something else.
This femme had been acting like a being of reason. Brute force wasn’t going to intimidate her in the least. He was going to have to use reasoning against her. The game wasn’t going to be an easy one. Then another thought crossed his mind.
“You must be rather confident, if you are going to be examining me piece by piece.”
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Post by Taggon on Sept 29, 2016 14:15:52 GMT
He’d walked right into a trap. Millions of Nano-bots? He sure hadn’t seen that one coming. The vehicon was still as stone, but it was one of those convenient scenarios where his mouth still worked. Funny how that all worked out. The femme went on about how she would carefully dismantle him, look at him, and then asked if he had any last questions, as if it was a death sentence. This is why I hate labs. The blinded Vehicon thought to himself. Thinking that wasn’t going to get him out of being dissected. Chances were though, he was going to make it out alive, as the femme sounded like she thought he was too ‘precious’ to kill. Taggon’s gears turned, as he considered his options.
“I’d like to request that I’d be conscious during this examination. Despite my other uncertainties, I believe might be alright for a creation to know about his creator.” He suggested. He could maybe get her to talk, since it was obvious she could simply erase anything about herself that he’d known since she’d be in control. A being of logic would most likely reply that it was thus useless to tell him anything in the first place. Still, the femme seemed to have the ‘it’s my turn to speak’ vibe about her.
He wasn’t going to outright say that she might want to talk to someone after all her years alone, since logicans like her would deny any real emotions. In offering kindness, someone might simply remind someone trying to be emotionless that they needed to be emotionless. So Taggon was taking a different angle. He stood, his voice had relatively grown back some of the calmness in it, despite the fact that he was frozen solid.
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Post by Taggon on Oct 18, 2016 0:17:00 GMT
Taggon mentally grinned as the femme agreed to his terms. He could tell she was slightly astonished despite the monotone voice at his request. Her pausing lead him to believe he’d caught her off guard. And yet, she’d seen the logic in his request. Taggon gruffly reminded himself this was a small victory, and she still had total control. If she could easily be reasoned into listening to him she could just as easily reason that getting him to shut up would benefit her more. The vehicon did arch his own brow at the statement that she’d intervened.
He doubted she knew his creator then, whoever or whatever his creator was. If she had intervened, and indeed could take credit for making him slightly different, then he assumed not knowing his creator was of little consequence.
“If you still intervened, then that still means you are responsible for making me the way I am.” Taggon pointed out to the femme. He could feel her tools and her digits touching him curiously. He wondered how much withdrawal KB was equipping in her mind, if she truly was curious about him.
“What were you up to before you became fixated with experimental drones?” Taggon began. His voice was remarkably even, despite the fact that he disliked how much the femme was going to be messing with his parts.
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