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Post by RedOptics on Feb 10, 2015 1:13:05 GMT
A new space that hasn't been used much. Due to having a blind resident, it is fairly neat and almost everything is where it belongs.
Cataract walked into her room and headed straight for her desk. The almost blue light in which automatically turned on had flooded the room, but wasn't of much use to her. She brought out her whip, which hadn't been released, and set it on the table, feeling it's crevices for a crack that wasn't fixed the last time she worked on it. Taking one of her tools, she began to seal it, staring forward at the wall. Once finished, she stood and felt the cupboards above for an empty space and placed the tool there, noting it's position. She felt the table for anything that could've been misplaced and was glad to find nothing, then headed for her berth. It's been only a day or two since she arrived, and she had no clue what time it was, but she felt tired from exploring all day. The femme sat down, then swung her legs onto the comfy platform before facing the wall in a curled position. The berth was partially in the wall, making a more cosy effect for it's occupier, and Cataract could feel safe here as long as she fell into recharge, which she did.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 12, 2016 2:37:00 GMT
Where…. Am I? Cut-Up lifted his helm, as he felt himself being dragged across the floor. His grogginess was quickly eroded by the harsh screeching his metal shins made as they scraped across the floor, trail of scratches stretching behind him as a result. I…don’t…have…energy…Cut-Up thought slowly as he found he was being held by two protectobots, one holding each arm tightly. Cut-Up managed to see the terrible condition his right arm was in. It was split, splintered, there was no servo left, and none of his armor left upon it. It was his bare shredded protoform, an injury that was a result of a massive explosion.
<Accessing emergency energon reserves
Cut-Up felt his head clear a little, his optics widen and brighten, as he tried to recall how he’d arrived. His hearing gave him this answer, as the protectobots spoke to one another. ‘—this guy? Found in London. He was passed out. Suffered some serious battle damage.’ Cut-up blinked at the words of the first protectobot. For now, he remained limp, as he continued to listen in. ‘Why here though? Why not lock him up in the slammer?’ ‘Because, a guy called Knaught told us to give this guy a chance. I heard about a psychologist, so bringing him here made sense.’ Cut-Up thought about that. Some random guy decided that he needed some sense talked into him. How about that. The Autobots must have had some kind of record on him, since he was known to be a fighter—maybe the incident in the Decepticon communications center had leaked out a bit. It would explain the fact that some of his wounds were slightly sealed. He wasn’t repaired in the slightest aside from that though. Then something in Cut-Up clenched, causing him to release a heavy, loud cough. Both Protectobots paused, their helms reeling around to look at his open eyes. It was but a second before the one who’d brought his presence into question pounded him in the fore-helm with a clenched fist, knocking the mech unconscious.
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Cataract’s door would receive an impatient and sudden knock…
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 12, 2016 3:09:53 GMT
The Vehicon femme perked up instantly upon hearing the knock, though a little confused as to why. Turning in her chair from her desk to face in the supposed direction of the door. Making a small noise and standing up, Cataract carefully stepped towards the hatch and caustiously opened it. The grid made the shape of two protectobots, a shape she knew well, and immediately she stood straight.
"Can... I help you?" The bot didn't realize that they were holding something, a mech that resembled her. Rather insecure about herself, she would always think that if a scenario such as this- protectocots knocking at her door- always meant that she was going to be hauled away for something she didn't do. Keeping silent and waiting for an answer, she simply stared straight ahead, not into their faces, just- ahead.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 12, 2016 11:42:41 GMT
Both Protectobots glanced at one another.
"Well miss, what we have here is one of your kind. His name is Cut-Up, and he's a nasty piece of business to sum things up. Ex-DJD and rogue. He's been known to be a bit--twisted with his logic and everything. A guy called Knaught sealed his wounds up from battle, and before we were gonna lock this guy up in the stockade Knaught told us that he maybe needed someone good with words. You're the only psychologist vehicon in the area, so I figured talking some sense into this guy would do him some good." The protectobot answered, as he entered a few feet into the room, dragging Cut-Up with him. The mech was beaten, his chassis was indented, his armor shattered, his figure blackened from explosions. His protoform was fully intact save the fragmented remains of his right arm.
"If you're taking the case, Knaught gave us some shank that we might give to you for your time. If you are taking him in, I must ask if there's anywhere we can strap this guy down in. Oh yeah. Keep him away from sharp objects. Records say he's a cousin of Taggon, and has a thing for those too." The second protectobot piped up. Both awaited the approaval of the femme, as the warrior they held released a soft hiss of air. Some of his bio lights attempted to flicker online, only for a spark to fly, before they shuttered offline once again.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 12, 2016 16:24:23 GMT
As she listened, she scanned the grid that Cut-Up had appeared in, letting the Protectobots' speech create the wavelengths that aided her sight. The blind Vehicon's audios perked when hearing that he was a cousin of Taggon, and so she decided that it would be best to take him in for sure as she was thinking of declining before.
"Oh, uhm, sure. Bring him in then." But the second protectobot spoke of binding him down, that made the femme shiver a little at the thought, "No no, strapping him down is not going to be necessary. You may set him down on the berth over there." And after heeding the advice of all things sharp, she scoffed softly to herself, as there wasn't anything sharp or useable as a weapon in here. The room was clean, everything was in its place and to the point where only she could open it. So she need not worry about this mech attacking her, at least not with weapons.
"You may leave, I do my work better when I'm alone. Trust is a very thin thread nowadays. Go on break or something." Cat shooed the bots out once they were finished, closing and locking the door behind them, "Now then. Dear Cut-Up. I know you're still out of it, but either way your subconscious will hear me."
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 13, 2016 2:46:18 GMT
The protectobots nodded at the femme's answer, before dragging Cut-Up onto a berth, before they exited the room. The first protectobot kept some of his grumbles about who quickly the she-vehicon wanted them out of her business--but at least they didn't have any more business here. Until she was done that was. Then the mech would be thrown in prison...or worse, depending on the Prime's answer when they reported the scenario to him.
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Cut-Up lay still on the berth, before his servo twitched. His only visible yellow optic flickered online, glowing through the hole in his tattered mask. He automatically locked his gaze onto Cataract's at first blurry image, before things cleared up. Cut-Up furrowed his brow. This doesn't make any sense. Cut-Up furrowed his brow, I could have sworn I saw Autobots last I was awake. Now I'm--here? I'm in a prison cell. Cut-Up glanced around. He was in probably the neatest room he'd seen since he was with the Decepticons. Everything was clean, nicely laid, and in order. The place looked like someone's home. As his eyes darted around, he found he was also not strapped to the berth.
No, not a prison cell. Interrogation room doesn't fit the scenario either. Cut-Up thought, as he looked down at himself. His energon reserves were giving him enough energy to think properly, though his mind was still a bit fogged. At least all his wounds were sealed. he looked back up at the vehicon femme. She looked clean, and rather custom compared to the more basic designs he'd seen before. Then it hit him: he had the answer. I'm in a testing facility. Maybe the Autobots are trying to--experiment with me and this other vehicon somehow. Then again, she looks too unique to be just any ordinary female vehicon. She could very well be some kind of AI or---something. Something bad. Maybe. Cut-Up sighed. Frankly, he'd just have to be on guard, since all of his speculating didn't sound extremely accurate at the moment.
"Alright. You got me." Cut-Up said as he sat up on the berth. "Who are you and where am I?" he said, clearly indicating he knew he was asking very basic questions. Oh, how he hated to ask.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 13, 2016 3:12:47 GMT
The femme hummed softly to herself as she walked over to the east wall from the door, gently running her three digits along a shelf, feeling for a certain data pad. "Ah, here we are." She mumbled to herself before delicately taking it out with a lithe servo. Cat brushed it off, not directing her face anywhere near it as he ran the tips of her digits through it's creases and dents, getting a better picture in her mind. Then turning on a heel to tap over to her desk, she turned it on and frowned behind her mask.
"Alright, you got me. Who are you and where am I?" His tone, underlying with a harshness she's heard before in the Decepticon ranks, didn't alarm her, it only made her stand prim with a servo naturally behind her back. "You, my fellow Vehicon, are in my office... slash living quarters. Do not be alarmed, though I highly doubt that you are. My code is C474R4C7, long I know, yet most tend to call me Cataract, or simply Cat. I do not mind whichever you want to call me, but only those are permittable." She stepped to her left, facing the wall behind him as she held the cybertronian device in her free servo. "I can tell that you do not get captured by this half often, now do you?" Her tone was soft, as if she was about to sing the sweetest lullaby in front of a crowd. "I am a Psychologist dear, they think I can talk some sense into a cousin of Taggon, no matter how long and painful it is. For you that is." Sitting down in a chair against the west wall, she stared ahead and pulled out a stylus, messily writing a few encryptions that appeared in her mind so that she may see what exactly she is putting down into the pad's memory. "How about we start with your name? Surely you have an alias if not a code."
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 13, 2016 4:11:40 GMT
Cut-Up was something of a veteran; something comparable to slightly old sandpaper. Though used and worn, he still didn't have a very smooth surface. Cut-Up's voice always had a bit of harshness in it, unless he was around friends and family. He was lacking a lot in both departments. Cut-Up's yellow eyes narrowed behind his offline visor, his visible optic fixed on Cataract suspiciously. He knew the instant she started to speak she was going through the motions. She spoke as if she was used to his type, or had seen mechs like him.
'I can tell that you do not get captured by this half often, now do you?' First time this decade, actually. 'I am a Psychologist dear, they think I can talk some sense into a cousin of Taggon, no matter how long and painful it is. For you that is.'
Cut-Up's eyes eased a bit, though his brow remained slightly furrowed. Cataract's answers told him the parts of the missing story he needed to know. He was in the Autobot base. That was the only explanation. She even said he'd been captured, and mentioned Taggon. Taggon...Okay Cousin, I'm in your house. Cut-Up didn't know what to precisely think about Taggon at the moment. His helm was clearing up, so he resisted the urge to study the room for possible exits, or places where cameras were. The way the femme said it she spoke as if he had one shot at keeping his cool, before something bad happened. 'Fifty shank says there's a laser turret behind the door' Cut-Up felt that was what Chaff would say--and he felt maybe if Chaff said that, he'd be right. it had been a full thirty second's phase before Cut-Up decided to play along.
"I'm Cut-Up. You were told by your allies. As for my number--I left that behind me ages ago. I still remember it, but it is irrelevant." he said. "So they hired a psychologist to talk to me? Really? What happens if I don't turn out to be a 'good guy' after all? You pull out a gun and shoot me, or do you pretend like this never happened and lock me in a prison?"
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 13, 2016 4:44:30 GMT
Cat stayed silent, letting the room fall the same. The only audible sound was from the tiny movement her neck as she tilted her helm then crossed her knees. "Hm, certainly words I would definitely expect from someone who has been shot down multiple times. But, no. I do not care about plans. And I certainly have no weapons on me. Or is that a lie? Or perhaps I really don't have weapons and I'm totally vulnerable. Then again, I could, and am only saying such things to confuse you. Yet, you would expect a blind and weak Vehicon femme that is a Psychologist to be incapable to fight. But that is a clear lie, as I am a Vehicon. I know how you would seem to think, or rather you would think that I don't know you at all? That may be true, after all, I do come from your same heritage. Or do I?" A feminine giggle was let off, as a form of trickery to further confuse him.
"Anyways, carrying on. Tell me about yourself, Cut-Up my dear. What do you do when you're not busy shooting up a platoon of Autobots? I heard you like sharp objects, not strange as your cousin takes the same interest." Writing something down, her strange visor flickered for a few seconds, then faded out only to fade back to life. This caused Cat to quickly bring a servo up to the bottom seam and unlatch it. Only bringing it out just enough to stick a digit into to fix a loose wire. Elegantly pushing it back fully onto her face, the femme proceeded as though nothing had happened, and sloppily wrote down a few words in point form.
"You have family, why don't you tell me more about them? Even if you despise them, there must be a feeling that is obtained." Then her voice switched into an aura that symbolized that she was alone, and didn't know what it was like have someone that you knew always had your back.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 13, 2016 12:44:22 GMT
The femme sounded like she was reading him like a book, and Cut-Up loathed the very thought of predictability. How she so calmly (and accurately) guessed what his deal was. Then there was her going on about if she had weapons or not. Cut-Up ex-vented heavily, after she was done speaking. Chances were that no, she didn't know how to fight. Then again, there was the variables of why she didn't strap him down. Perhaps she was ready to beat the living tar out of him. Then again, that was more of a case for deadly Decepticons, and deadly Decepticons hardly ever had a voice this gentle. If Cut-Up had been blind, he wouldn't have guessed her to be a Deception, but some kind of smart-aleck nurse. There was the chance though, that she was one of the small amounts of Decepticons who constantly kept their cool--like Taggon or Tarn. NNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG. Cut-Up prevented himself from growling, as he finished up his long sigh, before lowering his shoulders.
"Look Cat. If you call me 'dear' one more time-" Cut-Up snapped through gritted dentals "I'll--" Why am I angry? Cut-Up blinked, as he noticed his fists were clenched tightly. He paused, as his fists unclenched, and he slowly calmed down. Frigging programming. I forgot. I don't have to be angry with these silly Autobots anymore. I'm rogue. After centuries of holding grudges, it was hard not to automatically hate everything that was associated with Autobots. Still don't like them though. Still. This isn't worth messing up. Cut-Up realized, as he pieced his own mental issues together. He didn't really want to like the Autobots, after everything he'd been through though. They were...annoying. They were always what he considered dogs.
"Don't call me 'Dear'. I am Cut-Up to you. Prisoner or not. Maybe, if you don't call em 'dear', I'd be a tad more cooperative." Cut-Up restarted his statement. He glanced to the ground, trying to ease some.Getting a grip on his temper was always a problem. "If I'm not killing Autobots, I'm always hunting something down. That's what they wanted me to be. Their hunter. And that was what I was before becoming a vehicon. A hunter. So I hunt, I kill, repeat. I used to have no problem with using my talents for Decepticons."
He said, the same harshness still in his voice. "My family? It's doing fine. As far as you're concerned, I am still every vehicon's brother." He said, eying the notepad. She was writing things down. She was trying to get inside him, and see what he was. Some of his business was personal though, and he didn't know he could trust her.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 13, 2016 13:44:15 GMT
The femme kept herself from laughing again. The method was working so far, and the frustration was so clear she grinned to the point it hurt underneath her mask, though her voice showed no signs so. "Fine, Cut-Up darling. And you're not prisoner, not in this room. You are my patient while you lay there in my quarters." But hearing how the Vehicon's customs to calling anyone that looked remotely like them brother or sister made her want to purge.
"Well, you are certainly not my brother." She pressed emphasis on her words, visibly gripping her pen tighter in her right servo. "Do they still believe that everyone in those damned ranks has each other's backs? Such bogus. Such irony. I hate it..." However, Cataract faded her words, realizing the anger she had suddenly expressed, though surprisingly calm for that matter, "Ah... forgive my outburst...." Sitting back in her chair, she cleared her throat, writing down something else.
"As for your pass time, not uncommon, but rather between that and common. Hmph, what a waste of time in my opinion." The femme tapped the tablet with the end of her stylus, letting it pick up speed before stopping altogether. "Tell me darling, what are your problems? Everyone's got three maybe even four, but you, you have an incalculable amount as far as I can see. Maybe being rogue con is a personality in itself?" Her tone was a concoction of teasing, hateful, kind and whatever else could be thought of. Clearly she was attacking now, as she figured out that his shell was indeed hard and cold. Ice can break if compacted enough, so why not try the same with him, but only with words?
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 13, 2016 14:34:09 GMT
Cut-Up's optics shone a bright, flare-like light as he was called 'Darling'. His own servo dug into the birth, as he stood still for a minute. This femme was probably the most annoying thing he'd ever heard in his life. Oooooooh, her NERVE. Cut-Up grunted, as he refrained from growling, or letting his rage get the better of him.
'Well, you are certainly not my brother.' Cut-Up was about to release a scathing reply about how there was always an exception to the rules, and how Cataracter had reminded him of that very clearly. Until he heard her give into her own rage. it was his turn to be supplied with momentary amusement, as he remained in silence for a small portion.
'Ah... forgive my outburst....' Cut-Up heard her say, deciding to stay silent until she ended with her comment about how he had multiple problems. Cataract had succeeded in one goal though: to make Cut-Up think. He stayed quiet for a minute longer. "There was a time when vehicons had each others backs. There was a time when we were brothers. When everything was perfect. When command seemed trustworthy, and living lies and fighting for glory and to earn our own names was what we strived for. Those days define what we were. First generation vehicons. Being vehicons. We were smarter then. We were diverse then. We weren't clones. We understood and thought better." Cut-Up said, before nodding. "We weren't those rip-off vehicons either. They don't make us with sparks any longer. We aren't what we were--but even that isn't worth being again in many sense.s And yet--those were good days." Cut-Up found himself smiling fondly at the memories. When all of us were alive. A picture of the whole Legion of the 409th appeared in his mind. Everyone was lined up, saluting Sergeant Coal. Awaiting orders.
"Cataract, killing wasn't and isn't a waste of time. Isn't. With each death, the wars brought one step closer to an end, one way or another. Of course I've heard that sort of philosophy from goody two shoes like yourself." Cut-Up said. "It's funny. You talk about killing as if it isn't necessary. I know your type. You get hurt, you cry, then you try to leave it all behind. But I know any scar when I touch it. I'm called Cut-Up after all. Your type...you try to become pacifists so hard. Then guess what happens. Because you didn't have the guts to kill(or act for that matter), someone important to you gets hurt. Or you get shoved into a forgotten corner. Just like this place will turn into one day." Cut-Up mused. "I wonder how patients you actually 'see'?" It was a bit of a strategy to get her more angry, or to hit on sore spots to see what would happen. The femme wasn't giving him respect in the sense of just calling him Cut-Up, and she was hitting on some of his harder notes--so who was he not to do the same? He left her lower statements about his problems unanswered...
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 13, 2016 15:06:33 GMT
Chuckling softly after his second statement, she twirled the stylus then threw it ahead of her with a simple flick of her servo, letting it land where she first took it in her servo. "You don't know how correct you are." Then she turned the datapad off, setting it down on the table beside her. "Cut-Up, you can think for yourself. So, think about this. With every death, two new lives show up out of nowhere. So the question is, are we really that close to the end of this war, or getting further away? There will be a point where everyone gets tired of getting up, fighting, refueling, recharging then repeating. I've already had my fill. I got bored, then saw for myself-..." She cut herself off, scoffing at the fact she stated that at one point she could see, "-that no one really wanted this. Sure we all wanted a change, but because we are an impatient species, we thought this would help. I've ended my war. And I can tell that you're definitely not going to end yours until your spark is ripped out of your chest and crushed. Shame really. How you will waste away, chasing mice while they only seem to multiply faster and faster everyday while you're the cat that only gets older and slower. Face it Cut', you're approaching the end of your line. And don't tell me I'm wrong, because you may deny it, but the world can see through you like clean glass."
Cat pondered on the comment of her sight, sighing as she stood up and dusted her servos, "You painted yourself with words. You're a Vehicon mech who is all banged up right now. Your visor isn't functioning but your optics clearly are, and for some reason you haven't sat up yet despite that your pelvic rotators are adequately in shape. And what's amusing is the fact that you're attempting the same attack I have, don't think I can't notice the slightest difference in tone." Placing her servos neatly together, she turned to actually face in his general direction for once, "You're as broken as I am, yet you'd rather die than admit it. Admirable of you I must say, though foolish on my part. I may express myself more than you ever will, but we are not kin, so how do you expect me to act like you when I'm just a remodelled version of the bot I once was? Hm? Boy. Too bad we aren't getting along, and here I was, hoping to find a link other than the fact we are both of the same sort of maker."
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Plexo
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Post by Plexo on Jul 13, 2016 16:06:18 GMT
This whole talk was making Cut-Up wish his hearing wasting as acute as it was. Every time he spoke, it made things worse. Cut-Up didn't like this...why was she doing this anyways? Cut-Up looked up, he knew how to reply to these words. Some of them he'd heard before but the other words were what made him uncomfortable. "I know precisely how correct I am. Because I'm the one who's still fighting." Cut-Up pointed out flatly. "As for the war, you're seeing the first steps. You listen. Decepticon scientists are clever folk. And some of the worst folk I've ever met, considering they've made people with the likes of you and me. They make new war-machines, and they make them 'better'. In some ways the egg heads are right. Right now, there're enough idiots in high places to keep things going. Ever heard of Revenge? Rage? Those qualities run bright in the Decepticons, brighter still in new comers. The older and more obsolete members of the Deceptions eventually die, yes--and new ones take their place. As for Autobots, I've witness what's to be the new generation. They're fool-hardy, and have a faulty sense of honor. A laughable sense of honor. The war will keep raging on because of grudges, and how much people want the last word, and to avenge. In end, there won't be an end. Maybe this war will stop. maybe folks will get tired. But then one day--they'll remember everything. And once again, violence will spark like a fire. Old arguments will be represented. Old enemies and old ties will be brought to light." Cut-Up leaned towards Cataract from where he was sitting,
"Now why I was always disgusted with pacifists is because they lacked any real vigor in the first place. Or they believed their silly minds had evolved enough for them to not fight. You've given up. I may die soon, but at least I'll die knowing I was feeling alive, and I was doing something not just giving another pessimistic comment. The way I work? I still have things to fight for. I fight for them. I have very few things to fight for, but they are worth any amount of pain you could name. To me, what I fight for isn't a waste." He said. He looked at his torn, armor silently wondering when Cataract would order some kind of kill-code and for some kind of weapon to come out of the wall, blast him to oblivion. Or try to.
"I'm sitting up, have been for this entire talk, Cataract. If I had any expectations of you, besides being my executioner, then they are gone. You're something broken alright. Why I'm not broken is because I'm still useful. That may not be the case forever, but that's what's different between you and I." He was now leaning up against the wall. He was tiring...again. He was losing the ability to completely predict a fraction of what she was going to say. His tone had lowered a notch, though it was clear he didn't like the fact that it had.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 13, 2016 17:17:15 GMT
Raising her head only a slight, she scanned him yet again, seeing that he had corrected her and was not afraid to admit it. "You know, I should thank you, for pointing out what I already know. I am useless. I've known that for centuries. But, I'll admit that you're not broken either. You're terribly bent, fatigued even. The next bend or couple more are no doubt the most crucial for your existence." Her voice's elegance dropped down into a whisper, then she stepped away to pick up the datapad and return it to the shelf. However, the Vehicon hesitated, staring at nothing as she exhaled softly.
"Perhaps I have given up. Because I'm letting you speak to me like I'm a pile of scrap metal, one not capable of anything. Yet, some how I'm still alive, I haven't fulfilled my purpose, and now I know I have a reason." Dropping her arms at her sides, she inhaled now, letting her chest fill with cold air. "Hm, now there's me, talking as if no one else is here." But her movements changed, and she flipped around into his direction. "You're a peculiar one. You express your beliefs as if everyone is like or should be like you. Well, you're wrong there, because you're not realizing that others have their own opinions as well, though you obviously don't care who says what. And you don't want to accept the fact that a lot of folk have indeed given up, but I can tell you now that I understand, I have not. If I did, I wouldn't be speaking to you right now, I'd be decaying in a battlefield somewhere."
Surprisingly, Cataract's helm wavered, as if her gaze faded for a moment, if she had one that is. I've told you already, and I keep to my word, usually anyways. I am not here to kill you or do any harm in that matter. And as long as you promise not to lay a single servo on me I'll make sure you won't embarrass yourself when the protectobots find out a simple Psychologist beat you down. And I mean that in a very caring way." She gestured to him with an authoritative digit, a small smile in her voice.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 14, 2016 3:29:23 GMT
Cut-Up gave a tired groan. This femme was as stubborn as some of the predicons he'd used to hunt. At least she wasn't so easily snapped in half, and broken with his words. She agreed to what he said like she'd already accepted them, like it didn't really matter now. Cut-Up still didn't enjoy how she was persistently hacking at him, trying to get inside. He was quiet as he continued thinking as she spoke.
‘You know, I should thank you, for pointing out what I already know. I am useless. I've known that for centuries. But, I'll admit that you're not broken either. You're terribly bent, fatigued even. The next bend or couple more are no doubt the most crucial for your existence.’
She went on about how he was oppressive, how he was strange, how he was talking to her like a piece of scrap metal. How she hadn’t given up, and an example of her persistence. Cut-Up found himself a little disappointed in her telling him he wouldn’t be killed. It had to be some sort of Autobot strategy. She was showing him mercy so he’d turn Bot. That’s what this had to be about. The Autobots wanted him to change, or Cataract did. No, only Cataract wanted him to change, or was trying to get him to. Why else would she keep telling him he was bent out of shape? Even if he knew it inside, that he really was a warped and twisted creature, he didn’t want her to be the one to tell him to change.
“If I’m not a prisoner then why aren’t we speaking outside?” Cut-Up asked. “That’s aside the point. You have a purpose with this talk. Why are you getting at me like this? Can’t you get a clue that I’m not the soft spoken person my cousin is?” Cut-Up said tersely, “I talk to you like this because you’re an Autobot. Every Autobot I’ve met is a crooked hypocrite. There’s Crashcourse: She was a target of mine. Acted perfectly innocent, and even was trying to befriend Chaff. Surprise Surprise, she was prepared for someone finding out she was really Autobot Astrinal, acting as a spy. Friending vehicons and acting in such away to attract attention form those who might’ve guided her. So much for honest little hero.” Cut-Up stated. “There’s Skyspray. Glorified little runt of the Autobot Faction who only knows how to pull his triggers. Adopted by the Primal’s daughter. Razed on morals supposedly. Funny thing, he’s not such a nice guy, he doesn’t really care for the humans he’s supposed to protect, and not too much for his friends. I was there when he—exploded around them.” Cut-Up stated. “There’s Feenixfire herself. My cousin was fighting her once. Told me after a hard battle that actually she wasn’t that nice either. Turns out when she gets into a fiery fit, she tends to rip out your eye, try to burn you alive, or bring a whole bridge down on your head. It’s war, and whatever sort of Autobot nobility you all had is gone with the winds. Why should I trust any Autobot now? I’m in their base right now aren’t I? That means somewhere, somehow, somebody has a trigger just waiting to be pulled. They know who I am, and this little talk isn’t helping my image.”
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 14, 2016 4:05:30 GMT
"Hmph." The femme scoffed, crossed her arms and letting her posture curve out of her profession ever so slightly, "Skeptical one, aren't you? You have all this experience with phonies, and now you think that I'm one. Are you serious?" She inspected the sharp ends of her digits, as if this was a game, which it kind of was in her optics. "I can only say who I claim to be is who I am. And have been for millennia. I don't remember my original number either, or from what grouping I came from. The only proof I have are my words. And if those won't work, what will?"
Cat tapped a trod, quickly stopping it and placing her servo back into a folded position. "I'm only trying to change the way you think, and that's the truth. I'll never be able to change you in particular. And how many times must I say that there are no cannons waiting to blast you into oblivion? If I let you search the place, would that make you feel better? I'd consider it, but, it's not guaranteed." Her voice evolved into the recent kind and sing-song tone, but this time it was much more dim.
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Vos
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Wear my Faceeeeee
Decepticon
Posts: 364
Likes: 7
Gender: Male
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Post by Vos on Jul 14, 2016 5:00:21 GMT
Cut-Up decided that the femme was worth a shot after all. Still. There was likely a gun somewhere. No one was this 'nice' without someone else looking through the scope of a sniper rifle. it made Cut-Up glance at his chest, as if to make sure there wasn't a small laser light dot there at the center of it after all. Even if he was in a small room like this.
"I only trust vehicons, Cataract. One day, suddenly, I wake up in a room where a femme vehicon is asking questions about my life story. I realize I'm in the Autobot base. I find it a bit too odd that a vehicon is the one asking me questions. In my experience, calling this all a coincidence is idiotic." Cut-Up answered coldly. He looked to the side for a moment. "But I guess..." he narrowed his eyes. "I guess I can call it a coincidence. Because according to you there's nothing else to call. Watch. I'll let down my guard, and someone will shoot me." Cut-Up said. His voice was reluctantly easing, as he carefully leaned a bit back into the wall.
"But. Since you're insisting, I'll just see what happens." Cut-Up added. He glanced to the sides for a second. "To answer your question from earlier. I have a family. And no. I didn't hate them, I loved them. They were my brothers, my only brothers. We went on missions, we learned things, grew smart, played pranks--we were rookies back then. Trained by a vehicon named Sergeant Coal, and then F-28. We all were mis-fit vehicons, experiments gone wrong or in progress. We all were diverse, but in that diversity we found strength. Stalaken was our strongest defense, hardly anything could get by his methods of attack. Slapfoot would always have any of our backs--he'd pick us up if we fell. Chaff and Graph fixed us and improved our armor or gadgets. Taggon and I were the main fighters. Gojj was, like Slapfoot, insanely religious. Unlike Slapfoot he had a thing for burning the crud out of everything. But he couldn't have sucked more when it came to a melee fight." Cut-Up's voice was actually turning into one of fond criticism. He wasn't giving any secret information away. "Lock was also one of the strongest members there were. He had an endoskeleton and exoskeleton, and had two sets of protoform supports, each specifically designed for each skeleton. We all worked together wonderfully. We were sent on the craziest missions--and tested thoroughly We were all we had, so we became true brothers." Cut-Up paused, "A new recruit came in one day though." His voice indicated he was frowning.
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Post by RedOptics on Jul 14, 2016 16:52:51 GMT
The femme kept silent, still as stone but as watchful and alert as an owl. His story caused her to smile, but it faded as soon as the last bit. She back up to sit down, pressing the tips of her digits together as she hung her helm to listen. If she had properly working optics, they'd be looking around quickly in her small field of vision. We've all been through a lot... She thought to herself, Some people more than others, and some steered away just in time. I'll never fully understand everyone's pain. I can only sit back and watch. 'A new recruit came in one day though.' THis made her helm shift over to closer face his direction and perk an audio, wanting to hear about the experience.
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Vos
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Wear my Faceeeeee
Decepticon
Posts: 364
Likes: 7
Gender: Male
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Post by Vos on Jul 15, 2016 9:05:42 GMT
Cut-Up glanced in the direction of Cataract, who listened intently. He actually had her interests, still. He had paused not to catch her reasons however—it was the memories that made him frown. The memories of the missions and how they ahd ended so long ago. “Her name was Nines. She had your build, only she was a tad shorter. By about 2 feet if memory serves. Her armor was without a dent or scratch, so we all didn’t need to have her introduce herself to know she was a green rookie. It we’d had any new recruits, much less a femme vehicon. She was surprisingly fragile in some senses. Her fighting tactics were a bit weak, and she preferred hacking and mechanical work rather than fighting. We were fine with that. Lock told us all that we would have to be extra careful with her, and we’d all have to be responsible for teaching her and keeping her alive during our risky missions. So we did just that.” Cut-Up said distantly, as if talking about ghosts.
“But the missions had been growing progressively harder, and we’ been having more and more close calls. We didn’t know why, but with every mission we did, it seemed like the next was twice as hard. So we tried our best to defend our new recruit and ourselves. The Autobots themselves were becoming surprisingly anticipating of our moves, like they knew we were coming. It made cutting them down more interesting at first, but then one day Taggon almost died. The Decepticons seemed to be getting unfriendly too: every mission assignment description ended with ‘complete it or don’t come back’. We became closer. Until one last mission tore us all apart.” Cut-UP shook his helm, looking at his worn form, battered, shredded, blackened. His brow furrowed.
“We were sent to raid the city of Uraya of it’s data on what Autobot plans there were. Free as much decepticon prisoners as we could, and plant spies. I don’t remember their names. I don’t know if they’re around anymore. But we were once again told we weren’t to come back until the mission was completed. F-28, our leader, gave us a pep talk for the first time. Nothing added up, save that we all may not walk back. And it was true. The instant we landed, the Autobots knew where to fire, our plan for dividing and conquering didn’t work, the defenses were too heavy. Chaff, Graph, and Nines were escorted to the communications room by Lock and Taggon, while me and the others tried to give them an opening. There was no com-frequency for a while, but when it was finally online, we could hear someone crying. We received the word that Lock had sacrificed himself for the others to get into the communications room, and that Taggon was presumed dead or captured, and Graph’s life had also been taken while trying to get into the computers, and act as the last line of defense. Chaff’s sobbing voice told us this. He had a million personalities, and each of them were confused, sad, and furious. He passed out, and Nines told us that Autobots were coming to her position fast.” Cut-Up flexed his fingers, looking at them, before his gaze switched to Cataract.
“Gojj and I said we were on our way. Stalaken and Slapfoot split from us, deciding to take a long way around, release prisoners as they did so. Meanwhile Gojj and I would go and retrieve Nines, to save what was left of the other beloved half of the 409th. But….it was a bad call. It was all a bad call.”
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