Ulti
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Avacon
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Post by Ulti on Nov 24, 2015 0:09:50 GMT
As the femme wheeled the berth in, the bot sat atop that berth looked around the warehouse with similar expression but different reasoning. She was quite fond of this place, and as Stellene asked what their next step was, she would reach into her subspace pouch, which had remained oddly intact even after all the damage she had suffered. Using the vast space of said pouch, she withdrew a small rectangular object, her datapad, already synced with the warehouse's hover cart systems. Perhaps something even worse, was the fact she already had the stuff necessary to repair her armour on the list, all she needed to do was load the file to the systems. Perhaps while she was here, she might make a new weapon, and as such, she began to flick through the item listings of the warehouse, ticking various objets.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2015 2:59:15 GMT
The tall femme blinked down at the information gliding across the same data pad. It made her question how long she had really been trapped in that pad.
"Point the way Dash."
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Ulti
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Avacon
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Post by Ulti on Nov 24, 2015 14:58:31 GMT
Dashside remained silent, focused on her work, as the machinery surrounding them began to hum, slowly whirring up. A hovercart ahead of them rose up, launching forwards into the vast collection of materials, gathering what was already along the list along with the additions Dashside was making to it. Minutes passed, about 10 to half an hour even before she was done, and next to the berth on which she sat were two hovercarts, stacked with as much as they could hold. "This should be it."
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2015 15:16:39 GMT
Stellene sort of just completely stared at all of the parts that had been collected with a blank expression before blinking and replying. "Oh... um, are you trying to be 40 ft. now?" She attempted at a joke.
"So, we could do this here and just get it done with if you'd like." The femme moved to the cart and began to sift through the pieces gently.
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Ulti
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Avacon
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Post by Ulti on Nov 24, 2015 15:32:50 GMT
"Maybe I am." Was her simple response, whether or not she was joking quite unclear. "Maybe somewhere with less space?" She would then say, once again in reply to one of Stellene's comments, this time her meaning a little bit clearer, perhaps somewhere the like medbay or even her quarters?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2015 15:56:45 GMT
"Alright, back to the medbay we go then."
The femme whirled the Berth around and began to push Dashside back to the base, now having the carts follow as well.
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Post by Bruiser Maximus on Dec 23, 2015 13:47:51 GMT
Bruiser walks into the warehouse and begins heads over to the computer console. He links his holo-computer with the main one and enters a file listing everything Bruiser usually has, and what he needs of them now.
Immediately the mechanical arms start taking things off the shelves and attaching them to Bruiser, starting with new leg armor components.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 26, 2015 13:21:11 GMT
A tall, dark, and skinny mech walks around the place, trying to find a certain engineer as soon as possible. Rifle wasn't in the best conditions to smile, even if his skull face makes him look happy. Once he found this place, he walks inside to inspect the zone and probably to steal something. He is ready to take something unless he finds Bruiser close of the consoles.
The dark mech keeps his servos away from any tool or component and walks close Bruiser.
I was looking for you the latest days....
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Post by Bruiser Maximus on Dec 26, 2015 22:42:33 GMT
Bruiser looks up as the mechanical arms finish up their work.
Sorry about that. Been busy for a while. Had to run over here to get the armor replacements finally. Been working on some other stuff for quite a while.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2015 14:47:02 GMT
Ok, I understand, but I have to say I've tried to have a bit of patience the latest days, but that patient can be finished soon, you know, and I dont want to know what would happen after that...
The mech is some steps close form Bruiser, but he never looked at his face. He was watching at the other side of the room and started to play with a small gun.
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Post by Bruiser Maximus on Dec 27, 2015 19:14:55 GMT
Bruiser grinned a bit as his face mask went on and then shifted back to reveal his grin again.
I'm actually glad you came here.
Bruiser said as his repairs were finished and as he uploaded information into the computer.
I took some time to analyze the damages to you from the scans I made. I since worked out a patch of sorts. As you speak it analyzes the sound waves and fixes them to their original form. I used a modified sound modifier from a stealth armor I made.
It is set to a persons processor and uses the data to determine the sound it makes. I.E. all you have to do is remember what you sounded like and you are fixed.
Bruiser walks over and grabs his custom part from a mechanical arm and hands it over to the other mech, along with a mini holo-pad with directions.
Take this to the surgical ward and get it installed. The holo-pad has directions on how to install it and how it functions. Any problems come talk to me
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2015 13:00:38 GMT
Using 2 voice synthesizers!? I'm getting tired of the one I'm using right now, the problem with it is I can't duplicate some frequencies and timbres of my former voicebox, and such voice is out of my range. I want my real voicebox back, no matter if I have to wait a little longer. You said it was almost intact, with exception of everything your father did....
Maybe, Rifle was asking for a lot. His optics looks at the floor. Now, without his glasses, everybody would see his sad expresion on his golden optics. The lack of lips of cheeks make the RIfle's expresion almost impossible to read, but Bruiser could clearly know hi sadness.
I ask you for my voicebox since I can remember my voice, but I have no idea bout how to identificare the right tone after millions of solar stellar cycles without hear my voice. But I think I have I way to get a file with one of my voice records. If your computer can access to the pre-war data of Cybertron, try to type 'Blackhertz, the tenor'. I used to... be kinda famous for some millions of years, until....
Rifle wont finish that sentence. the thing that happened was too obvious, or at least he doesn't want to mention it at all. With his voicebox damaged and the war in middle of it, the famous singer pratically died in the oblivion and turned into the weird thing he's now.
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Post by Bruiser Maximus on Dec 28, 2015 15:16:09 GMT
Using 2 voice synthesizers!? I'm getting tired of the one I'm using right now, the problem with it is I can't duplicate some frequencies and timbres of my former voicebox, and such voice is out of my range. I want my real voicebox back, no matter if I have to wait a little longer. You said it was almost intact, with exception of everything your father did....Maybe, Rifle was asking for a lot. His optics looks at the floor. Now, without his glasses, everybody would see his sad expresion on his golden optics. The lack of lips of cheeks make the RIfle's expresion almost impossible to read, but Bruiser could clearly know hi sadness. I ask you for my voicebox since I can remember my voice, but I have no idea bout how to identificare the right tone after millions of solar stellar cycles without hear my voice. But I think I have I way to get a file with one of my voice records. If your computer can access to the pre-war data of Cybertron, try to type 'Blackhertz, the tenor'. I used to... be kinda famous for some millions of years, until....Rifle wont finish that sentence. the thing that happened was too obvious, or at least he doesn't want to mention it at all. With his voicebox damaged and the war in middle of it, the famous singer pratically died in the oblivion and turned into the weird thing he's now. Buiser vents a bit, it's like he was insulting his Engineer skills. This synthesizer was designed to match any frequency in the known universe. The design was originally made by my dad and included data on your voice.
This was meant to be the ultimate voice changer the universe has ever known. And while I scaled that back a bit, I used my fathers notes, as well as every known information I could get on you, which is a lot by the way, and made this especially for you.
Scientifically this was easy. Also you will have to remove the other synthesizer, but you can tell the surgeon that when you get there.As Bruiser talked he got more excited, this was the fix he was looking for, and he knew with all the data he had, this would undoubtedly work.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2015 15:34:14 GMT
Rifle is unsure of that choose. First, he was trusting in an autobot. Second, changing his synthesizer for another one sounds risky. Even if Bruiser made a good job, Rifle, as mercenary knows he can't trust people at all, but he would take the risk as eh ahs been doing with the other surgeons in the past.
Well, if I had some voices in my mind, I can imitate them, or I have to restart the full progress?
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Post by Bruiser Maximus on Jan 2, 2016 13:51:36 GMT
You can change your voice instantly, with any voice in your mind. It might take some getting used to at first, but it's easy to get the hang of.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 14, 2016 11:10:09 GMT
Hw picks the new device created by Bruiser. RIfle felt kinda akward when he felt the device in middle of his servos.
Ok, should I have to say thanks?
He was a bit nervous and excited at the same time. RIfle wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he has a smal hope in middle of his spark.
Sorry, I need to make some stuff. Anyway, If I have a probem, I will look for you.
He walks towards the exit, heading to the halls.
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Falter
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Decepticon
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Post by Falter on Jan 14, 2016 20:15:35 GMT
Bruiser nods finishing getting all his armor and weapons.
As Bruiser finished he would detach his holo-computer to that of the main computer. Afterwards Bruiser would leave the warehouse.
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Cataclysm
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Stuff Blower-Upper
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Post by Cataclysm on Jul 15, 2016 11:25:16 GMT
The Warehouse's large, double doors, guarding the Autobot's entire supply of materials, suddenly bellowed into life. The massive, hydraulic arms pulled with a tremendous force, sliding the bulkheads across the ground and into two large cutouts in the walls, compressing itself down until the doors now laid flush with the sheer walls. At the mouth of the warehouse entrance, bathed in outside light, stood the form of Iron-Will. With a half smile tugging up the side of his lips, those blue optics of his flicked from left to right with hidden glee as he looked over the many, many storage crates placed on huge steel support structures, lined in columns in an endless sea from one side of the room to the other. Releasing a deep sigh of air from a selection vents over his body, the plates lifting up just enough for one to see exposed cables and tubes just beneath the surface. Striding forward with heavy thud of metal hitting metal, the Autobot strode forward down the central lisle, his helm lifted and on a slow rotation as he gazed at each of the dusty containers.
Oh yes, this will do nicely.
He said in a low voice, a tint of something dark creeping into the back of his words as Iron-Will turned his narrowed gaze forward. Passing him up ahead, moving through a cross-roads, were a small convoy of automated drones; pushing large, metal carts in front of them. The base needed constant maintenance and these droids were simply gathering the supplies for the workers. Keeping his slow pace, the Autobot didn't wait for the group to pass, instead, walking straight through them and deftly acting as he did so. With an outstretched palm and forceful push, he removed one of the droids from the convoy, pushing it and the carts out of the pre-determined path it was currently on. Grasping the drone by its bobbing, sensory nerve centre, effectively its head, the Autobot sending clenched his servo with that half smile still adorning his face plate. With a cry of pained metal, the drone's head casing instantly gave way under the brutal strength being put under unto it, rendering the drone limp and lifeless in Iron-Will's hand. Simply rolling his optics at the shoddy build quality being put on display here, Iron-Will released his grip and let the motionless drone fall to the ground with a clatter of limbs hitting the ground, forgotten almost as quickly as it was found.
Now armed with a basket, Iron-Will set about grocery shopping; picking up a few tons of building material here, a couple hundred lengths of raw wiring there, a mixture of large and small scale explosives as a treat, he even indulged himself with a few advanced processing units; spicy. Moving through the mainly isles without a care in the world, the Autobot happily hummed to himself as he plucked whatever he felt like out of the many storage crates on display, after all, they were meant for his use.
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Post by Skyspray (Aquahaze) on Jul 15, 2016 13:05:23 GMT
A group of Protectobot guards were casually patrolling the area, not really paying too much attention. Nothing ever happened down here and they were simply bored, no other word that could actually describe it. The most action they ever got was when... to be honest they never got any action at all. They were just guarding the materials to make sure that nobody stole anything and make everything look clean. Dust and other small objects frequently covered the materials so they were more of a cleaning squad than actual guards. One of them was even armed with a tiny vaccuum.
The sound of footsteps made all five of them jolt to life again as they tried to see who was there. Then there was the sound of metal being crushed and all of them raised their blasters. They moved towards the sound they heard before and spotted a mech who was walking around. He looked a bit weird but the protectobots paid no real attention to that now. One of them took a photo before walking away, aiming to turn it in to the central computer to identify this new bot. The rest quickly approached the bot with blasters casually pointed at him.
Sir, we have to request you to stop. Those items are restricted, do you have a fetching order?
One of the bots said and gestured to the things Iron-Will had taken.
Destroying equipment is not allowed. Sir, we have to file a report about this. Any comments?
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Cataclysm
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Stuff Blower-Upper
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Post by Cataclysm on Jul 15, 2016 13:42:40 GMT
The small hum filling the air around Iron-Will ceased suddenly as the voice called out to him from behind, his movement halting mid-stride. The smile adorning his face withered and died as an annoyed scowl overtook his features, optics narrowing as he glaced from left to right to make sure no one was moving up beside him. From the sound of shifting pedals, humming blasters and idle movement, he guessed there were around five of the guards, six at the most, with one heading over to the console he passed a few minutes ago. No doubt he'd already taken a picture of the intruder, aimming to bring up his file or call it in. It was times like this Iron-Will despised his rather... Destructive nature. But what could you do, he was just made that way.
Ah, sorry about that, force of habit. L-let me just get that order for you, I swear its around here somewhere.....
He shot them a side-long look as he spoke, blue optics quickly darting in their sockets as he counted up the bodies, before quickly turning back and leaning into the cart. He noisily moved pieces of metal around, pushing large objects out of the way and batting a small explosive away as he looked around for the "fetching order". Settling his digits over a small, perfectly serviceable date-pad he'd taken on a whim, the Autobot quickly booted it up and messily shoved a few words into it. After happy with his work, Iron-Well shouted out in triumph, pulling his upper torso out of the cart and clutching the data-pad in both servos just below his chin. Twisting around, his legs still facing the cart, he extended an arm and pointed the pad at one of the Protecto-bots.
Here you go, fellas. Told you I had it somewhere.
He said with a smile, neighbourly style with slightly lidded optics. Outwardly he displayed no signs of a threat, at least ones he could control: those spikes of his, while more akin to studs, didn't exactly shout "free hugs!". Inwardly, however, the beast within was daring one of them to walk over here, teeth bared and sharpened claws ready to tear into armour without mercy. Iron-Will just held out the date-pad for them, patiently waiting for their response.
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