Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Jun 7, 2011 20:59:57 GMT -5
OOC: Month 5, Week 2, Day 5. Open.
Don't look up. Don't make conversation. The litany goes over and over again, a dissonant refrain in Flame's mind as he trudges wearily into the mess hall. He checked and double-checked and triple-checked the schedule etched into his mind to be sure this is his mess time; it is, thankfully, such time as he gets. He doesn't dare look up at all from the door to the dispenser for his rations, doled out into a cube clutched tightly by two trembling hands, to a seat tucked away in a corner.
He sits, heavily, fatigue coming down on him like a wave. His face is haggard; his colours are muted. He hasn't had time to do more than react. Hasn't had time to think. He simply sits and sips his rations, curled in on himself as if that will somehow make him, in all his fiery glory, less conspicuous.
Don't look up. Don't make conversation. Take rations and move on to the next shift. He sips his energon and resolutely watches the tabletop in front of him and wonders with a vague sense of dread if he's done something wrong again today. He seems to keep running afoul of one officer or another, earning punitive measure after disciplinary action. If he has to scrub his quarters once more, he'll start scouring away actual metal, and there are sections of corridor he has been forced to run back and forth until his treads have them memorised.
He gulps down more energon and tries to still the shaking in his arms. Overwrought, worn thin, worn down, he heaves a rattling sigh and passes unsteady fingers over his optics. He comes out of defragmentation with his pistol in one hand and he doesn't understand why; it's just there and sometimes he's pointing it into the darkness. Sometimes he has it pressed to his own head. And always, always his processors throbbing with the data overload of the last few weeks, the lectures, the punishments, the living hell of a simulated war zone so realistic he can smell death in the air, in the nickel tang at the back of his throat, the soot scratching his optic lenses only for all of it to fade like a nightmare at the end of the session. Gone but for lingering memories and a growing sense of revulsion.
Flame sits in doleful silence and drinks, trying to remain invisible, a shrinking candlelight in his empty corner.
|
|
Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
|
Post by Tasha Walker on Jun 7, 2011 23:35:28 GMT -5
Ah, but even shrinking candlelight will draw a moth to its flame.
Or in this case, a spider.
Blackarachnia slinks up behind Flame and tries to just barely run one fingertip along his shoulders as she circles around him. She takes a seat across from him, props her elbows on the table, laces her fingers together, and then props her chin upon the. She's smirking as she takes in the mech's obvious mental and physical fatigue.
Spinister does impressive work.
"Hello there dear. I've been leaving you mostly alone while you get settled in and accustomed to life on our lovely little ship. But I am your acting division head and thought we were overdue for a little... chat."
"Surely you don't mind me joining you for lunch?"
The smirk never leaves her face. She's well aware of the rules Spinister's imposed on Flame, and she's curious as to how the mech will deal with what seems to be a direct challenge to those rules from a superior officer.
|
|
|
Post by Spinister on Jun 8, 2011 20:15:31 GMT -5
Needlenose is busy, Hairsplitter and Singe are busy cooking, which means that Hairsplitter is cooking and Singe is complaining about the 'meat' while Hairsplitter cooks. Spinister could still hit the training room anyway, but he's decided to take some special time with Flame.
He's under the floorboards of the mess.
Air ducts are too predictable, at this point.
For now, Spinister just listens and enjoys the silence. Will Blackarachnia's wiles crack Flame's careful conditioning?
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Jun 8, 2011 20:40:54 GMT -5
At first, Flame barely acknowledges Blackarachnia's presence. The physical contact garners only a blink, a shift of the optics, a slight tilt of the head, a sudden upwelling of disgust. His commanding officer, if he is indeed to serve as a medic, simultaneously puzzles and repulses him with her queer non-mechanical being. He finds a wrongness in her form, in the melding of flesh and metal.
He keeps it to himself. His only answer is a quick negative gesture, shaking his head briefly. How can he refuse? Stand and leave? He'll have to do that when his mess time is up anyway. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore the itching sensation, like tiny things creeping over his armour, in his head, insidious and paranoid thoughts turning his processors upside-down wondering why, who, where, what do they want?
He drinks.
|
|
Hellbender
Major
Mecha-Shai-Hulud
"Seriously."
Posts: 892
|
Post by Hellbender on Jun 9, 2011 9:54:30 GMT -5
Someone the size of a Seeker, but with oddly curving, segmented body armor clanks over. Instead of proper jet wings, he has cylindrical wing-like shrouds of the same armor, held away from his body. It's all a deep blue shading into flat black with shards of purple here and there; there's a small purple Decepticon sigil the same shade on his chest, nearly blending into the black.
Hellbender sits down at the table with his own cube held closely and looks Flame over, then glances at Blackarachnia. Her semi-organic form does not bother him; his Decepticons included all manner of oddities, including Pretenders, Headmasters, Targetmasters, Powermasters and Micromasters. (He missed the Actionmaster era and G2 color schemes, fortunately.) At least she's not rusting and leaking oil.
"He the new guy in your division?" Hellbender asks the spider-queen. "Ah hear he's gettin' bootcamped but good. How come? He don't look like a factory-fresh." The big wormformer may have missed some of the scuttlebutt lately; or perhaps it isn't public knowledge yet. Either way, he wants a good look at any of Blackarachnia's staff that might be working on him in the future.
He also means to keep an eye on any new arrivals and figure out which faction co-opts them.
|
|
Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
|
Post by Tasha Walker on Jun 9, 2011 19:03:45 GMT -5
Blackarachnia's focus doesn't shift when Hellbender sits down and addresses her. She keeps her smirking gaze on the former Autobot.
"Oh, I'm certain Flame's final resting place will be in my division. From what I understand, he has similar... interests in regards to arcane sciences as the Flame from my own reality. Looks rather like him, as well."
"However, you remind me," and now she does cut her optics toward the wurm, though her head does not turn "I believe you are due for a look over, Hellbender. I've been working through your accessible files-" and some of the supposedly inaccessible ones- "and I am quite intrigued by what Shockwave seemed to have in mind for you."
Back to Flame, "You and I need to discuss your most recent work before arriving here, Flame. Very in depth, and preferably soon. It overlaps certain interests of mine."
"Wouldn't it be nice to share you findings with someone who actually appreciates them?"
Blackarachnia deliberately doesn't answer Hellbender's question about Flame. She's curious if Shockwave's pet will press the issue; after all, she's not spent much time in the mining wurm's company.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Jun 12, 2011 21:14:51 GMT -5
OOC: Skipping Spinister due to timeout.
Uneasy, Flame looks from Blackarachnia to Hellbender. His gaze flickers for a split second to ensure there's still a path to the door, then he checks his time. Eight minutes to go. He sips more energon as an excuse to stall on his response and thinks he'll have to nurse it carefully. As long as he has something to drink, he can hedge a little further on not speaking.
His bland expression turns faintly cold, optics dimming, when Blackarachnia brings up his interests and his work and his findings. He knows what she means with her trite language. Her tone grates on him, fine grit rubbing into all the little sore spots of his psyche, as if the things he did were nothing more than laboratory ventures. As if he was no more invested in it than he would be in a flask of salt water. What she treats so casually he still finds heavy on his spark.
Neutrality returns with a mild shake of his head. He doesn't find the prospect of further discussion of the things he has learned nice.
|
|
Hellbender
Major
Mecha-Shai-Hulud
"Seriously."
Posts: 892
|
Post by Hellbender on Jun 12, 2011 21:28:27 GMT -5
"Hmm." Hellbender rumbles a bit, returning Blackarachnia's glance with a prolonged look of his own. "Ah s'pose Ah can accommodate you. Ah reckon there's a few things that need tuning--but that's all. No tinkerin' or changes 'til we get either Lord Shockwave or Lord Hook back. As you said, he had plans."
He notices the lack of answer. "Restricted information, is it? Well, then..." Hellbender taps on his datapad, accessing the database to see what files there are on Flame--and it turns it out there is a file, with rather interesting content visible to him as an exec to Turmoil's Ground Commander. "Ah see."
Hellbender's red-optic'd gaze returns to Flame. "There was a Flame in my reality. Does the name 'Kalis' mean anything to you?"
|
|
Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
|
Post by Tasha Walker on Jun 13, 2011 19:44:17 GMT -5
Blackarachnia's smirk widens just a bit at that hint of coolness from Flame. "Oh my, I did touch a small nerve didn't I? You'd like to tell me so wouldn't you, how they weren't experiments to you, they were dear comrades, and how dare I speak of your work- and thereby them- in such trivial language. If Spinister hadn't metaphorically bound your tongue, would you rail at me, Flame, at how a mutant freak like myself should be under the scalpel, not wielding it? Or quietly reprimand me, then bide your time until you could make your point more... pointed."
She chuckles lowly, the sound deep and seductive, then leans across the table to murmur softly into Flame's audial, "Oh, you and I are going to get along famously, my dear, one former Autobot to another."
Once she notes any reaction- if any- Flame rewards her with, she fully turns toward Hellbender, almost seeming to dismiss Flame's presence. "Such loyalty. But surely you have to understand neither Hook nor Shockwave may ever return to us. Will you pine away for want of them, unfinished and uncared for, wasting the work they put into you just because you can't bear anothers touch?"
"Really, Hellbender, you needn't worry. I am actually quite skilled at rebuilds. I have my Blitzwing his third mode, after all, and helped my own Shockwave with something similar for himself."
|
|
|
Post by Spinister on Jun 14, 2011 13:56:24 GMT -5
Spinister is still there, listening, the bogeyman in the closet. Blackarachnia appears to be deliberately provoking Flame! Then again, she's put him in an awkward position. She's an officer, and she's directly in Flame's CoC. Flame has been spoken to. Spinister supposes that Flame could speak, if he really must.
Spinister still might pop out from under the floor and make Flame go drive circles around the fan room. He'll have to see.
OOC: Skippable. Just being spooky in the narrative so far.
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Jun 14, 2011 20:11:16 GMT -5
Close proximity sends Flame unabashedly recoiling and snatching his cube back with him is all that stops him from lashing out to slap her away. He has his bubble and there are things that belong in his bubble; Blackarachnia is not one such thing. He holds his rations close to his chest and stands, gaze fixed squarely on Hellbender as he shakes his head in a firm negative – Kalis is a meaningless nonsense word, all but static – then steps clear of the table. He can't tell if it's weariness or fear or anger or all three in the same dizzying rush that makes him tremble as he excuses himself with a sketch of a bow.
Without waiting for a dismissal, he turns smartly on one heel to take his leave. He can just finish his energon on his way to the door.
|
|
Hellbender
Major
Mecha-Shai-Hulud
"Seriously."
Posts: 892
|
Post by Hellbender on Jun 16, 2011 17:59:24 GMT -5
"Good." Hellbender watches as Flame all but bolts headlong from the table. "But then, if you were him, they'd have already killed you and melted down the parts."
Glowing red eyes turn back to Blackarachnia. "Unless the Autobots executed Hook, we'll retrieve him. He's too effective to leave behind. Lord Shockwave will return.... though Ah concede he might not be real timely about it. Took him several million years last time."
He leans forward slightly. "Hook did make you his second, and as persnickety as he is, that means you're pretty good at the job. Still doesn't mean we have to rush into it headlong. You got any particular reason not to stick to maintenance mode for a bit?"
|
|
Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
|
Post by Tasha Walker on Jun 16, 2011 23:30:39 GMT -5
Blackarachnia does not look up when Flame rises to storm off. What she does do is pitch her voice so that he can certainly hear her.
"Flame, you have five minutes left in your fuel break. Sit back down where you were."
It's an order without her saying so, evidenced by the change in tone from seductively smirking to smooth and cold as glass. No Flame, you do not get to run away from her so easily.
Her voice shifts back just as quickly to her default as she answers Hellbender. "You don't think it possible that his brother might persuade Hook to switch sides? The lure of family can be quite strong, and he no longer has Mixmaster here to anchor him."
She smiles, "And will you wait several million years for your wings, Hellbender? I'm in no particular hurry, and likely won't really have the chance to spend the needed time for quite awhile, myself. However, there is nothing wrong with getting things pointed in the correct direction when we can, is there?"
|
|
Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
|
Post by Flame on Jun 17, 2011 15:34:02 GMT -5
Grudgingly, Flame stops. He does, indeed, have time remaining, and still a decent level of energon in his cube waiting to be consumed. His departure is clearly premature, and as he stands there weighing options, a niggling little fear creeps into the back of his mind. What if this is another test Spinister set up? That thought makes the fuel in his lines run cold. He isn't sure it hasn't stopped altogether.
What if this is just another test? He swallows reflexively. What happens if I fail? His death-grip sets off a tremor through his arms and shoulders, a tremor that starts his aerofoils to shivering, his hoses to rattling softly against his armour. He doesn't know what the right course is – if he should disobey orders and leave, or if he should sit and avoid speaking, and try to escape before his time is up. He doesn't know which tack means failure, and he doesn't know what failure means for him in this instance.
Not once while his mind races hysterically through the options does he move from where he stands, frozen, blocking the path between tables.
|
|
Hellbender
Major
Mecha-Shai-Hulud
"Seriously."
Posts: 892
|
Post by Hellbender on Jun 19, 2011 19:47:21 GMT -5
Hellbender gives Blackarachnia a slow smile. "Ah don't think Primus himself could talk Hook into abandoning a job half-finished for others to complete. Seriously. Can you see Hook doing that?"
"Didn't say Ah'd wait several million years. Just don't see why you're in such an all-fired hurry. Things goin' slow in your division?" Hellbender's voice is mild, perhaps curious; he deliberately avoids a challenging or critical tone. "Now, Ah don't have any objection to you studyin' everything all careful-like; Ah figure there's a lot to get hands-on familiar with."
He glances over at Flame. "Son, you heard the lady. Sit down. You're a recruit, not a traffic cone."
|
|