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Post by Mirage on Aug 3, 2010 19:51:41 GMT -5
Again, Mirage cracks his optics to glare a look at Venatorious, but the spy doesn't say anything. Once he's free, once Bambi (and hopefully Pyrite) are safe, Mirage can indulge his desire to kill the smug bastard. Right now though....
His optics open wide as the unit is fitted into his spark chamber. Before he can give voice to protests, there is a definite and visible energy surge emanating out from the edges of the chamber and disk. Mirage goes rigid, then limp. Any data the Quintessons are pulling off Mirage should very clearly be screaming that putting something in that chamber is a very bad idea.
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 3, 2010 20:12:11 GMT -5
Secutorious scowls at the readings and demands of Mirage, "Explain this nonsense. What purpose does this vacancy serve?"
He grudgingly removes the Brocken Specter unit and instead cuts away at Mirage's upper chest armour, looking for another place in the torso to put the cloaking and hologram system, not being gentle at all about it. The Scientist finally settles on a likely place and busies himself wiring it in and setting up shock absorbers, but he pauses and frowns, looking at the host response. "Hrm. Well-developed immune system in these constructs. I will need to adjust its immune system to prevent auto-immune rejection."
He also draws off a fluid sample and commands something of Venatorious in a language that Mirage still can't understand but is likely hearing a lot of right now. The Gatekeeper stalks away to fiddle with the chemical cocktail machine.
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Post by Mirage on Aug 3, 2010 20:37:58 GMT -5
When the disk is removed from his spark chamber, Mirage gasps a bit, and it seems for a moment as if the energy which had spiked around it won't let it go. Energy swirls about in the depression for a few minutes before slowly dispersing back into Mirage's body.
The energy looks a bit like Bambi's spark, almost solid for the few moments it swirls in the chamber. Yet another mystery to perplex the Quintessons.
Mirage doesn't answer the questions put to him. Damned if he's going to just up and tell someone, "Oh, that's where my soul sits, sometimes." Instead he actually makes use of the pain from the grafting on of the new part to help clear his head, bring him back to full cognizance.
That had been decidedly... unpleasant.
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 3, 2010 20:49:07 GMT -5
Secutorious looks deeply displeased as energy swirls around the disk and makes it hard to remove, but he does note, "Resembled the female for a moment, there. Peculiar."
However, Secutorious does get around to installing it in that seemingly safer spot, and he again tries to upload some more code into Mirage's mind. Mirage's immune system will reject a foreign body, so he needs to recode Mirage to accept this Brocken Specter unit as a natural part of his body, as something to be repaired when damaged and rebuilt when destroyed, as something that will pain him when injured or removed just as his removed radio now pains him.
Meanwhile, in the back of the laboratory, Venatorious looks to be busy mixing... shots? He throws one back, a pale pink, and makes a face. Then, he tries again and comes up with something a bit more vivid pink. He sips it more cautiously and makes a face again. Fizzy now?
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Post by Mirage on Aug 3, 2010 21:13:10 GMT -5
Mirage is getting rather tired of being violated. His fingers twitch, and he again runs down his motor functions and subspace lines. What progress is his self-repair making, if at all? For several minutes, those protocols have been diverted to making the new software and hardware mesh into his systems.
He's still in pieces, too. A wave of helplessness threatens to overwhelm him for a moment. What is he to do? How is he supposed to save himself let along those who might depend on him?
He catches sight of Venatorious sampling the energon-like mixers.
Mirage chuckles, "My blood too rich for you, peasant?"
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 3, 2010 21:42:30 GMT -5
Venatorious makes a rather sour expression, and he corrects, "'m not a peasant. You just have wretched taste in beverages, machine. So picky about your fuel - one wrong thing, and your filters whine so piteously. Suppose we'll have to do something about that eventually."
A few more shots, and he finally seems to have concocted something that he finds satisfactory. He pours a large portion of it into a flexible bag and seasons it with a cocktail of euphorants, sedatives, and tranquilisers. He then hangs the bag off a hook and tries to run a line from it into Mirage's main fuel intake line, which will hopefully not get the fuel all over the floor like last time.
Secutorious turns to his Gatekeeper and sniffs, "Now, if you are quite done with distracting me with your silly little catch, I have a show to attend, and you have rounds to make at the track, I do believe. Once integration is complete, the monitors will page me, and Excisionata will finish the job."
Venatorious scowls, but it is hard to say if he scowls more at how the Scientist treats him or at the mere mention of Excisionata.
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Post by Mirage on Aug 3, 2010 22:05:15 GMT -5
"You know, you keep using 'machine' as a slur, and yet, you're half machine yourself now, looks like. If machines are truly such low beings, then why aspire to mimic them?" Mirage asks, tone grim.
He can't fight against the fuel being fed into his lines, so the Gatekeeper is successful in that regard. Mirage does need a refuel, needs it desperately if his systems are going to recover. Still, he knows this cocktail is going to do more than give him a hangover in the morning.
Hopefully, his internal filters will catch at least some of the drugs. He's already feeling sleepy though, and that wont' do. That won't do at all. He has to stay awake, has to fight.
Wait. Are they going to leave him alone in here? Did he hear correctly?
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 3, 2010 22:13:13 GMT -5
"Who says I started organic?" Venatorious answers non-committally, with a negligent shrug of one shoulder. Truth is, he was decanted half and half, just as he is now, though he was a stock model, then. Now, he is so much more... and no better off than he ever was or ever will be.
The Scientist floats out, to go catch his show.
The Gatekeeper follows after him, turns out the lights, and locks the door.
Mirage is left alone in the wet darkness, with his unconscious friends and the beep and buzz of monitoring devices for his only company.
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Post by Mirage on Aug 4, 2010 11:06:59 GMT -5
They have left him alone. But that one mentioned interrogation. Does that mean someone else will be coming in or, that the various machines hooked into Mirage will be more taking a more...active role.
He tests his bonds in earnest now. That fuel cocktail is running rapidly through his systems. He feels sluggish because of whatever was in the fuel, he's still in a ridiculous amount of pain, and he's finding it hard to focus. But he has to focus. He has to keep himself as alert as possible.
The bonds are tight, and he's not got the best angle to work at them. But...maybe.... He starts running through his subspace inventory, at the same time, trying to stretch and twist to gain some sort of slack in the bonds .
He says into the dark, on the of chance that she's faking her unconsciousness, "Bambi?"
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 4, 2010 12:04:49 GMT -5
Bambi does not answer. Would be a bit of a jerk move for her to do nothing while the Quintessons tormented Mirage, no?
Mirage will have a bit of success of getting a bit of slack in the bonds, because the Quintessons didn't catch all of Mirage's transformation seams.
Now, if Mirage could figure out a way to make himself a bit more slippery, that might help...
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Post by Mirage on Aug 4, 2010 12:27:53 GMT -5
It would be a jerk move, perhaps, but it would have been a smart one. It's certainly a move Mirage would have tried if the roles were reversed.
But then, we have already established that Mirage is a jerk, yes?
The bonds are loosening. Not much, but enough. The transform lines to his hands are cut, so he can't just retract them, of course. But can he open one of the wrist panels...?
He can, but with entirely too much effort. The euphoric part of the cocktail doesn't seem to be doing much to Mirage, and that's a good thing. He is, however, starting to feel pervasively numb. That... might also be a good thing come to think of it.
There's a hydraulic exposed at his wrist now, a delicate and sensitive piece of machinery utilized when he's in vehicle mode. He twists his wrist in the shackle, stretching it almost to the point of dislocation as he works to catch that exposed bit against the hard edge of the bond. He scrapes against the shackle, trying to break that line. It's an awkward position.
Eventually it gives, the fluid spilling out over the shackle and Mirage's hand. A few more twists to coat, and Mirage again tries to pull his hand through. He breaks his thumb in the process as he forces it to fold up smaller than it should. It's worth it though.
His hand is free. Now, to see what he can do about his other limbs.
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 4, 2010 15:03:28 GMT -5
The monitors beep and whine, registering that Mirage is really moving entirely too much and that the one cuff has lost contact.
Lucky that Secutorious is off seeing a show and Venatorious is hunting, right?
His other limbs are now bearing more of his weight, which probably hurts a bit.
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Post by Mirage on Aug 5, 2010 0:06:54 GMT -5
Having his weight sagging unevenly does indeed hurt more, but Mirage has long since pushed himself past acknowledging the pain. A grimace, a hiss are all the reaction he gives.
He is more worried about the monitors beeping out alarms. His tormentors might be gone, but they certainly wouldn't have left the room unmonitored. Mirage swings his weight, using the motion for let him twist at the waist and bring his free hand up to the shackle holding the other hand. He has the fine motor control to work at the bond, but not enough control to flex his arm. He can't transform, and he may not even be able to walk. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
He struggles to summon a thin, short needle tool from subspace. It's small, half the length of his longest finger, but it keeps slipping through his mental fingers, so to speak. After a half dozen tries, he finally manages it. The fingers of the bound hand wrap around the cable holding that shackle while Mirage uses the needle tool to try and work the lock on that shackle loose. He'd prefer not to break his other hand, if he can avoid it.
This could be a test, of course, to see if he's resourceful enough to get loose. Perhaps to test his levels of self-preservation versus compassion, to see what... adjustments need to be made to his attitude. Mirage knows this; he just can't not take the risk.
The cuff pops open, and Mirage's fingers tighten on the cabling to keep himself from flopping over. He looks down. How much space does he have before he reaches the floor, and how difficult will freeing his legs be?
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 5, 2010 5:50:54 GMT -5
With only his optics and the little lights of the monitors, it is quite dark and hard to judge, but given that he was held tilted in the ring, not properly upright, were Mirage to let go, his face would probably crash into the floor while his feet were held up in the ring.
Though, if he doesn't mind more of a painful stretch than he's already had, he could hold along the edge of the ring and work his way down to his feet or perhaps find a different solution.
The cuffs around his ankles seem much the same as those around his wrists, although adjusted to compensate for the different shapes, trying to tuck into a narrow spot to avoiding slipping.
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Post by Mirage on Aug 5, 2010 11:40:47 GMT -5
Mirage can't see enough, but he can tell his orientation. He reaches out for the rings's edge and starts to hand over hand his way along it. It hurts, hurts like a mother, and his fingers keep threatening to slip from the metal, but he eventually manages to half-crouch in the ring, clinging to the edge while he finds his balance point.
He hooks the hand with the broken thumb around the ring and stretches the other hand- now holding the small needle tool- toward the first ankle cuff. It's a bit easier than popping the wrist cuff, if only because he has a better angle.
When it finally does open, it's almost too sudden, Mirage's foot dropping suddenly out of it. It's all he can do to keep from falling completely over so that he's handing from one foot in the rig. As it is, he winds up almost sitting on that narrow ring's edge, his bound foot twisted at an odd angle.
Damn. He's fairly sure he felt something give in a lower leg. He can't afford more injuries. He shutters his optics and cycles his ventilation for several moments, trying to get back into the detached headspace that had gotten him past the pain initially.
Mirage then stretches up for the last bond, worries at it. It takes much longer than the other too, simply because Mirage is hurting so badly, the angle is so difficult, and Mirage himself is very, very out of it.
Once the last cuff is undone Mirage reaches up and yanks the fuel drip out of his body. He'd needed the fuel- and the numbness- before to keep him going. Letting the mess continue to work on him after he was free would be folly. That done, lowers himself to the floor, collapses really, and just lies there for a few minutes.
"Now," he murmurs into the dark, "What in Primus's name am I going to do?"
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