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Post by SceneMod on Jul 29, 2010 23:54:27 GMT -5
Day 9, immediately following Into the Grinder. Private thread.
Spinster, when he wakes (and he will wake abruptly), will find himself in not so many pieces as he perhaps expected. The bits dislodged during the hallway tussle are laid out carefully on a table. Spinister himself is bound to a table that is tilted at an angle. There's a drip of some sort hooked into his fuel lines.
The room is clean, like, Mayday clean, and it smells strongly of the same chemicals from earlier. It's a sharp contrast to the areas of the packing plant Spinister explored previous. At the same time, the place very much screams that it's the domain of someone not quite sane. Every item is labeled, every item's place is labeled, and the placing is very deliberate. The organization is an almost oppressive force.
There's a very unassuming man in hospital scrubs (including face mask and cap) sitting ramrod straight in a hard-backed steel chair across from Spinister.
"Hello, Officer," he says, voice soft and bland.
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Post by Spinister on Jul 30, 2010 23:06:40 GMT -5
Spinister doesn't move. Spinister's optics don't even flicker on. Rude awakening or not, he doesn't even give any indication that he is actually awake. He takes a bit of time to check how long he's been out. His Nebulans survive. Good. They haven't made it far, however. Their legs are so very short for so big a world. Something is screwy with radios, so he doesn't even bother trying his. Then, very slowly and gently, he tests his bonds. His movements are so minor that even someone paying close attention would have a hard time noticing that he's moving at all. How much wiggles room does he have? How is he bound? His tailboom folds down his back and over his swashplate assembly. Can his blades move? His transformation joints? After all, his hands fold into his arms as a part of transforming.
His motor lines. How are those doing?
He checks his subspace access, too. There's that police-issue sidearm, and possibly, he could materialize it and shoot Mr. Non-Descript, but he isn't sure what is a kill shot on that species, whatever it is, and he hates not being able to manage one shot, one kill. He has Blight vials, too, and he wonders what a vial of Blight to the eye would do, shattered glass shards jammed through the sclera aside. That's Blight in those lines, isn't it?
His cloak. Are the components for that still operational? Vanishing on the table might be a trick, too.
Spinister has a multitude of options. He just needs to decide what is the most efficient and efficacious course of action. Never do fear or panic enter his mind. Those would be counterproductive.
Elsewhere... "Oh, Pit no!" Singe moans, throwing his arms in the air.
Hairsplitter reminds, "We can't radio anyone else. Beggars can't be choosers!"
Singe murmurs darkly, "Decepticons never beg."
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Post by Kup on Jul 30, 2010 23:31:08 GMT -5
And who is getting this reaction from Singe?
Why, it's the gray-green mechanoid standing in front of them, arms crossed, weight mostly on his left leg, on the sidewalk in front of them. He's currently naked, as his clothes had been all but destroyed by the acid-glass mix, and he's a little dustier from his high speed (well. For him.) race to a spot where he could drop Jill off with that Inanna gal for treatment, but none of this keeps the smug- almost haughty- smirk off his face.
"They sure as slot do beg," he answers with the grim amusement of someone who's caused that begging. "They just say they don't. But then, they say a lot of stuff."
He crouches down, forearms now resting on his knees.
"So. I take it that little clean-up effort didn't go down as planned, huh?"
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 1, 2010 0:45:14 GMT -5
Some bits of Spinister's tailboom and other alt mode kibble have been removed to allow for him to lie a bit more easily on the table, but just a few bits, including his blades. There's a cut away in the table to allow for the bits still attached.
As far as the actual bonds go, Spinister will probably find them woefully inadequate compared to those found on a Decepticon surgeon's table. That said, the bond are actually biting, sharp, pricked into his plating, and in some cases, they have been fastened down through a limb or joint. His main motor lines have not been cut (yet), but the fluid being fed into his fuel lines isn't actually straight Blight. Its mixed with a solution that seems to numb those motor relays, much like the pins and needles sensation when a limb falls asleep. Spinster will certainly be able regain his mobility, but it will take some time.
His subspace routines are fully operational.
The man in scrubs looks like a cross between a human and a lizard. What little skin that is showing is pinkish, but is scaled, and his eyes are definitely reptilian. He just continues to watch Spinister, saying and doing nothing for now.
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Post by Spinister on Aug 1, 2010 18:10:00 GMT -5
Spinister decides to work on warming up his servos to get back his mobility and fight through the numbing. He's still not opening trying to struggle - these are essentially subtle isometric stretches.
He doesn't really feel all himself, with those pieces removed. If he was a sadist, he'd thinking about removing some pieces from that snake in the grass over there.
Instead, Spinister tries to review methods of executing aliens, wondering which one might apply best.
"If they're begging, they're not Decepticons any more," Hairsplitter sniffs primly.
Singe glares and explains, "I know you'd dance on a Decepticon's grave, but if you're looking for a fight, I'm pretty sure you can find one in there." Spinister could have been moved to another building, but...
Hairsplitter continues, "Same cleaning smell as in the control room. I'd look in the packing area, as we hadn't tried there yet. If I was looking."
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Post by Kup on Aug 1, 2010 20:26:52 GMT -5
"Not for much longer," Kup answers cheerfully to Hairsplitter's begging comment.
He studies the two Nebulans. "Sons, I'd be pleased as punch to let that blasted Decepticon rot, make no mistake. But the fact is, the folks who're doing that to them... are the same folks who did that to that girl, and the same folks who've been doing this to a lot of other people, and I've determined to stop 'em. Do I give a damn about your boss? No. But am I looking for a fight? Oh, yes. Yes, I am."
"I am looking. How about you?"
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 1, 2010 22:42:15 GMT -5
The man in scrubs stands, the motion deliberate and stilted. He walks over to stand next to Spinster. He moves slowly, stiffly, as if he clothes are shot through with pins that prick him at the least motion.
"I don't like dealing with robots. Robots seldom react in the proper way," he says, voice flat and soft, "But sometime they give me robots and I have to make do, but I never like it. It's just not as satisfying."
"And with you, I don't even get to put your through the proper paces."
"So disappointing," says as he picks up a diamond-bladed rotary saw and begins to cut through the plating on Spinister's thigh.
A monitor on the far wall blips.
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Post by Spinister on Aug 2, 2010 13:01:49 GMT -5
Spinister is not good at doing the whole 'plucky hero who talks to the enemy and distracts him' thing. He's not good at the whole 'talking' thing in general.
However, Spinister has never been one to turn down a weapon, so he finally flicks on his optic lights and tries, "Are you sure it isn't organics that don't react in the proper way? Maybe machines are actually the baseline definition of proper. I think you're being terribly pro-organic-biased Mr. - ah, this is terribly awkward, what with not having your name and all. What am I going to put on my tombstone? Spinister, created [insert Space Year here], died [insert Space Year here], felled by... a nameless fellow in scrubs. Hnn. No ring about it."
"Or maybe we're just all different and you should learn to enjoy that diversity." Hairsplitter heard something like that at his workplace.
Monitor... maybe this is all an experiment to study the effects of Blight on the cheap, without paying attention to animal welfare laws? Hairsplitter would have a fit! Instead, Hairsplitter is having a fit because he's busy with Kup.
Running would be a nice thing to be able to do, Spinister thinks, and he can't really run if lets this fellow take his leg clean off, so he continues to chatter inanely, "And who are 'they', anyway? Because if they gave me to you, I think they ought to have done a nicer job of wrapping me up in colourful paper first, maybe with some black roses as a decoration - no, ribbons, ribbons go on gifts, flowers go with gifts."
While he's rambling on about colourful paper, he snaps that police issue sidearm out of subspace and tries to put a bullet through the fellow's right eye. If this is a regenerator, he's fragged sideways, but he's already straight fragged, and he can't afford to lose that leg. He has to try.
Singe and Hairsplitter can't debate long. With their little legs, by the time they try to get help, it may be too late for anything but an air strike. "We're with you."
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Post by Kup on Aug 2, 2010 18:58:52 GMT -5
Kup shrugs, then gives a single nod of his head.
He isn't going to thank them, or express approval for their choice. Because they're still damn dirty 'Cons.
He does transform and opens his doors. "Get in. Rollin's faster."
Once they climb in, he starts rattling down the road back towards the meat packing plant, slowing down for a more cautious approach as they near. Are there any differences from the outside this time around?
OOC: Mention of the Nebulans climbing in done with permission.
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 2, 2010 22:17:45 GMT -5
Mr. Nameless Fellow in Scrubs doesn't seem particularly interested in Spinister's babbling, and he certainly doesn't offer his name. He simply continues to cut a panel out of Spinister's armour, working carefully and deliberately. He's just making the final cut in the panel when he is shot through the eye.
Scrubs turns his head, black dust trickling down from his eye socket and out the back of his head. He twists the cutter and applies it to the fingers holding the gun.
"Interesting. Individually accessible pocket dimensions.
The black dust trickling out of Scrub's wound is slowly, very slowly, eating away at his clothing. There's the flash of something silver and sharp in the dead socket, and then it is lost in darkness.
The meat packing plant looks rather unimpressive in the daylight. The door Kup knocked down has been replaced as if it were never broken.
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Post by Spinister on Aug 2, 2010 22:52:13 GMT -5
Spinister subspaces the gun as Mr. Nameless chews up his thigh and then hand. It hurts, hurts like hell, but he knew it was coming, and he refuses to give this alien wretch any satisfaction.
After a moment, he says, "Ah."
Then, he adds, "You are a dead man."
Does he mean the fact that the man is apparently made of Blight dust? No. Spinister is making a threat.
With his fingers gone, he tries to pull that hand into his lower arm, if the bonds will let him.
Singe explains, "There's more than one killer at work here. It's a whole operation - some mysterious 'they'."
Hairsplitter sketches out a picture of the creature tormenting Spinister and holds it up to the dash.
Singe continues, "That's one of them. Spinister thinks that they may be trying to study Blight."
They ready themselves to be used as weapons.
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Post by Kup on Aug 3, 2010 16:57:54 GMT -5
Kup pulls into the loading yard, opens his door for the Nebulans to get out, and then transforms, approaching the loading bay door cautiously. He frowns. "Makes sense this can't all be one person," he observes, "but if that's the case, well, I'll just have to take down as many of 'em as I can find." His lip curls sourly. He's got no time for a vendetta on this planet - they don't plan to be there that long, and as much as he dislikes it, he's got to think about pulling in some cash to pay off their local debt. But it's tempting... oh, boy, is it tempting.
"Blight?" he asks as he inspects the door, attempting to determine how difficult it will be to get back through the door, get an idea on what sort of alarms he'll be triggering, and that sort of thing. Of course, if it proves to be too much trouble, he'll just get in through the damned wall, but that's sure to set off some alarms.
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Post by SceneMod on Aug 3, 2010 19:17:51 GMT -5
"I am not a dead man," Mr. Scrubs replies, tone still eerily even, "I am very much alive. But perhaps you meant that in the sense of a threat, in which case you have at least enough courage to make the attempt. This is a notable change in pattern."
The hand not holding the cutter picks up a a sharpened spike and attempts to drive it through Spinster's arm and into the table below. The spike would enter just above Spinister's wrist. It is aimed so as to go through the mechanism allowing for the retraction of the hand.
"You, however, are not truly alive, as you are just a machine. Programs and wiring and circuits. No flesh to flay or blood to spill or nerves to prick. But yet you are fully affected, and you should not be. Curious."
He turns his head now to look at Spinster. The black dust has ceased falling, and it looks as if his body is slowly healing over the wound. He isn't getting another eyeball, mind. But skin is slowly growing over the empty socket.
"I really do hate this planet."
The door looks just as impervious as it did before, and while alarms are not obvious, they are surely there. Kup does have a flamethrower handy though....
Oh, except the door is swinging open. The darkness glimpsed through the crack seems too dark for half a moment, but otherwise, the inside looks just as Kup left it.
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Post by Spinister on Aug 3, 2010 19:51:17 GMT -5
Spinister is very, very disappointed, and he replies, "Ah, so you wish I'd gush blood and scream like something out of the kind of video you get out of a brown bag? That's what you want? I can see why you're disappointed. But do you know what I hate? Plucky. Heroic. Banter. So neither of us are happy at all right now, but if you'd just let me go, I can promise you there'll be screams."
"Besiiiiides, I'm perfectly alive. Son of a god, in fact. Or were you unfamiliar with the fact that Unicron makes transforming Heralds in His image? Though Dad's gonna be pissed... never understood this whole law and order fetish I have going on."
As he keeps up the inane banter, he starts to struggle in more methodical earnest, trying to figure out which of the ties are the weakest and pop them all at once - Scrubs can nail his hand down, and by Bludgeon's Ultimate Warrior and Needlenose's God, that freaking hurts, but he can't go after all of Spinister's whole body at once, can he?
But he can regenerate. Bugger.
So maybe he can be in multiple places at once, too.
Hairsplitter explains, "K'ire was a Blight addict, we found Jill poisoned with Blight, I'm pretty sure there's an IV of Blight feeding right into Spinister, and... Scrubs there seems to made out of Blight."
Singe grunts, "That stupid darkness is about again. Attacked Spinister when he tried to shoot down the ceiling, but the room was trying to cook him, anyway. Wish Sunbeam was here, that beam bum."
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Post by Kup on Aug 3, 2010 22:00:07 GMT -5
Kup narrows his optics as the door opens, and those optics brighten a bit at the too-dark beyond it.
"Yeeeah. We ain't going in that way," he says, picking up the Nebulans and depositing them on his shoulders. He starts to walk along the wall, his stride almost casual. Now and again, he raps his knuckles against the wall, rather forcefully, trying to get a feel for the thickness of the wall.
At the moment, he's thinking he'd rather burn, blast, or bash his way in rather than walk in through the front door.
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