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Post by Perceptor on Apr 19, 2008 15:54:16 GMT -5
It is... rather disconcerting for Perceptor to see this scuttling creature wearing Xaaron's face. Perhaps even more so for the recentness of their own Xaaron's presence here facing exactly the same circumstances. Well, relatively exactly, if not for the same causes.
It is even more disconcerting to guess that he, or one who wears his own face, is the cause of this fear. He takes that time Xaaron uses in scurrying into position and settling down to settle his own nerves into that calm, serene, nonthreatening mask.
"No," he replies, shaking his head. "I will have ample time to compile and transcribe the information. It is not time or effort I am concerned with, but, rather, your privacy. Information is useful, but there is a limit to which even your alternate or Kup need be privy to concerning your functions."
"With your permission, may I disconnect your pain receptors and associated tactile networks? Or would you prefer to be able to monitor my work in that manner?" he asks gently, gathering a few tools up to carry closer.
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on Apr 19, 2008 17:01:50 GMT -5
“I… all right,” Emirate Xaaron says, quite baffled that Perceptor is giving him the option of censoring a report.
Emirate Xaaron stretches himself out on the table obediently, automatically positioning himself in such a way that Perceptor will have easy access to meddle with his sensory networks. It seems like he’s been here before but not to disable.
He comments, as little bit of gallows humour creeping into his tone, “That may be the only way to get me to stay through this procedure, short of strapping me down,” which could be next. An idea hits him, and he asks, hesitantly, “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, just before you’re done, could you turn my sensory inputs down – permanently? Down to a safe minimum?” Obviously, he can’t operate with them entirely off. He’d be liable to break things, having no idea how much pressure he was exerting, and also to injure himself, having no idea how much anything hurt.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 19, 2008 19:20:07 GMT -5
"I would prefer to not have to resort to such a drastic measure, myself, yes," Perceptor replies, setting most of his tools within easy reach.
Simply by virtue of the work he must perform, he looms over the Emirate, physics not allowing him any other choice of position. It cannot be comfortable to look up into his face, even with the apologetic smile he offers Xaaron for his position.
"If that is what you would prefer, then I do not see any reason not to," he replies to Xaaron's request as he carefully pops open the panels which will expose the circuits and systems which he needs to adjust and disconnect before the more in depth work begins. "It will merely require a few... additional... tests?"
His voice trails off, a troubled look filtering into his expression as he examines Xaaron's sensory networks. Not just his sensory networks, but all of the systems laid bare to his optics.
Why would anyone place a jumper there, for Matrix sake? All such a component would possibly do would produce a rather painful feedba-
"Madness," he whispers, spotting flaw after flaw, sloppy solder after very subtly mis-wired component. For a simple cursory glance, everything would appear sharp and complete and careful.
Under his careful scrutiny, however... It is a wonder that Xaaron is not hearing color and tasting sound in addition to the low level discomfort and outright pain that must be his constant companion. With the jumpers, cross-diodes, and bypasses carefully and meticulously placed, there isn't even really any physical means for anything but pain and pressure and temperature tactile sensors to transmit data; any remotely pleasurable sensors are all but inert in this state.
"My apologies, Xaaron, but I will need to take your entire tactile array completely off-line for the procedure. The... issues are more extensive than I had anticipated," he explains carefully. There is apology and remorse in his voice, and a tight, carefully harnessed anger at the hand that had wrought this madness upon the Emirate's systems.
Perceptor just wishes that the work didn't look so blasted familiar to him. And now, he cannot help but wonder what further madness the rest of these repairs will reveal, with this insanity purely in the sensory networks alone.
One by one, tactile arrays power down or wink out until Xaaron is left without touch altogether. It may be the first time in ages that he isn't plagued by constant pain and discomfort.
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on Apr 19, 2008 20:29:22 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron's tripartite madnesses mirror each other - spiritual madness of worshiping fractal chaos, mental madness of labyrinthine self-loathing and nihilistic spite, and physical madness of cross-wired circuits, mismatched parts, and a Schroedinger's transformation.
He is a mess.
It's more than simply neglect can account for, although that is certainly there. There is sabotage, deliberate, pernicious, and malicious, cleverly woven into his frame. Some of it is clearly designed to injure him if the normal repairs are effected. Some of it is not so clearly designed to do just the same thing.
Emirate Xaaron comments, "I can't go through life, cringing at every touch unless I make an effort." Of course, he could just get therapy, too, but that's so much more difficult than being comfortably numb.
But it's the anger that makes him cringe, directed at him or not, not the touch. he agrees easily, too easily, "Of course. Whatever you need to do."
Unicron, but feeling nothing is wonderful. In oblivion, there is beauty.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 20, 2008 2:33:17 GMT -5
Perceptor nods, mumbling a distracted agreement as he carefully, meticulously, threads his way through the... flaws. This... This is beyond madness. This is insanity. Insanity most foul and most malicious.
Skilled hands wrought these changes. Deft digits tampered with sacrosanct systems. Perceptor feels ill.
"This was his work." It's a statement of fact, not a question, not even a guess. His voice is low, devoid of inflection. He's ill, he's angry, and he's terrified of frightening Xaaron further, of "proving" to the Emirate that he is just like his alternate. Not after Xaaron had obviously had to screw up his courage this much, and suddenly, that fear Xaaron had for him is beginning to make sickening sense. "I am sorry, Xaaron."
His hands, and yet not his hands. If he dared to spare the moment to do so, he would shudder simply to vent the visceral physical response.
"Hopefully, rebuilding these... damaged... portions of your sensory networks will go great strides toward halting that response," he offers, modulating his tone with a calm he does not feel. Especially when he finally wades his way through the last of the circuitry - removing it for repair and, in some cases, total rebuild - and gets his first look at Xaaron's internal structural and physical components.
Why would someone have used cams designed for a light model racer in a pre-golden age mech? Such lightweight components in a heavy constructed mechanism would torque and twist with every motion!
"Are you required anywhere for the remainder of the day?" he asks quietly. "This procedure may take significantly longer than I had initially estimated."
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on Apr 20, 2008 7:29:35 GMT -5
"Why are you sorry? It is not your fault, and even if you were there, there is nothing you could have done to stop it," Emirate Xaaron suggests, ever more puzzled by this Perceptor and ever the pessimist.
Emirate Xaaron's mouth quirks into something that is part grimace, part smirk, an expression that he can't feel and perhaps all the more subtly grotesque because of it, as his servos have no way of determining they have truly reached the expression his emotions intended for him. he correctly lightly, gently, "Your optimism is touching but misplaced. It's never been the actual touch that has distressed me so. I could have borne a thousand pains, if only I bore them willingly, for someone I favoured. Touch ever reminds me of what I have not chosen for myself, what I have had no control over at all. The lack of pain may improve my reactions, sand them down, but they will be there still, cut into the die that made me."
Emirate Xaaron considers if he is required anywhere and replies, "I do not believe I am. Kup might know better. I am not of many uses."
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 20, 2008 12:01:28 GMT -5
"You are more instructive than you give yourself credit for, Xaaron," Perceptor offers quietly, slowly picking his way through the myriad of mis-matched parts and other even more subtle sabotage.
"I am afraid that I must systematically disable your motor functions as I work," he explains. Always he explains before he performs anything upon the Emirate, but not for the same reasons that his alternate had when he had chosen to do the same. These explanations are meant to inform for comfort's sake, and not to terrorize . The warning in this Perceptor's tone holds as much apology as information, rather than the smug curiosity of the darker doppleganger. "Many of these components will require complete retooling or re-fabrication, rather than mere repairs."
He works in silence for several long moments, prioritizing the work before he digs in - he would prefer to have Xaaron as functional as possible for as long as possible, whenever he can throughout this procedure. Xaaron has been helpless enough under similar conditions, from the look of this abomination that has been made of his internals.
"Is it merely this of which you speak when you say that which you had not chosen for yourself? Or is there more?"
What, in the name of the Matrix, is this sludge gumming his systems? It looks like a hazardous waste facility used Xaaron's systems as a pre-filter!
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on Apr 20, 2008 20:48:56 GMT -5
"The work of your alternative is what is instructive, not me," Emirate Xaaron corrects in a chilly voice, finally confirming for certain the author of some of this madness.
At the mention that his motor functions will be disconnected, it's hard for Emirate Xaaron to suppress the urge to bolt. He's putting himself at Perceptor's mercy if he stays. Emirate Xaaron's simply terrified, but this Perceptor has been so very different.
He isn't taking a chance, he tells himself. Emirate Xaaron knows exactly what to expect if this goes south. It is a known quantity, familiar.
As his motor systems wink out, one by one, Emirate Xaaron really had to work hard not to break down on Perceptor, not to sob, flail, or lash out.
He admits reluctantly, "There is more. I was a favourite target but by no means the only one."
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 29, 2008 1:12:04 GMT -5
Perceptor's jaw clenches, lip components pursed and optics narrowed as he carefully picks his way through the disaster wrought upon Xaaron's systems. "This is not the work of a single session," he observes, voice dropping to a soft entreaty as he continues, "Why remain?"
Why continue to place oneself at the mercy of... of that creature? Perceptor has to concentrate hard, both on making full sense of these... modifications, and in reigning in even the slightest hints of his temper.
He is not a vengeful being, at his root directory, but this... this madness... His alternate is a damaged and disturbed creature that is best destroyed for the safety of all.
"Who else? And what?" Perceptor asks. He pauses, turning an apologetic look down upon the Emirate. "I do not mean to distress you, Xaaron, and I would not ask if the knowledge were not so very important."
He rests a hand upon Xaaron's shoulder, forgetting that the golden mech's tactile systems are off line, and also that such an absent gesture of comfort is likely anything but to the oft-abused Autobot. A fact he only recalls belatedly as he winces and snatches his hand away.
"My apologies."
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on Apr 29, 2008 15:55:37 GMT -5
The questions is a good one. Emirate Xaaron smiles sadly as he answers, "I am an Autobot still. I haven't a revolutionary's soul - or his courage. I hoped that I could change my people from the inside, that perhaps we could be worthy of a place in the universe if only we could curb our violent impulses," worthy to serve Lord Unicron after he destroyed Primus.
"Thundercracker," he says in a small voice, "Perceptor broke his mind and broke his spirit. Gave him to Skyfire as a slave, a living doll. Holi had to be checked for 'modifications' after Cannonball's intrusion. Probably left with more than he went in with. Oracle and Jazz make use of his services, but I think they are actually willing. Mirage would, I think, shoot himself rather than let Perceptor touch him. Sanest thing about the spy. Skyblast is also leery of him - Slingshot's had a few things happen to him. Is probably why."
He looks rather ashamed. "Sorry if I seem uncertain. I am selfish. Wrapped up in my own pain, it is difficult to notice the specifics of others. On that subject, the other whats? Rrr... r... the defiler sees something in me and wants to take it out. Never fnds it, but he's splattered me across the floor, the walls, the landscape..." Emirate Xaaron trails off, again staring at nothing and everything. "Pee-Dee. She enjoys violating my comfort level." He is not a chair, okay? Thanks. "General hostility."
If he forgets some, it is because memory hurts.
Blissfully numb as he is, he doesn't even notice Perceptor's hand on his shoulder until Perceptor withdraws it. Emirate Xaaron simply looks sad - he made Perceptor wince, now.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 30, 2008 10:28:48 GMT -5
"Are you?" Perceptor asks quietly. "If you feel that you must change them so drastically from their current state to be 'worthy' of existance, are you truly an Autobot? Is it the name which makes one what one is? Or is it the ideal? Were these Autobots once worthy, and have become corrupted throughout the years? Is that past the image you wish to return to?"
"Or is it a fundamental alteration of that which separates the factions of your worlds?"
Perceptor knows nothing about Primus, and as for Unicron... His knowledge on that matter is skewed from the off, even without throwing in the forces of Chaos and Order. He cannot know that Xaaron's turmoil goes much deeper than faction symbol.
"I... see," he murmurs. Skyfire? Keeping slaves? It is such a foreign concept to Perceptor that he actually pauses in his work for a moment. Probably not a bad thing, as the thought of that... that mad creature having access to Holi, any Holi, fills Perceptor with dread.
And anger.
"You need not apologize, Xaaron," Perceptor replies, reigning in his temper. As extensive as these bits of sabotage are, Xaaron has obviously been a favored target since their arrival on their Gillanan III. Perhaps before that.
That he cannot even bring himself to speak the shadow Prime's name says much.
"I understand, now, why you fled." From there. From he and Kup upon arriving back at Perceptor's workshop. "Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to rectify... this."
"It is a start."
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on Apr 30, 2008 11:26:54 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron laughs, a nervous little sound like grass crackling under a creeping footstep. He explains, "The Autobots, in my world, anyway, have always been violent and criminal, but the Decepticons are not separate from us. The older ones were all Autobots at one point, you see, and if they can overcome their more bestial natures, I see no reason why the Autobots proper shouldn't be capable of it."
"Still, the Decepticons are noble, militaristic, and protective. I haven't the steel in my struts and fire in my soul to be one. Better that I soothe the tempers of my Autobot brethren than I meddle with the affairs of soldiers. Better that their attention be entranced by my pain than they be out blighting the universe."
Again, his voice turns self-recriminating, and he adds, hollow, "And the Autobots would kill me, if I left. I exist only as long as they see me as useful to their goals."
They would hunt him down like a dog, and he would die in some torture chamber, quiet and alone, no martyr to spur a revolution, a whimper, not a bang.
Perhaps, worse than that, in drilling and skewering him, they would break more than his body, more than his simpering spirit, and he would become the person he has always feared. Emirate Xaaron saw that alternate of his, so confident, who would dare to command a Prime. Emirate Xaaron dreams darkly of destruction, worlds devoured, and if he ever took his beliefs into his own hands, rather then insisting that such judgement calls are not his to make...
...worlds would burn. Oh, Emirate Xaaron is an Autobot still, because for all that he fears the Autobots, he fears himself.
Bitterly, he corrects, "I have much for which to apologise. Please, do not thank me. I should thanking you."
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Post by Perceptor on May 2, 2008 3:39:17 GMT -5
"We tried as much upon my Cybertron," Perceptor notes sadly as he begins the painstaking process of rebuilding all the sabotaged parts within Xaaron's structure. It had taken this long just to find them all, and it will require several more scans just to be certain that he hasn't missed any. "On my Cybertron, we were products. Creations with divergent base programming."
"It proved too great an obstacle to overcome, despite the numerous attempts."
"Still, my Prime hopes. Rodimus strives for a united Cybertron, a world of peace and prosperity and wisdom. I will believe in his dream."
Perceptor flicks a glance up from his work to meet those yellow optics. "What then?" he asks bluntly. "What misdeeds plague you that you bear this burden of guilt?"
He glances back to his work, to the damages wrought upon the Emirate, before looking up again. "This... These alternates, they frighten me. What they are capable of frightens me. And yet, you call yourself an Autobot, still. Insist upon it, and then in the next breath, speak of the necessity for apologies."
"Why? Tell me."
Tell me why I should fear you.
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Emirate Xaaron-3
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on May 2, 2008 8:47:30 GMT -5
"I am spineless, Perceptor," Emirate Xaaron reminds, "If I had been a little more willing to bear pain, I might have curbed the violent impulses of my people. I might have cajoled them into a peace treaty. I might have betrayed them to the Decepticons. There are as a dozen ways I could have ended the war," some of those dozen are mutual annihilation, but he would find that more than acceptable, "But I am selfish, and I could never take the thought of what they'd do to me, what I would have to endure," and it really would be worse than the wringer he's already been put through, he's sure.
There is clear self-hatred in his voice, as he finishes, nearly shouting, nearly wailing, "If only I could have put my neck on the chopping block, if only I had given it my all!" His voice quiets to a near whisper, "But I cling too hard to this life, even when the only things left in it for me are better off without me."
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Post by Perceptor on May 4, 2008 16:22:04 GMT -5
"Self-sacrifice is a noble dream," Perceptor chides gently, trying to calm the Emirate with a hand to his shoulder once again. "And yet, across all the realms of the various realities of the various multiverse, life struggles to maintain. Clings to existance. Neither sapience, nor sentience bars that."
Perceptor pauses from his work once more, shaking his head as he meets Xaaron's optics. "I... Your Constable sees something worth protecting in you. And by fleeing, did you not bring him to safety as well? Would he have gone without the impetus of rescuing you from that?"
Just seeing this work done to Xaaron's systems, his structure... from what he has seen of this alternate Swerve, it would have merely been a matter of time before someone had done similar, or worse, to him as well.
Perceptor shakes his head again and returns to work. "I do not know Swerve well, yet," either of them, really. "But I believe that he would... drift... without a purpose."
"Without you."
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