Swerve-3
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Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 27, 2008 23:25:54 GMT -5
OOC: Semi-private thread; please ask before posting in.
SLAM.
Perhaps it's a good thing for the constable that, apparently, no-one is nearby to hear his latest efforts at escape, futile though they may be. He crashes to the floor after his failed attempt to ram his way out of his cell, shoulder aching miserably. He's managed to snap his steering column this time; between that and his battered, smashed fenders, he might just merit medical attention. Oh, not that he's looking forward to seeing any of the Autobot medics, but he stands a better chance of getting away when security slackens just that little bit.
"Maybe…" he murmurs at the unmoved door he can just make out in the dim glow of his optics.
…Oh, who is he kidding? He heaves a sigh and slumps where he landed. Hobbled, hands bound under his windscreen, and he can't even knock down one blasted, Primus-forsaken door. Swerve finds it harder and harder to shake off the hopelessness the longer he's in here. How long has he been in here? He lost track of his chronometer… some time ago. He has managed to screw up every chance he's had to escape. Every choice has been wrong.
He can only hope that somehow, Emirate Xaaron is safe somewhere. He can at least have that, can't he?
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Post by Mirage on Sept 28, 2008 10:51:50 GMT -5
Someone is close enough to hear Swerve's struggles. A someone who has been working very, very hard at not being spotted by either Decepticon or Autobot. Mirage is tired, he's been burning fuel like crazy due to overuse of his cloak, and one of the cubes he nicked from the party leftovers had given him a nasty trip. Bad enough that he was hesitant to try the other cube, but he still had it hidden away, just in case1.
But he couldn't give up. Not without finding Swerve, making sure he was alive and not alone. Not without gathering every scrap of intel he could before he was ordered to report in. An order he expected any time now.
It might not be Swerve locked in that room. It could be anyone, some mech who'd angered the wrong commander, or a nutcase who needed to be locked up when not in use. Still, not investigating never entered Mirage's mind.
He walks confidently toward the shed, not cloaked. Instead, he's projecting the image of that other Mirage over his own, copying his double's swagger and cruel expression. It isn't perfect. But hopefully close enough not to garner a second glance. He lounges back against the door of the shed, optics scanning the area, then raps on the door, three sharp taps with deliberate pauses between. Hopefully, it will surprise whoever might be in there enough for them to answer.
1 Sneaking a couple of cubes away prior to the clean-up ok'd by an admin.
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Swerve-3
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Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 28, 2008 12:06:54 GMT -5
Mirage may well be right in all his suspicions about the cell's unhappy occupant; Swerve certainly has angered the Prime, maybe even in more ways than one, and he has considerably less faith in his sanity now than when all this started. It's probably best for everyone that, no matter how much he longs for escape, he's still trapped in here. He isn't even sure he could avoid making… detours on his way out.
He first flinches at those loud raps disrupting the silence, ringing in his receptors, then he blinks wearily, gaze fixed expectantly on the door. Since when does anyone knock before barging in here? Must be some new, sick game his captors are playing with him.
"What is it?" he blurts out, short and rough and heavy with bitterness he can't mask. He's been strung too thin far too much lately for token courtesy.
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Post by Mirage on Sept 28, 2008 21:41:33 GMT -5
It is Swerve! He sounds...off, but he's alive. Mirage turns to examine the lock...no locks. Damn. There is no way he can get this open without making it obvious that he did so. And he can't rush into this rescue without knowing Swerve's condition. If Swerve can't move on his own then freeing him now would be foolish.
Mirage heaves a very heavy sigh. He doesn't have much time. They have a Synapse, and if the minibot notices two Mirages...but he needs to let Swerve know he's here.
He settles back against the door again, tilting he head a bit back, "Swerve?" the constable was around Mirage enough to hopefully recognize his voice inflections, "It's Mirage. Not him. Me. This world's"
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Swerve-3
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Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 28, 2008 21:55:31 GMT -5
So it is some sick new game. Mirage just gets more twisted by the day, doesn't he?
"This ruse of yours won't work on me," Swerve warns the hound, sitting up a little straighter. It isn't much, this bit of defiance, but it's enough to bolster his flagging spirits ever so slightly. For the moment. "Though I must admit, it's hardly the best I've seen from you." No, because that one got him captured. He adds, venom creeping into his tone, "It's certainly one of the most insulting."
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Post by Mirage on Sept 28, 2008 22:06:26 GMT -5
A muttered oath. "I didn't really expect you to believe me, but that doesn't change the truth of it. Even if you did, I doubt you'd be very happy to see me. You likely want to put a knife through my throat the way your Emirate almost did," Mirage answers, making a point of not hiding both his frustration and normal arrogance."
Mirage pauses, rubbing his chin while he considers what might most quickly persuade Swerve of his identity. All the while he's scanning the area without moving his head, ready to vanish and/or bolt if needed.
"When we first met, I impersonated your Emirate and then tackled him, which made you rather unhappy with me. I also danced and conversed with him at length at Skyfire's welcoming party."
"Ask anything else you'd like to try and confirm my identity."
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Swerve-3
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 28, 2008 22:35:57 GMT -5
"Emirate Xaaron," Swerve counters angrily, "would never do such a thing." The rest of what this Mirage tells him, he's less sure in his denial. There's always the chance Prime's hound just managed to gather this information while he skulked about like the beast in the shadows that he is, but… right after the constable and his leader first arrived? That does seem rather… particular. And the party….
No. Even if this is the other Mirage – even if this isn't a ruse – the chances are much too slim for him to let his guard slip. Why would those Autobots spare anyone to come find him when it's his fault that their base has been destroyed? It's his fault the Prime has come; for that alone, they must hate him.
"I've nothing at all to ask you," he says, hoarse and hushed. He can suspect all he likes, but he can't really afford to let himself believe. If he does and it proves false, he knows he won't be able to stand the mocking that would surely follow.
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Post by Mirage on Sept 28, 2008 23:02:56 GMT -5
"He was so furious with me for losing you that he did attempt to slay me, Swerve, and when he realized what he'd almost done, he fell unconscious. As far as I know, he's stable, but yet to wake," Mirage counters, "He may be better than most, but he's still one of your Autobots, and violence seems a part of that base code."
Mirage sighs again. "Swerve, I can't get you out of here. I lack the skill to break these locks without calling attention. I need to know your condition- and I need you to understand that we will not leave you here. I will have to head somewhere where I can report in without their Holi picking me up, but if there's any chance to get you away..."
Hopefully, no one is looking at Mirage at the moment, because the mixed look of sadness, regret, and responsibility on his face would never be present on his alternate's.
"I'm so sorry, Swerve."
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Swerve-3
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Maintain the Light
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 28, 2008 23:24:46 GMT -5
Swerve has to admit, if only to himself, that Mirage really is putting on a grand effort this time around. He even mustered up an apology. Who knew the hound was capable of so much as saying those words, let alone sounding like he means them? Swerve would be impressed if the thought didn't disgust him so much.
"You know very well what state I'm in," the constable responds. He heaves himself up so he can shift his weight and turn away from the door before he settles again. "I've certainly been better." Far better, and on all possible counts. But if Mirage wants to hear Swerve repeat all the sordid details so he can bask in recollections of what he and his master have done from his victim's point of view, well, Swerve won't be obliging him. "And you already know the rest."
Trying to chip away at his mind from a different angle with those promises of a rescue that he can't trust is really coming is an effective new tack. As if Mirage hasn't done enough already.
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Post by Mirage on Sept 29, 2008 10:16:43 GMT -5
Swerve still isn't believing, and Mirage is running out of time.
"No, I don't know what happened to you, Swerve. Truthfully, I don't want to know; I feel guilty enough as it is. But I need to know, so I can give an accurate report and plan getting you out of here," Mirage says, frustration clear in his tone.
After a few moments, Mirage starts digging through his memory banks. If specific circumstances won't convince Swerve, maybe specific words will. He starts to ramble off various quotes from some of their encounters, copying voice, tone, and inflections as necessary.
Your Emirate is unharmed, Swerve. I was quite careful with him.- Mirage
Would you prefer if I pretended I didn't fear you? Is that how you like it? -Alternate Xaaron
I chose this because to do otherwise would have meant giving tacit approval to Cybertron's destruction. Megatron's obsessions were literally tearing the planet apart. The Autobots played- still play- their part in that sadly, but the Autobots did not force anyone to their ranks or execute those who refused to choose. I can not say that there are not those with this brand who might revel in a bit of violent conflict, or have a natural bent to it. But those have always been tempered by cooler heads.- Mirage
I'll hazard the guess that you have me confused with the Swerve of this reality. I'm… I'm not him.- Swerve
"We're Autobots and we were with Autobots, but the Autobots I – we – know aren't what I thought they were when I first met a few of them on Velocitron. They aren't the protectors they said they were, unless it's their own interests they're protecting. Anything that doesn't serve their purposes – the Prime's purposes – doesn't last long. Anything… or anyone. They would've killed Emirate Xaaron at the Prime's command, but I disobeyed the orders for my reassignment and helped him get away. I couldn't let that happen.-Swerve
Mirage will continue in this vein until he gets a reaction of some sort from Swerve.
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Swerve-3
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 29, 2008 11:00:53 GMT -5
Now, Swerve knows all too well that either Mirage can mimic voice and mannerism to a tee. It shouldn't be enough to convince him and it wouldn't be… perhaps any other time but now. He's been fighting off his urge to trust and believe in that quiet voice on the other side of the door since Mirage first spoke up, but it's more than one voice starting to sway him. He remembers saying those things he hears playing back to him, and he remembers being present for others.
It can't be. Can it?
"…M… Mirage?" he ventures uncertainly after several long seconds of muffled recordings filtering through to him, and he shakily turns back to the door. This could still be a trap. A game the hound's playing with him. But Swerve is, at his spark, an optimist and the hope he's been trying to keep lidded tight so it can't be broken again is rising in a welcome, cool wave.
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Post by Mirage on Sept 29, 2008 11:24:13 GMT -5
"Yes, Swerve. Though I will understand if your first inclination is to punch me rather than hug me once we can actually be face to face," Mirage answers, and there is none of the sarcasm one might expect in his tone.
"As stated, I can't free you at the moment. I'm-," this is harder to admit after getting Swerve's hopes up, "-I'm not even sure how long I'll be able to stay in the area. I am essentially acting without sanction at the moment as it is. I am not looking forward to the reprimand I'm going to get from Xaaron and Kup, I must admit." Mirage rubs his temples. He's getting a horrible headache.
"How bad off are you? You- don't have to go into details if you prefer not to, but if we get a chance, provide some sort of distraction or what not, are you too injured to get yourself away? Can you still transform?"
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Swerve-3
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Maintain the Light
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 29, 2008 12:11:56 GMT -5
"Mirage!" sighs the constable, briefly too weak with relief even to get to his knees. It takes a false start or two, but he manages, and then he can't drag himself to the door quickly enough. "Nonsense," he adds; he doesn't want to punch anyone again. Ever. He'll tear off his hands first.
To say he isn't deflated somewhat to know he's still trapped would be a lie, but Swerve understands why Mirage can't do any more than this – and this little bit means much more than the spy may know – to help him right now. He can't say he approves of the spy coming here without sanction or backup or anything and in no small part because he could be captured. Selfishly, Swerve doesn't want any more suffering to be on his head. He's already the cause of enough pain.
"I'm… in one piece." Swerve tips forward just enough to rest his head against the door. "I've been better, but I'm in one piece. The worst I've got is a banged-up shoulder, and that's my own fault," he murmurs. "It won't stop me from transforming." But there's no telling what could happen to him or what abuse might come tomorrow; these are not things he wants to think about. The thin chuckle he adds falls flat even on his own receptors and he quickly moves on. "Emirate Xaaron is unconscious, you said?" he asks. "He isn't injured, is he? He's safe? And the others? I – I saw… the base." His voice tightens at the memory of that sight. "…Who was hurt?" Because someone must have been. There simply is no other possibility.
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Post by Mirage on Sept 29, 2008 14:21:44 GMT -5
Mirage would prefer not to dwell on what may happen to Swerve before he can be rescued. For now, the spy will take comfort in knowing that Swerve has beaten, but not broken.
"I do not believe he is injured, no. I think the shock of losing you, and what he almost did to me, was merely too much for his processors to handle. He shut down because he couldn't deal with things. I am sure once we've gotten you back, he will be fine."
Swerve's questions about the base and battle make Mirage twitch. He hadn't been present, after all, having been off tracking Swerve when the attack started. The spy had then let his own sense of honour keep him on Swerve's trail, rather than with his people. Mirage can only hope that decision did not do more harm than good.
"I was tracking your kidnapper when the attack happened, and couldn't have returned in time to aid. I..do not know the full extent of our injuries, but the only one who may not have survived is Pee-Dee1. Several were cut down by that Prime, however."
"Our group is safe for the moment. And that is all I can really tell you right now, Swerve," Mirage's tone is apologetic, "I hope you understand."
1This thread takes place on Day 13, before the 'Con's-3 find the Autobots and Mirage hasn't yet heard that Pee-Dee is alive.
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Swerve-3
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Maintain the Light
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Post by Swerve-3 on Sept 29, 2008 14:40:18 GMT -5
So Emirate Xaaron is, indeed, safe. Not well – that, too, is on Swerve's head – but safe. But Pee-Dee…. Swerve sinks to his haunches and vents a deep, shuddering sigh. All the apologies and sorrow in the world will mean nothing if she's dead.
"I understand," he says very quietly. "And… I'm sorry." He's sorry for everything he's brought down on the Autobots in his blind stupidity. And it is his fault; the Prime was right. Swerve chose to run, and Emirate Xaaron trusted him enough to go with him. As much as the realisation pains Swerve, he can't shake that thought. The Prime is right. "…Please," the constable continues, voice gravelly but louder, "go. I can't bear–" He shakes his head, forward ridge rasping dully against the door. "Don't get caught on my account," he amends, forcing himself to sound cavalier.
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