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 Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 9:27 am
Pain. Pain, pain, pain. Feuervogel limped through the back alleyways of this strange city (wherever she could fit through them), completely lost. She wasn’t the sort to deny it—she might yell and scream and rant and generally have a fit in frustration, but she wasn’t the sort to deny being lost. Which was good, because she was completely and utterly lost, and she desperately needed help to figure out where she was. More importantly than that, though, with the hot, pink liquid oozing down her shoulders and sides , volatilizing in the temperate night-time air, Feuer needed a medic. That…glitch had sliced open the structure on her back that contained all of the precious fuel lines and all of the wires that controlled her cannons. She could control them—barely. But the fight had damaged her even further, and at the moment, she was helpless. Well, as helpless as a several-ton robot with a short temper ever could be.
This part of town seemed cleaner. Well, not cleaner in the conventional sense, but emptier. If she stopped, she could hear the sound of traffic on the freeway off in the distance, a steady, persistent sound. Feuer liked it. It reminded her of her younger days, when she was a protoform and there was life everywhere. Back when “home” meant one place, where the moons were made of metal…
A sudden sound! Metal clicking on masonry, and it wasn’t herself. Feuer looked around, lowering her cannons. As she did, a branch of pain stabbed sharply from her pack. She gave a small, metallic cry. Oh, she should not have done that!
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 9:39 am
A few days earlier, the sensors that Technology Kills had set up to sense the presence of Cybertronian life forms had gone off. It was in a remote part of the world, though—No way to track the individual down and observe them. Besides, as Tech spent more and more time as a free robot, she came to realize that she could do something else besides worry endlessly. She had to have something else to do. So she had set her equipment to monitor the stranger and settled back to watch, her familiar curled around her tiny frame.
When the stranger arrived in the vicinity of the shop, Tech started paying more attention. She was a Decepticon, though her energy signature was…off. As were her proportions—Starscream and Cometstrike were sensibly proportioned, so she knew Decepticons knew how to build something aesthetically pleasing. What had happened to the tank that she looked so…odd? Tech wasn’t sure, but she was eager to find out. She tracked the femme down as she walked throughout the city, watched her as she engaged in combat with the Autobot jet. She was certainly a skilled fighter, but even a fighter needed some help. Besides, Tech wanted more information, and one of them was whether the tank was friend or foe.
The little computer watched the tank as she stopped in an alley, obviously lost. That was hardly surprising, though. This place was a mire, and it was almost impossible to get around if you didn’t know your way. So she had no way of figuring out where she was—that meant she hadn’t yet hacked into an organic satellite navigation network in order to look around. So preoccupied with her work was she that Tech didn’t even notice when she bumped a piece of brick lying on the rooftop (origin unknown, probably an attempt to plug a leak many years ago). The other femme looked up, prepping her weapons with a sound of pain. Tech was right. She did need help. Tech peered over the edge of the roof and called down to the tank. “Need any assistance?” she asked.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 9:48 am
A voice—high pitched and smooth—came from an adjacent rooftop. Feuer lifted her face to look at the person who had shouted to her. A small, white face peered over the lip of the roof. Could that really be a noodle? Probably. It was probably a kit—the size was about right. Or, to be exact, it was probably a protoform, judging by the subtle metallic twang to the voice. Feuer sat down, curling her tail around herself. “I might be,” she said gruffly. She was reluctant to trust anyone, especially in her current state. If she was an enemy, she didn’t want her to know that she was injured, even if she could just squish her. Zat’s a horrible thought—squishing a protoform. She could be an Autobot, but zat’s still a wretched sing to do. Briefly, Feuer wondered what her old commander would have done. Systemshock might have killed a protoform, if she thought there was no way to reprogram it. It would have been difficult and sloppy, but they could have done it together.
Oh, Primus, Feuer thought. I miss zem. Her spark began to ache more with longing than her back did with the pain of the sword wound. She wanted to see them all again… I can handle a protoform. “I might like some assistance,” she added.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 10:14 am
The tank was no threat to her, not in her current state. Tech climbed over the edge of the roof and climbed down a drainpipe, which groaned ominously under the unexpected weight of something larger than a rat or squirrel. Tech ignored it. She had seen familiars climb drainpipes all of the time, and they hardly ever had a problem with it. I’m not that much bigger. It’s one of the advantages of being small. Tech walked up to the tank. From here on the ground, she seemed even larger—though she was shorter, Tech couldn’t help but notice, than Starscream. She wondered if all tank-bots were smaller than jet-bots. It was a question worth wondering, one would suppose. At the very least, it would be good to get more information. Information, is that all I think about? she wondered, amused.
“You’re very good at fighting,” she said out loud. Hopefully, she wouldn’t anger the other robot into squishing her for witnessing her defeat at the blades of the Autobot. “I…happened to be in the vicinity of the fight you got into with that Autobot jet. She seemed like a coward to me.” Hopefully, the flattery would do its job. “I’m Tech, by the way,” she added. “I think I may be able to help you with that gash on your back, or at least make it less vulnerable.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 10:20 am
Insolent pest! Not a protoform after all, just a very tiny adult. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen one so small, besides a minicon. Minicons, how long had it been since they pledged neutrality? They tended to avoid Cybertronians these days. There had been some unpleasantness from both factions in the early days of the war, they had told her. She couldn’t remember that. She hadn’t been around. The point, however, was that this tiny robot was a pest! She had seen Feuer’s humiliating defeat! How dare she bring that up?! As if she could have done any better! She snarled angrily, her brow ridges shooting down over her mono-eye. She stood up a little, tail flicking back. It took all her effort—and her pain—to prevent her from vaporizing the stranger where she stood.
The compliment did a little to mollify her, though. Well, more than a little. The purple-opticked little robot was obviously not an Autobot. She didn’t even seem to be Cybrtronian, but surely she had a spark. She certainly seemed intelligent enough for it. No organic could possibly create a facsimile of sentience this good! Vell, maybe zey could. But if I don’t trust her, it’s more zat I don’t know who or vhat she is. Better to be safe zan sorry. “I vould greatly appreciate ze help, Tech. I am Feuervogel.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 10:22 am
That was an odd name. In Tech’s experience, Cybertronian names came from parts of their bodies, or from the environment around them, or words put together. Starscream. Cometstrike. Jazz. There were some exceptions, sure—the Autobot jet that had arrived a while ago was called Vada, and her sparkmate was named Fuzz. But Fuzz was a sensible name, too—it was slang for “police officer,” wasn’t it? “Big name for a big bot,” she remarked casually out loud. “What does it mean? If you’ll excuse me.” She didn’t mean “excuse me for the rudeness of asking,” however, but “excuse me for climbing on you.” Without waiting for a reply, Tech grabbed the spikes on the outside of Feuervogel’s arms and began to climb up, her little cord lashing back and forth for balance. Around her, a few stray drops of energon oozed and dribbled down her arms. Yes, Feuervogel was definitely in need of assistance—Vada had gotten her well.
The view from the back was even worse—the wiring was shredded, the fuel lines slit to create the rivers of energon all over. It would take some work to fix it, but there were probably wires, and the metal was neatly sliced, not torn. It shouldn’t be that hard to weld it back together. It might take a while—Tech’s tools were designed to be used on herself, and she herself was very small—but it was definitely feasible.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 10:31 am
“It’s an old vord from an old language—hey!” Feuer craned her head around to watch as Tech clambered up her arm. Little metallic clicks sounded from her fingers and feet, and she could feel her as she looked for any nooks and crannies to stick her fingers into. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as that description would make it sound, though—it felt a little bit ticklish, in fact. Tech barely weighed anything, so the pressure on her back was minimal. She was certainly small enough that she could carry her a good distance, should the little bot’s workshop be some way away. “It’s a, vell, a type of being,” she continued as Tech looked her over with little “tch”s of disapproval at the damage. “A flying, burning creature zat always rises back from ze dead. I alvays liked ze idea of being able to return to ze fight in case I should go offline.”
It was the loneliness making her chatty, surely. “Vhat about your name?” she asked. “Tech? Is zat a personal designation, or an official vun, a rank or occupation?” After all, if she was going to trust someone with her weaponry, she wanted to know as much about the other as possible. I told her my name and its meaning, now she should tell me her name and its meaning, just so zat ve can all be on even footing. If not, zen I shall have to find some vay to make her pay for it.
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 10:42 am
Tech made a face. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her name—if she didn’t like it, she wouldn’t have taken it—but in the circumstances, she had hoped to be able to convince Feuervogel that she was mechanically constructed, rather than a construct by organics. Something told her that Feuervogel would trust her more if she didn’t have the belief that Tech was being controlled by some foul and mysterious technician. But Cybertronians—especially Decepticons—took a lot of store in names, their meanings, and having a name that described who you were, not what you did for a living. Better than Autobots being complacent about independence, I suppose. Their justice is slavery to the state and the common good. Decepticon independence is knowing who you are and what you want. I like that system better.
“It’s a nickname,” she explained reluctantly. “It’s short for ‘Technology Kills.’ I’ve had to deal a lot with organics, and I wanted a name that spelled ‘danger’ to anyone who might want to mess with me,” she added hastily. To that, she added a wry smile, even if Feuervogel couldn’t see it. She would hear the wry tone in Tech’s voice, though. “I’m not much good at defending myself, but you could probably guess that.”
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Posted: Sat Oct 08, 2011 11:44 am
There was nothing Feuer could do at so obvious a statement but laugh. Humor—that was something only sentient beings had. Sure, that opened up a whole new set of possibilities for danger, but at the moment, Feuer was just relieved to have a few removed. If Tech—Technology Kills—could help her with her wound, then she wanted to trust her with her very life. “Have you considered installing some veaponry, even just carrying a blaster?” she asked. “Zere are some small enough, and I’m sure it vouldn’t be hard to find some around here.” Another shot of pain lanced through her shoulders. Feuer winced. “So, are you going to fix zat here, or do ve need to move someplace else?” she asked. She hasn’t said zat she can’t do anysing, so she must be able to do somesing. Right? At the moment, Feuer wanted to get out of here, and take care of her wounds. She was losing energy, and losing it faster than she’d like to lose it.
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