Ep. 1 - Online, Off the Grid - (Closed)

[Deleted]

Where: Unknown
When: Set after "Close Encounters"
Who: Roulette, Silas, MECH

---

Somewhere, a monitor sprang to life.

It glowed in the dimly lit observation room, which looked down upon the range. It's wide glass windows offered a perfect view upon the large, narrow room below. Reflections moved back and forth across the glass like ghosts as the people inside the observation room silently worked at their terminals.

The monitor split into four camera views. Two were black. One was snowed in static.

The forth view was live. CAM 1 it was labelled.

This is what it showed:

----

The camera focused, blurrily, on grey concrete walls.

"Camera 1, check. Camera 1 is live."

It swung jerkily. Its operator was nervous. The scene in the viewfinder jittered back and forth, before spinning around to settle on a figure a white lab coat. The round lenses of his goggles flashed briefly beneath the white florescent lights. His breathing rasped through the chemical mask it wore over his mouth. His lab coat was smeared in red, brown fluids.

The figure held a small whiteboard in front of the camera. It read:

WEAPON: AMR-D5
SUBJECT: DC 1 TEST: MOTOR, NEURAL, OP-TARGETING, PAIN RECEP
KEY: AF-POS, C - 2/14
TECH: A. KAMPMAN
AAF/F4/7E
MECH - R. HILLS

The figure lowered the whiteboard and stepped aside. The camera focused on what was behind him: a tall metal robot - silent, still, mechanical. It sat in a steel armature, like surgical chair, its head, arms, and legs locked in place by steel bands, by cables and connectors that fed into the bare ports where patches of its armour had been stripped to the endoskeleton, and by paralysis. The image in the view finder blurred in and out of focus as the camera zoomed in upon the machine's expressionless face. It's optics were dark.

Men in white lab coats paced in the background. The camera panned to them. A row of field laptops were arranged on steel tables behind the robot. Cables threaded underfoot, running between computers, sensors, and hastily erected flood lights. Armed guards stood behind the lab technicians, heavily kitted in rifles and black body armour.

The camera swept back up to the robot's face. It blurred in and out of focus again before settling on its optics.

"Stand by," said a voice over the intercom. It echoed hollowly through the narrow room. "All personnel within Firing Range Four, move back behind the yellow lines. Subject is going live in forty seconds. Stand by."

In forty seconds, this is what the subject saw:

----

Roulette's optical sensors would slowly come online.

She was in a long, narrow firing range, perhaps three hundred feet in length, as cold and aseptic as a bunker. The walls, floor, ceiling were all worn concrete. A painted red line ran down each wall, terminating at the very end in what looked like a fortified wall of sand bags. The bags were heavily charred in the middle, blackened as if by fire. Florescent flood lights lit the full length of the range.

She would find herself unable to move. Whatever steel armature she sat in braced her firmly in place.

A self-diagnostic would reveal that her comm system was offline. Her weapons systems were likewise disconnected, as was her chronometer. All motor and electrical systems to her chassis, her left arm, and her legs had been severed, effectively paralysing her. Only her head and right arm remained untampered with. But they were, for the moment, locked in place by the bands and cables of the armature, unable to move.

The room smelt sterile. Like cement, and static electricity.

She would be able to hear small sounds behind her, people shuffling in place. Then, over the range intercom, a microphone keyed itself. A voice spoke. It was clear, cool. Composed.

"Decepticon," it said pleasantly. "Good evening. Are you on-line?"

[Deleted]

There was still the taste of grit in her mouth when she came to. The urge to wipe the particles from her painted face plates was what brought her mind to sudden, alarming clarity. The fog of confusion evaporated quickly as a dozen warnings flashed across her HUD. She was bound and appeared to be severely handicapped. Cloying panic flared for a nanosecond across her neural network before she twisted the emotion into something useful, such as detached assessment.

Where am I? What happened? What do they want with me?

She was not in Shockwave's clutches. The sterile environment wasn't sterile enough and was sloppy compared to his precision. Head still lax, she only betrayed her awareness by a flex of her right hand, as she looked around the room. No, not the behemoth's den. For one infinitesimal moment she wished it was.

Pah, as if being strapped to his table would be better. These humans and their paltry-wait, MECH!

Memories of the attack and trap were finally accessed with some rueful scorn. How could she have been so stupid? She'd fallen right into their hands and worse, she'd gotten Windy caught. Megatron was going to rip her into pieces if she survived this. That thought nearly brought the panic back to rattle her spark in the casing. Which made dealing with the humans...difficult, but at their worst they could just kill her with their blundering. Megatron however...

The mental debate took scant seconds by the human's count for her to reach a calm place. As calm as she was going to be for now. She had the wherewithal to look up and blindly search the room, all to address the question.

"I am." Her vox was raspy from either abuse or nervous static built into the component. It gave her a huskier voice than normal.

[Deleted]

Now that Roulette was returning to consciousness, other details of her predicament would begin to drift into clarity.

Cool air prickled over the places where portions of her armour had been crudely cut away on her wrists and chassis, revealing the elaborate tensors, fuel lines and cables beneath. Sections of thinner lines had been investigated, severed, capped to prevent drips, tied off with wraps, and flagged with pins, marked with inscrutable letters and numbers. Here and there various instruments had probed through the softer mesh of her internal mechanics, until the gleaming endoskeleton lay scraped and bare.

Wires plugged into her wrists, spliced into her own neural system. They were taped to the armature and extended down to the floor, where they ran back in bundles to the array of laptops behind her. A line of data flowed through them as the human computers fed greedily upon the relays that pulsed from her brain core.

While most of her motor functions had been disconnected, her optical sensors were still active. Her targeting systems would likewise respond to interrogation. But something would feel off - a presence lingered at the back of her mind, like a ghost in her neural net. Eyes inside her, watching. There was a physical discomfort behind her left optic, as if a tiny needle had been inserted behind the glass lens and left something behind to smoulder.

Her pain receptors were still online. They would feel untouched.

The lights glared harsh and white against her. Their florescent tubes buzzed faintly, while recirculated air hummed through ventilation ducts high up in the ceiling.

The microphone keyed again.

"I'm glad," said the voice. It also buzzed slightly over the hidden speakers, lending it a mechanical tone. "We have little time to waste. First we'll go through the pre-test checklist one item at a time. What is your name and function, Decepticon? Your little friend has already given up hers, if you're curious. Should you feel disinclined to tell us, we could always go back and persuade her to volunteer the information for you."

[Deleted]

It was one thing to see atrocities being done to another. Roulette had seen her fair share of...things happen to enemies and comrades. She'd even done a few bad things herself all in the name of survival. But nothing like this. She'd never stripped a mech's armor away and toyed with their body like she had any right to. These disgusting insects had the gall to even entertain the notion that they could do what they wanted with her. She would kill them when the time came.

Righteous anger was a sweet treat that distracted from the growing horror trying to crowd out rational thoughts. Her fuel tank churned as she looked at the violated parts of her body. They'd been such busy bees while she had been out. Terribly busy...

Don't panic. Whatever you do, don't panic. They'd like that, wouldn't they?

With some effort she looked away from her body, trying to ignore the missing pieces of herself. She was still functioning, so that was ok, right? There was still a chance she would survive and if she got a chance, she'd...

What am I going to do? I don't even know where I am. I just need to-I-

She shuddered in the chair or as much as she could shudder. The rest of her body mocked her by being still even as her arm jerked once against the bindings. That hard band over her derailed the panic with the rudimentary fact that she wasn't going anywhere. No matter how much she tried, she wasn't going to free her arm and the rest of her. That knowledge settled like a heavy weight on her, making the soreness in her optic all the more apparent.

Ok, humans...we'll play your game for now. But I will not be cowed with idle threats. If you're doing this to me, what must you be doing to Windy at this very moment?

"Please, human. Leading with threats is hardly a way to start a scientific endeavor or interrogation. I would have given you the information for free if you'd asked nicely." She bared her sharpened dental plates for a moment, "Roulette. Soldier."

[Deleted]

The voice over the intercom laughed.

"Excellent," it said.

It was a man's voice, deep and calm. It spoke with an air of relaxed urbanity, as if untouched by the scene of precise and methodical scientific invasion laid out beneath it.

"My technicians were hoping to obtain a combat model," he said. "It is my understanding that your systems are refreshingly straightforward in their design, free from the redundancy and complexity that plagues a model more geared towards the accumulation and management of data. Or flight, as it turns out. Over the course of the next four hours and forty minutes we intend to test the full extent of that understanding."

An unseen buzzer rang. Another voice called out from the row of technicians standing beyond her field of vision.

"All personnel, keep back behind the marked yellow lines," it said, as somewhere behind her a machine fired to life. Its engine rumbled, and the acrid smell of exhaust filled the air. "Everyone, stand back. Maintain out of peripheral range. AMR-D5 is coming around on the dolly."

The voice over the intercom kept talking.

"Next question," he said. "You identify as a Decepticon. Another of our test subjects harangued us for asking if he bore a similar designation, shortly before ballistic trauma overloaded his neural network and threw him into an offline state. What is his faction?"

[Deleted]

She hated him. Immediately and without question did she hate this human being with the very energy that burned in her spark. More than she could ever hate anyone else. There was something in that voice that tried very hard to make her feel insignificant. A mere human!

Control snapped and she bared her teeth, nearly hissing at the faceless voice. She would not be so common as that! With difficulty she relaxed in the chair as much as she could and ground her dental plates with enough force to make a rasping sound. No matter what these assholes had in store for her, she wasn't going to show them fear. They hadn't earned that right.

Four hours and forty minutes, starting now. I can do this.

Mentally she started counting down the inevitable even as she listened to his every word. Knowing was important. If she got out of here later, all the information she retained would be useful in some fashion. Shockwave had taught her that.

She didn't know what the pit the AMR-D5 was, but she had a feeling she was going to hate it as much as she hated these humans. Anxiety bled into her one good arm and she tapped her dexterous fingers against the chair as she waited.

"Next question," he said. "You identify as a Decepticon. Another of our test subjects harangued us for asking if he bore a similar designation, shortly before ballistic trauma overloaded his neural network and threw him into an offline state. What is his faction?"

Ballistic trauma. Dude, just say you shot him a lot...

The urge to squirm in the chair couldn't be answered by her paralyzed body. Deep inside, a part of her was actually starting to fear these pitiful humans and what they could do. And why not? They had her bound neatly to a chair and at their mercies. They'd opened her body up neatly and had accessed parts of her she wasn't even supposed to see.

Oh don't dwell on that, she internally moaned to herself. Don't. Don't. Answer their questions and pay attention.

"You don't know? I'm surprised." She almost slipped up and gave them information they didn't need. Autobots were downright chummy with their kind. Liked them even. But given this radical groups methods, perhaps even the Prime could find hate in his generous spark. Smoothly she continued, "You seem so at home with our bodies. One wonders where you practiced."

[Deleted]

Behind Roulette, someone laughed.

It was harsh laughter, low and throaty. Like the voice over the intercom it had a strangely mechanized buzz to it. It did not seem to come from the unseen lab technicians gathered by the laptops, but rather from somewhere above them.

There was a chuckle from the voice over the intercom.

“We've been studying you, you know,” he said. “Observing you. Ever since our first encounter with... Breakdown, wasn't it? It wasn't just his eye we took from him. His body surrendered a wealth of data to us during the time it was in our possession – it was a veritable anatomical goldmine.”

Something was driving slowly into her peripheral vision. It was a blocky apparatus, shapely roughly like a combat pistol, with a snub barrel painted in yellow and black caution stripes. It was stripped down, with no magazine or power cell or ammunition chamber that could be seen, but it had a crude handle with a simple press–pad to activate it, like a trigger. It sat within a cradle of monitors and heavy cables, all of which plugged into its barrel before trailing to the floor to drag behind it. It was mounted upon a remote controlled dolly, inside which a hydraulic lift could be activated to raise or lower the apparatus as needed.

’AMR–D5’ was stencilled roughly down its barrel in white paint.

The voice continued to speak, pleasantly.

“Your kind is a secret that needs unveiling,” he said. “You, Roulette, are a question – one that I intend for my technicians to answer. We will learn what we can from you in four hours, and then we shall move on to a different stage of surgical exploration, one that will no longer require your direct participation. Fortunately for us, since our time with Breakdown we have negotiated the cooperation of an ally in our investigations, one who will assist us in cutting down the original estimated time for our tests. It is him you have to thank for much of our established familiarity with your bodies.”

Behind her, the harsh voice laughed again.

“That sounds like my cue, doesn't it,” it said.

Heavy footsteps clicked against the cement floor, shaking it with slow, deliberate strides. They paced around the armature that bound her beneath the glare of the lights, until a silhouette loomed against them, towering over her. Fluorescent light haloed its lean body, the sharp tips of its wings. Its red optics glowed.

It leered at her, cruelly, its hands folded together behind its back.

“Well done, Roulette,” said Starscream. He leaned into her face. “How do you explain yourself, getting into such a predicament as this?”

[Deleted]

Yes, she was sure she didn't like AM-whatever the slag that was. If she could have, she would have flinched away from it but all she could do was frown and twist her hand in the bindings. She wasn't about to waste her energy trying to guess what was in store for her. It took all her will power just to stay calm enough to pay attention to what the mystery voice was telling her.

That human would be getting no names or extraneous information from her mouth. No matter what pain he brought down upon her. Windy's fate was too obscure to fuss over for now and she doubted these humans kept promises. Her internal countdown was starting to feel like a death toll. Four hours until they took her apart...

Wait...

Wait.....

Her optics widened, despite the painful glare of the lights, as the very last mech she expected to see stepped into view. All the control, all the tentative calm she'd manage to collect around herself like a gossamer cocoon rent itself apart as Starscream leaned in close. Mind numb, she stared at him, noting fine details she would never have accounted before. The tiny marks on his armor, the ambient glow of his optics, even the delicate lines in his neck.

“How do you explain yourself, getting into such a predicament as this?”

It wasn't fair. Someone had changed the name of the game and all of the rules. How as she to follow, to react to this when she didn't understand what was going on?! How could she go against Megatron's Second in Command? He was her superior in every way and she had no right to question his judgement.

But...

...this makes no sense...

Wordlessly she opened her mouth but nothing came out. For once she had no snide comeback or witty quip. Her thought processes were all over the place but not connecting with anything useful. For one precious minute she remained quiet before bowing her head.

"Sir."

[Deleted]

Starscream chuckled.

"A pity," he said. "A Decepticon finally addresses me in a respectful manner, and she's slated for vivisection in four hours. Isn't that the way it always goes."

The microphone keyed itself over the intercom.

"Regretting your decision, Starscream?" said the voice.

"After the abuse I have endured since I was cast aside upon the return of my Master?" said the Seeker. With a show of anger he gestured at Roulette. "After waking up on a medical slab in much the same condition as Roulette now finds herself, knowing that I had been put there by his hands? Pah! Hardly. All the old knives that have rusted in my back, I shall drive in theirs, as they say."

Starscream let out a snort. Then he leaned back again, settling his weight on his heels with his hands still clasped together behind his back.

"Still, it's a shame it was you they ended up capturing, Roulette," he said. Though his tone was mocking, his gazes was fixed upon the damage wrought to her chassis, the exposed internals and the weave of foreign cables feeding into them. He glanced over the armature that caged her, studying it casually. "You struck me as capable while simultaneously being on the lookout for your own interests, both prudent qualities in a faction like ours has become. Wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose."

He shrugged with a flick of his wings. "Oh well. I'm overdue to gloat at Fairwinds. I yearn to find out what abuse she will hurl upon my head. Do you need me for anything else?"

"I believe you've done enough," said the voice over the intercom. "It would be wise for you to clear the range now."

Starscream lingered in front of Roulette. He eyed her, his optics narrowed.

"Just a little advice," he said. "Four hours of testing? Try to stay online for five. It will make things, hm. Easier. Trust me."

[Deleted]

Despite her temporarily dumbstruck position, Roulette wasn't stupid. There was probably some naive bit of her that hadn't been eradicated just yet though Primus knew how. She accepted that while she would never be a great scientific thinker, or a leader to boast of...she was intelligent enough to realize when something didn't jive. And this whole situation was completely off.

Admittedly, she didn't know Starscream that well. Why would she? She wasn't an aerial and she wasn't of enough rank to waste time on. It wasn't a bitter fact, it was just a how life was on board the Nemesis. She was honestly questioning whether he knew her name or only addressed her because she'd answered the human's question.

Trivial quandaries aside, Starscream was giving Roulette enough mixed signals to crash a 747. But that was alright. She didn't have to understand what he was up to. Didn't really care, honestly. She cared about surviving. And if that meant staying online for four hours of what was likely going to be painful and degrading experiments...well, challenge accepted.

While dread settled over her like a mantel, fear lost its hold and was replaced with a tenacious want. She wanted to live. She wanted to get free. Oh, she really wanted to hurt these humans. With a smirk she looked up at Starscream, one of her optics glowing in the shadow of her helm.

"Tick tock, tick tock, humans."

[Deleted]

"Yes, well spoken," said the voice over the intercom. "Will you please excuse us? We are somewhat on the clock."

Starscream merely sniggered and stepped back, his talons idly tapping. With one final glance at Roulette he turned and stalked out of her view, picking a careful path through the maze of cables that ran underfoot. His footsteps rang against the floor behind her, and she would hear him bark out, "Get out of my way, human!" to one of the range technicians.

Then he was gone, departed into the the base that lay unseen all around her.

With the range in front of her empty once again, the diesel dolly that supported the peculiar AMR-D5 apparatus fired back into life. Fumes drifted from its exhaust as it was remotely steered towards her right hand side, dragging its collection of wires behind it. Its engine rumbled as it swung in beside her. A technician gave a shout when it was in place. More shouted instructions activated the hydraulic lift, which began to ponderously hoist the peculiar device towards her bound right hand. A red light flashed as the lift rose steadily upwards, hissing with unspent pressure.

"Eight more feet!" called out a range tech. "Pressure holding."

"Tagging system online. Infra-red targets booting now."

"We've got increased activity from the subject's neural network. Optical cam online, pain receptors still online. Direct dial standing ready."

"Cameras two and three are live, recording."

The voice spoke.

"He didn't just show us exactly how to splice into your neural systems, you know," he said idly. His voice buzzed lightly with static. "He also told us your name and function. I already knew both when I asked them of you. I was merely curious to find out if you would tell it to me. Now we know you will give us information when direct physical duress is not being applied to your systems. I am curious to see what you will choose to divulge to us when it is."

[Deleted]

Roulette grimaced in disgust. How did humans manage to make such inefficient crap? Not only was the machine being placed near her an affront to the personal space, it was an attack on her sensors.

Tagging system online...

Get out of my head, get out of my body! Get out, get out, get out! Worse than a bunch of slagging ants!

She bared her teeth again and twitched the bound hand in a futile gesture. Ever the dramatic, she managed a small whine. If she was going to be stuck here for a few hours, she might as well make it worth the show. The humans, while...ok, more capable than she had given them credit for, were also bleeding bravado. At least the one behind the mike was. There were a few around her that were twitchy... A possible avenue of exploitation? And if they thought her weaker than she was, so much the better.

Of course, she felt sick because her act wasn't exactly entirely an act. That whine was a little too convincing. If she started to play the part of victim, how easily would it be to become an inconsolably, useless lump?

Keep talking to them. Keep accessing.

"Who taught you interrogation? Build a report with the target. Instead you keep throwing cheap insults like they're party favors." She looked around, eying anything near her with interest, including personnel. "Let's play a game, human. I'll bet I can guess a few things about you within these four hours. Oh...less than four now." She chuckled, the husky sound more fit for a 1-900 number than this chamber.

"You like to talk a lot. Either you're putting on a hell of a show for your men or you just love being in charge. Did the children pick on you in the school yard? Were you asthmatic?"

Ah, true Decepticon thinking. When you couldn't beat the enemy...verbally toy with them.

[Deleted]

The voice laughed.

"Interesting," he said. "A machine that engages in bluster like many humans trapped in its position would do. All to often we - and by that I mean those in my organization - are inclined to simply write you off as mere robots equipped with complex algorithms intended to simulate emotional response. And yet the readings we are even now pulling from your neural net indicate significant asymmetrical activity from your brain core similar to emotional lateralization in humans. Very interesting. I'm looking forward to going over this data in-depth with my programmers once we're finished here."

The lift ground to a halt. The AMR-D5 apparatus was level with her hand now. Closer up, it looked very much like a snub-nosed combat pistol - or perhaps a tazer, given the warning yellow and black stripes along its blunt nose. The lack of a trigger was even more apparent; there was only the small touch pad where her finger would lie if she were to grip it in the palm of her hand.

The entire device emitted a low, droning hum, the same sound she would hear if she were to stand beneath a hydro tower in an empty field. Energy prickled at the thin metal plating on the back of her hand; with ghostly crackles it flickered within the open panels where foreign wires invaded her armour.

The voice kept speaking.

"You know, I am curious though," he said lightly. "And not merely for the sake of accumulating response data this time. What can you guess about me? About my organization in general. Be sincere. I am genuinely interested in how your deductive functions work. Can you piece together interconnected pieces of information and arrive at a logical conclusion? Is that within your capacity?"

[Deleted]

Was she blustering? Nervousness always loosened a mouth. And to a certain point she was trying to play them. But it was so easy to lose control of the game and not realize that the whole sham had been real. It was doubly hard when they were peeking right into her body without permission. Like as not most of his chafe was just that. But they weren't as stupid as she'd first thought. They were...radical at adapting. Especially the voice behind the mike.

Instead of shying away from the machine, she relaxed her hand. Which wasn't that easy with the machine bleeding energy. If she could have been tapping her feet, should would have. Under the casing, her spark pulsed faster than usual. She was losing control again.

What am I afraid of?

I'm bound. I can't get myself free. They're plugged into me. They can hurt me.

What can I do about that?

...nothing. Not yet. I'm stuck here. I have less than four hours until something happens. Possibly death.

So what are you going to do now?

...nothing. Sit here. Talk to them because that's what they want. Because...talking makes me feel less like I may die. Talking is something I can do. He'll talk to me because he likes to talk. He's curious behind the spite.

Throughout the quiet monologue to herself, she was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. Her gaze refocused back onto the room as she studied the machine. But she wasn't paying it much attention. She was focused on the voice. Clearing some of the static out of her vox, she looked up at the end of the room.

"I'm sorry. You were addressing me." She tilted her head up, showing the dip of her throat. "I can guess many things. Would you like me to elucidate? Your organization is military grade. Likely privately funded...I'd hazard you're shunting funds from somewhere. You know little about my kind, besides the basics of biology. Most of which you have recently learned. You don't know what kind of attacks we can perform or how hazardous we are. You're the one in charge and are the heart of the merry crew of cutthroats. You keep a cool head and can handle pressure. Suggesting a lifetime in military. Possibly you have a rank of some kind. Let's see...what else? Oh, we're in a facility either in the middle of nowhere or somewhere where military activity wouldn't be suspicious."

"Would you like me to get personal? After all, I am only guessing..." She dipped her head again, tilting it slightly to the side giving a coy impression.

[Deleted]

"Very good!"

Though the voice remained calm, it now spoke with a touch of dry satisfaction. It faded briefly, as if the speaker had leaned away from the microphone to speak with someone nearby; she would hear the unintelligible murmur. A moment later it returned to its usual volume.

"There's no need to continue," he said. "I'll admit, I am impressed. You are displaying a show of self-possession in spite of what every pulse in your neural network betrays to our computers, and you have proven yourself capable of deductive reasoning while undergoing a mild level of physical and psychological stress. Perhaps you are indeed closer to a soldier than a simple, if sophisticated on-board computer housed within a combat-model frame, a mass of firing electronic signals. However, that is not what I'm here to find out."

At the corner of Roulette's limited field of vision, one of the range technicians wiped his hands on a rag and leaned over a thin microphone set upon one of the tables loaded with a network of jury-rigged laptops.

"All right, sir, everything is in place and online down here," he said. His voice was slightly muffled by the mask he wore; it lent his words a hoarse edge. "We've run through all pre-boot checklists, the rig is active. Everything checks out and is in the green."

"Backup generators are good, firewalls are in place," said another.

"Good work," said the voice crisply. "Very well, Roulette. It would seem that the range crew are ready to begin. I'm sure by now you've noticed already that your right hand is capable of limited movement. Would you please open your hand and lay it flat against the arm of the restraint seat, palm facing upwards? I ask you politely, with respect for your autonomy. I assure you that my technicians are in a position to directly manipulate you into doing what I ask should you choose to disregard my request."