Ep. 2 - "A Little Bird's Gonna Tell Me" - Closed
Dec 21, 2015 15:59:31 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 21, 2015 15:59:31 GMT -5
Week 3, Day 4
Fairwinds was led on her back in the middle of the middle bed in the middle of the Haven Medbay. She was going to meet an Autobot who could kill her with his pinkie, and was idly pedalling her legs in the air in anticipation of said meeting. She'd arrived half an hour early to prepare (snoop for bugs) and centre herself (burn off some nervous energy), listening out for the coming heavy footfalls so that she could stand up and look cool and awesome and utterly unflappable.
Staring at the bare rock ceiling, Fairwinds opened her beak and lashed her tongue about the chemical-heavy air. Solvents. Cleansers. Eau de Medbay.
It wasn't that she didn't want to go ahead with meeting with the Autobot leader on her own and totally unsupervised. Or that she had been offered up without consultation to 'assist' with some broken-headed Autobot who'd been as solid as a sieve after MECH was finished with them. Or that the fact that her abilities as a mnemosurgeon were almost exclusively post-mortem and going into living mecha's brain modules gave her the heebie-jeebies. She could roll with all that.
It was her Master's underlying reasoning that had her frowning and fidgeting about her orders.
Fairwinds stilled at the sound of heavy footsteps nearby, then slowly cycled her legs back up when the noise grew fainter.
Megatron was genuinely invested in this ceasefire for the sake of eliminating MECH as quickly and thoroughly as possible - she didn't need to dock to know that much. He was taking reasonable steps to enforce the rules of the ceasefire, and even making the odd voluntary gesture to improve relations during the temporary peace. Offering her up in the hopes that she could assist the Autobot mentally brutalised MECH was one such gesture.
Fairwinds figured she'd be delivered to the 'bot base in a crate, or sent to meet the patient in another location, presented with the patient, set to work and dismissed back to the Nemesis for a debrief. She hadn't expected having to meet Optimus Prime to discuss the particulars of her 'loan'. Actually having to talk to him whilst he loomed and pontificated.
No, she was not comfortable with that at all.
Megatron wanted a 'report on the Prime'. Simple as that. There'd been little opportunity to perform any kind of psychological evaluation on Optimus outside of the battlefield, and though Fairwinds wasn't exactly a professional in that department, she was highly sociable, manipulative and inoffensively small.
On top of that, her knowledge of Optimus Prime's past was more thorough than most Decepticon's.
Footsteps again. Heavy, with a fluid rolling stride speaking of a long gait.
Fairwinds rolled up onto her tailplates and finally onto her newly-jointed pedes. She shook her wings out, flashed her crest, and resettled into a sleek and steady pose in the middle of the berth.
Fairwinds was led on her back in the middle of the middle bed in the middle of the Haven Medbay. She was going to meet an Autobot who could kill her with his pinkie, and was idly pedalling her legs in the air in anticipation of said meeting. She'd arrived half an hour early to prepare (snoop for bugs) and centre herself (burn off some nervous energy), listening out for the coming heavy footfalls so that she could stand up and look cool and awesome and utterly unflappable.
Staring at the bare rock ceiling, Fairwinds opened her beak and lashed her tongue about the chemical-heavy air. Solvents. Cleansers. Eau de Medbay.
It wasn't that she didn't want to go ahead with meeting with the Autobot leader on her own and totally unsupervised. Or that she had been offered up without consultation to 'assist' with some broken-headed Autobot who'd been as solid as a sieve after MECH was finished with them. Or that the fact that her abilities as a mnemosurgeon were almost exclusively post-mortem and going into living mecha's brain modules gave her the heebie-jeebies. She could roll with all that.
It was her Master's underlying reasoning that had her frowning and fidgeting about her orders.
Fairwinds stilled at the sound of heavy footsteps nearby, then slowly cycled her legs back up when the noise grew fainter.
Megatron was genuinely invested in this ceasefire for the sake of eliminating MECH as quickly and thoroughly as possible - she didn't need to dock to know that much. He was taking reasonable steps to enforce the rules of the ceasefire, and even making the odd voluntary gesture to improve relations during the temporary peace. Offering her up in the hopes that she could assist the Autobot mentally brutalised MECH was one such gesture.
Fairwinds figured she'd be delivered to the 'bot base in a crate, or sent to meet the patient in another location, presented with the patient, set to work and dismissed back to the Nemesis for a debrief. She hadn't expected having to meet Optimus Prime to discuss the particulars of her 'loan'. Actually having to talk to him whilst he loomed and pontificated.
No, she was not comfortable with that at all.
Megatron wanted a 'report on the Prime'. Simple as that. There'd been little opportunity to perform any kind of psychological evaluation on Optimus outside of the battlefield, and though Fairwinds wasn't exactly a professional in that department, she was highly sociable, manipulative and inoffensively small.
On top of that, her knowledge of Optimus Prime's past was more thorough than most Decepticon's.
Footsteps again. Heavy, with a fluid rolling stride speaking of a long gait.
Fairwinds rolled up onto her tailplates and finally onto her newly-jointed pedes. She shook her wings out, flashed her crest, and resettled into a sleek and steady pose in the middle of the berth.