[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Wandering The Halls... (Open)
Jan 8, 2018 19:36:04 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2018 19:36:04 GMT -5
Week 2, Day 3...
Since Agent Fowler had sent in an Augusta Westland Wildcat helicopter for Whirl to use as his alt-mofe, the blue mech's appearance had shifted slightly, but he was as gangly and stretched as ever as he wandered around the base aimlessly. He felt a lot better, now that his rotors were functioning for the first time in vorns.
He hadn't been given any deadly deadly missions yet. He'd need a medical examination first from a real Autobot. Whirl couldn't stand medical examinations. Doctors always said "Does it hurt when I do this?" which showed how much they knew about Empurata. Everything hurt, almost all the time, but his wrists and neck especially. It was something he'd come to live with. Things he didn't even have any more hurt.
Hey, it had to be better than prison. Most things were. And if Bulkhead was here, then he wasn't actually aware of Whirl's presence yet, which was another thing. Whirl got the sneaking suspicion that the former Wrecker wouldn't be ecstatic to see the ex-Wrecker.
"Well, he wasn't there. He didn't see it. He didn't have to oil his joints, drip-feed him Energon, change his bed-pan!" Whirl punched a wall as he spoke briefly to himself.
He'd passed the Med-Bay, although he hadn't gone in. Yes, he'd have to go back there eventually, although Ratchet didn't leave things lying around like the last doctor he'd known. Just a few tools.
What the frag. He had his own room now, and that was something. But the lack of action was boring him. In order to occupy himself, he began acting out a scene from a bad intergalactic movie he'd seen while in prison.
"So..." he spoke to himself again, something that Whirl commonly did, "I'm a private detective from Iacon, and my partner is a bulldozer infused with the spirit of Senator Sentinel!"
He started humming the theme tune to James Bond, dodging around the corner of a hallway. It had mild overtones of how Raf had played at Arctic Explorer just before the original base had been turned into a scrapheap... the difference being that Whirl was supposed to be an adult Cybertronian. Even as he performed a tuck and roll around a corner, he was busy aiming his claws like a gun.
One of the first things Optimus Prime had said to him upon his arrival had been something about the native species. He'd been very 'Whirl, we are guests on this planet and must behave accordingly' and Whirl had been all, 'Okay, I guess', and Optimus had been all 'Whirl, I'm serious, you need to watch where you step, the humans are vital allies in securing this planet' and Whirl had been 'Sure thing, boss. Can't wait to meet 'em'.
So far, he'd only seen a picture of Agent Fowler. Or his head, anyway. Apparently he'd need to learn to tell humans apart, since they were very good at telling Cybertronians apart.
It would be nice, he considered, if humans didn't think him as creepy as other Cybertronians did. That was how disfigurements worked. Or it might be that humans were all jerks and Optimus Prime was being super-noble again.
He dived around another corner, still humming a tune and aiming his claws randomly at the walls, ceiling and floor as he explored the base alone. Thus far, nobody had offered to show him around, and he wasn't exactly being very quiet.
Since Agent Fowler had sent in an Augusta Westland Wildcat helicopter for Whirl to use as his alt-mofe, the blue mech's appearance had shifted slightly, but he was as gangly and stretched as ever as he wandered around the base aimlessly. He felt a lot better, now that his rotors were functioning for the first time in vorns.
He hadn't been given any deadly deadly missions yet. He'd need a medical examination first from a real Autobot. Whirl couldn't stand medical examinations. Doctors always said "Does it hurt when I do this?" which showed how much they knew about Empurata. Everything hurt, almost all the time, but his wrists and neck especially. It was something he'd come to live with. Things he didn't even have any more hurt.
Hey, it had to be better than prison. Most things were. And if Bulkhead was here, then he wasn't actually aware of Whirl's presence yet, which was another thing. Whirl got the sneaking suspicion that the former Wrecker wouldn't be ecstatic to see the ex-Wrecker.
"Well, he wasn't there. He didn't see it. He didn't have to oil his joints, drip-feed him Energon, change his bed-pan!" Whirl punched a wall as he spoke briefly to himself.
He'd passed the Med-Bay, although he hadn't gone in. Yes, he'd have to go back there eventually, although Ratchet didn't leave things lying around like the last doctor he'd known. Just a few tools.
What the frag. He had his own room now, and that was something. But the lack of action was boring him. In order to occupy himself, he began acting out a scene from a bad intergalactic movie he'd seen while in prison.
"So..." he spoke to himself again, something that Whirl commonly did, "I'm a private detective from Iacon, and my partner is a bulldozer infused with the spirit of Senator Sentinel!"
He started humming the theme tune to James Bond, dodging around the corner of a hallway. It had mild overtones of how Raf had played at Arctic Explorer just before the original base had been turned into a scrapheap... the difference being that Whirl was supposed to be an adult Cybertronian. Even as he performed a tuck and roll around a corner, he was busy aiming his claws like a gun.
One of the first things Optimus Prime had said to him upon his arrival had been something about the native species. He'd been very 'Whirl, we are guests on this planet and must behave accordingly' and Whirl had been all, 'Okay, I guess', and Optimus had been all 'Whirl, I'm serious, you need to watch where you step, the humans are vital allies in securing this planet' and Whirl had been 'Sure thing, boss. Can't wait to meet 'em'.
So far, he'd only seen a picture of Agent Fowler. Or his head, anyway. Apparently he'd need to learn to tell humans apart, since they were very good at telling Cybertronians apart.
It would be nice, he considered, if humans didn't think him as creepy as other Cybertronians did. That was how disfigurements worked. Or it might be that humans were all jerks and Optimus Prime was being super-noble again.
He dived around another corner, still humming a tune and aiming his claws randomly at the walls, ceiling and floor as he explored the base alone. Thus far, nobody had offered to show him around, and he wasn't exactly being very quiet.