We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Reflector eyed the other bot's hand, to this point he had only been on Cleaver, as he didn't trust riding on any other bot. But he could feel that figuring this mess out was fairly important to Barricade, which meant that Reflector would also get his own answer.
Whipping out a stretchy arm the little bot grabbed on to the Decepticon before skittering up the larger bot like some sort of robotic monkey. He only stopped when he reached Barricade's shoulder, though he was still quite nervous as he perched there.
The small weight swinging up his wrist to his shoulder was familiar, triggered an immediate mass-memory recall of Frenzy running up his body and perching in precisely the same way… though Frenzy usually chattered and babbled the entire way up and then positioned himself strategically to babble in Cade’s audio when he got there.
Reflector was a small, quiet weight of nervous hooked into the plating of his shoulder, light bouncing off the massive lens of his face. Barricade suppressed a rumble of annoyance – not at the cassette but at his being in this situation at all, being fragged in the head, core-locked, spark-slagged, damaged, and displaced. That he was in a position that stray cassettes could accidentally attach themselves to him was appalling and enraging and worst of all…
A very small portion of him was glad for the familiarity of a link-partner. And he hated that.
The infiltrator kept his ill-temper to a controlled burn however as he went to hunt their medic down. “Who designed you, Reflector?” Barricade glanced at the little mech. “Unbonded cassettes are… uncommon. What was your function at the outset?” Before this war I don’t remember changed everyone’s purpose.
Last Edit: Feb 16, 2012 13:06:35 GMT -5 by Deleted
"I was designed as a spy that could go places even other minicons couldn't. I was built after the war, from the moment I opened my optic I was Decepticon. I never knew who built me, I can only guess that such a talented bot was to be kept in secret, even from a creation...that could fall into enemy servos and that tactical advantage would be rendered moot." Reflector explained all he knew about his origins, which didn't take much time since he knew more about why humans cared about global warming then he did how he was made.
Cade didn’t say anything while he navigated the shuttle looking for Cleaver, rolling that word around in his head: Decepticon. He liked the way it felt in the vocalizer, the edge in the chords, but the epistemological linkages in the sub-harmonics made it feel… like there was a history there he was missing. A collective linguistic knowledge attached that he was not part of and deviations in the grammar structures of the glyphs even… a new word, made mean… it felt familiar when he repeated, “Decepticon.”
He looked at Reflector. “If you have a faction, then why –?” ::are you here with Cleaver?:: he finished through the carrier link. Clear signal. Damn.
Cleaver had heard voices from the rear workroom - the site of their energon processor and several half-repaired pieces of medical and engineering equipment on various worktops. Finally done mixing Ironhide's donated energon with the recovered fuel, filtering the combination and storing it in the main reservoir, the femme ragged off her hands and stepped into the main corridor.
Seeing Barricade approaching with Reflector on his shoulder, she leveled a frown on them both before finally shaking her helm. "You are supposed to be on the medberth, Barricade, with all the restarts your system's been going through. I am not pulling out the dents you put into yourself by stupid falls because you won't keep still."
"Because they tried to kill me for someone else's mistake and Cleaver took me in regardless." The little minicon spoke just as his audios detected another large bot moving towards them. Reflector had hoped that Cleaver didn't hear what he just said, as indebted as he was to the femme and as much as he cared for her, it was still hard to say such things to her face-plate. When the medic stomped up the first thing he did was launch himself off of Barricade's shoulder to land on Cleaver's head, his second action was more to his nature as he spun around to face the beat up spy "Well it's not like I could stop him." he chittered back, trying to lay the blame completely on Barricade and get further into Cleaver's good graces.
“Thanks, partner,” said Barricade, his tone utterly two-dimensional.
There were not really words at this point for how he felt because Barricade was not accustomed to feeling anything in this realm because he did not allow this slag to happen to him so it was somewhat disturbing and he didn’t like this crawling, seething sense of things happening to him. Things he didn’t remember and crimes he couldn’t recall that deprived him of his hate and he wanted that hate so badly it was nauseating because it was his right to remember the smelt-sucking, Primus-damned, sons of glitches that did this to him and it was very, very hard keeping an even EMF.
“Cleaver, we have to talk.” The infiltrator moved into Cleaver’s space slightly, more than the edge of her field, not quite hostile so much as unmistakably disturbed. “You had Reflector jack into my head for your diagnosis. The little glitch networked himself into my fragging cassette-carrier network!” His optic flashed restlessly, a sense of discomfort and anger and restlessness glutting his systems and he growled, plates flaring and heating. “He’s sync up a full bond with me while I was fragging unconscious! Fix this!”
Cleaver didn't back down so much as a flicker of radial field from Barricade, having had more than enough experience with his black moods since the moment he came online. She did, however, flinch through her plates at the glyphs of non-consent, of violation underscoring his snapped summary and snarled demand. She'd been making every effort to give the mech choices, letting him ask questions so that he rebuilt a sense of identity organically as opposed to influencing his processor with her own biased opinions delivered in a series of educational lectures. Her ignorance had taken this choice from him, however.
No point churring over spilt energon, though.
Resolving the words, Cleaver eased her field out in the equivalent of laying a gentle hand on an arm. "I'm sorry, Barricade, but I had absolutely no way of knowing that you had carrier programming with the state that you were in. And the procedure that's caused this was necessary if I was going to bring you online coherent at all."
She folded her arms, denta gritted as she sunk into regrets that she couldn't justify. Not for herself, at least. Before the war, mistaken cassette/carrier bonds could be broken relatively easily and painlessly. Now however, it was another on a long list of things lost with Cybertron. "As for 'fixing it', I don't have that kind of technology on board, nor am I specialist enough to even venture to improvise a means to break the connection. I'm sorry, but I can't do anything now."
Reflector settled down on Cleaver's head like some sort of robotic bird, for the most part he seemed to be calming down, no doubt due to the fact that Cleaver was here. In fact he seemed to think that with the grouchy medic here, everything would turn out fine, in spite of the fact that she was stating pretty much the opposite.
“Great,” said Barricade, tossing up one hand, plates shifting into a more hostile tension. “Good. Thank you for that. Because a core-lock and extreme battle damage wasn’t enough, I have an untried new-spark linked into my cassette-carrier network which, by the way, is military grade. That’s a tier one code-depth link and not something that any solo-run mini-con should get cabled into as their first gestalt link and it’s not something that I have the processing power to deal with right now. Primus on a piston. It’s one thing after another isn’t it?”
The infiltrator fumed for an astro-klik more before dismissing the thought string as useless and prioritizing more useful ideas like, “Never mind. Do you have the diagnostic hardware for a system check? Make sure we’re not bleeding data or damaging each other?” By which he meant, Make sure I’m not damaging HIM. Because with his kind of neural damage that was a very real possibility.
There was nothing to say in the face of Barricade's perfectly justified anger, and after the initial apology, Cleaver didn't even try to make another attempt. It would come across too much like grovelling for them both. Instead, she settled to focussing upon how to proceed now.
It was a standard scan, but the detail checking a cassette-carrier link required necessitated contact. Transformering the blades, Cleaver beckoned Reflector down into her palm and extended her other hand towards Barricade's helm. She waited for the assenting twitch in his furious optics before curling her fingers about his face, thumb running across his cheek to rest under his optic. The initial results made her frown, then her faceplates twitched into a smile quickly repressed before Barricade took it as offence.
Withdrawing from the smaller mech, she handed Reflector across with scrutinizing optics to check how their fields synched in contact. Satisfied, she slid her arms back into their natural configurations and dropped them back to her sides. Certainly easier to defend with wide blades if he blows his last gasket...
It was good news, but Cleaver wasn't confident that Barricade was in a state to interpret the results as such. "Fortunately you're both a good match, and there's no corruption or errors flagging up from the link. If anything, Barricade, Reflector's stabilising your systems."
“Fan-fragging-tastic,” said Barricade in a tone that suggested he would have liked to rip a few faces off. His engines had gone hot instantly with a resurgence of rage, a note of psychosis like a kink in his short-wave EMF. In his hate, the infiltrator’s words were going a bit fragged, low-fidelity and crackling with static, what might be considered a bit of a Kaonese accent in some regions. Result of long-time Kaon cover and what he remembered to be his last solid station back with Maverick. Who knows what kind of airs he was putting on now, or what face he’d been wearing and for whom. It was very frustrating…
“I mean, all is forgiven in that case. Primus frag. What if I’m not a fragging Neutral? If I remember everything I am heading back to my team and my allies and whatever mission it was that got me hacked, slagged, and gutted in the first place which is not place for a first-link up new spark.”
Last Edit: Feb 21, 2012 13:11:14 GMT -5 by Deleted
Cleaver dropped her helm with gritted denta, wishing that Reflector hadn't picked the top of her helm all those vorns as his default safe perch on her body. It really wasn't helping at this moment in time.
"I'm sorry, Barricade, I never intended for this to happen," she uttered, apologising again because there was just nothing else to say in the face of this. An unconsenusal bond of any kind disgusted her, but this one hadn't seemed like a possibility for the necessary proceedure that had produced it. It was small comfort, but just enough to appease her ethics as a medic.
Meeting his optics again, Cleaver's gaze was hard. "But it has happened, and I don't have the kit here to undo it. The Autobots or Decepticons might, so whichever party you go back to will probably be able to reverse it if that's what you both still want by then. But for now you're stuck with it, it's beneficial, and you can take your feelings on me but lay off Reflector, because he didn't intend for this either."
“I don’t blame cassettes for the mistakes of the mechanisms who don’t look out for them.”
And because the infiltrator didn't want to look at Cleaver's face any more, Barricade turned his back on the medic and walked away. He expertly dialed down his side of the carrier link to Reflector, muting the new hum of the bond code in his systems like a virulent line of viral strain – hot with alien patterning not his own. He reached the end of the hall before turning around at the corner, pale blue optics fixing cold on the lone Neutralist medic, her heavy EMF, all hard and twisted with pressure points of concern. She was an ancient wreck. A house falling down if not for sheer soldiering force of will that looked like penance. Her patchwork adoptees – they meant more to her than she wanted them to and she could not stop herself.
“You have one patient and one crewmate,” said Barricade blackly. “It’s incomprehensible to me how a medic of your caliber managed to frag up both in one go.” A glare. “So I’m going to medic to recharge… try not to whore out my systems to some other passerby while I’m out.”
Then he’s gone.
Last Edit: Feb 24, 2012 14:12:37 GMT -5 by Deleted