Ep0.5 - Outside Jasper - 'The Pick Up' - Closed
Feb 14, 2012 7:04:39 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 14, 2012 7:04:39 GMT -5
Cleaver walked through the ground bridge from the Nemesis unaided, leaving the Eradicons on the other side to step out onto the dry earth. She stood waiting, staunching the flow of energon from her side with one soaked hand, until she heard and felt the vortex collapse behind her. Then, with something like relief, the femme crashed to her knees with a hissed grimace.
She shuttered her optics, drew in a full vent of air and cycled it out again slowly. Forced away the image of Megatron's talon against his mouth, slick with her energon. That sudden, terrible moment when she knew that he was so far removed from the mech in Kaon that the label 'monster' fully applied. Casual violence and sadistic insanity had moved like oil in water through his field, and she felt dirty now for having had it against her plates.
And frag he'd made a mess of her side.
Another cycle of air, helm tipped back towards the sun, and Cleaver started to get her processor straight. "Okay, femme... Prioritise. Danger."
She onlined her optics and made a quick, rough scan of her surroundings. Empty desert. Single two-lane road a few miles off. Minimal traffic and too far away to be spotted with her colouring against the soil and sand. City even further off - Jasper. Long way from home. The medic huffed, torn between a fresh spike of anger that Megatron hadn't returned her to the same location she'd bridged in from, and quiet gratitude that at least she was secluded.
"Location's fine enough. Not gonna get snatched by the natives." It was an old habit to fill the quiet like this on the occasions when she was alone and really, truly wished she weren't. She turned her attention to the gored wound in her side. "Just the leaking out, then..."
It wasn't life-threatening, but it would have to be stabilised before she moved again. Cleaver dismissed Ironhide and Moonshot in her mind without thought. "Can't be doing with the fussing, and got the kit and skills to do this. Lock off the leaks and get back to the ship. Can decontaminate there. Throw the mechs out so I can ‘charge."
A deeper scan of the wound - six fuel lines torn, hydraulic cabling snagged around two transformation cogs and bare protoform torn deep enough to seep protomass was the worst of it. The rest could take care of itself over time with self-repair nanites and rest. "Alright then. Get on with it."
Still resting on her haunches, Cleaver used her free hand to dip into her subspace and pull out a silvery length of fabric. A quick charge from her fingertips electrified the material and it snapped outwards into a stiff, perfectly reflective board. Stabbing one end into the sand so that it stood upright, Cleaver maneuvered herself onto her back with the wound parallel to the mirror.
The angle made it awkward, but by extending the micro-tools from her hands it was workable. Welding and sealant filaments warmed, Cleaver gently began to salvage the mess.
She shuttered her optics, drew in a full vent of air and cycled it out again slowly. Forced away the image of Megatron's talon against his mouth, slick with her energon. That sudden, terrible moment when she knew that he was so far removed from the mech in Kaon that the label 'monster' fully applied. Casual violence and sadistic insanity had moved like oil in water through his field, and she felt dirty now for having had it against her plates.
And frag he'd made a mess of her side.
Another cycle of air, helm tipped back towards the sun, and Cleaver started to get her processor straight. "Okay, femme... Prioritise. Danger."
She onlined her optics and made a quick, rough scan of her surroundings. Empty desert. Single two-lane road a few miles off. Minimal traffic and too far away to be spotted with her colouring against the soil and sand. City even further off - Jasper. Long way from home. The medic huffed, torn between a fresh spike of anger that Megatron hadn't returned her to the same location she'd bridged in from, and quiet gratitude that at least she was secluded.
"Location's fine enough. Not gonna get snatched by the natives." It was an old habit to fill the quiet like this on the occasions when she was alone and really, truly wished she weren't. She turned her attention to the gored wound in her side. "Just the leaking out, then..."
It wasn't life-threatening, but it would have to be stabilised before she moved again. Cleaver dismissed Ironhide and Moonshot in her mind without thought. "Can't be doing with the fussing, and got the kit and skills to do this. Lock off the leaks and get back to the ship. Can decontaminate there. Throw the mechs out so I can ‘charge."
A deeper scan of the wound - six fuel lines torn, hydraulic cabling snagged around two transformation cogs and bare protoform torn deep enough to seep protomass was the worst of it. The rest could take care of itself over time with self-repair nanites and rest. "Alright then. Get on with it."
Still resting on her haunches, Cleaver used her free hand to dip into her subspace and pull out a silvery length of fabric. A quick charge from her fingertips electrified the material and it snapped outwards into a stiff, perfectly reflective board. Stabbing one end into the sand so that it stood upright, Cleaver maneuvered herself onto her back with the wound parallel to the mirror.
The angle made it awkward, but by extending the micro-tools from her hands it was workable. Welding and sealant filaments warmed, Cleaver gently began to salvage the mess.