Ep0.5 - Cleaver's quarters - 'Oh.' - Closed
Mar 24, 2012 13:48:09 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2012 13:48:09 GMT -5
Cleaver was not a morning mecha. Even in her youth, when medward rounds had started at un-Primus hours, the coppery femme had still been half-blind, disagreeable and operating on half a processor until her systems had warmed up with a cube of energon and some hot cleanser clearing out her parts. As the vorns had run on, the 'useless' period immediately following recharge had become longer, and nothing short of an emergency could kick her out of it.
An explosion so large and close that it made the bare walls shake certainly fell under that category.
Onlining abruptly, already half sitting and systems hammering to fight-or-flight charge, it took Cleaver five seconds of wide optics and wildly spinning vents to identify the sound. Then, with a growl as she forced aside a slew of panicked and flagged errors, the femme slammed open a comm. line to Ironhide. ::You should be workin' back at your own damned base. Not supposed to be blowing up mine for another nine breems. Scared the spark and scrag out of me...::
Technically, Ironhide was supposed to have taken down that dividing wall to make the central atrium significantly larger the evening before. She ought to have known that the tour wouldn't have gone a lot further than her own quarters, though, and the door that actually locked...
Sitting up and bringing her legs over the edge of the berth, Cleaver pressed a blade across her shuttered optics and set about cycling her systems back down. Streams of data persisted in her processor even after she'd eased everything back down to normal. They weren't threads she recognized, though it didn't take more than a closer read of the first line to realise what they were. What processes were activated and operating at 70% efficiency, and rising.
The most that could be articulated from the influx of deeply mixed feelings was: "Oh."
Dumb surprise and confusion were at the forefront of the churning wave. Cleaver had had protocols in place to prevent exactly this since she'd left Cybertron. Only truly grievous damage to her systems could throw a glitch into that and then not have her notice that the protocols were offline. Her healing side throbbed as the piece clicked, and Cleaver rolled her optics to the ceiling at the realization.
Mystery solved.
Which just left what to do now.
An explosion so large and close that it made the bare walls shake certainly fell under that category.
Onlining abruptly, already half sitting and systems hammering to fight-or-flight charge, it took Cleaver five seconds of wide optics and wildly spinning vents to identify the sound. Then, with a growl as she forced aside a slew of panicked and flagged errors, the femme slammed open a comm. line to Ironhide. ::You should be workin' back at your own damned base. Not supposed to be blowing up mine for another nine breems. Scared the spark and scrag out of me...::
Technically, Ironhide was supposed to have taken down that dividing wall to make the central atrium significantly larger the evening before. She ought to have known that the tour wouldn't have gone a lot further than her own quarters, though, and the door that actually locked...
Sitting up and bringing her legs over the edge of the berth, Cleaver pressed a blade across her shuttered optics and set about cycling her systems back down. Streams of data persisted in her processor even after she'd eased everything back down to normal. They weren't threads she recognized, though it didn't take more than a closer read of the first line to realise what they were. What processes were activated and operating at 70% efficiency, and rising.
The most that could be articulated from the influx of deeply mixed feelings was: "Oh."
Dumb surprise and confusion were at the forefront of the churning wave. Cleaver had had protocols in place to prevent exactly this since she'd left Cybertron. Only truly grievous damage to her systems could throw a glitch into that and then not have her notice that the protocols were offline. Her healing side throbbed as the piece clicked, and Cleaver rolled her optics to the ceiling at the realization.
Mystery solved.
Which just left what to do now.