Ep. 1 - Much Ado about Nothing - [Open]
Aug 6, 2014 21:29:27 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on Aug 6, 2014 21:29:27 GMT -5
What had happened...?
Symbols... icons... He couldn't tell what they were; he didn't know what they were saying. They skittered and rolled across the black backdrop of his HUD in long lines. He knew enough of himself to have a concept of what it was. Rebooting protocols, some diagnostics, and maybe a handful of error lists scrolling up. Some seemed to be physical damages, but he couldn't read them and his frame wasn't online enough for him to feel. He knew he had hit hard, but... what did he hit? How? What had happened? How did he get injured? How badly was he injured? His arm twitched a bit, hydraulics trying to online themselves while a few gears clicked back into place from some kind of impact... What had happened... what...
Consciousness hit him.
Golden optics flared active with a seething pulse of light before fading back to normal, the rotational rings spiraling within in a frantic attempt to lock down into reality. The first thing he saw? The first thing that came into focus? Was a sideways view of the horizon, a black rocky terrain, sloped at an angle with jagged stones arching up towards the grey sky in disjointed spires. But what made it so surreal? Was a white veil that laced over it all, masking the horizon's edge enough to have it blur into the pale grey sky, creating a scene that was difficult to decipher between ground and air. If it were not for the faintest of browns laced within the ashy stone? And the soft flecks of gold from the sky peeking through the muted grey? He would have thought his color recognition receptors had gone offline.
The white lens plates flicked across this horizon, before managing to focus enough to notice this... stuff... was floating down around them from the sky. He had no words for it; it was like rain but... soft... drifting down gradually in a peaceful chilled array that was almost soothing to his aching frame and lagging computations. It started to lull him back into unconsciousness, the chill biting at his seething plates to numb out the pain he knew he should be feeling. But a moment later he clawed feebly from the edge of darkness, focusing back on the white oddity. He thought he should know what it was, but it was still lost to him. Either the word was never there to begin with? Or he never even had a concept of what 'snow' was. Nonetheless he shifted, trying to maneuver himself a bit to see if he was really injured badly, or if the HUD readouts were minor affronts.
The Ex-cop's head rolled a bit, right arm peeling out of the snow to plant below him with a shaky grip. But he had expected to feel ground or the white... stuff... instead? His hand planted upon heated metal, and the feeling shocked the rest of his systems online, catching him up instantly to reality.
The memories of the crash and his fall snapped through his optics in rapid succession in a violent flashback. Chunks of memories, seemingly popped and played simultaneously, latching together in a clunked array like a puzzle. They had been in a navigation locked ship, one that couldn't steer or disengage from its descent, having to jump out or crash and die in the explosion. But Carbine was no flyer; he was a hover vehicle, needing to be within a certain range from an object to 'fly'. It was horrifying, falling... feeling the cold air slipping past him at terminal velocity. There had been some kind of impact beforehand, and then his mind replayed the actual crash into the ground? And the following blackout? His head snapped back in shock at these final memories, it feeling like a jolt of electricity had shot through his mind which caused a minor seizure like response for a fraction of a moment. Once this passed, with this newfound clarity of thought? With the memories back? He snapped upright.
The ex-cop immediately patted his hands down his own forearms, then legs, seeing that he wasn't missing a huge chunk of his body, nor had a gored hole ripped out of him as far as he could tell. With this confirmation, he started to laugh, the sound broken up as he simply could not believe he had survived! It was a wonderful elation; just... he had survived falling out of a shuttle! He had fallen many thousands of feet and wasn't an Energon slicked splatter of scrap metal on the ground! How the slag did he manage this!? How in Primus' name was he basically ok!?
Carbine threw his fists into the air, letting out a cry of victory and glee, riding off of the high of being a survivor. Meanwhile the Canine docked on his spine remained motionless and silent, inert and unresponsive, though Carbine could sense the dog was ok and not injured. Really he didn't even think to check on Bolo, having an instinctive knowledge he was ok before his mind was even online fully due to their link. However... that was only one partner and his elation started to subside as he was coming back to reality. Thunder?... he didn't have the ability to reach through a bond to feel this information. He couldn't just forcibly demand emotional reports on ones status like he could to his Cassette. All he knew is that his partner had taken the brunt of their impact for him, saving him from the damage he could have sworn he should have.
Carbine then realized for the second time (though actually processed it this time) that he was sitting atop the jet. The bulk of the other mech was half buried in the powder, draped over the stones of the rocky face. Behind them? Was a deep groove in the earth where Thunder's frame had carved an Energon speckled trench at impact, stone and dirt kicked up on either side of the channel leading to his resting place. Thunder was in a semi mangled pose, legs draped in his wake, with right arm crooked and bent up to protrude into the air some, hand curled loosely in an inert state. Snow had already fallen to try to fill the ravine he had left and conceal Thunder, leaving parts of him blotted out by the white powder so the extent of his (very likely) injuries were hidden. His chest remained completely exposed however, having been covered and shielded by Carbine. The snow that now started to fall onto this blank slate? Sizzled, Thunder's frame protesting the cold with his notoriously easy to overheat internals.
While the warmth coming from a Cybertronian could indicate life? For Thunder? This was normal overheat, and such temperatures could be... residual heat... still clutching and trapped inside the dense cage of his build to mimic a life that was not there. Carbine's gaze landed on his features, which seemed unresponsive, just... flat... the optics closed with no flickers of motion underneath to indicate consciousness. Carbine's high of glee, sobered at this sight, stumbling down to reality.
"...Th-t-hu-zktz...ndd-ur?"
He managed to whine this out, his own systems struggling a bit still. Carbine's features were not visible through the helmet that he wore, the smooth almost motorcycle styled piece of armor holding a slick black visor that blocked out his mangled faceplates. But what could be seen? Was the yellow outline of his optics. This flat shape of the eye, held no details, no lens plate visible, but it still managed to relay expressions to some extent. The optics seemed to be rounded, no doubt showing immense horror and grief behind the rest of the darkened slate.
There was a loud bang to disrupt this, and he lurched down in a flinch, raising his forearms up in a motion to protect himself. The bang had come up from somewhere above them, and Carbine peered up the mountainside. Way up on a higher elevation but still visible, he could see their shuttle... or... what remained of it... It was smoldering and roaring in heavy flames that sent black smoke billowing into the sky in a solid opaque tower. There was another crackle, before an additional Energon reserve caught aflame and ruptured, sending a raging burst of blue energy to surge out in a heavy pulse. The pulse was so powerful, some of the snow itself rippled in a ring about it.
Carbine grimaced at this, able to feel the heat and energy that surged off of such a powerful explosion shoot past his frame, causing panels to tremble a moment in their sockets. Some shrapnel of metal, pelted down into the area around them, one large chunk that... seemed to be part of the hull? Slammed close enough that just a minute deviation in trajectory? Would have impaled them both. Carbine flinched, before he reached his hands down, thin fingers lacing under a lip of armor on Thunder's chest.
Carbine pulled hard at the chest paneling, not trying to tear it off, but trying to shake him some to lurch him awake. His hydraulics struggled a bit to heave his torso up and perform this action, but he didn’t care, putting all he had into it. The motion pulled the jet's head up from the snow a bit, which would keep the mystery material from getting in his mouth and drowning his radiator. After a few lurches, it seemed shaking him awake was of no use.
In response to this, Carbine pulled his fingertips free, and slid them up to grasp Thunder's faceplate, thumbs resting on either side of his cheek struts just under his eyes. The grip was gentle, as if scared he was going to hurt his friend from such a motion, or perhaps? Terrified that the faceplates would be cold. He idly tugged at the bottom of Thunder's eyelids, trying to coax him to online his optics, but the motion didn't seem to do anything. The ex-cops form trembled a bit, fingertips pulling down from the faceplate to hook under his jaw line, pressing up to try to feel for an Energon line.
The Energon line he felt was there, but the pulse seemed faint if there was one. His own hands were still trembling after the surge of pure unhinged terror he had experienced while falling. As such the pulse could have been an illusion of life that was nonexistent. This only alarmed him more, and amped up his stress levels. His stress was surging up more and more in despair. But he could feel it! But... maybe there really was no pulse... and what he did feel was his mind simply insisting it was, because he could not stand for it not to be.
Thunder was a jet! He could fly on his own! He could have easily negated the fall and been safe! Granted, Carbine would be dead then... but really... either scenario would have been hell on the survivor. Carbine' didn't really WANT to be in this position. Why... why did he panic and HOLD onto Thunder's armor? Why didn’t he kick him away from him and merely give a salute to signal his surrender? Gone down like a badaft with some snarky little comment? Why did Thunder have to be some damn... HERO... and self sacrifice! It isn't like he had the ability to Comm the Autobots! He couldn't do any non verbal communications! He would freeze to death out here! That is if he even survived the impact! Thunder had thrown his life away on some fragging gamble that landed Carbine and Bolo with a slow agonizing death!
A rattled sob shook out from his frame before he knew to try to hold back, grief consuming him as he wasn't even sure what to feel right now. Thunder was his best friend, his... his only friend other than his cassette. But Bolo didn’t count. Bolo and himself were created together, woven together. In a way? They were one and the same. While Thunder?... he had to EARN thunder. He had to WORK to get this to where it was, and as such? Thunder was HIS. The other convict could have easily left once free of Garrus-1 and went off to have his own life, but no, they had stuck together and this fragging stupid jet was the only one he had, and had thrown his primus forsaken life away!
The carrier slumped forward slowly, his forearms curling to cross across his chest, as if trying to smother the horrendous pain he felt. He could check Thunder for the glow of a spark, he could easily know if he was still alive by pulling off the chest armor to look, but... he was scared to try now, scared to get the news he thought was reality. He could feel Bolo's presence, the canine's consciousness curling up beside his own, trying to comfort, trying to help. As much as Carbine wanted to lean into his Cassette? The pain was so severe it didn't do much of anything but enact a verbal response.
Carbine's spine contorted upright as he threw his shoulders and head back, letting out a static laced screech of despair and pain. The sound was inhuman on all points, not only was there the mechanical glitches that surged through it, but there was also a savage sort of noise. It was as if Bolo himself was screaming as well, the hound's vocals twining and lacing with Carbine's into this disjointed mutilation of beast, mech, and machine. The sound echoed across the barren landscape, adding that much more of a haunting dimension to it. It was part way through this cry, when his grief had plummeted to new levels, that part of his long dormant cop protocols finally kicked online.
A sobering rush surged through him, a feeling he didn't particularly like as it ripped and clawed at his emotions to tear huge chunks out of them. He SHOULD be alarmed. He SHOULD be stressed. He SHOULD be despair riddled and he SHOULD be in grief as Thunder was likely dead! But no... no... panic couldn't let him do anything of use, and the numbing flow that rushed over his processor? Took the edge off. The programming was meant to keep a cops' head cool under stress to still process things analytically. He hated it, it felt like a chunk of his emotions were hacked away, and as such, he took in a shuddered wheeze into his vents, before finally moving.
Carbine's aching frame trembled; hands placing on Thunder's chest again for balance as he pushed himself upright with feet planted on either side of the jet's hips. His legs wavered a bit, struggling, as a few new scrapes and heavy dings were slammed and slapped across his shins. The top edge of both peds were sheered and scraped so badly it was nothing but barren metal that welled with beads of Energon atop its surface. His feet had likely drug on the ground during the part of the crash Thunder carved a ravine. This was possibly only one of likely many other injuries he wasn't conscious of yet. But despite his wobbling limbs, he moved off of Thunder to kneel down at his side, starting an attempt to act productively. His hands cupped together, and began digging and clawing into the snow, trying to tear and scoop it off of his partner's frame as his panic started to claw at the override, threatening a gradual buildup of dread once more.
Symbols... icons... He couldn't tell what they were; he didn't know what they were saying. They skittered and rolled across the black backdrop of his HUD in long lines. He knew enough of himself to have a concept of what it was. Rebooting protocols, some diagnostics, and maybe a handful of error lists scrolling up. Some seemed to be physical damages, but he couldn't read them and his frame wasn't online enough for him to feel. He knew he had hit hard, but... what did he hit? How? What had happened? How did he get injured? How badly was he injured? His arm twitched a bit, hydraulics trying to online themselves while a few gears clicked back into place from some kind of impact... What had happened... what...
Consciousness hit him.
Golden optics flared active with a seething pulse of light before fading back to normal, the rotational rings spiraling within in a frantic attempt to lock down into reality. The first thing he saw? The first thing that came into focus? Was a sideways view of the horizon, a black rocky terrain, sloped at an angle with jagged stones arching up towards the grey sky in disjointed spires. But what made it so surreal? Was a white veil that laced over it all, masking the horizon's edge enough to have it blur into the pale grey sky, creating a scene that was difficult to decipher between ground and air. If it were not for the faintest of browns laced within the ashy stone? And the soft flecks of gold from the sky peeking through the muted grey? He would have thought his color recognition receptors had gone offline.
The white lens plates flicked across this horizon, before managing to focus enough to notice this... stuff... was floating down around them from the sky. He had no words for it; it was like rain but... soft... drifting down gradually in a peaceful chilled array that was almost soothing to his aching frame and lagging computations. It started to lull him back into unconsciousness, the chill biting at his seething plates to numb out the pain he knew he should be feeling. But a moment later he clawed feebly from the edge of darkness, focusing back on the white oddity. He thought he should know what it was, but it was still lost to him. Either the word was never there to begin with? Or he never even had a concept of what 'snow' was. Nonetheless he shifted, trying to maneuver himself a bit to see if he was really injured badly, or if the HUD readouts were minor affronts.
The Ex-cop's head rolled a bit, right arm peeling out of the snow to plant below him with a shaky grip. But he had expected to feel ground or the white... stuff... instead? His hand planted upon heated metal, and the feeling shocked the rest of his systems online, catching him up instantly to reality.
The memories of the crash and his fall snapped through his optics in rapid succession in a violent flashback. Chunks of memories, seemingly popped and played simultaneously, latching together in a clunked array like a puzzle. They had been in a navigation locked ship, one that couldn't steer or disengage from its descent, having to jump out or crash and die in the explosion. But Carbine was no flyer; he was a hover vehicle, needing to be within a certain range from an object to 'fly'. It was horrifying, falling... feeling the cold air slipping past him at terminal velocity. There had been some kind of impact beforehand, and then his mind replayed the actual crash into the ground? And the following blackout? His head snapped back in shock at these final memories, it feeling like a jolt of electricity had shot through his mind which caused a minor seizure like response for a fraction of a moment. Once this passed, with this newfound clarity of thought? With the memories back? He snapped upright.
The ex-cop immediately patted his hands down his own forearms, then legs, seeing that he wasn't missing a huge chunk of his body, nor had a gored hole ripped out of him as far as he could tell. With this confirmation, he started to laugh, the sound broken up as he simply could not believe he had survived! It was a wonderful elation; just... he had survived falling out of a shuttle! He had fallen many thousands of feet and wasn't an Energon slicked splatter of scrap metal on the ground! How the slag did he manage this!? How in Primus' name was he basically ok!?
Carbine threw his fists into the air, letting out a cry of victory and glee, riding off of the high of being a survivor. Meanwhile the Canine docked on his spine remained motionless and silent, inert and unresponsive, though Carbine could sense the dog was ok and not injured. Really he didn't even think to check on Bolo, having an instinctive knowledge he was ok before his mind was even online fully due to their link. However... that was only one partner and his elation started to subside as he was coming back to reality. Thunder?... he didn't have the ability to reach through a bond to feel this information. He couldn't just forcibly demand emotional reports on ones status like he could to his Cassette. All he knew is that his partner had taken the brunt of their impact for him, saving him from the damage he could have sworn he should have.
Carbine then realized for the second time (though actually processed it this time) that he was sitting atop the jet. The bulk of the other mech was half buried in the powder, draped over the stones of the rocky face. Behind them? Was a deep groove in the earth where Thunder's frame had carved an Energon speckled trench at impact, stone and dirt kicked up on either side of the channel leading to his resting place. Thunder was in a semi mangled pose, legs draped in his wake, with right arm crooked and bent up to protrude into the air some, hand curled loosely in an inert state. Snow had already fallen to try to fill the ravine he had left and conceal Thunder, leaving parts of him blotted out by the white powder so the extent of his (very likely) injuries were hidden. His chest remained completely exposed however, having been covered and shielded by Carbine. The snow that now started to fall onto this blank slate? Sizzled, Thunder's frame protesting the cold with his notoriously easy to overheat internals.
While the warmth coming from a Cybertronian could indicate life? For Thunder? This was normal overheat, and such temperatures could be... residual heat... still clutching and trapped inside the dense cage of his build to mimic a life that was not there. Carbine's gaze landed on his features, which seemed unresponsive, just... flat... the optics closed with no flickers of motion underneath to indicate consciousness. Carbine's high of glee, sobered at this sight, stumbling down to reality.
"...Th-t-hu-zktz...ndd-ur?"
He managed to whine this out, his own systems struggling a bit still. Carbine's features were not visible through the helmet that he wore, the smooth almost motorcycle styled piece of armor holding a slick black visor that blocked out his mangled faceplates. But what could be seen? Was the yellow outline of his optics. This flat shape of the eye, held no details, no lens plate visible, but it still managed to relay expressions to some extent. The optics seemed to be rounded, no doubt showing immense horror and grief behind the rest of the darkened slate.
There was a loud bang to disrupt this, and he lurched down in a flinch, raising his forearms up in a motion to protect himself. The bang had come up from somewhere above them, and Carbine peered up the mountainside. Way up on a higher elevation but still visible, he could see their shuttle... or... what remained of it... It was smoldering and roaring in heavy flames that sent black smoke billowing into the sky in a solid opaque tower. There was another crackle, before an additional Energon reserve caught aflame and ruptured, sending a raging burst of blue energy to surge out in a heavy pulse. The pulse was so powerful, some of the snow itself rippled in a ring about it.
Carbine grimaced at this, able to feel the heat and energy that surged off of such a powerful explosion shoot past his frame, causing panels to tremble a moment in their sockets. Some shrapnel of metal, pelted down into the area around them, one large chunk that... seemed to be part of the hull? Slammed close enough that just a minute deviation in trajectory? Would have impaled them both. Carbine flinched, before he reached his hands down, thin fingers lacing under a lip of armor on Thunder's chest.
Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead
Carbine pulled hard at the chest paneling, not trying to tear it off, but trying to shake him some to lurch him awake. His hydraulics struggled a bit to heave his torso up and perform this action, but he didn’t care, putting all he had into it. The motion pulled the jet's head up from the snow a bit, which would keep the mystery material from getting in his mouth and drowning his radiator. After a few lurches, it seemed shaking him awake was of no use.
Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead
In response to this, Carbine pulled his fingertips free, and slid them up to grasp Thunder's faceplate, thumbs resting on either side of his cheek struts just under his eyes. The grip was gentle, as if scared he was going to hurt his friend from such a motion, or perhaps? Terrified that the faceplates would be cold. He idly tugged at the bottom of Thunder's eyelids, trying to coax him to online his optics, but the motion didn't seem to do anything. The ex-cops form trembled a bit, fingertips pulling down from the faceplate to hook under his jaw line, pressing up to try to feel for an Energon line.
Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead
The Energon line he felt was there, but the pulse seemed faint if there was one. His own hands were still trembling after the surge of pure unhinged terror he had experienced while falling. As such the pulse could have been an illusion of life that was nonexistent. This only alarmed him more, and amped up his stress levels. His stress was surging up more and more in despair. But he could feel it! But... maybe there really was no pulse... and what he did feel was his mind simply insisting it was, because he could not stand for it not to be.
Why had he done this? Why had he sacrificed himself!?
Thunder was a jet! He could fly on his own! He could have easily negated the fall and been safe! Granted, Carbine would be dead then... but really... either scenario would have been hell on the survivor. Carbine' didn't really WANT to be in this position. Why... why did he panic and HOLD onto Thunder's armor? Why didn’t he kick him away from him and merely give a salute to signal his surrender? Gone down like a badaft with some snarky little comment? Why did Thunder have to be some damn... HERO... and self sacrifice! It isn't like he had the ability to Comm the Autobots! He couldn't do any non verbal communications! He would freeze to death out here! That is if he even survived the impact! Thunder had thrown his life away on some fragging gamble that landed Carbine and Bolo with a slow agonizing death!
A rattled sob shook out from his frame before he knew to try to hold back, grief consuming him as he wasn't even sure what to feel right now. Thunder was his best friend, his... his only friend other than his cassette. But Bolo didn’t count. Bolo and himself were created together, woven together. In a way? They were one and the same. While Thunder?... he had to EARN thunder. He had to WORK to get this to where it was, and as such? Thunder was HIS. The other convict could have easily left once free of Garrus-1 and went off to have his own life, but no, they had stuck together and this fragging stupid jet was the only one he had, and had thrown his primus forsaken life away!
The carrier slumped forward slowly, his forearms curling to cross across his chest, as if trying to smother the horrendous pain he felt. He could check Thunder for the glow of a spark, he could easily know if he was still alive by pulling off the chest armor to look, but... he was scared to try now, scared to get the news he thought was reality. He could feel Bolo's presence, the canine's consciousness curling up beside his own, trying to comfort, trying to help. As much as Carbine wanted to lean into his Cassette? The pain was so severe it didn't do much of anything but enact a verbal response.
Carbine's spine contorted upright as he threw his shoulders and head back, letting out a static laced screech of despair and pain. The sound was inhuman on all points, not only was there the mechanical glitches that surged through it, but there was also a savage sort of noise. It was as if Bolo himself was screaming as well, the hound's vocals twining and lacing with Carbine's into this disjointed mutilation of beast, mech, and machine. The sound echoed across the barren landscape, adding that much more of a haunting dimension to it. It was part way through this cry, when his grief had plummeted to new levels, that part of his long dormant cop protocols finally kicked online.
A sobering rush surged through him, a feeling he didn't particularly like as it ripped and clawed at his emotions to tear huge chunks out of them. He SHOULD be alarmed. He SHOULD be stressed. He SHOULD be despair riddled and he SHOULD be in grief as Thunder was likely dead! But no... no... panic couldn't let him do anything of use, and the numbing flow that rushed over his processor? Took the edge off. The programming was meant to keep a cops' head cool under stress to still process things analytically. He hated it, it felt like a chunk of his emotions were hacked away, and as such, he took in a shuddered wheeze into his vents, before finally moving.
Carbine's aching frame trembled; hands placing on Thunder's chest again for balance as he pushed himself upright with feet planted on either side of the jet's hips. His legs wavered a bit, struggling, as a few new scrapes and heavy dings were slammed and slapped across his shins. The top edge of both peds were sheered and scraped so badly it was nothing but barren metal that welled with beads of Energon atop its surface. His feet had likely drug on the ground during the part of the crash Thunder carved a ravine. This was possibly only one of likely many other injuries he wasn't conscious of yet. But despite his wobbling limbs, he moved off of Thunder to kneel down at his side, starting an attempt to act productively. His hands cupped together, and began digging and clawing into the snow, trying to tear and scoop it off of his partner's frame as his panic started to claw at the override, threatening a gradual buildup of dread once more.
Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead - Don't be Dead