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Post by smokedtoast on Oct 18, 2015 20:50:57 GMT -5
Roadwild sat in the same chair she had been for the last few weeks at this time, one eye watching the readings of the stasis tank holding her protector Streetwise. The other eye kept watch on the entrance to the room, trigger finger itchy as she couldn't help but hope for the one to do this to walk their way in. She was no medic, there was little she could do to help her friend, encased in a bizarre half transformative state as he was. What little she understood from the doctors was the fact he had been partially transformed into a Transmetal. Just enough to cause issues, force his body to struggle just to keep going due to the conflicting tissues and empidermis. It should have been her. She was expendable, at least in her own mind. Years of arguments between her fathers had left her with... issues about her existance. Prowl would always talk about the improbability that Roadwild was his daughter, despite her obviously inherited traits. Even as she noted that Deva was in a similar condition next door... She hadn't been there, not in the same room anyways. Streetwise had stepped in the path to protect her. It wasn't worth the harm... She barely managed to catch herself from nodding off, even as she started to rub her face in frustration. She was so tired of it all. Losing friends, losing family... gaining family... then losing friends again. Being a Neo Stunticon was becoming more then she could handle. She barely even acknowledged the small koala/skunk fuzor who watched from the hallway. Salsa grimaced to herself before walking down the hallway to Deva's room. This was getting frustrating on her end as well, a lot of the staff was being run ragged trying to find solutions to the problems they were dealing with. Especially in departments they weren't initially hired in, such as the young man that for all intents and purposes was Deva's brother in the next room. Salsa looked in carefully to check Felis's progress on his work, not wanting to disturb him.
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Post by artemisprime on Oct 19, 2015 13:21:02 GMT -5
"Felis" meant "Luck" in Old High Cybertronian. Times, he was "lucky" he wasn't stuck with the stigma that, other than some colouration patterns and the pair of useless stumps for wings, he inherited only his aptitude for the sciences from his coder. He defaulted to believing that somehow, through Quark's constant that all data is saved and repurposed, perhaps his coder's ex-conjunx endura was in fact his true coder, which would explain everything all neat and tidy. And his carrier was blessedly supportive of that hypothesis, soon after explaining to a young Felis, then called Azgyr because his carrier thought the syllables sounded awesome together (note: never let her name anything), what exactly a "hate frag" was.
That...was a strange childhood.
His post-grad was in quantum mechanics, though his interest lay with sparkborne afflictions caused by external stimuli, specifically those by transwarp and fold engines in deep space travel -- his research regarding Transmetal mutations earned him a position with the Department of Health. But when Starscream rose to power, Felis, begrudgingly, ended up in the private sector, though with a clause in his contract: if a company wanted him so badly, they'd have to deal with any and all findings be open source and free to the public. Deva Corp were the only ones willing to take on his terms.
The first order of business was to figure out Streetwise's affliction. First round: deduce that the Transmetal had not contracted the mode-lock virus. While the Cybertronian reformat had taken care of it on a pandemic level, there were still pockets of resilient strains, mostly targeting those with low-yield spark signatures. A reformatting agent would be the simplest test to whether or not that was the case -- on paper, it had no adverse health-related side effects -- but Felis shared his carrier's feelings on the matter: reformatting should be a choice made by those of sound mind, unless there is no other way to save the spark. It was a last-case scenario where he'd recommend the reformat. It did not follow the same symptoms of mode-lock -- the mistransformation and Transmetal were clues -- which meant it was Something Else. And trying to get information out of Streetwise's grieving friend was...less than qualified...in explaining what happened, other than "she got in the way of the blast." What blast? What happened? Was it a weapon, a discharge? Was it from an engine? Was it intentional? Was it old tech? New? Autobot, Decepticon, Predacon, Maximal, Legion, non-Cybertronian? It wasn't Roadwild's fault: non-scientists weren't trained to observe the entire scene, were not expected to divorce their feelings.
Hard as that could be.
Felis reached for his juice box, sucked on an empty straw, and cursed. The vending machine was down the hall, and the management had vetoed his request for one in his lab so that he did not have to pull himself away from his work, as well as allowing a refrigeration unit for his own drinks (wouldn't want to mix up consumables with project samples, after all.)
His comm buzzed; he ignored it. There was too much to do.
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Post by smokedtoast on Oct 19, 2015 19:42:25 GMT -5
Salsa watched silently for a moment, unsure if there was anything she could do to help. After some thought, she checked her credits before heading down to the vending machine, noting for reference exactly what kind of juice box Felis was using. If she couldn't give any kind of helpful scientific support... she might as well give some refreshment support.
She passed a pair of Seekers on her way, the other two immediate aids to Felis's current department at the moment. Curse slid document after document across his datapad in deep thought as he and the one only known as Intern headed into the room. Something about all of this bugged him in a way he couldn't explain. Well, he could explain what was bugging him really. No one else was talking about it, but the feline maximal that had attacked Streetwise and Deva had been spotted in a high speed chase shortly after the attack. This wouldn't be neccessarily news except it happened in Iacon, quite a distance from Necropolis, the undead city where they had been attacked. Practically on the other side of Civilization, really.
But he was his father's son and knew that could be explained with an outlier teleporter or other device. "Felis." He spoke up promptly, setting his datapad nearby. "We've completed our analysis of the crime scene... whoever did this planned this all too well. Necropolis's natural nannite swarm had eliminated almost all traces of what had done this." He left the way he had phrased it hang in the air, awaiting his boss's command.
Intern however seemed to have no such qualms in the matter. "These kids nowaday, no one updates their security firmware Boss. Just fiddlin with their phones." He managed to mutter, glancing over his own notes. While Ion Storm was no idiot... his outlier powers of EM manipulation has left his brain more then a little addled since become a beast former. That he managed to latch onto the name Intern showed some sense of regret for the old days at least.
Salsa meanwhile came back, entering the room with a number of juice boxes in hand. "Refreshments ho, if anyone wants one."
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Post by artemisprime on Oct 21, 2015 20:26:18 GMT -5
"Of course they would take full advantage of the swarm. Why wouldn't they? Perfect dumping ground, the Necropolis. Neecropolis? I wish they'd just pick a pronunciation and stick with it. Huh." Inspiration struck, and while he had no reason to doubt the corporation's intentions, there could still be spies throughout the building, especially of the political kind.
<<Curse, get me what you can of Gorlam Prime,>> Felis ordered through their trine link. As much as he hated to rely on it -- yet another inherited reminder to his true coder, but it had its uses. <<Do what you can without blowing our cover.>> There had to be something there; Gorlam Prime was a world on the cusp of technorganic matter. If they had a virus or bacteria similar to this odd Transmetal affliction. But Gorlam Prime was classified, due to its connection with the Dead Universe. And that could be the connection.
<<Intern, I need you to focus. Flood the primary servers with requests for pre-War viruses, down to the code sequence, while Curse does his job.>>
He was deep in thought, but was in the present long enough to give Salsa a nod of thanks, picking on of the boxes and removing out the straw.
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Post by smokedtoast on Oct 25, 2015 22:09:14 GMT -5
<<On it commander.>> Curse responded, in a tone that was less then expressive. One of the problems of having parents with recessive 'drone' genes was the fact it sometimes left Curse... submissive. For all the moralistic implications of his response however, Curse manages to do his job well. There were records of shipments to Gorlam Prime that had been hijacked by the race only known collectively as Space Pirates. Another race on the cusp of techno-organic matter though much more parasitic in nature. There had been news reports about the energy signatures from their ships showing up briefly on cybertron in previous cycles. At least one report followed an explosion on the outskirts of Iacon that destroyed a classified government facility. There wasn't much to be gained from the system on what was going on inside, but said explosion had destroyed whatever evidence had remained. And too many in the Councils seemed to want to blame each other for the incident, rather then look for answers. There are more classified documents populating as well, though Curse doesn't have the clearance to access them even with his inteligence and scientific prowess. However... they at least had names populating. Ridley. Blot. Mindwipe. Just to name a few. All sharing the names of known combiner components for the new generation of Combiners that had been in conflict until recently. None that he had a hand in building mind you, these were all known combatants. This seemed to catch Interns attention, even as he followed Felis's instructions in flooding the servers. <<Felis, Them be a set of lab rats over there. Medical should have records, I remember we had to clean them out.>> He added his two cents, even as he gathers his own information. Taking a little bit of creative initiative, he broadens his own spectrum to look for any non-cybertronian originating viruses known to be compatible with their physiology. Salsa nodded back, setting down the tray carefully and considered the data on the screen.
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Post by artemisprime on Nov 8, 2015 18:31:22 GMT -5
<<Intern, secure those records. Curse, what do you have for me?>> Felis had his carrier's patience when sparks were on the line. And he had a bad feeling this virus was manufactured and designed --
Something -- shimmered, for lack of a better word -- across his spark-sense, probing, pinging --
<<Curse, situation.>> He did not want to alarm Salsa, and maintained the neutral, calm exterior. <<There's a sparktracker here. Crosscheck the personnel dosier of known spark-borne outliers in the facility, and their whereabouts, before jumping to conclusions. Find out if there's any visitors logged into the system.>> He didn't have time to deal with attacks from within right now. Too many sparks were already on the line.
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Post by smokedtoast on Nov 8, 2015 19:18:43 GMT -5
<On it!> Intern replied, tracking down the medical records with a quick sweep of recent records.
<Operative Intern is correct Felis. All recent interactions with materials from Gorlam prime, physical materials or other have been of an experimental nature.> Curse responded, taking a quick glance through the records that Intern provided. <Subgroup Neo Terrorcons have had contact with energy transmissions relating to the planet though access is limited. Each had to be personally purged of any residue infections per notes left by Great War Veteran Brainstorm. Energy emissions however are consistant with readings during the last few Combiner Conflicts. Other readings have been populating on surface, for brief moments though this phenonenom has increased since the destruction of the facility.>
Intern piped in again. <Also getting reports of Space Pirates exhibiting transformative abilities on par with our race Felis... Think they're making knockoffs. Course, gotta wonder what that would do to our kind...> He postulates, glancing up at Streetwise thoughtfully. <If they know how to make us, they could figure out how to break us.> He stops at Felis's further request.
Curse rubbed his chin as he switched gears bringing up Outliers registered inside the facility. <Outliers currently identified include us, Kamikaze, Trailbreaker the 2nd. Both are showing up near the roof... though Kamikaze is closest, currently leaving a shuttle with other unidentified Outliers. He has been trying to hail you for the last few nano-cycles as well I have noticed. Since he started, one of the outliers has taken off from the group and is heading our way.>
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Post by artemisprime on Nov 8, 2015 20:03:58 GMT -5
<<It's got to be there. Procure those records and compare them with data we have. Call in favours if you must. If we can find a way to halt and reverse this virus -- fragging hell, I'll do it myself. Need to take a walk. Whoever the tracker is, he's loud. I can't concentrate.>> He finished his juice box, tossed it in the waste bin, and pushed away from the console. "I need to head to the archives," he admitted, giving a nod to Salsa. "There might be something there from the Axalon and Tripredacus records."
Unidentified outliers? Though if with Kami, then likely friendlies. Likely. Kami did have a habit, inherited from their shared parent (Felis by biology, Kami by choice), of picking up strays, regardless of faction or threat.
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Post by striker on Nov 8, 2015 20:16:14 GMT -5
There was a knock on the door to Streetwise's room, jarring Roadwild out of any sort of slump of thought. Stepping into the room Socketrunner held out a can of Kremzeek, the first cybertronian "soft drink" (they had it for millions of years before Prime and his team went to earth, just after that contact, and now the transorganic shift, foodstuffs had a wider variety, mimicking their fleshy friends), "You look thirsty" she said, smiling
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Post by smokedtoast on Dec 14, 2015 0:01:19 GMT -5
Salsa nodded in response. "Alright Felis. If there's anything I can do, just let me know. I still have a few cycles with nothing to do at the moment." She replies, following him briefly as she heads back to the soft drink machine. It's hard not to say what she was really thinking, that Deva wouldn't want him to overwork himself for her. The last dozen years had given her more time to grow and move away from what she had once been, but Deva still didn't think much of herself after all. Intern has a sudden sense of shock as he finally found his way into the file. The others can feel it vibrate off of him for a moment as he struggles to choose his words. ~Felis... they were infected with Amalgois. They were riddled with dead people. We didn't even clean everyone who was infected, but Council Member Prowl had convinced the others it was worth keeping under wraps. Largely because they left the planet.~ Curse responded abruptly. ~The Seacon Pirates most likely... you'd think it'd be the Cons not wanting it to get out though, wouldn't you? Not any of the Autobots likely to be behind that...~ It's a small thing, but Curse's ignorance about the origin of the Dead Universe's energies show his lack of knowledge of his heritage. ************* Roadwild weakly pushed herself up in response to the sound of the opening door. It took her a moment to realize it was Socket as she rubbed her face. "Verily Sockey... I... What time is it?" She finally asks as she made her way over, taking the drink and sipping it. Since she had been rejuvenated into her current form... Socketrunner had never seen Roadwile looking so ragged. Which was saying things considering how crazy and manic her friend had been. "Is my shift over already?" The question seemed more out of fear for a yes then the relief it might bring. Roadwild had always looked after the other Neo Stunticons in her own way... even Socket with her unusual inception into the group. Even before it had happened, to be honest.
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Post by artemisprime on Dec 15, 2015 22:52:21 GMT -5
<<Amalgois. Wonderful.>> An afterthought: "Oh. Thank you, Salsa. Apologies. I'm...focused." And distracted; Feliswas still picking up someone pinging via sparksense, and it was coming closer, and, upon further contemplation, untrained. Ecolocation?
<<Okay, we need to connect this. Intern, we need to introduce antiviruses. Dark Universe reports...damn,we'reback at looking for restricted access reports. Brainstorm had extensive research of the subject, but they're likely under careful watch. But we need the formula to his anti-fatality drug.>> Another ping, this one closer.
Now emotions wereradiating: curiosity. Inquiry. "Are there any sparkling research projects scheduled today?" he demanded aloud.
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Post by striker on Dec 17, 2015 20:24:36 GMT -5
"You're in a recovery room, 'Wild." Socket smiled, sitting down and gently pushing her back against the pillows, "lay back, relax" She whispered softly, "You need to recover." she sounded tired, worried
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Post by smokedtoast on Dec 20, 2015 16:02:28 GMT -5
Salsa glanced down at her datapad in deep thought. "Not so much research projects... I do see we have a health check for a few of the self-inflicted sparklings from the Council Incident, next level up." She pauses for a moment, blinking. "I'm actually surprised, it seems like it was moved up in the last cycle or so. Has the Council's approval as well as Striker's on it..." Intern nodded, loading up the anti-viruses they had on hand. ~If it is amalgois... It might be worth attending the meeting scheduled upstairs Felis. I see that at least one of said former patients is in attendance, Prowl's throwaways...~ There's a slight sensation of pain from Intern as he's punched by Curse. ~We don't talk about kids like that.~ Curse responded, one of the few triggers that brought him out of his drone-like behaviors was the dismissal of spawn, wether they were wanted or not. He did not have the happiest relationship with his own seeker coder. ~I'm trying to see if I can find the records we had on hand Felis. Someone had to have had access to them on the grounds, or at least capable of formulating a facisimile. Otherwise Cutthroat would be reeking of the energy by now.~ Intern rubbed his arm in response and added. ~It may not be a circumstance... I bet my credits we're in the middle of stage 2 of plan 1 then stage 1 of a new plan for whatever's going on. They never did find a body for the mastermind of the recent combiner wars Felis... be careful.~ ***************************** Roadwild tensed for a moment as Socketrunner pushed her back into the chairs... but she relented when it dawned on her that Socket looked as tired as herself. "Ok, ok... but then you take a seat too." She responded, patting the chair next to her. For all of the problems Socket's personality has gotten her into, one couldn't argue she didn't act with her heart instead of her brain. "You look like how I feel... you haven't been keeping watch outside, have you?" She asked with an amused expression. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself..."
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Post by artemisprime on Dec 21, 2015 12:07:17 GMT -5
A couple levels up, a curious dark grey sparkling dragging a well-loved Insecticon plushie behind them, wandered the halls, nose sniffing all the new smells. Some were sharp, arid scents of the liquids and ointments Uncle Hoist used whenever someone got hurt; others were like when Teebs got creative in the galley.
Bedlam wandered into a dark room, following the latter smell; they had inherited their carrier's fondness for new tastes. It led to a desk, where an unwrapped takeaway selenium salami sandwich sat, abandoned. Uncle Gears had a habit of leaving half-finished food about the ship, though he also had a habit of baiting the sparkling, and would jump out to spook Bedlam.
Pinging the shadows, they assured themself that no one was going to jump out, and climbed onto the chair.
"This is good?" They questioned, standing in the chair. "I want this."
A petite felinoid with insectoid characteristics, including a pair of dark blue bioluminiscent wings, just so happened to walk by the door, paused, and turned on the light.
"Ow!" Bedlam exclaimed, shielding their optics.
'You shouldn't be here,' the orderly chided gently, approaching the desk. 'Why aren't you in the classroom?'
'Classroom' was a term Uncle Hoist used when it was time to learn. 'Classroom' was a small, otherwise unused hab decorated in glyphs and pictures that Uncle Grapple and Uncle 'Raj had picked out, painted in bright colours and stewn with toys. But that was back at the ship; they were on an adventure now, outside the ship! Didn't this lady know that?
'I'm on an adventure,' Bedlam countered, then held out the stuffed animal. 'Bob and me are looking for something.'
'Well,' the orderly put her hands on her hips, 'You shouldn't be out without adult supervision. What is your designation?'
'Dez-ig-na-shun.' They sounded out the word, then, to the space next to the orderly, informed, 'No, she's my friend.'
The orderly was not fazed by the sparkling's order; imaginary friends were common at such a young age, especially if they had been in quarantine or isolation. 'I am your friend, yes. My designation is Flit. What is yours?'
'Flit. Oh!' Bedlam laughed; sandwich forgotten, they scooted off the chair and approached. 'You're Flit! I'm Bedlam!' They then held up the stuffed animal. 'This is Bob.'
Flit went through her datapad to see which room Bedlam was assigned to, but could not find a listing for the sparkling. This...was unusual. Normally the Deva Corp record keeping was immaculate. 'Well,' Flit shook her head, 'I don't see where either you or Bob are on my list.'
'We just got here,' Bedlam was losing interest with this discussion, and, sniffing the air again, brushed passed the orderly. 'Bye!'
'Oh, please wait!' Flit went after the large sparkling. 'Really, you shouldn't be wandering the halls unsupervised.'
'Bob and Unca 'Raj are with me,' Bedlam reminded, and continued on their way.
===
An alert buzzed from Felis's comm, this one an internal communique, marked high. One of the sparkling orderlies; word must have gotten out about his query.
'Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt,' Flit apologised when he answered, 'but I've come across an unidentified sparkling roaming the halls. Likely two or three stels.'
'And you were unable to apprehend him?'
'Erm...no, sir. Protocol dictates we cannot directly intervene with a sparkling without - '
' - consent of creator or guardian, or without full disclosure of case study. I know.' But now they had visual. 'We'll take over from here, Flit; thank you.'
Ending the comm, he reached across the trine connection. <<Orderly Flit has visual of the roamer; I'm going to find out what's going on. Can the two of you handle the vaccine research for now? I shouldn't be too long.>>
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Post by striker on Dec 21, 2015 17:07:52 GMT -5
Unca 'Raj was checking out the sandwich, hands behind his back, *Hmm. Selenium salami… with chromium cheddar, some manganese mustard, lithium lettuce, tin-plated turkey bacon, and … tomato* he appraised the meal, *On rhodium rye, no seeds. Well, it is snack-time for the little one so--*
The sandwich started to float off the desk it was kept on, bobbing lightly up and down as it made its way for the exit.
Also, Flit got a light pinch to her bottom. = = = = Socket blushed, smiling at Roadwild and sipping at her own Kreemzeek, sitting down in one of the chair with a soft groan, "Of course I have." She blushed, "You got hurt... like Hell I'm letting someone come after you when you're trying to re-coup." she muttered, leaning her head on 'Wild's shoulder.
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