(no subject)
I've not really been paying attention to whatever the Hunter Biden trial is but an article caught my attention. I just sort of quietly assumed that Republicans were probably gloating about the guilty verdicts. It didn't even occur to me how it would undercut the narrative they've been spinning about the justice system being weaponized against by Biden against Trump. Alleged inside sources are apparently saying that Hunter being found guilty has interrupted their fundraising plans and maybe it's just the disastrous state of the world right now but I swear this is one of the funniest things I've ever heard.
ETA: Whoops! Forgot it's Wednesday! I got the prompt "scream" last week and really struggled with it for some reason. BUT here, at last, is something I managed to squeak out:
Sonar comes to life in the midst of bright lights and a cacophony of sounds that her processor, newly online and already straining, is at a loss to make sense of. She blinks her eyes at the behest of the creature that lives somewhere beneath her conscious mind to little avail. Her chest feels tight and the feeling only deepens as her body tries to decide whether she needs to breathe. It doesn't seem as though it could make anything worse, breathing, so she grasps at the proper protocols to suck air deep into her belly.
Whether she needs it is something still to be determined but it does help, soothing that beast inside. She lets the air back out in a series of wet coughs and the way it jostles her seems to knock something into place and the visual input starts to make sense. The first thing she sees is a blur, a glare against glass; she is in a tube, viscous fluid clinging to the sides even as it drains through a grate at her feet.
Her feet...
A sort of hissing rattle and a sharp scrape draw her attention to the left before she's finished processing the sight below her. She focuses beyond the glass. There, another tube with another occupant. Another mech, her sluggish processor supplies. Another one like me. A hideous thing, garish and unnatural. Still it perks a predatory instinct inside her and her core programming puts the pieces together and registers it as some kind of bug. Prey.
She shakes her head, snorting and shuddering, trying to banish the thought. She can feel her-- blood? no, mech fluid. She can feel her mech fluid running hot and ready through her limbs. She snorts again, snarls, tries breathing again and it helps a little. Her mind wanders elsewhere but how can she think clearly with all the racket from the right? She looks that way and finds yet another tube with yet another occupant.
Monkey, she pulls from her index even though this mech is hardly any less an abomination than the bug. It doesn't awaken the predator within her, at least, but still it lights a fire within her. It is screeching and clawing at its tube, breaking only occasionally to throw itself at the glass, which doesn't so much as splinter.
And there, standing before its tube, is a huge mech, just as garish yet with the poise to pull it off, that simply looks at it with a smile that makes Sonar feel like prey. Without thinking, she, too, slams against the wall of her tube, deep-seated rage barking out of her. The mech turns that smile on her, almost doting, and she snaps her jaws right up against the glass.
She presses her hands to it, too, and that's when she realizes she has too many. She looks down at herself again, this time taking in the mismatch of colors and parts. Bat, the creature inside tells her, but her processor still cannot make sense of the visual input.
The noise dies down suddenly and the mech outside steps closer. This she notices only peripherally, her battle analysis whirring away automatically as her processor clears. Her attention is arrested by the blobs of color on the glass in front of her. Slowly, so slowly she could almost believe she's imagining it, it begins to register as her reflection.
Her claws curl against the glass.
"If we're quite through?" the mech outside says in cultured, condescending tones that drag her attention from the dawning horror of what she sees reflected back at her. The monkey growls and hits the glass again and she sees that he's drooped to the floor of his tube, exhausted, heaving as he, too, discovers breathing. The mech outside smiles wider. "Still some kinks to work out," he goes on as he casts a connoisseur's eye across the three of them. "But I think we can call this latest batch a success."
He seems to be speaking to himself more so than to any of them but the bug chitters a questioning noise, then makes a series of beeps before it finds its voice enough ask, "Sir?"
The mech purrs and strokes the reptilian head that makes up his right arm.
"You may call me Megatron-- Lord Megatron," he says, strutting before them. "I have created you three for a great purpose, yes."
The bug chitters again and presses up to the glass, enraptured. The monkey snarls. Sonar focuses on Megatron like a laser, staring out at him past her own hideous reflection. She sucks in more air but this, it seems, is beyond breathing exercises and all it does is stoke that fire inside.
"You," she says, voice rough with interference, "created us?"
Megatron puffs himself up like it's something to be proud of. "Indeed--"
"You," and she focuses back on her reflection now, "created me."
His smiling finally dropping at being interrupted, Megatron huffs and steps closer, right in front of her. Looking at her. She can feel the attention of the other two upon her just as if their eyes her burrowing right through her and that fire crackles.
Focusing once more beyond the glass, Sonar's face twist up in her rage and her claws squeal against the glass. Megatron's shoulders go stiff, just for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak.
Sonar doesn't give him the chance. Her body coils, prepared for a fight, and she sucks in another breath. This time, it triggers her battle protocols and something in her gut seizes, holding it tight. Her reflection and Megatron's countenance beyond it seem almost to be the same thing in the continued muddle of her processor.
"You... You did this to me!"
The air trapped in her gut compresses as her battle protocols initiate a command: Scream.
Just need to figure out how to marry this bit to the conclusion I already wrote and I'm gold! Maybe the next prompt I get will do it for me? Lol. Anyhow, you all know the game :)
ETA: Whoops! Forgot it's Wednesday! I got the prompt "scream" last week and really struggled with it for some reason. BUT here, at last, is something I managed to squeak out:
Sonar comes to life in the midst of bright lights and a cacophony of sounds that her processor, newly online and already straining, is at a loss to make sense of. She blinks her eyes at the behest of the creature that lives somewhere beneath her conscious mind to little avail. Her chest feels tight and the feeling only deepens as her body tries to decide whether she needs to breathe. It doesn't seem as though it could make anything worse, breathing, so she grasps at the proper protocols to suck air deep into her belly.
Whether she needs it is something still to be determined but it does help, soothing that beast inside. She lets the air back out in a series of wet coughs and the way it jostles her seems to knock something into place and the visual input starts to make sense. The first thing she sees is a blur, a glare against glass; she is in a tube, viscous fluid clinging to the sides even as it drains through a grate at her feet.
Her feet...
A sort of hissing rattle and a sharp scrape draw her attention to the left before she's finished processing the sight below her. She focuses beyond the glass. There, another tube with another occupant. Another mech, her sluggish processor supplies. Another one like me. A hideous thing, garish and unnatural. Still it perks a predatory instinct inside her and her core programming puts the pieces together and registers it as some kind of bug. Prey.
She shakes her head, snorting and shuddering, trying to banish the thought. She can feel her-- blood? no, mech fluid. She can feel her mech fluid running hot and ready through her limbs. She snorts again, snarls, tries breathing again and it helps a little. Her mind wanders elsewhere but how can she think clearly with all the racket from the right? She looks that way and finds yet another tube with yet another occupant.
Monkey, she pulls from her index even though this mech is hardly any less an abomination than the bug. It doesn't awaken the predator within her, at least, but still it lights a fire within her. It is screeching and clawing at its tube, breaking only occasionally to throw itself at the glass, which doesn't so much as splinter.
And there, standing before its tube, is a huge mech, just as garish yet with the poise to pull it off, that simply looks at it with a smile that makes Sonar feel like prey. Without thinking, she, too, slams against the wall of her tube, deep-seated rage barking out of her. The mech turns that smile on her, almost doting, and she snaps her jaws right up against the glass.
She presses her hands to it, too, and that's when she realizes she has too many. She looks down at herself again, this time taking in the mismatch of colors and parts. Bat, the creature inside tells her, but her processor still cannot make sense of the visual input.
The noise dies down suddenly and the mech outside steps closer. This she notices only peripherally, her battle analysis whirring away automatically as her processor clears. Her attention is arrested by the blobs of color on the glass in front of her. Slowly, so slowly she could almost believe she's imagining it, it begins to register as her reflection.
Her claws curl against the glass.
"If we're quite through?" the mech outside says in cultured, condescending tones that drag her attention from the dawning horror of what she sees reflected back at her. The monkey growls and hits the glass again and she sees that he's drooped to the floor of his tube, exhausted, heaving as he, too, discovers breathing. The mech outside smiles wider. "Still some kinks to work out," he goes on as he casts a connoisseur's eye across the three of them. "But I think we can call this latest batch a success."
He seems to be speaking to himself more so than to any of them but the bug chitters a questioning noise, then makes a series of beeps before it finds its voice enough ask, "Sir?"
The mech purrs and strokes the reptilian head that makes up his right arm.
"You may call me Megatron-- Lord Megatron," he says, strutting before them. "I have created you three for a great purpose, yes."
The bug chitters again and presses up to the glass, enraptured. The monkey snarls. Sonar focuses on Megatron like a laser, staring out at him past her own hideous reflection. She sucks in more air but this, it seems, is beyond breathing exercises and all it does is stoke that fire inside.
"You," she says, voice rough with interference, "created us?"
Megatron puffs himself up like it's something to be proud of. "Indeed--"
"You," and she focuses back on her reflection now, "created me."
His smiling finally dropping at being interrupted, Megatron huffs and steps closer, right in front of her. Looking at her. She can feel the attention of the other two upon her just as if their eyes her burrowing right through her and that fire crackles.
Focusing once more beyond the glass, Sonar's face twist up in her rage and her claws squeal against the glass. Megatron's shoulders go stiff, just for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak.
Sonar doesn't give him the chance. Her body coils, prepared for a fight, and she sucks in another breath. This time, it triggers her battle protocols and something in her gut seizes, holding it tight. Her reflection and Megatron's countenance beyond it seem almost to be the same thing in the continued muddle of her processor.
"You... You did this to me!"
The air trapped in her gut compresses as her battle protocols initiate a command: Scream.
Just need to figure out how to marry this bit to the conclusion I already wrote and I'm gold! Maybe the next prompt I get will do it for me? Lol. Anyhow, you all know the game :)