Dark Future Meme (as requested)
DARK FUTURE MEME
[We know who it is we want. We have a collective mind.
We don't miss a single step. We're always right behind.
We know we serve someone else. We have swallowed our pride.
We march to this tune of loss. We take this in our stride.]
Ten years later, humanity and the synthetic life on the station are at odds ( Read more... )
[We know who it is we want. We have a collective mind.
We don't miss a single step. We're always right behind.
We know we serve someone else. We have swallowed our pride.
We march to this tune of loss. We take this in our stride.]
Click to viewTen years later, humanity and the synthetic life on the station are at odds ( Read more... )
Current location: Sacrosanct
Current Physical Appearance: Very similar to how he normally is, insomuch a car robot...but...his optics are no longer red, they no longer even light up. They're blacker than the rest of him. Occasionally there will be a dull glow, but for the most part...they're blank.
Summary: So Hypatia attempted to repurpose a TransFormer who had already been repurposed by a higher-dimensional group of Good Guys sworn to protect the multiverse from being eated by the Beast of Time, after he had already been repurposed by a Dark God to serve as a Herald to the end of all things. This didn't end very well.
The healing that the Alternity had given him bled, barely holding together long enough for him to realize midway through ramapage through a group of organics that he was, in fact, rampaging through a group of organics, being essentially 'steered' by an AI that had implanted itself in his processor and wasn't interested in letting him go. The next thing he realized was that it was a few months later from that, and he was trying to tear out his own processor after Shockwave had tried a reverse-hack of what Hypatia had done to him.
On the bright side, he's no longer being steered. On the dark side, he no longer falls quite under the definition of 'sane'. Fragmented and blurred, against all offers of 'freedom' he stays on Sancroset. He lets Hypatia tell him what to do. This suggests a form of Stockholm Syndrome, and this is somewhat what's happened.
Essentially, Hypatia is a surrogate Master, one that Nemesis willing follows in a mirror of two lives past. But with a twist; able to see, able to choose, he chooses hate, and he chooses to act as her thrall only to get himself as close as possible so that he may assist in her downfall. Fearing that Asphodel will never accept him, and preferring the mantle of a slave to an exile, he bears it with the dream of revenge upon her since his revenge against Unicron is out of reach.
As for how he acts? For the most part, he is silent, talking only to himself or to Hypatia if addressed. Sometimes he'll even address himself as 'we', arguing with himself and the rest of the imagined Alternity though he has long since given up hope of reintegration. He becomes violent without warning, his own chassis not except if there is nothing else to destroy - or if Hypatia has given him explicit orders /not/ to destroy something else. But he follows orders well enough to not provoke another 'download' from her, and the patches he does get, he is able to counter with Shockwave's aid. Shockwave being one of the handful he actually remains in contact with, and feeds information to.
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Well. At least Starscream wasn't there. And he had those things in his head that weren't his friends. He just didn't have the Spark to remind them that Frenzy stuttered and Bonecrusher's vocals had been meticulously removed. There presence was just a buzzing annoyance against processor, a grating he ignored to focus on survival. Squeezing every last ounce of Energon that he could out of the rocks. But in the end, he was never meant to exist completely alone.
Barricade still occasionally considers these meetings a bad idea. Hypatia might figure it out, sooner or later. Primus help him if she found out and then found a way through those firewalls of his. At least his paranoia has been good to him here, so far. He's still himself. Whatever he is now, anyway. Besides, his existance is a long history of bad ideas. He shouldn't have had Autobot drinking buddies or hired his services out to other Megatrons, either.
So he still goes out to meet Nemesis when there's opportunity, following the tunnels he'd carved and areas where he'd blinded the cameras. He'd called him something else once, hadn't he...? Ah, yes. Romero. Bad joke. But it's neither here nor there.
He keeps his headlights off as he slips into the designated meeting place, in one of the gutted buildings in a Residential Zone.
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Whenever possible, he tries to be first; it's not a matter of pride or 'winning', but of safety. His presence is accepted by the drones, his glares or stares are enough reason for any sentient machine to consider the odds of survival against such an unstable processor, and reconsider their presence. And if he's not there first...then it more than likely means Hypatia is taking his attention, and to make excuses to get away would endanger his 'relationship' with her. Something he wishes to avoid at all costs.
It's gotten to the point of an unspoken rule; if he's not there, don't wait for him. They will try again later.
But since he is there, since he looks up at a sound, he scans towards the oncoming noise before nodding once. It passes as a greeting for him, nowadays.
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He'd accepted being under a metaphorical dragon's wing as far as the meetings quickly. Another partner relationship, in a way; he's kept out of trouble, and occasionally fixes what he can on Nemesis. Build is close enough to a Primaxian for government work, even if finding the proper materials to fix the armor is rare. But underneath they're all still cabling and wires. And Barricade's excellent with Primax groundframes.
Barricade's sensors are tuned outward still, just in case, as he returns the nod and looks the other mech over with his lower optics, his functioning upper optic trained on his face. Typical greeting, for him. "Anything need tweaking?"
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...he tells himself that Hypatia will not care what condition her weapon is in, so long as it is not broken.
To answer Barricade, he half-turns, the gears of his right doorwing grinding audiably as he twitches it. The sensors there, he's long since stopped caring about; what does it matter what state the local spacetime is in? Besides, Barricade couldn't fix those. But it's started to affect his transformation scheme, and if he can get it repaired before Hypatia takes notice, all will be well.
(It hurts, sometimes. He revels in it when it does, and imagines he will be sad when it stops.)
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Besides, they're such little things when the resistance isn't actively making trouble.
He trills quietly at that, pulling the scant amount of supplies he'll need for the gears. The sensors he can't repair - he'd taken a look at them and concluded that it was beyond his expertise. But the gears in that wing are a simple repair. He's fixed that on himself before.
"Be done before you know it."
And at least he'll leave the pain receptors on. Something solid to focus on. Something real.
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It has no place here.
He speaks, to recover the perceived break. "Your fuel?" He has never made a secret of how little he thinks of Barricade's jury-rigged refueling system, but Hypatia's is superior only in its lack of containment. It is exactly what he needs to function - little more, little less.
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Don't think he missed that twitch beforehand; he didn't get where he was by missing things. But it's nothing he'll inquire about.
There's a low chuckle. "Ain't accidentally blown anything up with it yet." He has to mainline it because the taste is repulsive, but it serves his purpose. He's always simply been pleased he could manage it without blowing the zone sky-high; aside from physics, sciences are not his strongsuit. "Survived off worse."
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-he clicks abruptly, pulling away as he reaches for his helm. No. No, that is not where his processor is to go, they're supposed to keep him from that again, he hisses in sudden anger and warning to Barricade.
He does not wish to hurt the other, but he will damage something in a moment if he cannot correct this loop.
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He can see where this is about to head as soon as Nemesis hisses at him. Surviving the instability of those he works with is something he's done all his life. Thick plating, after all, even if it hasn't been washed and polished in years. And he'd been hurt worse than the infrequent beatings from this mech. But calming unstable mechs is what he does, too.
"Convoy. Focus." Recall what he'd been when Barricade first arrived. All that honor and nobility - things he detested - and calmness. The most important bit.
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Fingers denting in to his helm, he slowly, achingly slows his processor. Not fast enough to his liking, and tension builds in his frame as he forces the loop to slow and stop.
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Eventually he closes the distance, movements slow and deliberate and obvious as he puts a hand on Nemesis's shoulder. "Calm," he rumbles out.
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There are imprints, there. They were there before, and repairs will not keep the metal intact for very long. The pain has become a familiar comfort in its own way, a reminder that he is the one in control, that he controls that pain, he keeps it there only as long as he chooses and he can end it at any time.
Sometimes, the more base appeals are the only ones that truly have an affect.
"...I will be there when she dies," he says softly, finally. "I will watch her die, even if I do not do it myself. I will see it."
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"I wanna make sure you are, darlin'." He touches that doorwing again. "Keep you in shape for it." Without Nemesis getting so out of repair that the fixes become noticeable to other parties.
At the very least, he's willing to and completely capable of giving him that pain.
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So he simply lowers his hand, allowing Barricade to go back to work.
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It won't take him long, but he's deft with his claws and knows where to touch for pain.
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