singularityderp | Dark Future Meme (as requested)

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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
Hypatia has inducted as many citizens of Sacrosanct into a private military and launched
an all-out war against organic life and the people of Asphodel.
Some were kept on the station as captives, some escaped down planet-side
to become part of the resistance, and countless others were re-purposed into
Hypatia's willing slaves.

Where will you be?

How this works:
-If you are synthetic or part-synthetic, OR if you have special armor (Looking at you, Spartans, Troncast, EVERY ROBOT EVER) you are a target for re-purpose.
You can still have escaped down to the planet, but she'll be after you. Going to the station is dangerous, once you enter her wide-area-network you are at risk of being hacked
-If you are fully organic, you are either dead, kept prisoner and made to work on the station, or part of the resistance on Asphodel.
-Anything in-between? You decide. Be creative with this.
-Fill out the form below to give us an idea of what your character is up to, what happened to them etc. Thread with each other! RP it out!
-Also, bring in your extra journals! There won't be the same people on the station ten years from now! If you're planning to app someone, or just have something interesting lying around, toss them in!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Name: Nemesis Prime. Yes, he's going by that name now instead of Convoy.
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.

Edited 2011-06-21 06:26 (UTC)

Two years on his own had been a trial. But ten?

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.

Nemesis Prime is there first.

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.

Barricade's always known not to wait up. He wouldn't dare risk Nemesis's position in the ranks for company. The high-ups need to keep moving up. Besides, first rule of survival, twelve years in the making: keep moving. The only concession he ever made to it was his Garden Zone. Second rule is keep yourself supplied and alive.

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?"

Sometimes he wonders if Hypatia would notice the repairs, and wonder where they happened. If he would be pressed, and if so, if there would be a way to divert suspicion. He doesn't fool himself and say he'd sacrifice his mind to save Barricade; he only tells himself that if he can do so and save them both, to say nothing of the countless others this will work to, eventually...

...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.)

Barricade's dead in a thousand ways, with every 'if'. If he goes to the planet, he's dead. If he somehow gets home, he's dead. If he goes back to the Nexus, he might as well be dead. And if Hypatia catches him... he'd rip his own Spark out first. He won't be someone's pet again. He's in danger of capture, of course. But for now, he'll do what he can. If it keeps Nemesis intact long enough to do what he's trying to...

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.

It was a sacred truth, one he had held on to since first discovering it; Pain was sacred. Pain was holy. Nemesis Prime's doorwing twitches again in subtle anticipation, but he stifles the rest of any reaction.

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.

As far as Barricade's perception, pain brings truth. Everyone showed their true colors when Barricade had them on the table, under his claws. One of the few things he missed when he started doing medical work. He can keep some of that in not shutting off his patients' pain receptors, at least. He brushes one hand down the length of the doorwing and starts to work.

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."

"We'd notice, if you had. She would notice, cameras or not." He doesn't bother adding 'be careful'; it would be an insult. Barricade hasn't earned one of those yet, even if Nemesis wishes he'd get to the deep gear, where the greatest pain can be caused, let it clean and purify and-

-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.

"Know better than that," he assures. If anything goes wrong, he's dead. Another thing on the long list of destruction, but he can control this one.

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.

"Convoy is dead," comes the growl, voice grating like the gears of his doorwing. "Died with the rest of them, they left him, cut me off, lost us in our own Ragnarök-"

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.

An audible, low thrum builds in Barricade's engine, his natural reaction when trying to bring someone down. It's helped in the past with others, and now he can't help but do it. Other than that, he just waits for a while. Set amount of time +/- a little extra.

Eventually he closes the distance, movements slow and deliberate and obvious as he puts a hand on Nemesis's shoulder. "Calm," he rumbles out.

The time helps. By the time Barricade touches him, Nemesis has calm down enough so that his only reaction is a twitch, and then the slow removing of his hand from his helm.

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."

Barricade learned a while back that popping the dents from his helm was an effort in futility. Every once in a while he does it anyway, though. A small break from the constant panic that usually whirred through his processor.

"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.

He rumbles at that, somewhere between annoyed at the pet name and accepting of the sentiment. Or perhaps switched. He doesn't know, and right now, he's tired of thinking.

So he simply lowers his hand, allowing Barricade to go back to work.

It's his fallback nickname for everyone. It's just... been a while since he's used it for anyone. Too much of his old self in that. He shakes his head slightly, shifting to get back to repairing those gears.

It won't take him long, but he's deft with his claws and knows where to touch for pain.

There's no further sound from Nemesis. No growls, no signs of pain, no attempts at conversation; just one or two twitches of gears under the skilled servos of the Mustang.

For all the world, he's lost in his own.

Barricade doesn't attempt to bring him out of it. Sometimes it's just better to be somewhere else, even if it's only mentally. And for him, just the presence of real company - real, physical company, not those things that showed up when he finally snapped - is enough for him.

He doesn't even snark off about the twitches as he makes certain they can move easily and more freely than they had.

Edited 2011-06-22 22:39 (UTC)

The snarking would no doubt be returned one of two ways; utter nonreaction, or violence. Barricade's choice is far wiser, because there are sayings about poking the dragon...

When he feels Barricade finishing up - or what seems to be - Nemesis pulls himself back to reality, leaning forwards as he tests the joint. The only sound now is the normal, almost inaudible whrr of smoothly-laced machinery.

Better, he thinks, looking back at Barricade. His optics, with their lack of light and color, are all but unreadable - nuances to posture, however, suggest inquiry.

Barricade is the kind to test his limits, even with those that are extremely dangerous. But these days, it seems smarter to not prod the dragon he knows.

He draws his claws free as he finishes up, listening for that whirr. Ah, good. These old hands haven't failed him yet.

His own 'wings' flick slightly at the look. He's learned to pick up on the nuances of Nemesis's posture... though sometimes smaller ones still escape him. He quirks a tiny smile. "Might not be good as new, but should do you well, now."

A slow nod. If Barricade says it will suffice, he'll accept it. At least unless it breaks down due to damage, but...so far, any such fault has not een Barricade's own.

He almost regrets his inexperience with smalltalk at this point. It may be silly, but at least it would make it last longer.

But then, nowadays, he is poor conversation.

Barricade knows not to think that the repairs will last forever. They never do. It had made this line of work a lucrative business before; wait for the fight to die down, fix the damages, send them out to do it again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Here, it's a shred of normalcy and he's glad for it. Something to focus on.

"Nothing else pressing this go-round?" Barricade's never particularly eager to end this. And he'll try to talk enough for the both of them.

He pauses for a long moment before resetting his vocalizer and speaking, slowly.

"Hypatia." Another long moment. "She is displeased, as of late." He looks down a bit, flexing his hand as his voice lowers, speaking half to himself, half to simply speak. "Scouring the station. Convinced there are things hiding here, more than already are. The station must be pristine, prepared."

A beat, and he raises his voice. "She will order me to find you again. Maybe soon."

"Wouldn't know about that." And he doesn't, truly. Barricade travels by artificial tunnels he dug out and sneaking, in the few instances that he leaves his zone. Anyone else he's seen either belongs to Hypatia or is a Resistance member that showed up during a raid. "Who'm I to say if she's right or wrong?"

He quiets for a moment, shuttering his optics in vertical pairs. Doesn't feel quite right with the missing one. He'll just have to be prepared for that. Somehow. His smile is lopsided and sardonic, and tired "Finally getting tired of throwing those programs at me, is she? Just when I was about to finish up the Eiffel Tower, too."

He doesn't know what the Eiffel Tower is. He assumes it's some diversion Barricade is performing, in order to keep from the madness of enforced idleness.

But as for whether or not she grows tired? He shrugs. The more pressing question is, what are you going to do about it?

Dark Future Meme (as requested)

NEMESIS PRIME

Yo dawg I heard you like crazy car robots

we gon put a crazy robot with your crazy robot

so you can loony while you loony

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