Salvation: Part II

“We’ve had to move them to separate cell blocks,” the Autobot continues. “The other prisoners were complaining about the noise; the two kept shouting insults at each other from opposite ends of the hall.”


“Oh no, I don’t mind,” Salvo insists, eager to leave her conversation with Thrift.


The security hub was a hexagonal chamber, its walls lined with screens and terminals displaying footage from security cameras, logs detailing various prisoners held aboard Salvation, and profiles on suspicious individuals whose exploits merited attention from the ship’s security- Facelift was among those profiles, with pictures of the pink-and-purple cyclops projected beside a long list of unsavory acts and practices.

@meepinater


Shockwave wordlessly terminates the link between Zepar and Epsilon, deactivating the patch and bringing the two back into the real world.

Zepar and Epsilon get up rather groggily, both testing their joints to see if there was any sort of damage to their nervous system in that regard.

Juliana continued listening.


“I mean, if you’ll just point me to them, I’ll leave you alone!” He said, unusually bashful.

Zepar and Epsilon were both, physically and mentally, unharmed.


“Mallet…” the Decepticon repeats himself- the name of one of the bots he and the Autobot were discussing.

“I think Straxus hired him a few decades back. Tough spawn of a glitch, he is.”

“Fusebox ain’t one to scoff at, neither,” the Autobot says. “I heard Lockdown mentored him or somesuch.”

The Decepticon scoffs at the notion, saying, “Lockdown doesn’t train anybody. Not after the whole Axor thing.”


Salvo sighs, and then points a thumb at a rack holding a row of cybertronian rifles.

“Have a look,” she invites Laslow.

“Oh! What if we took one of those,” Thrift suggests, “and made it shoot magnetic smoke pellets?”

“…Okay, that one actually sounds like a neat idea,” Salvo admits. “And doable, too, maybe.”

“Maybe I do know what a good idea is, after all…” Thrift muses, placing a finger on his chin.

Heh, I guess I surprise even myself sometimes…” he chuckles softly to himself.

“Well, everything seems to be unharmed.” Zepar noted.

“Excellent,” Shockwave comments. "Explaining any debilitating injuries or death to the captains would have been tedious.

“Your exploits have provided me with valuable data and insight; I will pay you both handsomely.”

Shockwave hadn’t done much in his lab aboard Salvation in the time he’d spent aboard the Fleetcarrier since being rescued by our heroes; there was little he could do, beyond building the Patch and analyzing the CNA scanner found in Little Iacon. Very little of his equipment had been brought aboard Salvation with him; all he had was a datapad containing his notes, and a few prototype weapons he had turned over to Salvo.

OOC: His equipment was confiscated when he was rescued wasn’t it?

IC: Epsilon nods, “Yeah. So, how much of that could you observe?” He asked.

OOC:

It’s entirely possible I’m forgetting something, but I remember him only bringing back his notes and the prototypes I just mentioned. I’ll read through Part I again and see if I’m missing something.

IC:

“I was able to observe the entirety of your interactions in the Patch,” Shockwave states.

Zepar nods, “And your conclusions based on those observations?” He asked.

“Yes, um thank you ma’am. I’ll let you be now. Sorry for disturbing you.” He apologizes.

He then begins to inspect the rack of rifles.

“You are breaking the rule right now.” Song said, getting into the ship.

Blight nodded his head respectfully. “Er- Fine.”


Pixel scanned himself quickly, buffered for a moment and threw his arms into the air with a gleeful grin sprouted on his face. “H-aPp-ApP-Y!”

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“Good!” Redstocker said, happy, as he invited Blight and the others to go to the tribunes.

“My first priority will be to strengthen the integrity of the neural bridge,” Shockwave decides. “As you may have noticed, it began to deteriorate as your memories taxed the simulator.”


The rifles were mostly standard Autobot armaments- nothing to write home about, but they’d shoot a bot dead if the wielder had even half a functioning brain module.

One, however, was different from the rest: a slender weapon made from ice-blue metal, with a drum containing a sickly yellow fluid plugged into the gun beside the firing mechanism. Tubes connected to the drum snaked around the rifle, which was adorned with violent lights.


“Oh…” Brainpan says, before following behind Song.

######“It was a silly rule anyway…” she quietly says to herself.

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“Rule number 2.” she said, this time on a quieter tone, trying not to distract attention to herself. “I and only I am your boss. All of the other ones who say that they are your boss are smaller bosses. They only want to put you in a cage or something. I, on the other hand want to help you explore your own talents. Oh, and rule number 3: rule number two is a complete secret. You don’t tell them to anybody. You oblige to all of the other smaller bosses and do whatever they want, if it doesn’t harm me or my own orders. You better consult with me when somebody orders you something.”

Epsilon nodded sheepishly, “Sorry about that.” He said.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, we’re safe and Shockwave knows the current limits of the Patch that he can tweak.” Zepar said.

“E-Excuse me ma’am,” he said leaning around the corner to look at Salvo. “Would you mind telling me what this rifle does, if it’s not to much trouble I mean!” He says, rushing the last few words.

Brainpan frowns. What Wildsong was saying was all too familiar to her.

“Okay…” she says quietly, her voice possessing less of the demented energy it had been characterized by thus far.


“Indeed,” Shockwave agrees. “You are not at fault; you exposed flaws in the Cortical Psychic Patch that must be addressed before it can be put to use in a medical or interrogative manner.”

Shockwave picks up his datapad, entering the data he had collected into his log, dismissing a hologram of a predacon dragon that flickered above its screen.


Salvo and Thrift peer from over the counter at Laslow.

“Which rifle?” Salvo asks. "This place is kinda full of 'em, if you haven’t noticed.

“Might I assume you mean the weird-looking one with the tube-y things?” Thrift oh-so-eloquently chimes in.

“I think that’s the one, yes.”

“Great! Now, let’s talk about your talents. How good are you at making guns?”