[closed]

[experimentality]

who; 686 Ebullient Prism & Drift
what; BAD TOUCHING
when; post this log
where; Junk pile → Liege Maximo's temple
warnings; Potentially mild gore. Consent issues.

Prism was feeling rather pleased with himself. Two new samples from vastly different origins, enough data that he could spend the next few days happily sorting through it. Yet it still wasn't enough to satisfy him. Not when the entire planet could be full of new unique samples just waiting to be harvested.

Which is exactly why Prism is currently patrolling the junk pile, humming cheerfully to himself as he scans for any life--organic or non. He follows a simple search pattern, combing the refuse in a grid, until something pops up on his scanner.

He's not alone.

It takes him a moment to zip over to the source, where preliminary scans identify the individual as some breed of cybertronian.

"Hello!" he chirps, optic glowing brightly.

"I am 686 Ebullient Prism, Monitor of Line Installation 1-4. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Comments

[sword_redemption]

Drift is seated, ankles crossed, on the junk, engrossed in sharpening one of his swords, the whetstone making soft whispers of sound down the blade. It's tedious work, but requires attention and focus, giving him time to not think.

Thinking is getting a little depressing and he's losing his happy. Perceptor had been...a little cold. Things with Wing had gone...badly. He couldn't help but feel he was failing the few people he wanted to be able to count on him.

And Vandal? She was probably just the next he'd let down.

Right. Blades. Don't think. Just slide the whetstone on the flat of the blade, light pressure, even along the length.

So the interruption startles him more than it perhaps should: he nearly flinches as it zips over to him.

He manages a smile. "Drift. What's an Installation?"

[experimentality]

Prism registers the blade, filing it away under potential threats. Not that he's particularly worried--it would take far more force than any standard blade was capable of before it even posed an inconvenience to the Monitor.

"An Installation is any Forerunner facility, usually manned and operated by a Monitor such as myself. My particular Installation was devoted to scientific endeavors."

He hovers closer, circling the robot as he continues to run passive scans.

"Would you be interested in assisting me?"

[sword_redemption]

His hand stills on the whetstone, looking up, curious.

"Science. What kind of science?" It sounded kind of lonely: Just a mech and science. Even Kimia was a community.

[experimentality]

"My primary function involves the study of sentient life forms!"

He sounds particularly happy to speak of his task, optic glowing brightly.

"I collect information on unfamiliar individuals to add to my archives."

[sword_redemption]

Drift just happens to be a sentient life form. Huh. Go figure.

"You're keeping your archives going while you're here?" It kind of makes sense, Drift figures. They would go back, eventually. "Do you have anything on Cybertronians?"

[experimentality]

"I have a few files on Cybertronians from my stay on the station Sacrosanct! Sadly, none of them match with your configuration. You are, at the moment, a unique individual."

He hovers closer, apparently with no regard for the fact Drift is armed.

"Would you be willing to assist me? I have a short cultural survey and a simple, unobtrusive scan that I would like to perform!"

At this point Prism is primarily killing time until he can summon the Gatherer to come to him.

[sword_redemption]

"Sacrosanct?" He's never heard of it. "So you already have some." Meaning...so it's not violating the Tyrest Accords. Besides, Drift doesn't have any sort of superweapon. Just himself and some swords.

A bit of a laugh--old nerves--at the mention of uniqueness. He remembered Perceptor saying the same thing, when they'd first met, fascinated by his Crystal City armor. He says, softly, "I've heard that before."

"That seems easy enough. All right."

[experimentality]

"Some, but not nearly enough. Protocol dictates that I acquire as many unique scans as possible."

Technically it only required unique organic samples, but Prism has long ago given up on telling the whole truth in situations such as this.

"I'm so pleased you're willing to comply. While participation does not necessarily need to be voluntary, it makes the entire process much smoother for all involved."

As if on cue the Gatherer arrives, looming up behind the Monitor. It hovers there for the briefest of moments, as if surveying Drift, before several tentacles dart out for the mech's limbs.

[sword_redemption]

"I suppose that makes sense." He's hardly one to judge science after all.

Wait, what? Was he missing something? What was that about 'not necessarily voluntary'? "You know what?" He stows is short swords, pushing to his feet. "I don't think I really should---"

...it's about then that the thing shows up. "Hey!" The tentacles snap out, grabbing at his arms.

[experimentality]

The tentacles wind around his arms tightly, clawed tips scrabbling at the angles of his armor for purchase. Prism would smirk if he currently had a face--instead he simply floats closer, optic nearly white with excitement.

"Please try to keep your struggling to a minimum. I would hate for you to accidentally damage yourself before we can begin."

The Gatherer begins pulling Drift toward it, tentacles winding tigher, another pair shooting out for his legs.

[sword_redemption]

"No. Really. Let me go." He's trying to sound rational, pushing one arm down, trying to reach one his short swords.

He tries to leap, dodging the lower tentacles, but his momentum is fouled by the tentacles grabbing his arms.

aaah let me know if this is k

[experimentality]

"I'm afraid I can do that. Never fear, you'll be released as soon as I've collected the necessary data!"

Drift is fast, but the tentacles are too. One loops around his ankle, hauling him up off the ground. Prism hovers toward the mech's face, chipper as always.

"I would much prefer to do this in the comfort of a laboratory, but I suppose this will have to do for now. Please, keep still. Once again I must stress that this is for your own comfort as much as my own."

A tentacle loops around Drift's chest, squeezing tight, the tip glowing brightly as a laser cutter flares to life.

"You wouldn't want me to slip."

it's all good!

[sword_redemption]

"Yes, you can. Just....call this thing off." He's starting to struggle in earnest now, the tentacle grabbing his legs out from under him.

Which is not fun: he has no leverage now, thrashing helplessly.

"For now? What do you mean for now?" Oh no. He was going to end this, here.

...and then the laser cutter blossoms in front of him and he freezes.

"You don't need to do this." Right?

[experimentality]

"Oh but I do. This is quite necessary."

The cutter lowers to Drift's chest plating, beginning to get to work on the alien armor.

"If you keep still and remain calm I can assure you that this procedure will be quick and relatively harmless.">

[sword_redemption]

"NO. It's not!" He tries to twist away, carefully, trying to make any distance between the blade and his armor.

The pain is a blue-white heat across his sensornet. Calm? How do you remain calm when something is trying to slice through your armor. "Stop! I didn't agree to this!"

[experimentality]

"Subject participation does not need to be voluntary. Protocol dictates that I am to carry out the procedure whether or not you consent."

The laser cuts in a careful, slow line along the armor, not stopping until it has neatly bisected the main plate. Another tentacle appears to join the first, the claws taking up opposite sides along the seam and pulling.

"This is where it becomes delicate. I must stress how important it is that you stay still for this."

[sword_redemption]

"Your protocol is wrong!" And painful. Also that. "You can't tell me it's okay to rip someone open like this!"

Because that's sure what it feels like. Drift's hands clutch as the tentacles grip around the sheared edges of his chestplate. One hand closes on empty air, the other on the girth of a tentacle, squeezing his pain into it, as the plates are wrenched aside.

He's trying not to scream, but he probably does, the sound buried in the squeal of the metal giving.

His head lolls back, mouth tight with pain. "What...are you going to do?"

[experimentality]

"Of course it's 'okay.' Protocol dictates action."

All this? This is just... part of a little experiment, let's say. Drift should be thankful said experiment is not in something like pain thresholds or dismemberment.

"I am merely performing a simple procedure. You needn't worry; I hardly intend to kill you or harm you beyond what is strictly necessary."

With the metal of Drift's chestplate sufficiently out of the way, one tentacle slithers into the new hole, surging through his inner components and heading straight for it's target: Drift's spark chamber.

"I believe this next step will be rather painful. I must ask you to bear with me as it will only take a moment."

[sword_redemption]

"There's something more important than protocol! Ethics! Morality!" Anything.

He kicks--or tries to--his legs still tangled in the tentacles. "More than necessary! You don't need to do this at all!"

The tentacle slithering over his internals was...disturbing. He could feel the heavy slide of metal, dragging across wires, scraping over circuitry. His ventilation narrowed to a tight hiss, trying not to scream again.

" _{No. No. Please}."