re_alignment_logs | and what are you made of [closed]

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and what are you made of [closed]

WHO: FoC!Perceptor & Wheeljack
WHERE: Perceptor's lab
WHEN: Post-Pillar Expedition | Evening | Dec. 5th
WHAT: Perceptor returns from his expedition a little bit... changed.
WARNINGS: None

[It was... an adventure, to be sure. What else, he wasn't sure yet. Other than his newly acquired complete and utter inability to touch anything. Anyone. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to his lab and experiment. Both to understand the nature of his sudden condition, and to see if he could solve it.]

[Or... at least, make it so he could refuel at some point. That was what worried him most, right now. If he couldn't touch anything, if he passed through everything and everyone, then that posed a serious threat to his health, somewhere down the line.]

[The lab, therefore, seemed the most important thing.]

[He didn't bother informing anyone he'd returned. He was certain others would handle that aspect of things. Not to mention, he wasn't even sure if he could access the Link in his current state. Best not to worry anyone with an ominously blank message.]

[... another problem, he supposed, with his sudden attachments ...]

[He entered the proper temple, all but tripping through the door as he realized he was putting his feet through the decorative portions at intervals.]

[Great.]

[The approach to his lab was, mercifully, uneventful. He didn't even make noise as he walked.]

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...I can't do much, Sarge. I only know fightin' and bashin' scrap.

[Which, from the looks things, is the most useless thing in this situation. What use could he be?

It irritated him beyond belief.]

I'm here.

... And I can't do anything, right now. Not even bloody refuel. My work is... impossible like this.

[What he wants to say, however, goes unspoken. He should have said it. But the words stick. They choke.]

[How can he ask this?]

[Help me.]

...

[Fortunately, his unspoken words are loud enough for Wheeljack to hear. He's a little slow at this, but he's got it.]

Where do I start.

[He seems to perk up at that, finally, his optics brightening, and his whole frame straightening up.]

[Grateful.]

There's a device on the shelf, to your left. It takes energy readings...

Start with that.

[And just that small gesture is enough to lift his spirits, even slightly. His posture remains hunched, more out of humbleness than anything, as he does what he's asked.

Now he just had to do things the right way.

For once.]

This thing?

[A rough grab for the scanner.]

Yes. That thing. Do be careful with it, it was the only one to survive Grimlock's... tantrum.

[He waves his hand, irritably, only to have it pass through a lamp. He yanks it back, staring at it.]

[And slowly lowers it again, a flicker of defeat on his face. His voice turns quieter.]

... You'll have to use it on my person. Then record the data into my console. And run a search for sympathetic resonances.

[Wheeljack almost lunged forward, in an attempt to grab that lamp, or to smack Perceptor's hand away. When...seeing it phase through, he slaps that hand across his face, dragging it down slowly.

He didn't see that. If he thinks it hard enough, it's sure to come true.]

No idea what ya just said, Sarge. I'm just gonna scan you with it and then ya tell me what's what.

[He squints at the console a moment, attempting to decipher it.]

Uh...

[Button press--it beeps.]

Whoops.

Yes. Scan. We'll... go from there.

[He's going to try and ignore the grab. Ignore the general frustration he's feeling, the anger he sees in Wheeljack's every motion.]

[It isn't constructive right now.]

[And it takes everything in him not to reach out and swat that hand away. He knows what will happen if he tries.]

Don't touch any button until I till you otherwise.

Right, right. I know.

[And he did. After a brief glance over, he finds the scan function.

Activating it and starting to run it on the scientist. He remains pretty stoic throughout all of it. Despite the probable need for conversation.]

Anything else happen down there?

[Omg u are a bitter bitch, WJ.]

[He stands perfectly still. As if that's going to make a difference. Who knows? Maybe it will.]

[Though he does shake his head.]

I told you everything. I... wouldn't keep imp--

...

I wouldn't keep anything else from you.

[The scan completes itself, with Wheeljack looking into it curiously. Not a snowball's chance that he knows what the meters say, but maybe if he tried hard enough, he'd figure it out.

He'd at least try.]

...I know.

[It was said with complete honesty, too. Deep down he knew Perceptor was someone he could trust.]

What's this scrap mean, Sarge?

[He huffs, before gesturing to the console. The honest response is appreciated. And so is Wheeljack's attempts. He's trying -- and the tank can tell.]

I need you to select the readout program I use, and input what the meter says. There are corresponding boxes ... match the data to the proper labels.

And then hit "search".

[Wheeljack's head turns towards the monitors, walking over as carefully as he can, as a Wrecker. Which in essence, is still rather clumsily.]

So. This'll tell ya what's wrong with ya?

[Because he just works here. No idea the rhyme or reason of the machine. Only that...Perceptor told him too.

And he trusted him.]

[Wheeljack, as big as he is, his equipment is a little more durable than that.]

[He stands behind him, but out of reach, watching.]

It will tell me if my energy signature has a match to a known article.

And... theoretically, the counter resonance. Which could be used to...

[He pauses.]

Yes. In essence.

[Not going to lie, most of that was complete moonspeak to him. And it shows in the way his eyebrows furrow.

Waiting for the--there it is. The layman's terms.]

Kay.

[Give him a moment to type all this in.]

So just tell me what I'm supposed to look for. Sounds, green circles...

Green circles.

It should align the search matches automatically.

[SHOULD.]

[Once that happens, he can just read the screen. It should be easy.]

[And he gets the screen set up, just as Perceptor asked.

A part of him was glad he knew as little as possible about this device. Because if it read something bad...he'd have that slight glimmer of hope beforehand.

A chance.

When the results pop up, there's a few -pings!-, wherein Wheeljack then turns it for the scientist to see.

Not looking himself.]

What's the verdict, Sarge.

[As soon as he sees it, his spark drops a few inches. He does his best to keep it off his face. To hide it.]

[Because there are no matches.]

[Not a single one.]

[He takes a deep breath, suddenly.]

I can work with it. It's not optimal, far from it, actually. But, regardless, I've worked with less before. Worked with practically nothing, in fact.

This is workable, yes. Certainly.

[He's babbling.]

...

[He knows by now. Whenever Perceptor does that--that little tic. The babbling.]

It's that bad, huh.

[There's a heartbeat in which he tries to keep it up, shaking his head, waving a hand -- no, no everything is fine.]

[Before the facade breaks down.]

[He slumps where he stands.]

...

It's looked better.

[He wants to shove the bot back up, to nudge him playfully and smirk, like everything's alright.

But he pulls back, fist slamming into the wall behind him, making a rather..sizable dent.

You have GOT to stop doing that, Wheeljack.]

Scrap.

... You have got to stop doing that.

[He says it very quietly. Very hesitantly, looking over at him with something like regret. Like apology.]

[This is his fault.]

[Again.]

[He didn't even realize he did it, until it's mentioned, and he slowly moves his hand up from where it had dented itself.]

...

'pologies.

I uh...

[He'll be frank.]

Sarge, you're not...dead, are ya.

Just... I'll repair it, later.

[Hopefully.]

[Though the question earns a sharp look. He about snaps out a negative, before uncertainty creeps in, making him fall silent.]

[Then he shakes his head, firmly.]

Of course not. There would be a corpse, if I were. And there isn't.

[He says it with more conviction than he actually feels.]

Right.

[He puts his faith in Percy in those words, sliding down the wall into a sitting motion.

Just...tired all of a sudden.]

So how do ya...fix this.

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sciencetank - 2014-01-05 22:12 (UTC) - Expand

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