Bad Dreams, Catastrophe
(Completely open!)
A few weeks had passed of hard work. other Perceptor had been a great help, both with the workload and as an emotional support. Not that Ironfist was getting overemotional; he'd accepted his death a long time ago, so getting a chance at life was a nice thought, but he honestly didn't know if it'd work. He was ok with the results either way, or so he told himself. A particular project had taken up all his concentration recently: the building of Perceptor's failsafe. It was a work of art, the design so finely drawn out, and his own work delicate and subtle to follow the directions precisely. Now that it was finished, it was rather beautiful. Well, aside from the gaping hole where the face would only be if Perceptor had to occupy that shell.
Speaking of the scientist, he had disappeared, it seemed, and Ironfist hadn't even noticed. He'd been so engrossed in his project... Upon asking around, it was discovered that no one else at the lab had seen him either. Of course, Ironfist understood that they were busy with Drift. He wouldn't hold that against them.
His search for his lab companion led him out of the Nerdlab for the first time in a long while, and he walked along the road with no real direction, looking for- he didn't know what he was looking for. As he scanned the surroundings, he noticed a pop-up on his HUD informing him of a new prompt.
"Bad dreams... I've been having a few of those recently, during what little recharge I do get. I keep dreaming that something bad will happen to my new friends and new home. Of course, coming home to find them bleeding in the hallway at the mercy of that slagging Decepticon..." He cut himself off, shaking his head. Drift had changed, they told him. He was his Perceptor's spark mate. He trusted his Perceptor, but... "I need to help protect them. They need me as much as I need them."
He nodded firmly to himself. Something went wrong. His vision blurred a bit, becoming unfocused, and his vital readings froze for a moment, his processes seeming to halt before they started up again as if nothing had happened. He paused in his track, raising his arms to hold his head, trying to run diagnostics on himself, but his processor felt too sluggish. Trying to shrug it off, he continued his trek, wobbling a bit as he walked.
"Catastrophe... The worst thing that... could happen, I think... Is, ah... If Perceptor were to take the... bull..et..." Ironfist swayed and crumpled to the ground with a loud thump. His Optics were off, no signs of life except the tell-tale sound of his internal systems working as normal after a minute.
A few weeks had passed of hard work. other Perceptor had been a great help, both with the workload and as an emotional support. Not that Ironfist was getting overemotional; he'd accepted his death a long time ago, so getting a chance at life was a nice thought, but he honestly didn't know if it'd work. He was ok with the results either way, or so he told himself. A particular project had taken up all his concentration recently: the building of Perceptor's failsafe. It was a work of art, the design so finely drawn out, and his own work delicate and subtle to follow the directions precisely. Now that it was finished, it was rather beautiful. Well, aside from the gaping hole where the face would only be if Perceptor had to occupy that shell.
Speaking of the scientist, he had disappeared, it seemed, and Ironfist hadn't even noticed. He'd been so engrossed in his project... Upon asking around, it was discovered that no one else at the lab had seen him either. Of course, Ironfist understood that they were busy with Drift. He wouldn't hold that against them.
His search for his lab companion led him out of the Nerdlab for the first time in a long while, and he walked along the road with no real direction, looking for- he didn't know what he was looking for. As he scanned the surroundings, he noticed a pop-up on his HUD informing him of a new prompt.
"Bad dreams... I've been having a few of those recently, during what little recharge I do get. I keep dreaming that something bad will happen to my new friends and new home. Of course, coming home to find them bleeding in the hallway at the mercy of that slagging Decepticon..." He cut himself off, shaking his head. Drift had changed, they told him. He was his Perceptor's spark mate. He trusted his Perceptor, but... "I need to help protect them. They need me as much as I need them."
He nodded firmly to himself. Something went wrong. His vision blurred a bit, becoming unfocused, and his vital readings froze for a moment, his processes seeming to halt before they started up again as if nothing had happened. He paused in his track, raising his arms to hold his head, trying to run diagnostics on himself, but his processor felt too sluggish. Trying to shrug it off, he continued his trek, wobbling a bit as he walked.
"Catastrophe... The worst thing that... could happen, I think... Is, ah... If Perceptor were to take the... bull..et..." Ironfist swayed and crumpled to the ground with a loud thump. His Optics were off, no signs of life except the tell-tale sound of his internal systems working as normal after a minute.