-
The doors of the chamber opened and two large Predacons dragged the drained figure of Silverbolt in, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor, before leaving without a word. Once the doors closed and locked, Csirac went to help Silverbolt.
"What are they doing to you?" he asked, assessing Silverbolt's damage.
Silverbolt pushed the small Maximal away. "Trying to install some kind of programming", he said, struggling to his feet. "Why? Want top give them a hand with that too?" Silverbolt said bitterly.
"What kind of programming?" Csirac asked, ignoring the jibe. This was concerning news.
Silverbolt shook his head. "Whatever it is, it doesn't want to take to old technology", said Silverbolt, giving in to the fatigue and sliding down against the wall.
"A shell program?" pressed Csirac.
"What's that?" Silverbolt asked with a sigh.
Csirac was worried. "We designed the protomatter technology with Maximal coding, as a failsafe. If the technology was stolen or copied, it was hoped the Predacons would be unable to use it."
"You were wrong there. I've seen plenty of pint-sized Preds", said Silverbolt.
Csirac nodded sadly. "They developed a shell program, an override. From what we know, it takes the core consciousness hostage and alters facets of a protoform's personality. Attempts to remove the program haven't ended well."
Silverbolt was now paying attention. "So if they get it to work..."
"You'll be a Predacon", said Csirac, sadly. But his processors were still working through the details. "The question is 'why'".
"Pretty obvious, isn't it?" Csirac turned and looked at him. "The Preds would have an agent within Autobot Command." Silverbolt struggled to his feet. "That can't happen."
"It hasn't happened yet", said Csirac, unsure what Silverbolt was thinking.
"It won't happen", said Silverbolt, his eyes scanning the chamber. He moved towards the desk, flipped it violently and ripped one of the legs from it.
"What are you doing?" pleaded Csirac, his processors whirring faster than ever. He moved closer wearily.
Silverbolt lined the metal leg up with his own chest, then turned his head to look at Csirac. He had a look of utmost conviction in his eyes. "Better dead than Pred..."
-
Ooh! - Now that's juicy! :D, but just to clarify; Is that Silverbolt the G1 Aerialbot Commander or the Fuzor? :confused:
Regardless, I very much like how you tied that line into the chapter and especially under the circumstances that it's uttered; Csirac must be really good at segregating his emotional circuitry from his main processors, the amount of Horrors the bot is witnessing would likely drive him crazy otherwise - Good thing he's a scientist eh? ;):cool:
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It's G1 Aerialbot Commander Silverbolt. He's lost his 4 comrades and is feeling very sorry for himself at present.
Csirac is a 'bot of reason and logic, but even he can't help but get emotionally involved in a few moments.
Don't worry, Silverbolt will be fine.
-
Here is the 2nd half of the preceding scene. Enjoy!
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"Noo!" yelled Csirac as he ran and collided with Silverbolt's legs, knocking him slightly off balance.
"Get off!" said Silverbolt, attempting to shove the Maximal away. Silverbolt over-balanced and came crashing down, the table leg flying from his grasp.
"I won't be responsible for selling the Autobots out!" yelled Silverbolt, as he struggled to get back up.
"Killing yourself isn't the answer!" Csirac cried, still clinging to his leg.
"What else am I supposed to do?!" yelled Silverbolt, who thrashed around in frustration. Csirac was flung *into the wall. He slid to the bottom with a groan.
"Are you alright?" Silverbolt asked, quickly sitting up in a panic.
"Yes", said Csirac, slowly. He remained crumbled at the foot of the wall. Silverbolt lay back down, relieved.
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them moving.
"I'm sorry", said Silverbolt, staring at the ceiling. "I came into this war and I knew my place; I had a purpose. Now that's been*stolen from me, I don't know what to do. Why am I still here and they're not? I should have died with them."
A few moments of silence followed before Csirac replied. "I got to see you in action once. I was on board the Laraam, a transport from Earth. We came under Predacon fire on re-entry. You led a bombing run to take out the Predacon artillery, then escorted us in. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here."
"The Laraam, huh." Silverbolt sat up. "The last shuttle from Earth. It was a beautiful planet."
"Yeah. It's where I met Venus", said Csirac.
"A friend of yours?" asked Silverbolt.
"Sparkmate"' replied Csirac.
"Now that's a word I haven't heard used in a long time. You're one lucky bot." Silverbolt waited for a reply, but when he didn't get one, he continued. "I'm sure she's out there waiting for you."
"I don't want to die in here, Silverbolt", Csirac said suddenly. "And I'm certain you don't either."
Silverbolt was taken aback by the change in topic. "It's not the preferred option."
Csirac still hadn't moved from the floor. "We're getting out of here. I don't know how, but I'm not dying staring at some dirty, Pred bunker wall. I want to be able to see the stars when I go." Csirac looked up and was greeted with Silverbolt offering him a hand up.
"Affirmative."
-
Csirac crashed back to the floor and skidded into the far wall. He'd been expecting the hit for some time.
"Mistakes...", growled Razorclaw, as he approached the Maximal after sending him flying.*"I was foolish to give you as much freedom as I did; I can see that now. It won't happen again", he said as he crouched down. "And you, Csirac, you disappoint me. It's almost as if your Spark wasn't quite in it. That too will change, or you'll be melted down and used as mortar casings. Alive or dead - used to kill your own kind."*
Behind Razorclaw stood a congregation of Predacons surrounding an imposing, lifeless form.
"What do you want us to do with it, my Lord? Scrap it?" asked a large bot.
Taranachus, who had been intently studying the Protomatter combiner, spun around at this comment. "Might I suggest we keep it, Lord Razorclaw. It will aid our understanding of the technology."
"Just get it out of my sight!" barked Razorclaw without taking his optics from the small form below him.
Two burly Predacons lifted the body and removed it from the chamber, Taranachus trailing it out.
"All designs will pass before my optics before they're executed. I see that to be the best way to avoid any unnecessary violence, wouldn't you agree?" posed Razorclaw to the crumbled Maximal.
"Yes", said Csirac, not daring to look up.
Without another word, Razorclaw stood, turned and led his fellow Predacons from the room, the door locking with its usual clunk.
"Are you alright?" asked Silverbolt.
Csirac sat up with a groan. "All part of the plan."
