| abstract | - There are many hospitals in Iacon, but none as prestigious and well equipped as Iacon General Hospital. The numerous state of the art facilities housed within the hospital offers around the clock emergency repairs, upgrades, and mundane upkeeps. Iacon General Hospital is staffed by many of the Autobots' brightest minds where the non-combatants can do their part in contributing to the war effort. Air Raid Brainstorm ICU Pod 2 ICU Pod 1 Spanner South leads to Science and Technology District. There are now several racks of multiwell plates set up. Testing showed that Tailslide is suffering from a poison, probably ingested. However, they are still stuck in quarantine. Protocol is protcol, and many 8diseases* also produces poisons, so Tailslide could still be contagious. So while they are here, they may as set up a multiscreen array to determine a possible antidote to the poison! Apocryphacius finishes setting up the last multiwell plate, and he looks over at a mainframe, which is trying to computationally solve a theoretical antidote, to go along with the practical attempts on the plates. He says aloud, "It will be quite some time before either the multiwell plates or the computational analysis has any data for us to analyze, but there must be some way to pass the time..." Shame the mainframe doesn't have Zoo Tycoon on it. Imager has arrived. Brainstorm stands nearby, finishing up a few equations he'd been running through his datapad. The Headmaster's brow furrows in deep concentration. "Yes...yes...Oh, looking promising...Here we go, yes, Yeeeesss-NOPE." He sets the datapad down with a sigh. "So close! I just *know* I'm getting so close.... but then... it slips by and I just... MISS it. I'm...I'm...THINKING TOO MUCH. Err... too MUCH of the SAME THING. I NEED A BREAK from the monotony. Gotta jump-start the ol' mastermind gears and start thinking with my customary off-the-box, color outta-the-lines BRILLIANCE! I NEED..." Brainstorm stops and stares at Apocryphacius. "...A distraction. PASS THE TIME. YES. You took the words right out of my mouth! Er, faceplate!" His yellow optics look quite cheerful- perhaps unsettlingly so- as he leans in towards Apoc. "Didn't we agree to, uh, *learn more* about how our respective systems work? Whaddya say? Want a peek into the amazingness and awesomeness that makes ME? And in return, I get to learn more about how..." He pokes at a tentacle. "...These work?" Apocryphacius cringes when Brainstorm brings up their mutual, 'take each other apart' deal. However, he grinds out, "...yes, we could do that," or they could just play Monopoly, which would be much safer. But this is a controlled setting, right? And Brainstorm is in good health. And Arcana will supervise. It can't go too horribly wrong, can it? And if it does go wrong, they have supplies. Apocryphacius suggests, "So you just... transform? And I go down the complete maintenance and tuning checklist and check that you are properly assembled?" Sky Lynx arrives from the Science and Technology District to the south. Sky Lynx has arrived. Imager sits in her quarantined area, all sterile and boring. She wakes up out of defrag then leans forward on her cot. "It's like I'm in the brig here and I didn't even do anything fun to deserve it!" She stands up, the bench creaking, praising in sweet mercy that the hefty Femme was off of her for a bit. Imager stretches a bit, her pistons venting a bit as she does before she approaches the door. ""Bored! Hey, what're you guys doin? Can I leave now or at least get something to DO here that ain't staring at a wall. Maybe pipe in some KNUJ or something at least?" She looks over at the Quintesson, ""Oh...oh yeah hey there." She then looks towards Brainstorm with about the same look of dismay, ""Erhm...is Perceptor or maybe Torque around?" Dinobird & Lynx tromps his way in, moving over to the area typically reserved for the 'You're too big to be properly worked on' mechs. Settling down, he lets out a soft grunt as the maintenance crew starts working on some holdover damage from the Cairo incident. ... yeah, it was that kind of fight. "Well met to all of you!" A chipper greeting as he looks over at the others. Specifically Imager. "I do not believe I've seen either Perceptor or Torque, but I can certainly attempt to give them a call and see if either is available. Is there something you require specifically?" Spanner says, "Well... Since you asked so nicely." Combat: Spanner refuels Dinobird & Lynx's energon reserves. Sky Lynx transforms into the wondrously phenomenal form of a Sky Lynx! Imager shrugs at Sky Lynx, ""Well, uh...no I guess?" No vote of confidence here for these two wacky sitcom stars. Brainstorm hmmms, tapping on his faceplate. "Yeah... that could work. In fact, that's *nothing* compared to what I was thinking. You just wanna tinker around a bit? Pffft, no problem." He nods his head enthusiastically. "IT'S A DEAL." As Imager wakes up, he looks over at her. "Aw, see... you just have to find the BRIGHT SIDE of being stuck in a small space with lots of other possibly sick people! Find some "FUN" and make IT CONTAGIOUS, instead of just... whatever the heck disease our friend over there has. ...Percy? Torque? Haven't seen 'em. Not awake, at least." When Sky Lynx walks in, the Headmaster waves to him, too. Apocryphacius suggests to Imager, "Setting up a satellite feed would actually be simplicity in itself. The difficulty would be in that the satellite feed would be pirated, and we would need to find a way to pay the satellite company for the shows that we watched." Then his faces switch, and he has to ask Brainstorm, morbidly, "What *were* you thinking? You weren't thinking that... I'd... actually take you all the way apart? A... lasercore on a tray?" Oh Tesla, what is Brainstorm going to *do* to Apocryphacius when the tables are turned? Then he looks to Sky Lynx, who is... terrifying, and he... sort of hides behind Brainstorm. Apocryphacius transforms into his Death mode. Imager gives Brainstorm a flat look. ""You ever read my file there Brainstorm?" She crosses her arms over her chestplate, then looks behind her at the cot, apparently judging it a bit too far away to tell a story properly from it. Where's Kup's ole chair when she could use it? Fortunately she doesn't need to launch into a story when she looks at Apoc, her optics brightening, ""Hey yeah, that'd work! I'll pay for.....wait, human currency or real currency? I could pay up just to have somethin to watch. Bet! Iffin you wanna make that happen, you know." Brainstorm seems to grin under that faceplate... and again, it's not a comforting grin. He leans in even closer. "Well... actually...kinda.... yeah. I mean, how else do you REALLY get to know how someone's constructed? Gotta pick apart every little piece and see how every last circuit is put together...." Whether Brainstorm would or would not actually do this is anyone's guess... but he has this habit of making sure no one is ever quite sure.... Then he leans back and shrugs. "But, eh, your way is fine, ...I guess. It's a *start*, at least. Gotta start small before you can make it to the big leagues, after all...." Brainstorm blinks at Apoc as he hides from Sky Lynx. "Aw, don't worry about him. His bite's worse than his bark... but biting would be "so terribly" uncivilized I don't think he's ever gonna practice it on you, heh heh heh." To Imager, he states, "Uh...no. Not really. Anything I should know?" Sky Lynx nods to Imager and hmms. "Well, I shall see what I can do to get one of them in here." He glances at the diagnostic screen beside him and frowns. "Mmm, that will not do..." He mutters and looks back at the others. Particularly Apocryphacius. "Hah, come now... I am not that intimidating to allies, am I? Decepticons I could understand..." He shakes his head and settles in as repairs resume. "I might require some assistance getting a calibration check on my targeting systems. It appears being within the gravitational pull of Earth offset my systems by a margin wide enough to render weapons rather... well, they performed poorly." "If you give me lucid anesthesia for Brainstorm, here, I will get you *any* channel or radio station that you want, human, Cybertronian, or otherwise," Apocryphacius decides. He wants Brainstorm awake and aware if something goes wrong, and having a specialist handle the anesthesia frees Apocryphacius up to focus on the disassembly. He pulls out his tool kit and his medical kits and lays them out on some trays, fiddling with attaching a radio to the mainframe so that they can pick up the satellite signals bouncing around and pirate some holos or radio. Just need to compensate for signal attenuation and adjust the gain... Brainstorm has actually managed to stir something vaguely resembling pride in the rather pathetic Quintesson, who finds himself saying, "...no no, I can take you apart, all the way. It will not be a trouble. Optical systems last, yes? You want to see what you look like on the inside, do you not?" Then he admits to Sky Lynx, "Well. That sounds easy enough. Let me have a look..." Combat: Death runs a diagnostic check on Sky Lynx ==========================[ Evaluation of Sky Lynx ]========================== Sky Lynx is conscious and COMBAT-OK. Combat: Death expertly repairs Sky Lynx's injuries. Combat: Death is able to repair some of Sky Lynx's internal systems damage. Imager leans up against the forcefield door, ""Hey Lynx, heard you stomped Soundwave good!" She puts her shoulder to the door, chuckling, ""Wish I coulda been there to see that happen, just like...170 tons of Dinothing coming down and just glorystompin his Con aftplate." The amusement dies off after a few moments, ""Whelp, still bored!" The Femme raises her eyeshields as she shrugs. Sky Lynx nods slowly. "I've managed to step on quite a few Decepticons, it's true." He glances at Apocryphacius as the quintesson starts to do his work. "Ah, thank you. I do hope it is not terribly problematic. I should hope that recalibrations such as this will not be required too often. That would simply prove to be problematic." He frowns. "As for boredom... I am afraid there is little I can do to assist with that." Brainstorm 's apparent grin seems to falter slightly. Wait, did Apocryphacius just take him up on his offer? in it's *entirety*? Optics blink and he scratches the back of his helmet. "OH. Uh...yeah,...great! That's just....great. Lucid anesthesia...yeah, gotcha." he almost seems to absentmindedly rummage through his subspace compartment until he pulls out a small medical compartment. "YEAH. Right..uh, here." He places the vial on the table in front of him. Welll.... anything for *science*.....Right? "BOREDOM!" Hey, if you're bored, Imager, I can help. HELP. Did you need help? Need any medical treatment or anything?" ....It's possible he's now delaying this coming dis-assembly. Death fiddles with the holo/radio unit, and boom, Imager now has all the channels and radio stations. All of them. Apocryphacius hopes that Brainstorm is the type who likes to music or a show on while undergoing medical procedures. His faces flick around, and he pulls out his checklist. "Take a table or a car jack, as you prefer, Brainstorm. Any allergies or drug interactions that Imager and I should know about as she starts the lucid anesthesia? In addition, anything relevant in your medical history? Oh, and Imager, keep in mind that Brainstorm's a Headmaster, which complicates issues." Then he explains to Sky Lynx, "Just a little calibration error, as you expected." Multitasking comes naturally to a five-part mind. Death transforms into his Judgement mode. Imager raises an eyeplate again, "Uhhhh, you're suddenly all sorts of eager, Mech. And yeah, ya dolt, I need treatment, I ain't exactly sittin in here cuz it amuses me!" She snorts, shifting her stance to show her contempt via crossed arms again, ""So whydoncha figure out if I'm contagious with whatever the smelt is going on, and fix it already." She scowls to nobody in particular, ""Kept saying that since I'm a refueler nowadays, I got screens in me to dole out 'Gon to anyone, but nah here I am. An people keep askin why we don't have lots of fuelers on the field. Here's why." Her mini-rant over with, she starts picking up some tunes. She actually laughs a little, ""Hey mech..er uhm...man?" Her optics turn to Apocryphacius, ""You're alright, ya know that? Thanks." With that, she slips back deeper into her cell...er hospital room, now occupied. Tailslide has been quietly watching from his slab, propped up on an elbow. Autobots are odd. Noble! But odd. Combat: Brainstorm runs a diagnostic check on Imager Sky Lynx is feeling better. No that he'll say he was feeling worse to begin with. Where Apocryphacius leaves off, the drones resume, and with most of the difficult system tweaks out of the way, they can focus on the all-important armor polishing! "So, Imager, I do have quite a few reports to sift through, but why are you here on lockdown?" He shuffles and glances at the self-proclaimed Bored-Bot. Brainstorm ehehehehs just a tad nervously, but the Headmaster isn't going to be the one to back out of this now. He's got pride at stake... or ...something. Also, as nervous as this *ought* to make him feel right now.... the promise of getting to "see what you look like on the inside"...is, well, it's actually KIND OF COOOOL. "AW, What the PIT. LET'S DO THIS, APOC!" Just as he heads over to a car jack, Imager's comments stop him. "Ohhh...right. Yeah." He heads over to her, pulling out more tools from his medkit. "Don't you worry, this'll fix you right up! Put you in a good mood for listening to your radio, or TV, or whatever..." He applies a few patches to the femme. "There, good as new!" Giving her a thumbs-up, he then proceeds to the car jack again. "OK, /NOW/ let's DO THIS! YEAHHHHH!" With a hearty yell, he transforms onto the car jack, leaving Arcana standing next to it, adjusting a pair of goggles. Combat: Brainstorm expertly repairs Imager's injuries. Combat: Brainstorm is able to repair some of Imager's internal systems damage. Brainstorm transforms into his Cybertronian Jet mode. Imager sits back down on the cot, which groans under her weight. She puts her feet up, relaxing finally as she starts letting the distraction of...Junkion Soap Operas? get to her. "Huh? What's that, Lynx? Can't hear ya over the radio channels. NO VOLUME CONTROL!" Her excuse firmly implanted, she seems to relax a great deal, folding her hands together and just sort of zones back out. Perhaps quarantine wasn't so bad... Sky Lynx blinks and just shakes his head. "Well, that is just phenomenal. There appears to be an outbreak of deafness. No wonder everyone who cannot hear proper instruction is going to be quarantined..." Judgement is really not thinking that he should be making good impression on front of Tailslide. No, he's nervous and fretting over what he's doing with Brainstorm. It's not like Apocryphacius has *never* extracted a lasercore before. It just... ended in tears, last time. He approaches the radical jet and starts a line first for the drip, so that... nothing is really going to hurt, for Brainstorm, but Brainstorm will definitely be able to tell if something goes wrong. He pauses a moment so that Arcana can check his work. Apocryphacius does, however, explain to Sky Lynx, "We... may be poisoned." Tailslide sits up, suddenly very interested in whatever Brainstorm and Apocryphacius are up to. It looks dramatic! Also... Arcana! "That's so strange. The transforming head thing. I mean, when you see it up close," he comments to no one in particular. Imager has disconnected. Cybertronian Jet lies on the carjack. "So, were you thinking you'd start at the fuselage, then take off the wings and finally check out the engine? There's a really cool coolant system in there, I think you'll be fascinated. Oh, and try not pop off that one little plug near my main fuel line? It can give me some indigestion when it's loose. OH! And be sure..." He goes on and on, chatting away. Meanwhile, Arcana comes over to look at Apocryphacius' work. But before he check that, he peers down and pokes at one of Apoc's tentacles, then stares him in the face. "Hmmm. You have a sloping forehead. Hmmmm...." He takes out a little tape measure, measures Apoc's face, then gets to the business at hand. "Hmmm. Looks fine. Brainstorm doesn't mind much, really. But..." He leans in. "Don't touch that spot on his right wing tip. *It's ticklish*." Brainstorm immediately responds, "IS NOT." Judgement listens to all of Brainstorm's nattering and writes it all down on a datapad with a pair of tentacles. With another pair, he works on... pulling out Brainstorm's jet mode optics, which are sort of hard to find. Then he splices in another length of cable and hangs the optics up on a stand so that... Brainstorm can see himself. Granted, Brainstorm can also see himself through Arcana, too, right? Headmasters are weird. This whole situation is weird. Something that Arcana will note is that Apocryphacius's tentacles are really scarred up. Some of them... look like they've been cut off and sewn back on. Some look like they were cloned and replaced entirely. Self-conscious, Apocryphacius explains to Tailslide, "Ah. Uhm. Yes, Headmasters are very interesting. I am giving Brainstorm a... check-up. For... science." Now he digs into the fuselage, as instructed. Sky Lynx is just watching. While getting a nice new base layer, clearcoat, and polish. Now this is the way to enjoy a nice bit of time off... "Huh," is Tailslide's slow response. "Science. Ah... do you mind if I ask how a /Quintesson/ became allied with Autobots? Or are you... too busy for that." Cybertronian Jet is... actually quite fascinated by this. As Apocryphacius sets up his optics so that he can see...himself... the Headmaster watches, almost mesmerized. "That is SO COOL. OH mech, tell me someone's recording this. PLEASE." In the meantime, he's making all the mental notes he can. "Arcana! You have a videocamera, use it!" Arcana looks puzzled a moment, then ah-has and pulls out yet another pair of goggles. Really, he's got tons of these things. This one has several lenses set up on it, plus a little light for picture quality. He puts it on and turns it on, then goes back to studying Apoc. "Hmmm. So... what happened? Do you regenerate those? Or build them?" He asks, pointing to the tentacles. "My employers are allied with the Autobots, and they were upset that I put LEDs on the microwave, so they sent me to Cybertron to help the Autobots," Apocryphacius explains to Tailslide, which isn't a very good explanation at all! Apocryphacius has Brainstorm's fuselage opened up. He works on... removing Brainstorm's wings, which is really, really morbid, but he tries to avoid touching that ticklish spot, out of respect. He cringes when Arcana asks, and in a leaden tone, he insists, "I fell down the stairs into a pile of rusty machetes and salt," and he points out some pronounced scars, "radiation burn from Shockwave in Brussels here," more gesturing, "stepped on by Bruticus there... I do not regenerate. If I have to amputate a tentacle, I take a tissue sample and vat-clone a new one and then stitch it back on. If you break anything organic when you take me apart, vat-cloning is how I'll fab up a new part." Tailslide doesn't seem terribly impressed by Paco's answer. "LEDs? Eh... Okay." He'll shrug it off. But Paco's next answer just sounds ridiculous. "Oh come on, rusty machetes and /salt/?" Arcana looks at Tailslide. "It's possible!" (And in the lab he works in.... who knows, it probably is...) He starts poking at Apoc's tentacles with greater interest. "Vat-cloning.... interesting. So each scar tells a story. I have a theory that we could devise a way to grab the DNA or CNA of individuals involved in a historical event and extract it to clone not just THEM, but that actual piece of TIME, too. We could create history! Or recreate it! Over and over! Just think of the killing we'd make selling historical reenactments to history majors at college!" He hops around around in glee, then goes back to poking Apoc. "Y-yes, you know, laboratories often contain very dangerous things," Apocryphacius says faintly, and he looks ill. Brainstorm's wings are off and are gently places on tables to the side. The Quintesson traces down to Brainstorm's engine, which... wow, this is an impressive piece of machinery! "...you could bring back lost loved ones, if that worked." Tailslide is just going to continue watching everyone experiment on themselves. It's probably unnerving to watch a Quintesson take a Cybertronian apart. "Nrgh, think I'ma' try to recharge again." He slumps back on the slab. Arcana ohs! "YES! YES! That's a good idea!!!" He rummages though his pockets until he finds on old beat-up notepad and flips through it until he finds some tiny scrap of space somewhere, writing something down furiously. "Note to self. Bring back lost loved ones. Also, remember that cake in the oven when you get home." Brainstorm keeps chattering away, too. "Ha... that feels funny. Hmmm, I feel like I could go on one of those human weight-loss programs now. "I LOST 300 POUNDS! See my friend APOC here to learn how YOU CAN LOSE WEIGHT, TOO!!!" "Actually... if you had the supplies... if you brought back every single Autobot, allied Nebulan, and EDC member who has died in the course of the war, your new hypothetical force would... vastly outnumber the Decepticons who are still alive," Apocryphacius says slowly, "The social implications are actually quite frightening? Death would cease to be final. I imagine resource issues would soon become quite pressing, given the massive population increase, and some might start committing suicide repeatedly, just to see what it feels like..." That is sort of terrifying. His faces switch around. Arcana will find that Apocryphacius's metal plating on his shell is very, very thin, just enough to keep his insides contained, but not enough to serve as armor in any way. "Brainstorm, you do not need to lose weight - unless you want to. Your current form is quite satisfactory," Apocryphacius says wearily, as he probes Brainstorm's cooling system, which is quite lovely. Judgement transforms into his Darkness mode. Arcana hmmms. "I hadn't thought of that. The time/space/resource scarcity implications could indeed be staggering..." The Nebulan frowns and scratches his wild shock of hair. Then with a sudden jerk, he rummages for the notepad again, scratching out and rewriting something. "Note to self, redux: Ixnay on the Bring Back the Deaday. ...But still remember the cake." He then notices Apoc change faces and he absentmindedly stuffs the notepad back in his pocket. "Interesting...." He comes right up to the Quintesson, peering, poking and proding at the seams of his face. "How does that work? That set up with a gear system or some sort of advanced pully device?" Meanwhile, Brainstorm assures Apoc, "Oh, don't worry, I'm perfect just the way I am! I'm just happy to let you SEE just HOW perfect I am! Too bad Percy couldn't be here to see it too! I bet he'd be amazed! I bet...Ooo, heh, that tickles. ...Uh... you about done, Apoc, ol buddy?" Darkness actually doesn't know the history between Brainstorm and Perceptor, so he suggests, "You could send Perceptor a video?" The thought of bringing back the dead is bittersweet for the Quintesson, and while Arcana may not be thinking about it anymore, Apocryphacius still is. He explains, "Ratchet system, internal," and he... opens up a panel for Arcana to see the gearing that rotates his faces around. His insides are... odd, an even mix of machinery and organic tissue. The machinery looks similar to Cybertronian machinery, though. "One more thing, Brainstorm..." Apocryphacius hooks Brainstorm up to a life support system, to keep all his vitals running, and then he starts to unhook the lasercore, very carefully and delicately. Cybertronian Jet ooos! "Good idea. Arcana, send him a copy! I'm sure he'll love it." The Headmaster falls a bit quiet as the last pieces are taken away. "Oh...Uh...Ok. Try to be a... little... uh, what's that word?" Arcana looks up and answers him, "Careful." Brainstorm responds, "AH! YES! CAREFUL!" He emits a few last little slightly nervous chuckles, then quiets down again as Apoc starts unhooking his lasercore. Arcana, meanwhile, watches this with a slightly pensive look. He's not quite sure he approves, but...ah well, Brainstorm is going to do what Brainstorm wants to do... He nods to Apoc. "Fascinating!" And pulls out the notepad again to scribble a quick diagram as he records video with his goggles. Getting the lasercore out and putting it on a tray is easy. Now they could go put Brainstorm in a filing cabinet, if they were so inclined. Instead, Apocryphacius just gently places Brainstorm on a tray for a moment before picking him back into reconnect everything. It's strange, how Brainstorm's body on life support just keeps going, while his lasercore is absent. But soon enough, everything is connected again. "I would not dream of being anything other than careful." Cybertronian Jet finally shuts up, but that's because his audio systems got detached from his core. It's a... very strange silence indeed, especially coming from the Headmaster engineer. Arcana even seems to take note, blinking and looking over as Apoc handles the fragile spark of life. He's sure to film that, too, since he knows Brainstorm will want to see this. And once connected to his audio again, unlikely to shut up about that should it have been missed. He pokes at the lasercore without touching it. "Always funny how such large life forms can be taken down to such small and easily disassembled components. And then- POP!- back together again!" Once Brainstorm is reconnected to his audio, he starts speaking again. "OH. Wow. THAT was...interesting. When everything goes kinda dark, and your life almost flashes in front of your optics...except it's phantom sensation by that point because you're not *hooked up to* your optics! That was... trippy. Hahahaha!" The chatter means that nothing has gone horribly wrong, which fills Apocryphacius with relief! He does agree with Arcana, "Indeed. Almost as if they were designed to be... portable." As he puts Brainstorm back together, he does a thorough check of Brainstorm's alignment and calibration to ensure that Brainstorm is in tip top shape, and he uses a checklist to make sure that he doesn't leave anything out. Apocryphacius also grabs the portable ultrasound to check all of Brainstorm's parts for defects as he's putting them back in. Parts suffer stress fractures sometimes! There's actually a lot to learn about metallurgy, just checking out the different material properties of all the different components in Brainstorm. Reviewing all the notes that he's been jotting down is going to be interesting! But then Brainstorm's back together, and it's time for Apocryphacius to pony up. He hefts himself into a table and puts up the rails, because he's shaped like an egg, and if his hover column goes off, he'll roll off without the rails. Then he thinks about this, and he knows that he's going to have a panic attack, being surrounded by Autobots, in an Autobot base, in Iacon, on Cybertron, while trapped in quarantine. The Quintesson rummages through his medical kit and gives himself a syringe full of something... green, which calms him down. Apocryphacius will have to replace all his filtration systems next week, given the dose he just shot himself up with, but feeling... calm is nice. Not freaking out on Brainstorm is nice. Brainstorm's been so nice about everything, hasn't he? Apocryphacius's faces click around. Darkness transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Cybertronian Jet actually lies quietly for a moment, just letting his systems recalibrate and recalculate and re... everything they need to do. Air circulates through his ventilation systems and wing aelirons adjust, shifting up and down again as if Brainstorm is simply marveling at the wonder of being alive. But that lasts only a moment or so. Arcana's head jolts up as some unspoken communication between them must have been transmitted. "Ah. Looks like it's time to go." He stretches, rolling his shoulders, then stuffs his notepad back in his pocket and adjust his goggles one last time. "It was nice to see you with my own eyes! Toodles!" And with that, Arcana runs over to Brainstorm's jet mode as the Headmaster begins transformation- and it works perfectly! Apoc need not feel a twinge of guilt, his skills at tinkering with Transformers are to be admired! Brainstorm now stands there in root mode, optics bright with excitement. He stops to look at his hands, flexing the fingers and simply admiring the mechanics that allow such things to even work. But no- no, don't get distracted, Brainstorm. "Alright!!!" He cracks his knuckles as he walks up to where Apoc is lying and gets out some tools. "Ok, any last words?" Pause. "Ha hah ha, just kidding, you'll be fine! I'm a professional, don't worry!" Apocryphacius is slightly out of it, after the shot he gave himself, but he has the wherewithall to say, after Brainstorm's ill-timed joke, "...if I freak out, administer 90 ccs of Laudanex intravenously at the root of one of my tentacles." Laudanex isn't designed for use on Quintessons. It's meant for Transformers, and for a Transformer of Apocryphacius's body mass, that would be a dangerously high dose. It will, in fact, further wreck Apocryphacius's filters, if it turns out that Brainstorm has to administer it. But that's about the dose Apocryphacius will need to calm down, if it comes to that, and he doesn't *have* any anxiolytics that were designed for Quintessons. Those are hard come by. "Oh. And antibiotics. Central line forestonitomycin drip, since you will be opening me up." Cybertronian Jet nods. "Okay, gotcha." Fortunately for Apocryphacius, while Brainstorm may be rather rough around the edges in many ways, he actually knows what he doing when he really sets his mind to it. And he knows this is actually a rather delicate procedure. He elans in towards Apoc. "Don't worry, I won't let you get too freaked out. You're in capable hands. After all, THESE hands helped put together the Headmasters!" Brainstorm hooks up the forestonitomycin drip and places surgical blankets all around to further ensure the sterile conditions. There's still something unsettling about Brainstorm holding a knife, even a surgical one, but he tries not to cackle or chuckle too unsettlingly. Just a soft "heh". "You know what, Apoc? You're a really good sport about all this! I LIKE YOU!" He carefully starts opening Apoc up on the side, placing the first piece of Quintesson to a small side table where another sterile medical tray lies. Cybertronian Jet transforms into his Brainstorm mode. Apocryphacius is vaguely alarmed by Brainstorm, but the shot keeps him from actually panicking. He's also fuzzy and confused. The Quintesson says wonderingly, "You... like me? That is..." unexpected, "...very kind of you to say." His outer metal covering is very thin, as has been noted previously. His faces actually come out easily - and hook back in easily, too. He's had faces torn off before and had to replace them. But Brainstorm will run into something odd when he gets the first face off... Brainstorm chuckles. "Yeah, you're alright, ya know?" He gets to work, carefully removing various panels, adding saline solutions to organic bits and occasionally using a squirt bottle here and there. Hey, Apoc is sort of water-based, right? He figures some parts need to keep wet..... He keeps working, removing pieces of the Quintesson and taking notes as he goes. Finally, he gets to Apoc's (first) face. He removes it and.... Apocryphacius is descended from a water-based creature, somewhere in his evolutionary tree, and yes, staying moist is important for him, especially his insides, so Brainstorm is right on there. Apocryphacius's processing power plummets when the mask is removed. He's now running at 80% of his usual capacity. His thoughts are slower and more difficult, and more curiously, he has difficultly thinking about or feeling anything related to that face. Most of his 'generally content and/or happy' subroutines are stored in that face. He clicks around to another face. Cephalopods have shown similar 'distributed intelligence', that a severed octopus arm will still grasp and try to raise food to a mouth that isn't there. The Quintesson slurs, "You seem very... cheerful? And... enthusiastic? Yes. Very energetic." It's a bit of a struggle for him. Apocryphacius transforms into his Judgement mode. Brainstorm keeps the saline water solution coming, whether by drip or spray bottle. He stops, though, to marvel at the insides of the Quintesson's face- and what's behind it. He takes notes as furiously as Arcana did, muttering "oh, does that...Oh it DOES!" and "How does that- oh, there we go!" to himself as he looks at the inside marvels of Apoc's face. When the other face whirls around, he starts disconnecting that, too. "Apoc? You still with me, mech? How are you feeling?" He gently squeezes a tentacle. "Feel this?" Brainstorm also chuckles. "I'm ALWAYS CHEERFUL. You've always gotta look on the BRIGHT SIDE of LIFE." "I have had... faces removed before... usually... violently," Apocryphacius manages to say. There is some tension in him. Brainstorm has inadvertently removed Apocryphacius's most-agreeable face first and is starting to remove Judgement second. If they were ever going to do this again for some dumb reason, starting with Wrath would probably be the best idea? But whoops, who even tries to take apart a live Quintesson? Who would know this kind of thing? "I feel... that." Brainstorm nods his head. "Good! GOOD! See, I told you you're in capable hands!" He removes a few more things, and finally removes the Judgement face. He lifts it up and stares the now-mask in the face. "Spooky. Yet cool. You ever consider making replicas of these? I wonder if you could even make little decoys of yourself or something.... Or make make nice party favors, at least." He sets the face down, then starts removing a tentacle, also lifting it up in the air to look at it. "Ok, now tell me if you feel *this*"... and he gently pinches the detached tentacle. Judgement transforms into his Darkness mode. Darkness drops to 60% of his usual processing power. He's pretty out of it, at this point, having no sense of judgement or contentment, and everything's fuzzy with the medication he took. Granted, he seems to still be able to struggle through a conversation, replying, "...no. Not... attached," but 60% of his normal processing power is still a decent amount. The detached tentacle tries to coil around Brainstorm, seemingly having a mind of its own, trying to poke Brainstorm in those nifty hands of his. Brainstorm watches the detached tentacle try to coil around him and poke at his hands. He raises an optic ridge. "Interesting." Trying to get at his datapad, he records some information, then sets it back down again. The Headmaster tries to pry the tentacle away without harming it, telling Apocryphacius, "Alright. But you have cephalod origins, correct? So your tentacle.." He er-hmms as the tentacle starts wrapping around his neck, "...has a mind of its own..." He tugs it away, then places it on the table nearby, where it may or may not keep reaching for him. The Headmaster keeps working, and starts working on the Darkness face. "So each of these babies affects your mood, is that it? Or do you feel the mood, and it affects your face? ...Kind of like us, then, actually..." The tentacle on the tray actually starts reaching for tools, which may be hazardous. "Evolved from... something... similar?" is all that Apocryphacius can hazard. The interesting question will be if Apocryphacius remembers what his tentacle was doing when it is reattached. "...need... faces... to... process... moods." Take off Wrath, and he would be literally unable to feel angry. Brainstorm takes note of that. "Oh? Really...." He scratches at his faceplate. "Sooooo" He glances over at the faces that have been removed already. Counting through, he points to one after the other...."Happy face, intellectual face, Getting to be-kinda-ticked-off face..... what's that leave? Where's the angry face?" He peers down at Apoc. "Show me your ANGRY FACE." This may or may not be a wise move. He notices the tentacle starting to lift up one of the surgical knives and baps the tip away. "No, no, bad tentacle..." Darkness 's faces click around compliantly, and once they settle down, he, predictably, hisses at Brainstorm and tries to get up, because he is now really ticked off, and that is about the only emotion he can feel. Brainstorm has those 90 ccs of Laudanex ready, right? Darkness transforms into his Wrath mode. Brainstorm looks down at the now suddenly angry Quintesson. "Oh, well...I guess I should have seen that coming sooner." He sighs and looks around for the Laudanex. "DON'T WORRY, PAL! I GOT THIS COVERED! Don't worry your pretty little.... uh, tentacles ...I'll have you feeling better in no time!" The Headmaster hastily injects the solution into the wriggling Quintesson, trying to hold him down. "There... there ya go... just let it work it's magic.... feel better any minute. Think about some nice, uh.... ocean beaches or something. Palm trees swaying in the sand. Pina-enercoladas on a tray by some lounge chairs... lounge chairs that have lots of little arms for all those tentacles to rest on...Yeah..." Wrath is artificially calmed down (and his filters are all wrecked). His faces click around, and he's at least placid, even if his mindset isn't good, though he's really too out of it for much of anything to matter. He sags against the table, limp. His disconnected tentacle, which was not shot up with a king hit of anxiolytic, keeps trying to grab things, though. Right now, it is... trying to write notes. Wrath transforms into his Death mode. Brainstorm takes his chance to remove the face in front of him while he can. He considers removing more tentacles, but after a glance over at the tentacle trying to write notes over there, he decides that might not be the wisest move. No... sadly, the other tentacles better just remain where they are. The Autobot peers into the Quintesson's innards, poking about, then an idea comes to him. He looks back to the tray of faces and grabs the first face... Apoc's "happy face". "Tell ya what, let's get this back on ya, OK?" He tries to get Apoc to change faces again so he can attach the "happy" face back on. Death has a digestive system that seems too small for his body, plus a more standard fuel tank. There's a filtration system that looks... like it has seen better days. Some pumps, about four of them, two mechanical and two tissue, and a circulatory system massively in parallel. No sign of reproductive organs. With "Light" reattached, Apocryphacius *looks* happier, even if he still seems out of it. The notes written out say, "Am detached from body. Non-standard operation. Warranty violated. Please reattach." Death transforms into his Apocryphacius mode. Brainstorm looks slightly relieved as Apocryphacius appears to be in a better state of mind now. It also gives him a bit more time to marvel at all the systems he sees. The pumps that work in a organic/mechanical combination get a particularly long look. "This is really awesome, Apoc... thanks for letting me do this! I can see some things that are quite similar to the Headmaster technology Arcana and I created. That fusion of organic and mechanical into one harmonious... well, *mostly* harmonius combination. But there are some ways that your systems ..." He pauses, and looks around to make sure no one is watching or listening in. "...Your system even surpasses ours, in a way. Arcana and I are still seperate, yet combined... you Quintessons took it to another level. The things I see here... could really help us reach our full potential, too. Whatever that might be, ultimately. Like I said...thanks." He then notes the...note of the tentacle. "Heh." The Headmaster reaches over and sets to work reattaching the arm- and reattaching other pieces as well. The more pieces that are reattached, the more coherent Apocryphacius seems, though he still seems to be extremely groggy and sluggish. "We had... a... head... start," he says. The Quintessons are an old species. They started meshing mechanical and organic long, long before most other species could even recognize themselves in a mirror. Brainstorm keeps reattaching pieces... until there aren't any left to reattach. ...Hopefully. "Yeah, I s'pose so! Your species has many interesting and, I'm sure, pretty amazing traits.... I just wish they put those abilities to better...nicer use." He shakes his head, then helps the Quintesson "sit" up. "But I'm glad we know you....glad *I* know you. That was... interesting! IT WAS AWESOME! I've never done anything like that before!" (/Now/ he tells Apoc this...) Apocryphacius accepts Brainstorm's help up and off the table, though he promptly slumps against the side of the table, unable to stay balanced on his hover column. The room seems to be spinning, to him, and he reaches for his toolkit, grabs a bag out of it, and loses what he had for breakfast two days ago in said bag. "Urgh," he says, inarticulate. Then he looks mortified and apologizes, "Oh my." He looks down at one of his tentacles. "I do apologize for giving you trouble, Brainstorm." Brainstorm says, "Oh, mech, NOOO." he waves Apocryphacius' apology away. "No problem at all! I think you're amazing, Apoc! That was unlike anything I've ever done, and believe me, I've seen and done A LOT." He gives the woozy Quintesson a wink. "I can't wait to see the video! I mean, how many mechs get to see themselves from the INSIDE? How COOL is THAT!?" Some might have been a bit mortified by all this, but not the Headmaster. Other than some nervousness in the beginning, this was all just fuel to the scientific fire to him. He puts away the equipment, places his datapad to the side, then sits down near Apoc. Fingers begin to drum as he ponders what to do next. "Yeah... that was great... but ya know, I bet I could do better next time."" Apocryphacius stares at Brainstorm, speechless. Next time? They're doing this again? What. Forget the anxiolytics, Apocryphacius is just going to get wasted on coconut rum if they ever do this again. "...I think the results on the poison antidote multiwell assay should be done now. We should go check those. Thank you for... trusting me. I appreciate that more than you know. But there is a village in need of a cure." File:Weirdos.jpg
|
