| abstract | - Sky Above Iacon Above the wrecked Cybertronian cityscapes and highways is a much better picture of the symbol of enduring freedom as the rebuilt Iacon, largely true to its original form, can be seen down below. Thanks to the solar power from Prima Facie and Altera, the golden city of Iacon is now powered up and offer a glimpse of the prosperity that the other Cybertronian city-states ages ago had enjoyed. Down below, several notable Iaconian landmarks can be seen. From the massive Central Spaceport, to the fortress of the Decagon, and even the spiral Tower of Pion can be seen over in the City Center. Silverbolt is soaring high over Iacon. Is he on patrol? Nope. Running high-altitude surveillance? Nope. Giving First Aid a leisurely ride for the sake of scenery? Yeah. Don't ask him why he's agreed to this. Maybe it's just because there's something about First Aid that's just irresistable. As in when he guilt-trips--he really knows how to guilt trip. The thing is, if he'd been doing any of the other things listed, it wouldn't have been a problem, because those things were part of his duty as an Autobot, and that sense of duty was always enough to overcome his...odd fear. At any rate, he's doing everything he can to keep his mind off of the sheer altitude he's at. But that's difficult when he can even see the curvature of Cybertron below. He'd tried pretending he was on a recon mission, but that was difficult when First Aid was riding on him. Sigh. "...you had enough yet, Aid?" Some people feel that the best way to help a buddy deal with a lost love is to go straight to Planet XXX and do an untold number of unthemely things. Not First Aid, though. He felt Groove would have been best served with a quiet, relaxing flight over Iacon, and as luck would have it there's a certain Aerialbot that owes him one! Alas, Groove was unavailable and so First Aid has resorted to filming it with a handheld camera, transmitting the sights and sounds to Iacon, where it gets sent straight to Groove. Currently the Protectobot is up on Silverbolt's 'back', surfing the Concorde. "...and down there you can see Retoris. Gosh, that place really has grown," he tells Groove. "And over there are the pavilions for the high council. Not sure if Rodimus is planning on re-instating them, but since they have a building... oh, and look! A shuttle is taking off." It's a great view of one of the huge Autobot shuttles that's taking off from the central spaceport. At Silverbolt's question, he says, "Hmm? Oh, would it be possible to take a few more laps? There's some really amazing architecture in the Forum of Enlightenment." F-15E Strike Eagle coasts not too far off from Silverbolt and First Aid, struggling to stifle his amusement at bossbot being used as a surfboard. Sure it's been done before, but it just looks silly. To him. And somewhat degrading! "Y'start seeing weird shapes in the landscape if you go high enough," he calls. "Weird shapes, huh? Is that what you do in your spare time?" Silverbolt comments in return, wondering why in the name of Primus he ever agreed to do this. "Sure, sure... a lot of things are /possible/, Aid. Unfortunately many of those things are a waste of time." Or uncomfortable, or scary. "Why are you recording this, again?" "I'm sending this to Groove on Earth," First Aid explains, still holding the camera up to his optics as he scans the horizons. "Although given how beautiful these shots are, maybe it'd be an even better idea to turn this into a tourism video. You know, maybe we can get some off world travellers to visit to stimulate our economy." Aid, like Bolt, is also interested in the mention of weird shapes, though his interest is far more positive. "Really? How high to you have to go to see that?" "I do a lot of productive stuff in my spare time!" Raid wingrocks and pitches forward, catching up. "Hnnn... I'd say preeeetty high. You can make out the shape of a hand somewhere. And a dagger I think. S'too bad though, you ain't gettin' higher than this," he snerks. Oh, /great/. Why, Primus, why?! "I'm sure we can make tourism videos with our satellites." Silverbolt remarks. But now Air Raid has presented a dilenma. The Aerialbot leader is already uncomfortable enough at /this/ altitude, but at the same time he feels the need to demonstrate his flight expertise to his troops. He knows they look up to him, even if it doesn't always /look/ that way. "..." "You sure about that one, Air Raid? I'm certain you've seen me go higher before." And thus, he climbs further. Even if he's going to regret it a few breems later... "Wow!" First Aid replies, lowering his camera for a moment. "Silverbolt, lets go check out the hand and dagger!" He sees no reason why they can't get any higher than this. At the satellite idea, First Aid waves his hand dismissively, "Those things always give blurry images. Apparently that's why Intelligence gathering is always done by physically sneaking into places and looking at stuff with one's own optics." That's the reason. As Silverbolt climbs, First Aid uses his free hand to hold on tightly. F-15E Strike Eagle chuckles, "Have you? I can't really remember. Why don't you prove me wrong, boss? First Aid wants his shots, don't wanna' deny a medic, yeah?" The black jet makes no move to ascend, busied with his own haphazard air tricks and meandering barrel rolls. Silverbolt does what he can to keep his sensor arrays diverted away from the planet below and his altitude readings scrambled. That's seriously the only reason he isn't freaking out right now. He also distracts himself by talking to First Aid about recon. "How would you know? You're a medic, what would you know about recon and intel?" "...Air Raid, you'd better keep up. Or are you having trouble going this high yourself?" "Groove knows all about recon," First Aid explains. You wouldn't think so, but apparently it is true. "According to him the satellite imagery is always a bit fuzzy." The Protectobot peers over the sidge of the Concorde and says, "Oh, I think I can see the hand." He points, "Is that it?" he asks the Aerialbot CO as he aims the camera downwards. F-15E Strike Eagle cackles and darts skyward. "I can keep up just fine. Pits, I've free-fallen from this height fightin' 'cons. What a rush! Don't look down," he teases lightheartedly. "Yeah that's it 'Aid, see the thumb? Weird how these things form up." "Sure, sure...yeah I think that's it." Silverbolt says, feigning that he has looked that way but he hasn't actually. He doesn't think about what Air Raid is saying. Nope, he doesn't even let his mind go there... First Aid points, "It almost looks like a claw. See where the 'fingers' kind of have some points at the end? It's a little bit faded but doesn't it remind you guys of a claw?" F-15E Strike Eagle tilts, "Heh, like a sweep's? Yeah, I guess. Okay, head north a bit and I'll show you the dagger. C'mon boss, don't get all air-sick on us. Think of how pleased Groove'll be! He was pretty bummed about that bike." "Uh...sure." Silverbolt obliges and heads northward as Air Raid had suggested, curiosity growing all the while. Did it /really/ look like a sweep's hand? No, no he can't risk looking at it... "Yeah, like a Sweep's," First Aid agrees. "You can see how the forefinger servo is about eight percent higher than on most Transformer's. Kind of spooky, really." The Protectobot says. Soon, though, they leave the creepy Sweep hand behind to go check out that dagger. "...Eight percent... Mech you know a lot of weird tidbits. Any trivia on Aerials?" Raid banks to swoop back around and give Silvebolt's wingtip a light tap. "You're missin' the view!" "What are you talking about, Air Raid? I'm not missing the view...it's...uh, great." Silverbolt protests, banking away from the wing-tap. "Did you know that, other than Silverbolt, all of you share almost the exact same transformation?" First Aid asks. "Not just in terms of outward appearance, either, but the internal system changes that operate the robot-to-jet conversion are all practically identical to one another." Aid also knows tidbits about how Silverbolt has super weak legs and Slingshot is prone to GPS, but he refrains from mentioning that since it's a matter of patient privacy. Also, Fireflight has been seeing a psychiatrist for the better part of forty years now to try and get him to focus. F-15E Strike Eagle huffs a bit. "Yeah yeah, we're still pretty different y'know." One has an orange head. Yep. "C'mon 'Bolt, we have to descend a bit. See, there's the pommel." He glides into a rather steep dive, contrails streaming. First Aid was certainly right about Fireflight, that was for certain. Unfortunately, it hadn't been helping much thus far. Anyway, focusing on First Aid's Aerialbot trivia was at least helping /him/, though. "Oh, yeah? How am I different, exactly?" he asks, curious. Yes, be curious about that, not the strange 'dagger' formation... Oh, no. He had to descend now? That would require looking down. Slag. He hesitates. First Aid is, sadly, indeed distracted by the technical discussion. "Well, size notwithstanding, your transformation is completely different. Your legs kind of..." First Aid gestures with his hands, using one hand as Silverbolt's fuselage and one as the legs unfolding. "And then your arms... well your arms are kind of already there I guess, but your nosecone flips back like this." Aid gestures. "And then sometimes you have a chest piece and some times you don't." They aren't at the perfect viewing altitude to check out the dagger yet anyway. F-15E Strike Eagle casts optical sensors back to watch First Aid do his gesture thing. "...'Aid, are all these little details in files somewhere? ...What else is in those files?" he asks somewhat warily, oblivious to Silverbolt's unease. "Hm, interesting..." Silverbolt comments, still not diving down to take advantage of the best view of the 'dagger'. He is going to need prodding if First Aid wants to witness it is all its glory. "Well everyone's medical profile and instruction sheet are there, but course they're confidential," First Aid replies to Air Raid. Looking over the edge, Aid tilts his head, "Is that the dagger?" he asks, unsure. It doesn't look right from here. "Confidential huh..." Raid mulls this over. How to hack in... "Yeah, there ya' go. Hard to see from this height but- oh for, 'BOLT! Look! Tilt your damn nosecone! I've got a whole lecture on fear if you're gonna' miss out." And now Air Raid is getting angry. He'd better...at least give it /one/ look so he can at least participate in the conversation somewhat. And also so that Raid won't try to 'lecture' him on fear. He should be the one lecturing. It's part of his job as leader. Plus, it wasn't exactly something he wanted mentioned in front of First Aid. Thus, he elects to look down for just /one/ astrosecond. That wasn't a very good idea... As soon as he caught a view of the formations Air Raid was talking about, he finds his optics fixated upon it, unable to look away. And that is when the phobia sinks in, and panic consumes his processors. Now, many sapient organisms have a sort of 'safety' mechanism in place that may be triggered whenever the individual encounters something so horrific or appalling that its mind is overwhelmed by it. It's the mind's attempt to keep itself from having to experience the phenomenon any further and minimize the chances of post-traumatic suddenly stasis locks. His engines cut immediately, and the Aerialbot then begins to free-fall back down through the atmosphere, taking First Aid with him! Looks like it's going to be up to Air Raid to save the day! Anyone with medical talent has access to these files. You never know when someone's tech specs will be required to save them from death. First Aid stops leaning over the edge and says, "I think Air Raid wants you to descend." First Aid wasn't sure if Silverbolt heard the shouting. And then the Aerialbot does just that, suddenly plunging downwards to the ground. "Ieeee!" First Aid says. The video camera goes flying out his hand, spiralling to its doomy doom as First Aid holds on for dear life! "See! Ain't so hard. Now uh, just pull up a little bit. Pull up. 'BOLT!" Raid would've facepalmed if he could. "Hey-hey-hey!" His sharp descent ceases abruptly as he angles himself to slowly come up from beneath the concorde. "Haha, uhhh, hang tight 'Aid. Silverbolt, snap out of it!" Bossbot will get a light nudge, though it's a nudge strong enough to emit a 'crack!' just under his nosecone. Silverbolt is going to be /so/ upset later. If he survives, that is. There is a slight cracking noise just under his nosecone, and his fall is jostled a bit but he doesn't snap out of it. Is he really stasis locked, or just frozen with fear? At any rate, the acceleration of gravity within Cybertron's orbital diameter is pulling them down faster and faster with every passing astrosecond. First Aid is gripping the handholds he's using on Silverbolt's back so tightly that his hands have turned white...r. The doctor is almost dangling, only attached ot the Aerialbot by the straps due to the death defying plummet. The heck is going on, First Aid wonders desperately. Mechanical failure? He struggles, unsure of how to reach the tool kit in his trunk while holding onto Silverbolt with both hands. F-15E Strike Eagle 's nervous laughing finally peters off. "Okayyyy enough dickin' around, let's not try to kill First Aid, yeah!?" The jet pushes up, but... he's a concorde. No lifting this air whale. Raid flips in and out of bot mode trying to steer and angle Silverbolt at least upright. "Dammit boss, don't mech me shoot some sense into ya'!" Rifling popping out of subspace, he fires a few shots... into the air. KRAKA-KRAKA! When Silverbolt doesn't respond to even that, it becomes evident that he is, in fact, stasis locked. If someone were to tell First Aid knew about the Aerialbot's phobia, the medic might have a clue as to why he'd suddenly passed out, and thus come up with a way to override that mental 'anti-postraumatic stress safety mechanism'. It might be psychological, but there's bound to be some circuit pathway or connection somewhere that had set it in motion in the first place, right? Or maybe, he could do it the simple way and try to shock his sensor arrays back online. If he has the proper equipment available for that. What does First Aid keep on hand in his subspace, anyway? Of course, both of those options might mean letting go of him at least temporarily... First Aid would probably struggle to think up a solution to override a 'mental anti-post-traumatic stress safety mechanism' on the fly, but when the outskirts of Iacon are rushing up towards you at an alarming speed First Aid might be able to wing it. Ok First Aid, he thinks, clearly Silverbolt's gone into stasis lock, leaving him with only a wing and a prayer. Any number of mechanical reasons fly through First Aid's head that could be at fault. Reluctantly, but without much choice, First Aid takes a hand off the hand hold and flips open his knee trunk, rummaging around for something that might save the day. A few items like cyber-bandages and anti-toxins fall out, sent spiraling out into the sky. There's a chance Aid'll find something that'll help, but that could just be a flight of fancy. Air Raid stares at the ground rushing up with wide optics. "'Aid, help me out here! Wake him up or something!" Aileron's rattle as wind jostles them, and he finally pushes away to drift up and settle topside. All he can really do is grab First Aid by a wheel well and make sure the medic doesn't topple off. The ground is indeed rushing up to meet them very quickly. It is getting rather hot, too as the friction builds up around them. The tall spires of Iacon are growing larger and larger, and its inhabitants can now be seen below, going about this cycle's business, unaware of the looming threat. If First Aid could find some stimulant drugs, or even some circuit speeders...not the best option but if nothing else, they /might/ help! They'd just have to deal with the repercussions of a drugged Silverbolt later. First Aid: dispensing medical treatment with one hand while holding on for dear life with the other. When Jesus did his healing trick, he had all the time and the world and /and/ was on solid ground. After giving Air Raid the most panicked, horrofied stare ever, First Aid manages to grab a mechano-syringe. Feeling along the edge of the vial with his nervous fingers, he can tell what type it is. It /should/ reboot Silverbolt's primary systems. Meant for combat usage, it isn't a happy, gentle rebooting, either. It's the hard stuff that will hopefully jolt Silverbolt awake before he plows into the highway at mach 1,000,000. Air Raid might've responded to that look with a whole FEAR IS AN ILLUSION speech but there's no time for it, alas. The moment First Aid is finished shooting poor Silverbolt up, Raid levels himself, grabs the medic's shoulders from behind and springs off. There is a very brief moment First Aid tumbles through the air before Raid "catches" him in jet mode, straining to pull himself up /away/ from the ground. He mutters a prayer to Primus. Air Raid shifts and twists into his black F-15E Strike Eagle mode. The chemicals shoot through Silverbolt's systems. Oh, it works all right. Not the most pleasant feeling, but it does its job. The Aerialbot is jolted back to reality, and is immediately greeted by the heat of friction with the atmosphere, air roaring past his audio receptors, and not to mention Iacon rushing up toward him. It was like his worst fears realized--no, it /was/ his worst fears realized. For a split astrosecond, he is paralyzed with fear, but then he remembered that First Aid had been riding on him. Oh /no/ where was he now??!! Pull up, pull up, pull UP! Veering sharply, his fuselage brushes the top of one of Iacon's many comm towers, leaving a nasty scratch in his paintjob. But that's hardly a concern. <> he practically yells over the comm. First Aid stabs the mechano-syringe into Silverbolt. It breaks through the outer layer of armouring before snapping off. Did it work? First Aid can't tell for sure, but what he /is/ sure of is that the fingers on his remaining hand are starting to slip. He watches in horror as one by one, his fingers slide off the handhold. Within moments, First Aid is jerked back and sent hurtling through the air. In freefall, Aid's life passes in front of his optics... except for B.O.T. because that was God awful. Then, there's another second and First Aid is on /another/ jet, being carried into the sky. The medic instinctively hugs/holds onto the F-15 for dear life. <> he gets Bolter's transmission. << I'm alright! How are you?!>> F-15E Strike Eagle vents a sigh of relief when Silverbolt manages to right himself. There's a few things to be displeased about, among them being /ridden/. <> he gripes, ascending in a slow spiral to the city. Silverbolt is also relieved when First Aid responds on the comm. <> he mutters, relief evident in his voice. << I'm so sorry First Aid...and Air Raid. I-->> he pauses as he too, slowly descends toward one of the hangars in the city. <> He'd rather not tell others about his weaknesses but...he knows he at least owes the medic an explanation. First Aid doesn't let go in his grip of Air Raid, holding him very tightly. "Y-eah, n-no worries, Silverbolt. You should stop by the med centre first chance you get, huh? Maybe we can take a look see at your neural systems to make sure there's no issues?" "...Yeah. Sure. We'll talk about it then." Silverbolt agrees, and heads for the repair center.
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