Post by Nines on Jun 23, 2020 12:20:10 GMT
(@bishop , Jeffrey Devlin )
Nines continued to tirelessly gaze through holo screen after holo screen. Centered in his mess of files displayed in front of him was homework he’d been researching and working on. To the left were grade-reports and teachers notes. The mech’s optics drearily shifted through the mess.
“Primus why are do public schools have such ridiculous teaching methods. The clear and concise answer is always better.” He muttered to himself as he flicked the math results aside. Jeffery, the little human was actually proficient with his schoolwork, it was just the precise answers his school expected him to yield were janky for lack of a better term. Nines rested his face in his servo. as he gazed at the other screens. Pictures of Seam, Jeff, and projects spammed his vision. He needed rest—
“Fifteen minutes.” Nines mumbled to himself as he retracted his work into his HUD, and reclined. He never set a timer, however…
—
The mech awoke briskly, his arms extended to stretch after a long, well deserved Twelve hour nap. Yet as he flexed his joint to reach, he found them unable to move. Blinking behind his visor, Nines looked downward. He was completely strapped down to the ground. Ankles, wrists, torso, and neck? Nines thought as he ran a scan. He tried to think back to any memories of his. Was this one of those PTSD dreams he was having again? The lights and equipment around him reminisced that of a lab or disassembly tools, yet they were far from anything he’d seen or used in a lab. Shayace never dissected me either— He recalled his maker.
So He’d been taken somewhere. This was definitely not a dream of any sorts. He tried his restraints. As expected they boasted of heavy duty metals which prevented him from budging much. Nines furrowed his brow, letting his first and secondary visor remain over his optics. Naturally, he checked his com-links, but all frequencies had been blocked. He was a prisoner of whomever had decided to take him. The medic furrowed his brow upon returning his gaze at the tools around him.
Their tech wasn’t primitive. Each item surrounding him seemed to be in place for dissections, examination—it was as if Nines were some sort of specimen rather than a prisoner of war. As he looked around the room, there were a handful of lifeforms in small apprael, taking away at screen which seemed to have diagnostics of his vitals. Nines suddenly noticed how several plugs were inserted in the back of his helm and in his wrist. There wasn’t a single cybertronian in sight. The humans seemed to be aware of him, but ignored his movement completely. Clearing his throat, Nine decided he’d at least try to figure out what was going on.
“Alright humans. What’s the meaning of this?” he spoke calmly, yet his voice was still firm, “If those dissection tools see use without my consent, trust me, this isn’t going to end well. Not because I have weapons, but because of legal issues.”
Nines continued to tirelessly gaze through holo screen after holo screen. Centered in his mess of files displayed in front of him was homework he’d been researching and working on. To the left were grade-reports and teachers notes. The mech’s optics drearily shifted through the mess.
“Primus why are do public schools have such ridiculous teaching methods. The clear and concise answer is always better.” He muttered to himself as he flicked the math results aside. Jeffery, the little human was actually proficient with his schoolwork, it was just the precise answers his school expected him to yield were janky for lack of a better term. Nines rested his face in his servo. as he gazed at the other screens. Pictures of Seam, Jeff, and projects spammed his vision. He needed rest—
“Fifteen minutes.” Nines mumbled to himself as he retracted his work into his HUD, and reclined. He never set a timer, however…
—
The mech awoke briskly, his arms extended to stretch after a long, well deserved Twelve hour nap. Yet as he flexed his joint to reach, he found them unable to move. Blinking behind his visor, Nines looked downward. He was completely strapped down to the ground. Ankles, wrists, torso, and neck? Nines thought as he ran a scan. He tried to think back to any memories of his. Was this one of those PTSD dreams he was having again? The lights and equipment around him reminisced that of a lab or disassembly tools, yet they were far from anything he’d seen or used in a lab. Shayace never dissected me either— He recalled his maker.
So He’d been taken somewhere. This was definitely not a dream of any sorts. He tried his restraints. As expected they boasted of heavy duty metals which prevented him from budging much. Nines furrowed his brow, letting his first and secondary visor remain over his optics. Naturally, he checked his com-links, but all frequencies had been blocked. He was a prisoner of whomever had decided to take him. The medic furrowed his brow upon returning his gaze at the tools around him.
Their tech wasn’t primitive. Each item surrounding him seemed to be in place for dissections, examination—it was as if Nines were some sort of specimen rather than a prisoner of war. As he looked around the room, there were a handful of lifeforms in small apprael, taking away at screen which seemed to have diagnostics of his vitals. Nines suddenly noticed how several plugs were inserted in the back of his helm and in his wrist. There wasn’t a single cybertronian in sight. The humans seemed to be aware of him, but ignored his movement completely. Clearing his throat, Nine decided he’d at least try to figure out what was going on.
“Alright humans. What’s the meaning of this?” he spoke calmly, yet his voice was still firm, “If those dissection tools see use without my consent, trust me, this isn’t going to end well. Not because I have weapons, but because of legal issues.”