[Hey there, Cybertron, one of the police force's most antisocial members has just shown up on the screen. Only difference is that there's give or take a few years...ok he's nine. But that's not that young, is it?
He doesn't think so. The young cyborg looks pretty bleary-eyed, like's seen something he shouldn't have.
Oh well, he still had business to do.]
The pillar's gone. The guy who made that is bad news.
[He looks down at himself.]
...before you say anything, I know. I look different.
But I'm not gonna let that stop me from doing my job.
[He's a VERY serious nine-year old.]
[Albert Heinrich wasn't one to keep track of time well. After forty years it doesn't really become important to him. But sometimes he remembers something that's sorta important.
It's not really about him but more about his team. Those keepsakes didn't help when it came to missing the other cyborgs...his fiance...he wondered what they were doing without them.
Maybe talking with someone would get his mind off it, even if it was mindless chit chat.]
...so I guess it was my birthday last week.
Place makes it pretty easy to forget dates.
[He thinks for a moment.]
...you guys know about birthdays, right?
[Albert has finally woken up in Solus' temple. His brain is a mess, trying to distangle the events that took place in the past few days. Between meeting Tarn and now, everything else seemed to be a great big fuzz. The confusion, the memory gaps, the pain...he's felt it before.
He must have died. Again. First time on Earth, second time on Cybertron. What a cruel irony.
But the cyborg isn't sad, no. A bittersweet smile, miniscule and fleeting, spreads across his face. They finally took care of that nightmare, they had to.]
....did we get him?
[Everyone is concerned about ghosts and whatnot, meanwhile Albert has other things on his mind. Some things that have been weighing heavily. ]
Let me ask you something.
Now, you don't need to give me details because I'm not planning on sharing details, but still. Has there ever been a time you compromised yourself...what you stood for? To survive?
[The clink of his mechanical finger can be heard before it drifts off. There was also the matter of the rampant cycles of murder-revenge and how the police force have been dealing with it...but that would wait another time.]
Anyway, since I'm on here, anyone have anything happen to their glyph? Mine's got this...purple outline around it. It's faint, but still...
[Why, at first it appears there's nothing onscreen, just the floor seem from a low vantage point. Someone must have dropped it, that's all--]
I was wondering when it was going to hit me...[Lo and behold, onscreen walks what appears to be a talking doll. Stitched in red fabric, it seems Albert has kept the boots and scarf typical to his cyborg uniform. His body even bears the numbers 004. His hand seems to still be missing, now replaced with a crude club of sorts. Getting used to this body is going to take a looong while...]
Least you guys know what you are. Anyone know what I am? Because I'm not really sure.[Locked to the Police Force][No matter, it was still serious business time.]
How many of you have been affected by this...change? If it's a lot, I think we're in big trouble.
[So on a scale of bad ideas from bad to Whirl, this is pretty much a Wheeljack on his part. Albert knows this and he doesn't want to worry anyone so he'll try to make his plea as quick as possible. Best to keep himself off the video feeds for now.]
This is going to seem like a weird request, but bear with me for a moment.
I need you guys to look out for something...
[A moment of silence for his lost hand. And also for his inability to really reach out to people. This is revving up social awkward levels to an eleven.]
So if you you see...a hand, human-shaped, metal, could you tell me? Thanks.
[And he flips it off just as quickly. Even though his damaged arm was mostly machinery, it still hurt pretty bad. He didn't SEE them eat his hand, so maybe there was hope it could get reattached...]
[Albert wouldn't normally bother the comm with unimportant business, but he felt the matter at hand was a little important. After all, the item dropped might be important. It was there for almost a week now so he better just ask the comm and get it over with, as edgy as some of these bots were.]
Sorry for bothering you folks, but I got a little problem here.
Anyone know a Mirage? If so, I have something for him. Or her.
[He holds up the package. Red wrapping paper with a green bow, how festive.]
And uh, merry Christmas, I guess.
[He just shuts off the feed.]
[One of the more human voices goes on the network. Yeah, Albert's been off the comms for some time. For one, you guys chat way too much and Albert isn't exactly the biggest social butterfly. And two, Albert has been busy patrolling here and there. But, he felt he had to let the other people, at least the more sane ones, he was still alive. That and he had something to work out, something that's been hanging on his head for a long while. Maybe he could work it out with some of the people here, maybe not. Just talking can help sometimes. Sometimes.]
For the most part other than a few incidents, I haven't seen anything major pop up...yet. Which got me thinking. I mean, if something like...whatever happened could make you short circuit so easily, what's keeping a human from losing control? What's keeping them from malfunctioning?
I just think that...I'm not sure what to expect of this place. But whatever's going to happen, it won't be good. I haven't seen any signs yet, but from experience these kind of things happen without warning.
Sorry if it seems like I'm rambling, there's just a lot I need to sort out. And I don't think I can do it alone.
[He hits the feed off again once more.]
[He never should have played that game with Blurr, he spilled all his secrets, all his pain to him and for what? Just for the creep to taunt him more. Since Blurr didn't give him any answers he would have to go and find them for himself. He wished 003 was here, she would have made it slightly easier. It was pitch black, not easy to see in the dark. He merely went by the light of the temples to help navigate. Then his problems got worse.
It was barely a few feet out from Solus' temple when the explosion hit. Why didn't he see it coming? He merely saw a burst of light before he found himself on his back, shrapnel sticking him like a pincushion. If it weren't for his cyborg parts he would have died completely. It still didn't lessen the pain...or the fact the explosion left both his legs defunct. He couldn't get up, he had to reach out...]
Anyone? This is 004...I've...I've found one of Blurr's bombs...please be careful when going outside. It seemed he placed one near...Solus' temple.
And if anyone could...help...I...I would appreciate it.
[He certainly looks worse for wear. And with that note, he signs off.]
[Albert decided to pay the network another visit. He didn't see a reason to start chatting up the robots, but he felt he had to get something off his chest. Especially with all the robot on robot crimes going on. He felt some of them acted too nice, too accommodating. Maybe he gave too much information away...perhaps he should start pushing, gauging for their true colors.]
I've only been around here for a couple of weeks. But from what I've seen it seems like this world has a pretty sorry definition of law enforcement. I'm not saying those who have been actually doing work aren't doing enough. I'm just saying we should start trying to pulling our efforts together or something, you know?
[He glances furtively around. This place never sat right with him. Felt too...artificial.]
Especially with war lords and killing machines running around.
[Albert could already feel the wave of snarky and sarcastic responses coming in. Maybe he shouldn't have bothered. It was worth a try anyway.]
[Something went wrong. Then again, when don't things go wrong? But taking a look at this place, whatever horrific wasteland, whatever trap Black Ghost had concocted for them this time, things got screwed up real bad. He didn't remember the hows or the whys of getting here or the mark he had on his arm, he just knew that the infamous Black Ghost organization was behind it. They were behind every calamity in his life, ever since they jammed their devices in his body.
The communicator with him obviously had to be a trap. It must be some kind homing device or a just a sadistic way to instill hope when he had none. But yet, this was the only way he could contact the other cyborgs....he brushed his head in frustration. He would be playing into their hands either way.
The important thing was to keep moving. Excuse the shaky camera movement as a grey-haired cyborg calls out. He doesn't want to take chances.]
002! 003! 009! Dr. Gilmore! Anyone! Do you read me?!