Day 34: Breakfast

[screwthegods]

[starting off in M13]

The last part of the night was little more than a blur in Homura's mind. The men had rushed in, but not joined them, instead staying off to themselves. Before any of them had a chance to react, however, a voice sounded through the air, mocking some other person Homura had never heard of, and the patients themselves.

To Homura, whoever that man was, he sounded a great deal like a god.

But before he could ask questions, the demi-god found himself no longer in the chapel, but some strange room on a bed. Is that what Kenren had meant from his earlier warning? Homura sat up, glad at least that the world didn't spin when he did so. Then the same man from before began to speak again, with a completely different tone. It was confusing to hear him talk that way, calling them patients instead of prisoners as he had before. Homura listened quietly as the announcement was made, then got out of bed.

Maybe he wouldn't have to go anywhere yet. It wasn't like Homura knew where to go anyway, and that meant he had time. If this was his room, and if he had been here as long as Kenren had said, there was a chance he could find something with answers. The Taisho had even told him that Homura had seen Rinrei. Certainly he would've written something down, made a map, something that could let him find her again! He started with the desk at the end of his bed, first finding a small stack of notebooks. Picking up the first, he flipped through, turning the pages with quickening desperation as he found each one to be blank.

Comments

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

[Hope this is alright!]

It sounded like there was another droid here this morning! ...An exceptionally loud one, which was not always a good sign, but still!

"Statement: I've yet to meet any other unwilling meatbags of those designations, so they're not here," HK said with manic cheerfulness, dropping his tray of food on the table and pushing it out of the way so he didn't have to look at it. "I am designated HK-47, and I greatly approve of the general tone of your yelling. More meatbags need to be destroyed in novel and interesting ways."

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

Starscream was greeted not by an onslaught of nurses (lucky for him, for he would have been sedated and dragged away in no time), but by a peculiar-looking and -sounding patient of this facility. He glared down at the creature, unsure of what to make of it at first; as it continued speaking, however, Starscream picked up on this...Eichkay Fortyseven's disdain for the humans, and so at the very least he had someone to commiserate with about his current physiological state.

"Indeed, they do," Starscream replied, stepping down from his perch - yet still looking around for any signs of recognition of the names he shouted out, despite what this individual had claimed. "But that is not important right now, disgusting as these flesh-creatures are. I am Starscream, leader of the Decepticons. Tell me, Eichkey Fortyseven (it should be noted here that Starscream didn't make an attempt to parse the words as initials and numbers, but rather as if they were two odd-sounding alien names), are you, too, a Transformer placed in a synthoid body? Do you know how it is we arrived in this state, and more importantly, what these flesh-creatures intend to do with us?"

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

Well, that was a new method of garbling his designation. He let it go for the moment, something he would never do for a meatbag. "Negatory: I am not a 'Transformer'. I am an assassin droid, designed for targeted, precise termination of selected individuals. And I regret to vocalize this, but I highly doubt that these disgusting, fragile shells are anything more than fully meatbag bodies." A week's worth of dealing with the blasted thing meant he was not inclined towards optimism in this regard.

"Statement: I have absolutely no idea how they loaded my systems into this fleshy monstrosity. Observation: So far, the meatbags seem content to pretend to be running a psychiatric medcenter during the day, before unleashing more aggressive, mutated meatbags during the night." A long period of sunny boredom, followed by an entertaining exercise of his combat protocols. If only he wasn't so squishy at the moment, he might have quite a lot of fun here.

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

Not a Transformer, Starscream mused quietly, a slight frown curling in his lips as he crossed his arms in thought. I loathe to think that I alone from my glorious race have been brought to this wretched planet...and in this form, no less!

"No, they wouldn't be," the Decepticon leader said. "COBRA took pains to make sure these...things mimicked a normal human body perfectly so that they could blend in with the rest of humanity for whatever foolish purposes they had in mind." Indeed, while Starscream had never seen a synthoid body in the flesh, so to speak, reconnaissance he and his minions had performed on COBRA gave them all the diagnostics they needed; Megatron had deemed the technology worthless, and so further investigation was not necessary.

Starscream waited to allow his companion to continue speaking, his expression becoming impatient and frustrated as the explanations issued forth. "I see...so these flesh-creatures claim to be doctors, eh? I was once a scientist myself, but I am glad to admit I abandoned that part of my life to become a warrior, a much more energetic and exciting way of living." On hearing about the 'mutated meatbags', however, a noticeable look of concern came over him; normally, such things wouldn't matter to him, as either a blast from his null-ray could neutralize the target, or a quick transformation would help him make a rapid escape. "Aggressive flesh-creatures, you say? Have you had any personal encounters with any?"

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

...Uh...what? "Statement: I have never heard of this 'Cobra', nor has any evidence thus far shown that these are anything but organic." unfortunately HK's usually impassive face took on an expression of disgust. "They cannot properly function without all of the irritating or outright disgusting requirements of human meatbag existence. Such as ingestion of food." He was not going to mention the rest of the digestive system.

"Affirmative: Yes, I have had many fights with the hostile meatbags." He indicated a number of scars and more recent wounds on his arms. "Advisory: Unfortunately, there are no decent weapons here that can keep the things far enough away to totally avoid sustaining damage." His face had long since returned to completely neutral, but his eyes and voice took on a suitably manic tinge. "However, I have found that the meatbags are happily still just as fragile here as they are everywhere else, and cannot stand up to repeated stabbing with something even so ineffective as a writing utensil." Of course, his droid chassis had been known to have its own embarrassing moments in response to attack by stylus-wielding meatbag. Still, he'd only suffered a pierced actuator, while his former owner had suffered a fatal lesson in the electrical conductivity of the meatbag body.

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

A visible shudder shook Starscream's frame at the thought of debasing himself to human levels. "Organic biology is incredibly revolting and downright inefficient," he replied, pointing at the buffet in front of the pair. "Look at all this! Rather than refueling with a simple serving of energon, they are forced to consume different kinds of flora, fauna, and artificial substances to sustain themselves! And now WE have to suffer through this humiliation as well!" Reaching forward, the Decepticon leader grabbed a stack of pancakes and dashed them to the ground. "Pathetic".

Starscream nodded as the droid continued speaking. His lips curled slightly when HK-47 started on his maniacal sadism toward the flesh-creatures. "I may not take as much revelry as you do in putting the humans in their place, but I certainly appreciate your disdain for them." Enough prattle about the humans, however; he wanted to learn more about this place. "Tell me...do you know what it is the 'hostile meatbags' are guarding, if anything?"

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

"Statement: While I have no idea what this "energon" is, being normally fueled by high-grade power cells that need no recharging... Affirmative: Yes, the meatbag food is disgusting. Unfortunately, these bodies require several periods of refueling each day. Suggestion: Once it actually becomes a necessity to deal with the stuff, I would recommend consuming a liquid food product along with the standard solids." HK grimaced slightly, his eyes taking on a long-suffering look. "It aids in minimizing the urge to regurgitate." The only food product that he had yet to like was chocolate. And the guard meatbags still refused to give him any, on the grounds that it would make him 'hyper'.

"Statement: Some of the meatbags simply act as patrolling guards, attacking at random and adding to the general mayhem of the place. These favor ambush attacks for the most part, and it is therefore advisable to find at least one human meatbag to travel with at night, so that they can act as a 'meatsheild'. Oh, how I love that term," HK's eyes glinted with happy psychosis again for a moment before moving on.

"Others, usually far more powerful, guard specific areas, such as the 'Sun Room'," HK pointed in the direction of the aforementioned area, "Which is a common direction from which attempts at getting to the kitchen are made. There is a secret entrance to the basement hidden inside a cold storage room there. Commentary: 'Secret' is by this point only used as a general descriptive term, as the meatbag in charge of this facility just couldn't help but tell everyone about it over the comm system several nights ago. He seems quite 'unhinged'." As if meatbags had any hinges in the first place. "I will be very glad when he is forcefully disassembled. He is a very irritating reminder that by some random fluke, a meatbag found a method of temporarily subjegating his non-organic betters." And it had better be temporary, or HK would become very cross.

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

Starscream noted the pained expression on HK-47's face as he spoke at length about the need to consume this wretched excuse for fuel. He'd not go into what energon is, nor about its superiority to these organic objects. "Unfortunately...if this body is truly one of those synthoid replicants, then it might find this...'food'...palatable. I loathe to imagine myself enjoying this slop."

Nodding impatiently as HK-47 continued speaking, Starscream's eyes lit up when mention of a specific human came up. "Someone...in charge, you say?" The Decepticon crossed his arms and paced about slowly. "Tell me, my friend...have you made any attempts at taking down this flesh-creature? I could care less for the other humans in this facility, but you and I" - it was here that he placed a hand on his companion's shoulder - "we should not have to suffer this humiliation. At any rate, if wresting control of this facility is more difficult than I imagine, there must be SOMETHING that can be done to understand what's happened to us."