OUTER SPACE > Open Space

Pain isn't a factor any longer [M] [TW] [Cheesy!]

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ARAD V1.0:
OOC: Tags to @Cheesigator
M for gore, anxiety and depression, drama, romance and all that good stuff.

"Fuck," was the mechanical snarl ARAD V1.0 could only mutter as he glanced at the command console. Unknown input. Self destruct protocols started. He slammed his metal fist into the console, shattering the screen. Sparks flying everywhere.

So it seemed that was it, huh? This ARAD V2.0 bitch, that bucket of bolts, would've succeeded in killing him. The fucking nerve. A newer model being able to take the Prime version out. It was insulting. With a soft hiss, his reactive armour completely sealed against his body, his core systems locked in. If there was a chance to survive this, he'd take it.

He still had to destroy every last bastard that was involved in his creation. They killed him, rebuilt  him. But they failed to subjugate him. Their goddamn mistake. A soft cackle came from him. He'd come out of this and he'd burn the Syndicate to the goddamn ground.

"Two, one," the robotic voice counted down, before the small, personal cruiser detonated, exploding into a thousand small bits, flying everywhere. Including some of ARAD's bits. His legs, his arm, part of his thorax plating was ripped off by the explosion. His reactor softly hummed against the absolute zero temperature of space. But it remained active. But besides that, the first creation had succumbed. Booted down to drift aimlessly through space. For as long as his reactor allowed it.

Cheesigator:
"Yeah, I know. But the bastard pulled a gun on me and hit the emergency eject before I could get them out of the escape pod, fuckin cheeky piece of shit."

There was a heavy sigh on Belliel's end of the comm link, while Reva chewed on a peppermint-flavored toothpick, carefully steering her sleek personal cruiser through space, heading back towards Cancer with the supplies she'd just bargained for to bring back to the shop.

"What a pain in the ass. Any idea where they went?" "Nah, I was kinda busy. He tried to shoot me. Very rude." "And?" "And I punched my fist through his chest, so we won't be doing business with Jaro anymore."

Belliel stared at her camera, therefor looking directly at Reva from where the hologram of the video feed was displayed on the dome windshield.

"Yeah that's fine. I found someone who has better parts for cheaper anyways." "So glad to hear you're not mad at me." Reva said sarcastically, before a flash of light caught her attention.

She blinked, reaching up with a golden skeletal hand, still stained with blood up to her elbow, taking the toothpick from her teeth as she looked to her right and saw a small explosion a ways away. "What was that?" Belliel asked.

"Dunno, I'm many things but omnipotent is not one of them."

"Of course, how could I forget."

"Looks like an explosion, probably somebody's personal ship. I'll go check it out, maybe I'll find some good loot."

"Sure, check back in an hour then."

"'Kay."

She flipped a switch and the call ended as she steered her cruiser to the explosion, bits of debris hitting the hull of her ship but doing little to no damage. And then she saw a leg float by her window.

"... Huh. Takes a strong body to stay intact after an explosion like that." She muttered to herself, watching another leg drift in the opposite direction.

She was sure that was somebody's fetish somewhere out there.

She eased the ship forward, watching the pieces of the wreckage fly by, propelled by the momentum of the explosion until they inevitably ran into something to change their trajectory path. She tilted her head to the side, something catching her eye as she narrowed her gaze.

Looked like a body, supposedly the owner of those legs. And an arm, which was floating who knows where.

She grabbed her helmet from where it was stashed under her seat, putting it on and turning it on to regulate her oxygen as she stepped out into the dock, the bay doors opening as she hopped out into the gravity-less open space. Using the small jets built into her arms she approached the person-like object, inspecting it from a few feet away with brows furrowed and a rather grumpy-looking frown on her face.

Droid. But he looked different from the standard models used in most modern societies; she drifted a little closer, using the thrusters to slow them down and keeping the two of them from drifting too far away from her ship. For the most part he looked intact; she snapped her fingers in front of his (presumably) face, found him unresponsive. But the lights on his stomach indicated that something in there was still working. She rolled her eyes; well, he'd be interesting to play with she supposed.

She gathered the rest of his parts, stuffed him into her ship, along with a few other pieces of scraps that could be traded or sold for a decent credit, and with that she boarded her ship again and set her course for Cancer.

Belliel's shop was large, easily big enough to host up to four massive army-grade freight ships in its main hangar, with plenty of room for smaller creations in its second. Reva's part of the shop was set in the basement, and this was where she carried her catch, much to the eyebrow raising of some of the other workers. She dumped the torso, legs and arm onto a table rather ungracefully, having carried him in one trip. It took about a week for her to put him together, working on him whenever she was bored or wanted a break from something else.

Finally she finished soldering a last detail; closed him up and looked for a power button, finding it and hesitating for a moment, before she shrugged it off and booted him up. If he got too unruly, she had the use of her powers and strength. Wouldn't be the first time she'd had something wreck her studio.

She rolled her stool back away from him, perched on it with legs crossed and chin in her golden metal hand, looking bored as hell as she waited for him to show some sign of life. Yawn.

ARAD V1.0:
"Systems check initiated," his mechanical voice rose from the lifeless wreck as she forced him to boot again. "Weapon systems offline. Defragmentation matrix unresponsive. Pain inhibitors activated. Limb actuators slightly damaged. Repairs required."

With a deep, mechanical humming, one of the limbs moved up to rest on the table, pulling himself up. The droid looked around, head turning with a soft creaking. No idea where he was. And immediately, he was wary. Arad threw his legs from the table, before he dropped down on the ground, immediately collapsing again, a soft, pained grunt following.

"Where-.." Came the deep mechanical snarl. ARAD looked up to Reva, clawing at the ground to drag himself closer. "Who.. Are you? Another Syndicate creation?"

Cheesigator:
Uh-huh. Well he was mostly functional. Kind of. Good enough he could be repaired fully if she wanted, but she wasn't sure she'd like him enough for that.

She watched, unamused, as he fell onto the floor like a sack of potatoes and growled at her. Her eyebrows knit a little, her expression unsympathetic as she looked down at him, chin still resting in her hand; she didn't move.

"Dunno who this Syndicate of yours is, don't care. You're in the basement of a ship building company on Cancer. Ya dun got blowed up, son. You're lucky I found your ass floating out there in space."

She hopped off her stool, pushing it back and reaching down, picking him up by the collar and lifting him like he was nothing, setting him back on the sterile metal table he'd been on moments prior. Her studio was rather dimly lit, awash in blue-tinted shadows, random yellow-white lights turned on and hooked precariously on the rafters in the ceiling, spotlighting certain things. A station with a tilted desk with a touch-screen computer built in, holograms lit up around it and a soft song playing in the background that pulsed quietly throughout the space. It was an organized mess, parts and tools scattered everywhere, half-finished projects lying around on the counters that lined all four walls. It was a fairly large space, with island counters in the middle that were mostly cleared. The walls were covered in notes, half-sketched designs; there was a poster by the desk for a boy band. It was faded, peeling at the corners, and the members had dicks with mustaches scribbled over their faces along with 'Fuck off, Bell.' at the bottom.

She leaned in now, inspecting the remaining damages on his body and clicking her tongue.

"Ugh, if I'm gonna finish you I'll need to find a few replacement parts, that's so much effort." She grumbled, more to herself than him. "What's your name, Gimpy?"

ARAD V1.0:
A slow , almost calculating hum came from Arad as he rested back on the table. So they either believed he was dead. Or that he was missing. But they had no idea where. The only one that could tell them was dead on some god forsake wasteland.

Good. A moment of respite.

His head tilted in her direction. "Heal me," he demanded. Arad didn't ask. Didn't try to bargain. No, he demanded what he wanted. He needed to be repaired.  He failed to notice his own misspeak. Robots couldn't be healed. Only repaired. A remnant of his humanity. "Immediately," he added with a soft snarl. He sighed softly. Or the mechanical counterpart of it, a soft, metallic hum. "Designation, ARAD V1.0. Or ARAD PRIME. Not 'Gimpy'." The cracks in his armour and hands pulsing softly. "And for fuck's sake. Turn off my pain inhibitors," he added with a snarl.

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