Welcome to the spectacle of the diseased mind that is... [size=+1]Scrapheapers[/size] The environment was poorly lit. It was pungent with the odours of piston fluids, mixing together into a foul cocktail on the floor. The ground was forever stained by these chemicals, adding blotches of colour at certain angles to the concrete floor. Grooves had been worn into the surfaces in all visible directions. Scratches and scorch marks as well as a little dusting of shrapnel in one area. You can just make out the glints of metal in the ground and walls. The piles weren't uncomfortable. They were massive, obviously higher underneath the ducts in the ceiling where the scraped and rejected would plummet from the world's light through echoing black. Only rusted reds below, rushing to greet you with the full force of gravity. Some don't seem to enjoy going from terminal velocity to nothing in no time at all. You can see that in how there's still some charge left to twitch their motors. The hindquarters of a droid in the heap, twitching and jerking, his synthetic tail sweeping back and forth. If you listen carefully, you'll hear the vowel he's been uttering for the past three months. There's also the head and spine of a droid over there - notice how the realistic skin harvested long ago to leave this metal framework behind- occasionally curling and flexing. There's not much left of the processors anymore so she's just keeping busy, even rolling her single eye in his socket like she was demon possessed. Everypony needs to keep busy when they're nothing but a hoof and this hoof is now attempting freedom as it drags the pile of synthetic fur and metal across the scrap, the obvious result of some kind of accident involving a truck, you would presume. There is only the noise of hums and fizzes. There's the decaying whine of a servo winding down to nothing, all accompanied by the bangs and clangs of the activity above. Her head rises. Her eyes blink. "What happened?" She looks around, her red mane given a curl on the top of her head. She looks around, spreading her wings tentatively as she surveys the piles of carnage. "Micro? Micro Chip, are you here? Hello? Darling, I'm lost and confused, please assist." She steps forwards, slipping down the side of the pile all the way to the concrete floor. She'd managed to stay on her hooves with help from her wings, stumbling into a slow trot. "Please assist." She attempts once more. "Please assist." Her ears droop. This was all to peculiar. She didn't like it. It was definitely decided that this was all wrong and she would have to correct this as best as she could. (You may now enter as you see fit. Radiation Levels: Low - Little to no hardware damage)
An android sat inside of ‘her’ own little home, a collection of used scrap that acted like a wall around a small cubicle barely the size of a bathroom, it even included a little door made out of another steel door from somewhere from the surface that was tossed inside the complex. Inside was a makeshift bed that surprisingly included a torn blanket and a pillow, something incredibly rare in the surrounding area she called home. This android was ‘Dot’, an android with a child-like personality. What passed as a mane was a collection of used electrical wires that came down to her knees that she constructed herself. It was any other day in the Skunkworks, spending the remainder of her existence in an underground complex. She cannot even remember when the last time she had felt the warmth of the sun, yet again, she could not remember alot of things since she came back online and found herself in the facility that was here own little world. Any previous memories of her former life, and now, she had to begin again. So far, she was making a good start...
/Remote Programming Received/ >Starting processors. rocessors online: >Receiving Backup Data, and running diagnostics. Please hold. /Backup Data received. Hunter 47 is running with damage to the AI Core, Gyroscophic Arrays, and Personality Core./ The assassin unit got up, and stretched his synthetic wings and talons. He observed the various piles of wreckage and spare parts. "Observation: Unable to scan for repair parts. Ion Radiation has damaged sensors. Comment: It is possible that there are functioning Androids here. Suggestion: It would be wise to prey upon these survivors for replacement parts." He scavenged through a pile of junk nearby and found his equipment. He looked around yet again, and positioned himself on a tower, sat back, and looked through his scope, waiting patiently.
[EMERGENCY REBOOT SEQUENCE ACTIVE] /Error found /Reboot failed... Retrying. /Reboot functions rerouted to secondary path /Secondary reboot successful, beginning diagnostic scan /Errors found in: V-376 Speech Modulator, T245 Computech™ AI Core, [MODEL UNKNOWN] AI Core /All other systems running within nominal parameters /S74RN-5Y ver2.01 POWERING ON Starnsy's eyes opened and flickered to life, glowing with a soft pink color. She quickly rolled over onto her belly and stood to her hooves, shaking her head and freeing whatever bits and doodads were stuck in her synthetic mane. She yanked her synthetic fibered tail free from a small pile of junk, which promptly crashed to the ground with loud metal clangs. "Where... Am-am-am I?" She looked around at the towering piles of junked androids and rusted parts. "Where is my husband?" Her eyes darted around, analyzing everything around her. "Location...: Skunkworks? H-He got rid of me...?" She sat down, unsure of what to do in this predicament. Her artificial intelligence ran through countless possibilites and solutions, but she couldn't bring herself to attempt any. Guess having an emotions chip makes things a bit more difficult.
[Rebooting Systems/ 5 minutes] [System malfunctions/ Retrying] [Successful/Welcome to Humanity Military World Security/Please Enter Password] [Access Granted/Activating all systems/System lock memory] Des awoke, breathing heavily. He couldn't remember anything, and pieces of skin were missing so it revealed his mechanic arm. He stood up, stumbling. He looked around, seeing large piles of scrap and junk. Des tried activating his hand rifle, but it was damaged to the point of trashing, as well as his scanning systems. This wasn't his lucky day, the last thing he saw was a family being blown up inside a house. They looked like animals, but he couldn't register what the hell they were. Des began walking down the hill he was on, he was being careful not to fall down the hill, but he was being weary to watch for hostile contact. He activated his Entry Log, "Name: Blood Thirst. Original Setting: MSTZ 551H666#97. Android Name: Des Collins. It would seem as if I'm some scrapheap, I have no clue how I appeared here, but I have the idea that someone didn't want me anymore. Memory log has been deleted, my weapon is in extreme condition, and some circuits are fried. They are all repairable, but the memory chip... I'm not too sure. Hopefully I run into nothing hostile, and if I do, I will terminate it."
And then the movement began. One by one by one, the heap started to move. Almost as if smashing into it might have caused them all to wake up, rising as if Celestia herself commanded them like suns. The activity was unnerving. The threat was detected and that could possibly terminate her. Or maybe leave her with some serious damage. She hadn't got Micro Chip around to fix her. She could do a half decent curry, not patch up a hole in her side. The thing coming down the hill classified as something that could cause such holes. She whimpers before the colossus. The bipedal creature seemed to be looking around. The odd spiders it seemed to be manipulating things with instead of a pair of hooves were the most mesmerisingly baffling thing. She was actually having certain parts of her processing locking up just from trying to comprehend what this thing was supposed to be. Immediately, that line of processing was killed in favour of just simply getting away from it. She looks around, judging slow moment to be a better shot than making the noise a faster approach may bring. Her eyes scanned this little clearing for any possible places to hide. None were found. There was the doors or back up the scrap. Well, the high ground seemed like a good idea. Like some of the fighting movies she'd seen. Gently, she tip-hooves towards the junk pile and attempts to climb. Now, anyone that's ever tried to walk up a sand dune will tell you that just planting your hoof into it and hoping that will give you purchase will know that this just won't cut it. So, she actually manages to just put her hoof through the piles of metal and parts, making a great deal of noise as it all clatters down around her. Panic gripping her once more, she looks to the bizarre creature for it's next move.
Dot hopped about like a little filly, wondering around the complex looking for materials to build to keep her entertained. It was a hobby of hers, she had been stuck inside the skunks works for so long that she needed to find a way to entertain herself. While her 'sculptures' did appear well made, they tend to break easily. She found herself wondering around, scavenging metal as much metal as she could then returning home. She had been doing this for as long as she could remember. She had been doing it since she woke up in the facility over eight years ago with no memory and alterations to her personality. At the moment, she had two large metal pans and a gear. The more metal she gathered, the better. She was certainly not a artist, but she could not help herself but be impressed at her creations.
Walking around. That's what the extent of the bootleg companion mare's journey through the skunkworks. Weaving in and out between the towering piles of scrap, looking for an exit. She constantly looked up at the chutes that metal would continuously fall through. But she couldn't reach them anyways. "I am not obs-obs-obs-obsolete. And I will not stay here and rust quietly." /Search mode "I can't-can't-can't be the only one in here... Maybe somepony-y-y-y can help me." And so, the mare set out through the skunkworks, searching for somepony that could help her. With luck, she could find SOMETHING at least.
Stumbling down the hill of scrap, Des successfully made on ground, somewhat. The ground seemed to be never though, he would have to deal with it. Des activated the scanning systems, but remembered that they didn't work. He would need to use his human like senses. Maybe there were someone that would help him, but he doubted it.
Charging... Charging.... Charging complete. [startup] Systems... Damaged Motors... Malfunctioning Movement.possible... Low probability Scanner.working... False Repairsystems.active... False Camouflagesystems... Damaged Flight... Destroyed runAI.possible.... True /end [AIboot] Initializing memory banks... Memory banks damaged. Initializing personality cores... Cores corrupted Initializing speech module... Speech module damaged. Booting.... A small groan is heard from under a pile of scrap. The pile shifts a little, and Dark climbs out, looking around. The metal changeling looks through the pile of scrap he was buried in, moving an occasional piece of metal out of the way. "Nothing useful here..." he mutters, slamming his metal hoof into the pile. He looks at a big hill, doing some calculations. "78% percent chance of making it to the top.... Unknown percentage of finding something on the way... Probable that I'll see something of interest...." he says, nodding to himself. He begins to walk towards the mountain of scrap, keeping his eyes alert.
(first of all, you need to sign up for rps before you can join them, second, i think this one is dead)
