Dark blue optics shot open within the darkness of a stasis room. The room was just barely illuminated by that tiny light. The female bot could feel her hand scrape against the pallet surface just before she raised it to rub the area of her forehead on her chevron. With a silent thought the female engaged her programs again and sat herself up within the darkness. She was searching through her memory files in an attempt to remember where she was, or how she had gotten there.
It took her a few minutes but her white hand, not that she could see it very well at the given second, brushed over a rip through her chest hull. That was what happened to her. She recalled in brief flashes what had occurred. Outside this ship, a ship named the ARK, there had been a brief Decepticon encounter that had left her black chest plate breached. She shook her head to free her mind of the sounds of weapons fire. It wasn't exactly something that haunted her, it was just not something the female cared to remember at the given moment.
Wardog, the female's designation, was not allied to either side and wore no badge. She wore no sign whatsoever of which side she belonged to. However, it was notorious for her to side more with the Autobots than it was for her to side with the Decepticons. In truth, there was no real record or recollection of her ever teaming up with the Decepticons. Wardog simply did not want to choose a side. No one side had anything better to offer her than the other. "Teletraan-I, activate lights," she spoke in a firm even voice. The lights inside the room Wardog was contained in flared to life.
"The pit..." she swore, shading her eyes from the sudden brightness. Wardog's automatic systems had yet to take care of the hole in her chest plate. No way she'd wander around this base with a giant hole in her armor. That was just asking for trouble, or the few perverted soldiers that were inside to create some sort of show. "Which deck and room am I in?" the black, white and pink female questioned the computer of the crashed ship. "Deck Four, room 3-44," the computer spoke advancedly. "That's fantastic," Wardog spat in sarcasm.
Wardog didn't have much to think about for much longer before a minor repair droid mused its way into her room and sealed the hole in her chest. It left a bit of a welding scar, but her self repair systems would take care of it in a couple of hours, if even that. Once the hole in her chassis was taken care of, Wardog let herself out of her new room. The last place she wanted to be right now was in this place clustered with hundred of bots. Wardog wasn't known for being the social type. "Now the question is... Which way is out again..."
It took her a few minutes but her white hand, not that she could see it very well at the given second, brushed over a rip through her chest hull. That was what happened to her. She recalled in brief flashes what had occurred. Outside this ship, a ship named the ARK, there had been a brief Decepticon encounter that had left her black chest plate breached. She shook her head to free her mind of the sounds of weapons fire. It wasn't exactly something that haunted her, it was just not something the female cared to remember at the given moment.
Wardog, the female's designation, was not allied to either side and wore no badge. She wore no sign whatsoever of which side she belonged to. However, it was notorious for her to side more with the Autobots than it was for her to side with the Decepticons. In truth, there was no real record or recollection of her ever teaming up with the Decepticons. Wardog simply did not want to choose a side. No one side had anything better to offer her than the other. "Teletraan-I, activate lights," she spoke in a firm even voice. The lights inside the room Wardog was contained in flared to life.
"The pit..." she swore, shading her eyes from the sudden brightness. Wardog's automatic systems had yet to take care of the hole in her chest plate. No way she'd wander around this base with a giant hole in her armor. That was just asking for trouble, or the few perverted soldiers that were inside to create some sort of show. "Which deck and room am I in?" the black, white and pink female questioned the computer of the crashed ship. "Deck Four, room 3-44," the computer spoke advancedly. "That's fantastic," Wardog spat in sarcasm.
Wardog didn't have much to think about for much longer before a minor repair droid mused its way into her room and sealed the hole in her chest. It left a bit of a welding scar, but her self repair systems would take care of it in a couple of hours, if even that. Once the hole in her chassis was taken care of, Wardog let herself out of her new room. The last place she wanted to be right now was in this place clustered with hundred of bots. Wardog wasn't known for being the social type. "Now the question is... Which way is out again..."
