02-20-2018, 09:55 PM
The lenses of ST-7677's helmet flickered with a steady stream of data from the nearest Imperial checkpoint, all of it scrolling like digital ticker tape across the glowing interface: secondary departure, ID#795000858. Secondary departure, ID#625800626. Prime entry, assigned ID#000000065... ad infinitum. Yet, the suffocating amount of raw textual data displayed on the inside of his stormtrooper helmet was not as daunting as it had been the first time it came online. With time and the remarkable ability to keep a level head, ST-7677 had become accustomed enough to the computerized visor that it was easy enough to ignore all but the most pertinent of incoming messages; depending on the situation, of course.
Still keeping a weather eye on the two newly-spawned primes, he paid special attention to the corner ticking near to his left eye— an orange, crescent-shaped graphic indicating the amount of ammo remaining for his blaster rifle. His lips pursed as he squinted at it, feverish sweat beading on his brow and prickling at the corners of his eyes. Maybe he would need to have the temperature-regulation mechanism inside his armor looked at.
He nearly jolted in surprise when a sudden voice came from beside him. Nearly.
"What are you thinking, Stat?"
It was a question from ST-7677's side. Turning, the trooper was unsurprised to see the designation tag for his usual scouting partner materialize on his screen, flashing briefly to indicate CU-5461's location and status as 'friendly'. Of course, he would've known it was CU-5461 (preferred designation 'Acute') anyway— no one else had ever taken the time to nickname him.
It was almost unavoidable to forget just who the other was when wearing their white plastoid shells, something which made theses small digital indicators a godsend, but the nicknames were something else. Something bright and colorful in a sea of endless white. Being faceless was one thing, but to be nameless? It almost didn't bear thinking about.
ST-7677, or "Stat", tipped his helmet to the side in acknowledgment, responding low enough that the primes would not hear. "Recruitment could be worth a shot, but it's not looking all that promising. Too many unknowns."
Acute snorted, a short huff of nasally amusement that produced the absolute strangest, but still distinctly recognizable sound through his helmet's chin piece. "Right. And there's a lot of dead bodies."
"... That, too," Stat admitted, because it was true. He wasn't sure which prime had triggered this grotesque change in the fountain's appearance, but the sheer number of scattered limbs and days-old corpses was definitely a cause for alarm.
"It's just a clown and a kid, though. Nothing to write home about, right?" Acute mused aloud, thoroughly derailing Stat's train of thought in the process. And, for the most part, his partner's deduction seemed to be reflective of reality. Still, something itched at the back of his brain. An errant thought, really, but one that really bothered him, one that appealed to his soldierly instincts. Because of this instinct, he looked closer, eyes straining to ascertain what, exactly, was so distinctly... off about this situation, aside from the obvious.
A bright chiming of bells came from the tall fellow in costume as he spoke giddily to the little girl, the both of them seeming as distinct as night and day, the clown's fiery red hair clashing mightily with the smooth blue locks that the girl sported. The pair of them outwardly seemed to be ignoring the two stormtroopers entirely. But, Stat could see the way the clown's disjointed eyeballs rolled and spun, seemingly in haphazard patterns, only to inevitably focus again in their direction. Every. Time.
Two emotions engaged in vicious combat within Stat's brain, the standard retreat-or-approach dilemma rising to the forefront of his mind. Appearances could be deceiving, especially in the Omniverse. Having a frail child's body didn't guarantee weakness, just as a friendly grin didn't always indicate good intentions. The girl could likely defend herself, or perhaps the clown was the one in danger, here.
He watched as the clown offered the girl a balloon, the fingers of one enormous gloved hand flexing, claw-like, when the rainbow pulse of Omnilium appeared, a myriad of colors bracketed fiercely between them...
Still keeping a weather eye on the two newly-spawned primes, he paid special attention to the corner ticking near to his left eye— an orange, crescent-shaped graphic indicating the amount of ammo remaining for his blaster rifle. His lips pursed as he squinted at it, feverish sweat beading on his brow and prickling at the corners of his eyes. Maybe he would need to have the temperature-regulation mechanism inside his armor looked at.
He nearly jolted in surprise when a sudden voice came from beside him. Nearly.
"What are you thinking, Stat?"
It was a question from ST-7677's side. Turning, the trooper was unsurprised to see the designation tag for his usual scouting partner materialize on his screen, flashing briefly to indicate CU-5461's location and status as 'friendly'. Of course, he would've known it was CU-5461 (preferred designation 'Acute') anyway— no one else had ever taken the time to nickname him.
It was almost unavoidable to forget just who the other was when wearing their white plastoid shells, something which made theses small digital indicators a godsend, but the nicknames were something else. Something bright and colorful in a sea of endless white. Being faceless was one thing, but to be nameless? It almost didn't bear thinking about.
ST-7677, or "Stat", tipped his helmet to the side in acknowledgment, responding low enough that the primes would not hear. "Recruitment could be worth a shot, but it's not looking all that promising. Too many unknowns."
Acute snorted, a short huff of nasally amusement that produced the absolute strangest, but still distinctly recognizable sound through his helmet's chin piece. "Right. And there's a lot of dead bodies."
"... That, too," Stat admitted, because it was true. He wasn't sure which prime had triggered this grotesque change in the fountain's appearance, but the sheer number of scattered limbs and days-old corpses was definitely a cause for alarm.
"It's just a clown and a kid, though. Nothing to write home about, right?" Acute mused aloud, thoroughly derailing Stat's train of thought in the process. And, for the most part, his partner's deduction seemed to be reflective of reality. Still, something itched at the back of his brain. An errant thought, really, but one that really bothered him, one that appealed to his soldierly instincts. Because of this instinct, he looked closer, eyes straining to ascertain what, exactly, was so distinctly... off about this situation, aside from the obvious.
A bright chiming of bells came from the tall fellow in costume as he spoke giddily to the little girl, the both of them seeming as distinct as night and day, the clown's fiery red hair clashing mightily with the smooth blue locks that the girl sported. The pair of them outwardly seemed to be ignoring the two stormtroopers entirely. But, Stat could see the way the clown's disjointed eyeballs rolled and spun, seemingly in haphazard patterns, only to inevitably focus again in their direction. Every. Time.
Two emotions engaged in vicious combat within Stat's brain, the standard retreat-or-approach dilemma rising to the forefront of his mind. Appearances could be deceiving, especially in the Omniverse. Having a frail child's body didn't guarantee weakness, just as a friendly grin didn't always indicate good intentions. The girl could likely defend herself, or perhaps the clown was the one in danger, here.
He watched as the clown offered the girl a balloon, the fingers of one enormous gloved hand flexing, claw-like, when the rainbow pulse of Omnilium appeared, a myriad of colors bracketed fiercely between them...
![[Image: tumblr_inline_ox9oq2UNpf1v9qbbn_540.gif]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/0f940b744e47adff247fbd62ee924a4c/tumblr_inline_ox9oq2UNpf1v9qbbn_540.gif)