configuration_birdwatcher: Bastion in turret form (configuration: sentry)
(Previously.)

Bastion wakes again in the smelly treasure-filled cavern, but this time they aren't immediately re-frozen; every time they defrosted, their kobold guard fired the freeze ray at an earlier stage of their progression from semiconscious panicked disorientation to achieving coherence and struggling against their bonds. Eventually he just started shooting them with the ice rock at the first sign of reactivation, making those moments blur together into an unresolvable mess of fear and confusion and frigid temperatures. Their system clock failed to register any of the time they spent frozen, and in Milliways it has nothing to synchronize with, so they have no idea how long they've been trapped here.

They shiver electronically as they look around, fighting a wave of uneasiness. Ganymede is still at their feet in that tiny delicate birdcage, looking exactly as incensed with rage as the last time they saw him. The bars look like he's been pecking at them. He doesn't look hungry, so either it hasn't been very long or the kobolds fed him. (Or they froze him too, Bastion appends to the thought.) The kobolds are nowhere in sight. They must be having a very pressing problem elsewhere.

Bastion strains to move their arms, with only slight give from the ropes, and then has a better idea and tries switching into sentry configuration. At first it doesn't seem like it's going to work, because they have to raise their arms to complete the movement, but then one of the ropes binding their upper body tears and the rest fall slack as their shoulders swivel and their rotary machine gun lowers into place. Unfolding their legs at the knee splits the ropes tying them together. Ganymede ceases his furious attempts to make his own escape and calls out to Bastion, clearly worried by this development; most of the times he's seen them go into sentry mode were when they lost control and panicked, and he has nowhere to escape to. They switch back to recon configuration almost as soon as they've completed the transformation, unsettled by the memories attached to their turret shape.

They force themself to focus on the present. The damp, drool-encrusted, chilly present. Freeing Ganymede from the birdcage takes priority, now that they can move again. They crouch down and stick their fingers between the bars, bending them until the hole is big enough for the songbird to fit through it. Ganymede hops out when they withdraw their hand and takes to the air. The omnic and the bird make a break for the exit.
configuration_birdwatcher: Bastion in bipedal robot mode holding up their hand for Ganymede to perch on (Default)
Bastion hates going offline. Low battery, maintenance mode, automatic suspension of higher functions for emergency self-repair, any of it; the vulnerability terrifies them no matter how safe the location, and most of their experiences with interruptions in their consciousness have come before or after something awful. (Waking up in the forest and seeing Ganymede was only half an exception; it was the best thing that had ever happened to them, but it had only been made possible because they had been dropped into a raging battle, immediately incapacitated, and left for dead.) They only agreed to let Torbjörn give them a tune-up on the condition that they would stay awake for it. Mostly immobilized and various degrees of disassembled, to avoid tearing anything loose, but awake. They had already agreed that he wasn't going to touch their processor or memory; it was hard to determine which of them was more dead-set against the idea of returning Bastion to factory settings, and Torbjörn was of the opinion that any kind of interference with their cognition could have that effect. (He had expressed it through a colorful metaphor rather than being so straightforward, but the meaning came across nonetheless.)

Being wired to a terminal to make sure all their motor control systems reboot correctly also gives them a rare opportunity to speak directly with him. All their joints are cleaned up and coming back online, moving with a kind of smoothness they haven't felt since they were first built, and all the dirt is polished off; Torbjörn doesn't look like he's finished, though. He's puttering around the workshop collecting an armload of spray paint, and seems to have no intention of reattaching their external plating just yet.

[ What are you doing? ] Bastion inputs to the terminal.

Torbjörn looks over at the sound of the new-message noise. "You need a new coat of paint."

[ Why? ]

"Because walkin' around in Omnic Crisis orange makes you look like you just stepped right off the battlefield ready to start a bloodbath."

[ I look like that anyway. Painting me a different color isn't going to disguise the fact that I'm a wartime E54 Bastion unit. Nobody's going to look at me and think, "That can't be a killing machine, it's blue!" ]

They look directly at him. He scowls back, turning away from the screen to meet their optic with his one functioning eye. "The point is, it's somethin' that says you've got someone keepin' an eye on you. Someone who wants to make sure people know you're different from the other tin cans and won't shoot them as soon as look at 'em."

[ Will it stop them from screaming and running away when they see me? ] They continue staring at him as they wait for him to read their message.

"I don't know. Should make 'em think twice before calling in the army, at least."

Bastion makes a descending, thoughtful whirr as they consider this. Then they respond: [ I'll take it if you let me transfer the remaining flowers to a vessel where I can take care of them. ]

Torbjörn pinches the bridge of his nose with his organic hand. "The bot wants to start a garden. That's what you care about? Not the color? Fine, I'll get you a flowerpot."
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configuration_birdwatcher: Bastion in bipedal robot mode holding up their hand for Ganymede to perch on (Default)
SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54 ("Bastion")

January 2026

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