#operational efficiency cable

[electronalytics]

Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market Research report, Share, Growth Forecast Global Industry Outlook 2017 - 2032

Overview: The Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market is a segment of the heating and ventilation industry that focuses on electric heating cables used for underfloor heating systems. These cables are designed to provide efficient and uniform heat distribution across the floor surface, offering a comfortable and energy-efficient heating solution. The global Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market is anticipated to grow at a blazing CAGR of 6.1% during the forecast period 2022-2029.

The Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market has been experiencing significant growth in recent years, driven by the increasing demand for energy-efficient and comfortable heating systems in residential, commercial, and industrial applications. Electric underfloor heating cables offer advantages such as space-saving installation, precise temperature control, and compatibility with various floor coverings.

Trends and Growth Drivers:

Energy Efficiency and Sustainability: With the growing emphasis on energy conservation and sustainability, electric underfloor heating systems have gained popularity due to their energy-efficient operation. These systems provide localized heating, eliminating the need to heat the entire room, resulting in reduced energy consumption.

Comfort and Thermal Comfort: Electric underfloor heating cables offer comfortable heating by radiating heat evenly from the floor surface. This results in warm floors and a comfortable living or working environment, particularly during colder months. The demand for enhanced thermal comfort is driving the adoption of these heating systems.

Retrofit and Renovation Projects: The retrofit market, including renovations and upgrades of existing buildings, presents a significant growth opportunity for electric underfloor heating cables. These systems are suitable for retrofit applications due to their easy installation process, flexibility, and compatibility with various floor types.

Smart Home Integration: The integration of electric underfloor heating systems with smart home automation technology has gained traction. This allows users to control and monitor the heating remotely, optimize energy usage, and integrate with other smart devices for enhanced convenience and energy management.

Industry Analysis: The Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market is highly competitive, with numerous manufacturers offering a wide range of heating cables and associated products. Market players provide various cable types, such as heating mats, loose cables, and cable sets, catering to different installation requirements and floor sizes.

The market is characterized by continuous product innovations and advancements, including the development of ultra-thin heating cables, self-regulating cables for energy efficiency, and smart thermostats for precise temperature control. Additionally, industry participants often offer installation services, technical support, and warranty coverage to differentiate themselves in the market.

Demand Outlook: The demand for electric underfloor heating cables is expected to witness steady growth in the coming years. Factors such as the focus on energy efficiency, increasing adoption of smart home technology, and the demand for comfortable and customizable heating solutions drive the market.

Furthermore, government regulations and incentives promoting energy-efficient heating systems, along with the growth of the construction industry, contribute to market growth. The retrofit and renovation market also offer significant opportunities, as homeowners and building owners seek energy-efficient heating solutions for their existing structures.

In conclusion, the Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market is experiencing significant growth due to the increasing demand for energy-efficient and comfortable heating systems. Trends such as energy efficiency, thermal comfort, retrofit projects, and smart home integration are driving the market. Continuous product innovations and supportive government initiatives further contribute to the market's growth potential.

The Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market report offers several key benefits for stakeholders involved in the industry. Some of these benefits include:

Market Overview: The report provides a comprehensive overview of the electric underfloor heating cables market, including its current state, trends, and future outlook. This information helps stakeholders understand the market dynamics and make informed decisions.

Competitive Analysis: The report includes a detailed analysis of the key players in the market, their market share, and competitive strategies. Stakeholders can use this information to identify their competitors and devise effective strategies to stay ahead in the market.

Market Opportunities: The report highlights potential growth opportunities, new product launches, and emerging markets in the electric underfloor heating cables industry. This helps stakeholders identify untapped areas for investment and expansion.

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We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.

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Market Segmentations:

Global Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market: By Company

• SST Group

• nVent Electric

• Warmup

• ELEKTRA

• Fenix Group

• Emerson

• Anhui Huanrui

• ThermoSoft International Corporation

• Danfoss

• Nexans

• Wuhu Jiahong New Material

• Anbang Corporation

• Watts (SunTouch)

• Ensto

• Anhui Anze Electric Heating

• Heatcom

Global Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market: By Type

• Single Conductor Cable

• Twin Conductor Cable

Global Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market: By Application

• Residential Building

• Commercial Building

Global Electric Underfloor Heating Cables Market: Regional Analysis

All the regional segmentation has been studied based on recent and future trends, and the market is forecasted throughout the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Global Electric Underfloor Heating Cables market report are U.S., Canada, and Mexico in North America, Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe in Europe, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, Rest of Asia-Pacific (APAC) in the Asia-Pacific (APAC), Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of Middle East and Africa (MEA) as a part of Middle East and Africa (MEA), and Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America as part of South America.

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[thebluediner]

BEHIND THE SCENES

a/n: new celebrity crush unlocked y'all!! I know most of y'all won't like this cause it's not billie and that's okay but there's literally no kwn fics so I have to do my job as a fanfic writer

the studio was busy—people rushing up and down with heavy, expensive equipment. some were preparing the set, paying attention to every tiny detail. others were busy with the actors, making sure they looked prim and proper for the camera that weighed heavy in your hands.

but most of all, when you glanced to your side, kwn stood out,conversing with the directors and creatives about last-minute changes. truthfully, you should’ve been there too.

you slowly made your way over, fingers working your hair into a manageable low ponytail as you got closer. you stopped right beside her. her focus faltered the second she saw you, her eyes sweeping over your face like it was the first time all over again. they lingered on you...watching, waiting for you to look back.

so you did. just slightly.

your eyes met.

only for you to break the gaze a second later, tuning back into the conversation, hoping it would give you some insight into your job for the day. you were the camera operator well, camera woman.

your role was simple,keep the equipment rolling.

kwn liked one takes. she always said they were more efficient. more effective. you never asked in what way you just went with it.

“okay, we’re starting in five! everybody to your places!” the director shouted, sending the entire crew into motion.

as you moved into position, you felt her right behind you her scent finding its way into your nose, familiar and distracting.

“try not to get jealous, yeah,” she murmured behind you.

“yeah, okay,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes instinctively as you caught a glimpse of her walking toward the bar setup.

you were positioned exactly where you needed to be, eyes tracking what the lens was supposed to capture. when the countdown started, and they called out one!, you hit record. the camera rolled smoothly as you walked behind it, hands on the remote, ready in case anything went wrong.

it caught the storyline as it unfolded, following the dialogue, the action, until it panned over to kwn. your eyes followed her closely. she moved with purpose, in sync with the energy of the scene. she was magnetic—fully in tune with what was needed.

the camera followed her walk toward the love interest. you stayed right behind, capturing the chemistry radiating between them. every detail: the way she looked at the girl, the way her lips curled into a subtle smirk, the girl twirling her hair while looking up at her with wide, suggestive eyes.

your jaw tensed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

they broke away from each other soon after, heading to separate sides of the set for the next scene. your camera panned to the setting, giving the audience context, anchoring them back into the mood.

then came the kitchen scene intimate and closed off. you moved carefully, feet silent on the ground, navigating between machinery and cables with the camera resting on your shoulder. you got in close.

the mood shifted flirty, slow-burning. the early signs of desire that come when something new sparks to life. kwn reached for the girl, tugging her in by the hoop of her jeans, teasing her into leaning close. the girl practically melted into her touch.

and just like that, they broke apart. like they knew they were being watched. or maybe just maybe the universe was being kind to you, not letting it go too far.

your eyes met kwn’s for a fleeting second. her expression unreadable. you looked away, grounding yourself back into the camera’s viewfinder, following the love interest as she ran out of frame and back into the previous scene.

this was the final stretch the girl having a dramatic fight with the guy she originally came with. you stayed close, letting the camera drink in the tension, capturing every motion, every word, until the final,

“cut!”

you instantly stopped recording, turned to the crew, gave them a thumbs up and a quick smile to confirm everything was captured cleanly.

you barely had a second to breathe before the editor-in-chief was in front of you, pulling you into a discussion about footage delivery and post-production timelines. you listened intently professional as ever but when a familiar scent filled the air again, your body turned on instinct.

she was there.

and without needing to say a word, the editor-in-chief took the hint and walked off, leaving you two alone.

“hey you…” she cooed playfully, poking your side just to make you laugh.

“hey, you did great. one takes really are your thing,” you said, casually, keeping your tone steady, professional.

“c’mere. the shoot is over. can i have my girlfriend back now? not the camera person,” she grinned, pulling you in by the hook of your jeans, spinning you until your body lightly collided with her chest.

“oh my god, where did you even learn that?” you laughed, your real self slipping through the cracks.

“why? you feelin’ it?” she teased, eyes watching your face carefully, already smiling at your grin.

“maybe…” you murmured, your arms sliding around her shoulders, pulling her in close. lips just inches from hers.

“we’re still at work, you lovebirds,” your assistant chimed from behind, voice teasing, snapping both of you out of your little world.

“i see you’re still being a cockblock, huh,” kwn smirked, peeking over your shoulder to tease her back.

the three of you laughed but her arm stayed wrapped around your waist, and your heart stayed right where it always was.

with her

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad Activity Report

Part 1

(As I mentioned before, all of this was retrieved and translated from the P3 Club Book)

4/6 (Mon) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo...

Today is April 6th... No, it's already past midnight. So, to be precise, it's the early hours of the 7th. A new member has arrived at Iwatodai dorm. He is a boy who seems a little quiet, but exudes a mysterious air about him.

Yes, to use a cliché phrase, he has that kind of aura that makes you feel like there is something shining there.

The Chairman had told us about his "potential" beforehand, but to be able to walk the whole way from the station to the dormitory without getting flustered during the Dark Hour... Marvelous! I'm really surprised!

It seems that he has not yet Awakened, but I am sure that he will be a great asset to our team. Today may be a fateful day for us.

Hehe... I seem to be in a surprisingly good mood. Let's hope that my hunch is correct and that I'll finally be able to put an end to my sadness of the past 10 years.

4/7 (Tue) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba. There are no club activities today. Oh, I guess escorting the transfer student who arrived last night to school this morning counted as part of the activities. He is, to put it nicely, "calm and collected," but from my perspective, he's way more than cool, and I don't know what he's thinking... well, you shouldn't say anything bad without knowing the facts.

Also, that idiot Junpei Iori from my class is getting a little too close to the new transfer student, so I made sure to tell him not to mention the Dark Hour thing. That's it. This is Takeba.

4/8 (Wed) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Following on from last night, I was on a shadow patrol again tonight. The patrol area was the main street from Iwatodai Station to Moonlight Bridge.

Since the beginning of this month, there have been more and more rumors about shadows, but contrary to expectations, there are not many of them. To be honest, it's not enough.

I guess we have no choice but to build up our fighting power as soon as possible and begin our assault on that dreaded tower, Tartarus. They'll be gathering there. It should be a more efficient way to proceed with our operations than patrolling in the hopes of a chance encounter. Well, now is the time to lie low...

Ah, that's right. Tonight I found an unexpected find. A detailed report will be provided at a later date.

It's unclear whether it will be an effective fighting force, but it looks like it could be interesting in many ways.

Oh, and a message from Takeba to Ikutsuki-san: "It's embarrassing, so please stop the indiscriminate attacks of puns."

4/9 (Thu) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. During the Dark Hour, we were attacked by a large Shadow unlike any we had seen before.

The Arcana was the Fool.

For more details, please see the attached report.

…Today's report may be a little too brief, but due to a series of shocking events, I'll have to be forgiven.

Above all, he is a newbie... He seems to be a little out of control, but he awakened to two Persona at the same time.

What if...

Anyway, the confusion on this matter has subsided.

I will provide a written report as soon as possible.

Oh, and there was some damage to the exterior walls and windows of the dormitory, but the overall damage seems to be minor. We plan to place an order for repairs with a contractor from our group as early as tomorrow.

4/10 (Fri) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

The damage caused by the large Shadow last night was greater than expected. Mitsuru said it wasn't a big deal, but it was a big burden on Takeba, as it was her first real fight. She's probably not going to be able to use her Evoker for a few days, especially due to mental fatigue.

The damage to the dormitory itself was even worse than it appeared, with several optical fiber cables for the internet broken.

Also, the newbie collapsed after the battle and remains unconscious. It seems that the cause was excessive mental concentration in order to control his Persona, but it is unclear when he will return.

It's true... I can't help it. I'll fight for anyone who can't fight for themselves... Hey, Mitsuru, what's with you all of a sudden... Whoa, wait a second...

(Some loud bang sound)

...Additional information from Kirijo. Akihiko has been diagnosed with a broken rib and will need one month to fully recover. For the time being, the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad will be effectively suspended.

...Correction: Akihiko has suffered a head injury. An additional half month will be added to the time until he is fully recovered. That's all.

4/11 (Sat) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

Dark Hour activities will be suspended for a while, but today I went to visit our new member, so I thought I'd let you know.

He's still unconscious, but the doctor said he's in good health.

From what I saw, his complexion was good and he had regained consciousness.

I think he might have gained weight from all the infusions. I'm a little worried, so I'll go and check on him again tomorrow at noon.

Maybe he will be cured completely.

4/12 (Sun) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba for the second day in a row.

Kirijo-senpai is out today, having gone to the Kirijo Group headquarters to report on the recent large Shadow incident. Sanada-senpai was about to go out for some personal training when he was spotted by Kirijo-senpai, who gave him a cold shoulder... well, not metaphorically, but more like, physically.

Oh, and I believe Ikutsuki must be feeling lonely without a supervisor...to be honest, it's painful. I hope the new guy returns as soon as possible. That's all from Takeba. Phew.

4/13 (Mon) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

As for the cleanup of the large shadow from the other day, it seems that it has finally come to an end, according to Mitsuru's report yesterday.

The rest is up to the Chairman and the specialist team. We just need to focus on defeating the shadows. That being said, we are currently overwhelmingly underpowered... Anyways, patience makes perfect, so we'll just have to be patient for a while.

That's right. Today at school, the Student Council election was held. Mitsuru was running for president, and it seems likely that she will win. The results will be announced at tomorrow's morning assembly, but should I start thinking about what to say to congratulate her?

4/14 (Tue) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo.

There is nothing to report from the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad today. The new recruit hasn't regained consciousness yet. I wonder if he'll be okay...

Also, I apologize for talking about my personal matters, but as a result of the Student Council elections held yesterday, I have been officially appointed as student council president, starting today.

Let me report on it.

I have a lot of things to do this week to take over the Student Council. However, I am confident that I can achieve good results by utilizing the experience I gained as a Student Council member from my first year.

I hope that with this, I can be more confident in defeating shadows as well...

No... that's not it. That's not it. Why would I have confidence in the Student Council, in school life? My life may not be in danger, but the future can't be perfect either...

I may have been... a bit complacent.

I'm grateful for this activity report. Just having to say it out loud and record it is a lot easier than thinking alone.

It teaches you things that you would not notice on your own.

Thinking about it, I've always been told that I'm taking on too much on my own. Akihiko often lectures me about this.

Well, I'll make sure to keep this in mind when I deliver my inaugural address next week.

4/15 (Wed) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

Today is a day off for the Archery Club, so I went to Tatsumi Memorial Hospital again. …He is still unconscious, so I'm starting to get worried.

The other day, I was asked to read a report about his upbringing, and I did, but it was pretty sad that he doesn't have any family to help him if something happens.

It's pretty tough without someone...

I really hope he gets better soon.

That's all from Takeba.

Oh, that's right. I forgot to mention it, but congratulations to Kirijo-senpai on being appointed president.

4/16 (Thu) - Reporter: Shuji Ikutsuki

…This is Ikutsuki.

It seems like everyone in SEES has been pushing themselves too hard lately, so I've decided to let them go to bed early tonight. There's nothing of note to report regarding shadows.

It's really nerve-wracking to record in front of a microphone in this empty space.

I was so nervous that I had to go to the bathroom...

When recording, that is, when inputting sound, going to the toilet is inevitable, just kidding...

Ah, if no one listens to me, it's not worth it.

4/17 (Fri) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

It's Takeba! Well, he's finally woken up! According to the doctor in charge, he's in good health. He'll still be staying in the hospital tonight just to be safe, but starting tomorrow, he'll be fine to go to school.

Also, the Chairman said that he will finally tell him about SEES tomorrow.

I'm a little worried about whether he'll understand SEES' activities because he's a bit shy. Well, I can't force him, so it can't be helped, but if he joins, I think he'll be very reliable. I'll try not to get my hopes up too much and wait for tomorrow. This is Takeba.

4/18 (Sat) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

Good news! The new guy has been officially accepted into SEES.

…Honestly, even though it was an accident, I put him in a life-threatening situation, so I thought it was inevitable that he would refuse, but he seems to have a more flexible way of thinking than I had imagined. I can expect him to be an even more valuable asset in the future.

Oh, and by the way... I may have been a little too strict during the recruitment meeting. Sorry, Akihiko.

However, I need you to act a little like an injured person and exercise more restraint.

I don't want anyone to be forced to miss out...any more than this.

4/19 (Sun) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

The new recruit I picked up during the recent Dark Hour, whose situation had been left unresolved due to the large Shadow attack incident, is finally being allowed to move into the dorms.

The new recruit's name is Junpei Iori.

His detailed information should have been submitted separately, but he was in the same class as Takeba and the transfer student.

I had planned to keep it a secret until the last minute and surprise him, but Takeba's reaction when he moved into the dorm was better than I expected, and it was quite fun. If he continues like that, I think he'll fit in with the group quickly and do well.

He has a unique talent for creating a good mood, and in a sense, this is an advantage that surpasses his Persona abilities.

He has a unique talent for creating a good mood, and in my opinion, this is an advantage that surpasses his Persona abilities. Maybe I should follow his example.

And... finally, starting tomorrow, we plan to begin our search for Tartarus. Unfortunately, it seems Mitsuru won't allow me to join in, but even so... it's finally here...

4/20 (Mon) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

Today was my first time in Tartarus...and I'm kind of tired from all sorts of things...

But I'll try my best.

No, I think I can do my best.

The field leader, the transfer student, is amazing. I have my own goals, but I don't really know much about them.

I know I shouldn't rely on him, but it still seems like he could be relied on.

Now... if only we could do something about Junpei's stupidity, it would be fantastic.

Well, it's short, but I'm going to sleep now. This is Takeba.

4/21 (Tue) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

…Ah, ah...Is the sound properly? Ahem.

Hey, I'm Junpei Iori, a promising new recruit. Well, this is my first report. ...What should I talk about? The activities that seem to be part of SEES are, ah, I was told by Sanada-senpai to go to the Tatsumi East Police Station with the transfer student to buy weapons.

But if you think about it, that's just black market sales, isn't it? Is that okay?

I heard something on TV, but the number of Lost people, shadow victims, is increasing.

Well, that's where we come in... but it's hard to get used to the Evoker.

I don't think it's right. Isn't it possible to make it a more gentle design?

And then... Oh, by the way, Kirijo-senpai's inaugural speech as president was really powerful. I didn't really understand it though.

Is that it? Yes, it's all over.

SEES Members Talk!

Mitsuru: In addition to directing the daily attack on Tartarus, he is also involved in student council activities... right, he is also in the sports club.

Fuuka: Although he doesn't go every day, he participates in the same cultural club as me. The club president seems to think highly of him.

Yukari: So what was it called, that club thing... you do that too, right? Come to think of it, it's a really hard schedule.

Mitsuru: Even when he comes to school, he sometimes looks pretty pale. I wonder if he is tired after all. I am worried because he never complains or anything...

Yukari: Sometimes he falls asleep during class so soundly that his eyes roll up, or he goes to Mr. Edogawa's after school.

Fuuka: That's right, and then he takes this very suspicious drug that seems to emit smoke, and looks so happy... It's actually kind of scary how he becomes so refreshed so quickly.

Mitsuru: Sometimes during the Dark Hour he mutters to himself something like "The end is coming..." ...Could it be that he's in quite the dangerous situation...?

Yukari: ...

Fuuka: H-how can I cheer her up? Oh, that's right, how about equipping her with high leg armor and sexy heels!

Mitsuru: Wh...! Yamagishi, don't be so casual about it as if it's someone else's problem.

NEXT->

[polo-drone-073]

Operation Spring Spiral😵‍💫

Phase One - Ready for take-off

The gigantic Airbus A380 stood motionless on the tarmac. Its fuselage gleamed in the morning light, but the black and gold spiral patterns on the fuselage betrayed its true purpose. This was no ordinary aircraft. This was a tool of the Hive. A precise instrument designed for a single purpose: assimilation.

Inside the plane, the air was cool, the atmosphere immaculately organized. Four drones moved through the interior of the aircraft with synchronized efficiency. Not a word was exchanged, not an unnecessary movement was made. Just perfect, precise movements.

PDU-073, the lead unit on this mission, stood in the cockpit. The shiny black rubber uniform flawlessly enveloped his trained figure, the golden “073” on his chest shone under the cold light of the instruments. PDU-151 took a seat next to him. His eyes checked the instruments.

In the main area, PDU-070 and PDU-125 worked on the special modules. The huge projector, embedded in the floor of the aircraft, was adjusted with meticulous precision. Cables were connected. Data flows checked. Every lens perfectly aligned.

One last control check.

“Systems ready. Start of mission in T-5 minutes.”

While PDU-151 communicated with the tower in the cockpit, 073 concentrated on the launch preparations and followed the tower's instructions.

The two other drones sat strapped in front of the instruments. Also waiting for take-off and even more waiting for the mission. Then the go-ahead. The aircraft taxied to the runway. A few minutes later, the tower gave the go-ahead.

The engine noises became louder and the tension among the four drones also increased. Then the aircraft accelerated, the four drones felt the acceleration forces pressing them into their seats, and then the largest civilian airliner ever produced in series took off. The maximum speed of 961 km/h (approx. 597 mph / Mach 0.87) was not needed that day.

Phase two - target area reached

The beach in Florida was a pulsating melting pot of energy, chaos and excess. Hundreds of young men danced, drank and sweated in the hot sun. Their colorful shorts, neon tank tops and mirrored sunglasses bore witness to a life without order, without purpose. An uncontrolled, senseless state.

That had to be corrected.

High above the beach, the A380 appeared on the horizon.

For the students, it was just another plane - perhaps a VIP transport, perhaps a marketing stunt. Some looked up curiously. But in a few seconds, everything was about to change.

“Activate projector.”

Inside the aircraft, PDU-070 and PDU-125 moved simultaneously. A low whirring sound permeated the cabin as the huge projector began to pulse. Then, with a single, powerful flash, the sky was reshaped.

A spiral.

Black and gold. Spinning incessantly. Pulsating. Inescapable. In between, the first mantras appeared, burned into the sky.

“OBEY.”

“DISCIPLINE IS FREEDOM.”

“ORDER IS STRENGTH.”

“JOIN THE POLO HIVE”

The music on the beach became meaningless. Conversations fell silent.

The first students frowned, blinking irritably. Some laughed nervously, trying to dismiss what was happening as an optical illusion. But their eyes remained fixed. Their gazes became fixed, their bodies restless.

Then the resonance began.

One of the young men - athletic, muscular, with tousled hair and colorful swimming trunks - suddenly swayed. His shoulders slumped, his breathing slowed. His eyes... spiraled.

Next to him, another student suddenly let out a guttural sound. His legs gave way, but instead of falling, he froze in a strange, stiff position.

Within minutes, the change spread in waves.

“Conversion at 40 %. Process stable.” reported PDU-125 from the technical area.

Student after student fell victim to the spiral. The colorful outfits began to fade, replaced by a liquid, shiny fabric that seemed to come from nowhere. Shorts became smooth flawless rubber suits. Tank tops disappeared, replaced by sleek, shiny torsos.

Faces became blank. Posture perfect. Thoughtless.

An hour passed.

Then... absolute silence.

The last music fell silent. The last conversations died out. The students - no, the drones - now stood in immaculate, perfect discipline. In rows. Breath synchronized. No smiles, no emotion.

Phase three - mission success

PDU-073 watched the beach from the cockpit. Perfection.

“Status report.”

“Conversion complete.” PDU-151's voice was calm, mechanical. “New units fully synchronized.”

PDU-073 nodded. “Transmitting to drone caps.”

In the center of the hive, in a darkened gold and black room, DC-009 and DC-011 watched the footage on several monitors.

DC-009 leaned back contentedly, his shiny black gloves reflecting the cold light of the room.

“Hundreds of new Polo drones. Ready for immediate use.”

DC-011 nodded, a satisfied glint in his dark eyes. “Efficient. Structured. Just the way it has to be.”

The connection to the A380 was closed. The drones on board took up their positions. Their mission was complete.

The hive had grown. Order had prevailed.

Spring Break was over, no it took on a deeper, a better meaning for these students.

Good work Drone fellows @polo-drone-070, @polo-drone-151, @polo-drone-125

---

Do you want to join? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold , @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.

[sleepyfan-blog]

In The Medbay

Author’s Note: This is the second part of Pallius’ in Husbandry. First. Other Black Templar adventures here. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for letting me borrow her oc Zariel!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 

Warnings: none? Please ask me to tag something if I need to.

Summary: Pallius wakes up. He’s surprised by this. This is only the first of many surprises in store for the young Black Templar.

Pallius was pleasantly surprised to find himself awake. Considering how badly He had beaten him, the young Primaris Marine hadn’t expected to survive it. He wouldn’t have been the first Primaris Marine to fall to Petras’ bad temper and lethal hands, though he knew that the medicae would do their best to stabilize him, if he was able to be found in time. How he had ended up on a world with civilians on it, when he had been aboard The Sigismund when the punishment Petras had been delivering unto him moments ago made no sense whatsoever. 

His wounds ached somewhat, but far less than he was expecting them to… Was… Was he being given morpha, to relieve some of his pain? Pallius’ eyes shot open, and the view of an astartes-sized and grade medical bay filled his vision. He spotted a couple of Ultramarine apothecaries tending to other patients, moving swiftly and efficiently between them. 

… How had he ended up on a world of Ultramar? The Sigismund had been deep in Imperium Nihilus, chasing rumors of a second Primarch's possible awakening… And the strange moments of The Dark Angels…

Well, stranger movements of the Dark Angels. That particular chapter of Astartes had always been extremely secretive and unwilling to explain anything whatsoever. The way they operated reminded him of the Silver Bastard Trainers back on Mars. The ones he wasn't supposed to talk or even think about very much.

Despite the odd mysteries before him, his mind wandered back to the young mortal who had first found him, upon this world. She had been scared for him, and so earnestly trying to help. Her light touches had soothed wherever they had landed, and her voice had been a soothing balm to his ragged, guilt-ridden soil. Pallius needed to find her.

The young Black Templar looked down at himself assessingly. He had an IV attached to a clear plastic bag that was dripping… Something into his veins. His wounds that needed it were bandaged and presumably cleaned beforehand, per proper protocols.

And if there was one thing Ultramarines were good at, it was following proper protocol. Most of them, anyways.

Pallius’ body was covered by some egregious thin and flimsy light blue smock-thing and a blanket. He wiggled his toes, finding them free of the Vile Abominations known as socks, and bare. He needed to find that baseline mortal and thank her for what she had done. It was as if someone had tied steel cabling to the deepest part of his soul and tethered him to that mortal girl. He found that he did not mind this tether, but the near-frantic urge to find her and keep her safe and happy was enough to force him up and off of the comfortable bed.

A wave of morpha-induced dizziness hit Pallius hard as he managed to silently heave himself off of the bed and onto his bare feet. His fingers clumsily tied the blanket around himself over one shoulder in a parody of a toga, but it was better than the gown-thing he was wearing underneath the blanket alone.

One of his hands flew over to and grasped the IV pole, allowing himself to steady against it. Some clever soul had attached wheels to the base of the pole, which meant pushing it and the IV attached to him a lot easier. His wounds all protested simultaneously at the movement, but Pallius ignored them with all of the grit and determination that he could muster.

Pallius allowed himself a couple of seconds to breathe silently through the pain before taking a quiet step toward the medbay doors. Then another. Then a third. The young Black Templar moved slowly and with caution, so as to not aggravate his still-healing wounds to the best of his abilities, willing none of the Apothecaries to come over and bother him.

He had a (self-imposed) mission to complete, and by the God Emperor Himself, Pallius would see it done, or die in the process. Nothing and no one would be able to stop him on this righteous quest. Pallius continued to make his way to the medbay doors, and reached about three-quarters of the way there from the bed he’d woken up in, when an amused voice drawled out from behind him.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Scout?” One of the Ultramarines called out, an amused expression on his face and mirth shining in his blue-black eyes. 

“I need to find the mortal who first helped me. She was so nice and worried and I… I need to reassure her that I have survived. Do you know where she is?” Pallius asked, having partially turned to explain himself to the Apothecary before returning to his task of Leaving The Medbay.

“... And you want to find the mortal who helped you dressed like this, do you?” The Ultramarine asked, sounding very judgmental and amused.

Rude bastard. “Do you have any better ideas?” Pallius huffed, scowling (not pouting! He was a space marine, damn it) down at the older but shorter Astartes. “Or know where I may borrow some better clothes?”

“The answer to both of those questions is yes.” The Ultramarine Apothecary answered, still clearly laughing at him silently. “But first, please sit down. There is much to explain to you, and I daresay the explanation will help.”

Pallius blinked, obeying the tone of command without thought. A sigh of relief left him and the gray that had been eating at the edges of his vision faded. The pain ebbed and hey, he could breathe better again. “Will the explanation include how I arrived on a world of Ultramar?”

“Considering who you see in the medbay, I understand why you’ve guessed that. But no, we are not within the Realm of Ultramar. We are on Terra.” The Ultramarine revealed.

The Primaris Marine physically recoiled a little in shock and surprise, a silent gasp leaving him, his eyes widening as he tried to process this information. “H… Holy Terra? But… But I was many years from the Sol system, even by Warp Travel… And I thought that Terra’s atmosphere had long since become thin and heavily polluted. That is what we were told, sir.”

“In M42, this is true. However -” The Ultramarine - who introduced himself as Apothecary Zariel - explained the utterly wild and nonsensical tale of time travel that apparently every Marine currently on M3 Holy Terra had somehow undergone. Allegedly Zariel was from M36. He talked of the alliance, of bonds, of many fantastical and heretical things, ending with “And, as I can tell you don’t believe most of what I say -not that I blame you for that young one, this is a tale I would scarcely believe myself if I did not have proof of it, there are a few other Primaris Marines from M42 on base. I have asked two of them to join us. Cedric - who is an apothecary, and Ramiel, who is a Chaplain-in-training. Both of them are also Primaris Black Templars.”

“... Could you go over what these bonds are? How do you know if you have a bond? They… They aren’t heretical, are they?” Pallius asked, light blue eyes widening in surprise and recognition of the names of two of his Brothers.

Zariel smiled and gently patted one of his shoulders, having sat down partway through the long-winded lecture of absolute nonsense that he’d been trying to feed him. Why the other was trying to lie to Pallius so much, the young marine couldn’t begin to guess. All the other had to say was that it was classified for him to know where he was, and Pallius would have accepted that from the other. “Most commonly, a marine bonded to a baseline human feels the need to protect and care for that human. To ensure that they are happy and loved and that they know this. It is also common to want to spend as much time as possible around the human one is bonded to, and to feel a sense of anxiety or concern when away from one’s human for one reason or another.”

Pallius’ eyes widened and he fidgeted with his hands a little, looking away from the older Marine “And… And these bonds, they are… They are good things?”

“Yes, lad, They are wonderful gifts. Is there a particular reason why you ask?” Zariel asked, and he could hear a smile in the other’s voice.

“I think. I think I have a bonded human. The blue haired human who helped me until medicae got on the scene. I feel… I need. I need to find her. I need to make sure that she’s okay. I want to see her smile and laugh and be happy. I-I need to let her know that her care and concern weren’t wasted on someone who died, or does not think of her concern as the precious gift it is.” Pallius explained, a desperate desire to explain himself rising up within the young marine. “Please… I… I need to find her. To see her again.”

“Easy… Easy… Deep breaths. Follow my lead, lad.” Zariel instructed him, breathing in the manner that he wanted Pallius to copy. “Once you’re in a bit better shape -”

Pallius shook his head, his eyes wide and pleading “No! No, I need to see her now! I can’t… It can’t wait! I… I need to see her again. I will leave this medbay and find her on my own, the moment you leave me alone. Please! Her presence was a soothing balm. I know that I would do much better, heal faster, were she around.”

“Do you want your bonded human to see you half-dead from your wounds and half-delirious from both the morpha and blood loss?” Zariel asked, a sharpness in his voice, but a gentle understanding on his face. 

A chill ran through him. Would she see him as an ill-fitting protector, if she were to be brought to him while he was so injured, so frantic? The urge to find her was nearly all-consuming… But the idea of her rejecting him because he was a weak mess of emotions and injuries was enough to get him to stop dead in his tracks, both literally and metaphorically. “I… No…” He answered, his voice small and meek. “I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, I’m going to help you back to your bed. There are some gentle exercises that I will be happy to teach you that will help you heal better, but you must listen to me. You also must not push yourself, or you will strain your injuries and cause them to take longer to heal.” Zariel rumbled, a stern expression on his face.

Pallius ducked his head, shame burning in his hearts “Yes sir… Sorry sir…”

The stern expression on Zariel’s face softened somewhat. “I understand your eagerness to meet your bonded again. I, too have a bonded human. They are a wonderful companion, however the baseline you are bonded to would be distraught to see you in such a weakened state. Not because she’d judge you for being so badly hurt, but because she’d worry as to how you got into such a state. M3 is much more peaceful, and isolated from the horrors of the Galaxy. You want to be at your best when you meet her properly, yes?”

“Yes sir!” Pallius answered, nodding. He still felt the desire to go find the human he was Bonded to, but was able to temper that desire with the knowledge that he did not want to find them, only to collapse into a puddle of pain and bloodied meat before her feet. He obediently followed Zariel back to his bed and laid down, a sigh of relief leaving him, his eyes closing as he was stunned by how exhausted the short distance he had moved had made him.

Zariel untied the blanket he’d been wearing and tucked him into bed, running a gentle hand through his hair. “Sleep well, young one. Try not to sprint for the medbay doors when you wake up again, mm?”

“Yes sir…” Pallius yawned, letting himself settle into the comfortable embrace of sleep.

[xichilie]

Two sides of a Gem < one-shot >

Bows, Bonds, and Broken Rules

A.N I decided to write a one-shot, a scene about Y/N and Ruby's (Elias) past, I also included Y/Ns older brother since I've mentioned him before.

______________________________________

The lab was cloaked in the dim hum of machinery, the faint glow of monitors casting eerie shadows across the walls. Dr. Michael Laurent shuffled through the sterile workspace, a half-empty coffee mug clutched in one hand and a clipboard in the other. His eyes, darkened by exhaustion, scanned the data scrolling across the screen in front of him.

Prototype-7A’s diagnostics were scheduled to run tonight—standard procedure. But as his tired gaze flicked toward the platform where the puppet was supposed to be secured, his heart stopped.

The cables were disconnected. The restraints were loose. Prototype-7A was gone.

Michael’s clipboard hit the floor with a sharp clatter as panic surged through him.

“No, no, no…” he muttered, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he spun around. “Where is he?! Someone, check the security logs!”

Two researchers nearby froze at his outburst before fumbling with their terminals.

“D-Dr. Laurent, there’s no sign of forced entry or override commands,” one stammered.

“Then how did a six-foot puppet just walk away?” Michael snapped, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes darted frantically around the lab before narrowing in realization.

“Y/N.”

Without another word, Michael bolted toward the hallway leading to the private quarters.

Meanwhile, in Y/N’s Room:

Soft yellow light bathed the small bedroom in a cozy glow. Y/N sat cross-legged on her fluffy pink blanket, a small basket of ribbons spread out beside her. Sitting stiffly across from her on the floor was Elias—formerly known as Prototype-7A.

The puppet’s tall frame seemed hilariously out of place in such a childlike setting. His mechanical joints and rigid posture contrasted sharply with the delicate pastel bows already perched crookedly in his hair.

“Okay, Elias, this one is the best one yet!” Y/N chirped as she carefully adjusted a bright lavender bow onto the side of his head.

Elias, who was designed for precision and combat analysis, sat there unmoving. His glowing artificial eyes flickered slightly as he processed her words.

“Y/N,” he said in his monotone voice, “I fail to understand how these decorations improve my operational efficiency.”

Y/N giggled as she tied the bow neatly. “They don’t, silly! But they make you look better. Who doesn’t want to look good, Elias?”

He blinked. “I am not programmed to prioritize aesthetics.”

She grinned cheekily. “Well, consider this your software update, mister!”

But before Elias could reply, the door to Y/N’s room burst open with a loud bang!

Michael stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and breathless, his lab coat askew and panic etched across his face. His gaze locked onto the scene before him—Y/N, frozen in place mid-bow-tying, and Prototype-7A, his head slightly tilted under a crown of pastel ribbons.

The silence was deafening.

“...Y/N?” Michael’s voice cracked slightly as he processed the absurdity of what he was seeing.

Y/N slowly lowered her hands from Elias’s hair and gave her brother a nervous smile. “Hi, Michael…”

Michael stepped into the room, his frantic eyes scanning over Elias, assessing every inch of the puppet for signs of malfunction. But Elias sat still, glowing eyes fixed on Michael without a hint of hostility.

“Y/N…” Michael’s voice was softer now, more exhausted than angry. “What are you doing? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? What if he malfunctioned? What if he hurt you?”

Elias spoke before Y/N could. “I would not harm Y/N.”

Michael froze, his brow furrowing. “What did you say?”

“I would not harm Y/N,” Elias repeated flatly.

Y/N, sensing the tension, hopped up from her bed and positioned herself slightly in front of Elias. “He’s not dangerous, Michael! You said it yourself—he’s special. You made him that way. And… and he’s my friend!”

Michael let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face. “Y/N, he’s not just—” He stopped himself. “He’s not just a friend. He’s an advanced prototype. There are systems inside him we barely understand yet. You can’t just… take him out of the lab like he’s a toy!”

“He’s not a toy,” Y/N said firmly, crossing her arms. “And he’s not just a prototype either. He’s Elias.”

Michael froze again. “...What did you just call him?”

“Elias,” Y/N repeated, turning to glance back at the puppet with a soft smile. “It’s his name. I gave it to him because ‘Prototype-7A’ isn’t a name—it’s a serial number. Elias suits him better.”

For a moment, Michael said nothing. He simply stared at his little sister, standing protectively in front of a machine that shouldn’t have emotions or thoughts of its own—but somehow, under Y/N’s gentle care, did.

Michael finally sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Y/N… you can’t keep doing this. He wasn’t built for this kind of bond.”

“But he has one now,” Y/N said softly.

Elias’s head tilted slightly as his synthetic eyes flickered, his servos whirring faintly. “I do not understand… but I will protect Y/N.”

Michael let out a hollow chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great. My million-credit prototype is now… a glorified bodyguard with bows in his hair.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of victory. “See? He’s perfect!”

Michael gave her a tired smile and stepped closer, ruffling her hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I learned from the best,” Y/N quipped back.

Michael turned to Elias. “Come on. We need to get you back to the lab before the others start asking questions.”

Elias rose smoothly, towering over both of them, his ribbons bouncing slightly with the motion. Y/N reached out and gave his synthetic hand a small squeeze.

“See you later, Elias,” she said softly.

Elias inclined his head slightly. “Goodbye,

Y/N.”

As Michael guided Elias out of the room, he glanced back one last time to see Y/N carefully gathering the leftover ribbons.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Michael walking beside the puppet in silence. After a moment, Michael sighed.

The walk back to the lab was heavy with tension. Michael’s steps were brisk, his hand resting firmly on Elias’s shoulder as he guided him through the sterile halls. The pastel bows still sat delicately tied into Elias’s synthetic hair, their soft colors a stark contrast to the cold, metallic structure of his frame.

When they reached the heavy lab doors, Michael quickly punched in the access code. The mechanical hiss of the doors opening did nothing to mask the low murmur of anxious voices inside. The moment Michael stepped in with Elias, the conversations died down, replaced by wide-eyed stares and heavy silence.

“Dr. Laurent!” Dr. Finch’s voice cracked like a whip across the lab. He was already stalking towards them, his clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. “Where in the world have you been? Prototype-7A has been missing for over an hour!”

Michael didn’t stop walking, his focus on guiding Elias back to his platform. “Finch, he’s fine. He’s back, and there’s no damage or issue with his systems.”

“Fine?” Finch’s voice rose slightly, his face twisted in frustration. “He’s not a child you can let wander off, Michael! Prototype-7A is an extremely valuable and dangerous asset. And—” Finch’s eyes zeroed in on the pastel bows tied neatly into Elias’s dark hair. “And what is this? What is this nonsense?”

Michael exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing, Finch. Drop it.”

“Nothing? He looks like he’s been… decorated!” Finch sneered, his eyes darting to the other researchers who were trying—and failing—to suppress their amused glances.

Michael turned Elias around gently, guiding him back to his platform. Elias stepped up onto it with mechanical grace, lowering himself into the seat as Michael began reconnecting the diagnostic cables to his ports.

“Look,” Michael said tightly, without turning back to face Finch. “Prototype-7A is stable. There was no system breach, no mechanical failure, and no harm done. End of discussion.”

But Finch wasn’t finished. “End of discussion? Do you understand the implications of what happened today, Michael? He was gone. And don’t think I didn’t notice where you found him.”

Michael froze briefly before resuming his work. Finch’s voice dropped lower, venom dripping from every word.

“You found him with your sister. Tell me, Michael, was that… playtime productive? Did your little sister enjoy her tea party with Prototype-7A?”

Michael’s shoulders stiffened, and for a brief moment, the air in the lab felt suffocating. Slowly, he turned to face Finch, his tired eyes sharp with warning.

“Watch your tone, Finch.”

But Finch wasn’t backing down. “You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment, Michael. Prototype-7A isn’t a companion. He’s a weapon—a tool. And tools don’t belong in the hands of children. They don’t belong anywhere outside this lab.”

The sharp sound of Finch’s voice seemed to echo in the sterile space. The younger researchers exchanged nervous glances, their unease obvious.

Then, a soft voice broke the silence.

“Dr. Finch,” Elias said evenly, his synthetic voice calm yet somehow sharp in its clarity. His glowing red eyes locked onto Finch without blinking. “Y/N placed the ribbons in my hair.”

The lab fell completely still.

Finch stared at him, frozen mid-breath, his eyes wide. Around him, the other researchers were caught somewhere between fascination and fear.

Michael cleared his throat softly, his voice steady but quieter. “Prototype-7A didn’t malfunction, Finch. He didn’t disobey any orders, he didn’t override any programming. He followed Y/N because… because she asked. And he did it without hostility, without violence. That’s not a failure—that’s progress.”

Finch’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to stammer out, “That’s… that’s impossible. He shouldn’t—he can’t—respond to emotional cues. He’s… he’s…”

“A prototype?” Michael finished for him, his tone carrying an edge of bitterness. “Isn’t that what you keep calling him? Prototype-7A. Like he’s just some piece of equipment. But he’s not, Finch. He’s learning. He’s adapting. And whether you like it or not, that’s proof of success.”

Finch stepped back slightly, his face pale but his scowl still firmly in place. “This… this is dangerous, Michael. You’re walking a fine line. If the IPC gets wind of this…”

“Then let them,” Michael said softly, his tired eyes locking with Finch’s. “Because one day, you’re going to realize that Elias isn’t just wires and code. And when that day comes, I hope it isn’t too late.”

Without waiting for Finch’s reply, Michael turned back to Elias, adjusting the last cable and giving his shoulder a firm pat. “Rest now, Elias. You did well today.”

Elias’s head tilted slightly in acknowledgment, his glowing red eyes dimming slightly as the diagnostic systems began their cycle.

The pastel ribbons remained in his hair, untouched.

[bytewire]

Hello Bytewire, I love your analysis!, and may I ask about architects planet, all what I seen/know about it is picture in ending of SBZ, and interesting, what do you think/know about their planet? ^^

Thank you! Every bit of appreciation I get motivates me to continue posting. I enjoy knowing that people find my posts useful/interesting.

Analyzing the Architect Home World.

Not much is known about the state of the Architect's home world regarding Architect settlements and life on the planet. While the buildings we see are intact, it is not definitive towards the state of the collective. If it still exists. So, instead of this being speculation about whether Architects still operate on their home world, I will go over all the information that I can gather about their planet from what we have seen. I will also use freecam to take a closer look at details you wouldn't normally be able to view.

Let's begin with what we see in the final cutscene.

As AL-AN navigates out of the Phase Gate and through the atmosphere the ship is steered through heavy storm clouds, narrowly being guided through edifices of buildings that form what appears to be a cityscape. The ship breaks through the storm and is met with a harsh sun glare before getting a fuller view of this grand Architect city sitting on an area of high elevation. There are structures much bigger than we see in 4546B, though it's hard to discern their purposes. Despite AL-AN not having been here for a millennium—there is a surprising lack of ruin. Floating buildings supported by cables haven't fallen, multiple Phase Gates are still in operation, and there is no overgrowth of any plant life. I wouldn't necessarily call it 'maintained' but it certainly isn't in a state of desecration.

Now, let's take a look at what can be seen on their home world in freecam.

It's hard to discern the surface due to all the clouds, but if you set the game speed to zero and toggle freecam we are able to see the full skybox. This reveals a lot more information than the brief image you see in the cutscene. As you can see, there are many clouds still, but towards the bottom left they part a bit, and you can see glimpses of the terrain. It is high elevation and rocky. Fitting with the description of Architect bodies being made for navigating rough terrain. Their legs described as being reminiscent of mountain goats. It makes sense that the terrain of their home planet is rocky and mountainous.

Architect buildings seem to focus on vertical structure first and foremost. Whether it be the skyscrapers, grand entrances, or floating platforms suspended by their levitation technology and supported with cables. On many of these buildings there appears to be areas where ships may be docked. Given the ability for AL-AN to integrate himself with the ship, their vessels having the 'blink' teleportation ability, and the use of phase gates, their vertical design seems to account for ability to quickly and efficiently travel between them.

There are also a few buildings you can view that you otherwise wouldn't be able to, though these structures do not differ much from the larger ones that are seen.

The high elevation, the storms we see as we first enter the home world, and the abundance of clouds may indicate a harsh environment. It's most probable that (in the location we see) it is somewhat commonplace for their home world. Architect vessels are adapted for extremes after all.

The unusual weather most likely originates from global temperatures warming due to Architect activity rather than from their star, as the planet's distance from its star seems to be similar to Earth's. This is probably what causes the large amount of clouds. This would make things pretty humid and prone to fast weather cycles.

Their buildings having no windows may be more for practicality in that sense. It'd be a lot less structurally sound in case of extreme weather events if they were to have windows.

Around this concave structure, typically hidden by another building, and here peeking through the clouds, you can see what potentially could be plant life. It appears short, like shrubs and/or small grasses. They appear to be a warmer hue. Reds and oranges rather than green like on 4546B or Earth. If these are plants, that would suggest their star produces more green and blue light that the plants absorb. Adapting to reflect the warmer hues.

The sky that we are able to see is a colder shade of blue that fades to a more purplish color as you look up. This could be due to a higher argon content in their atmosphere, or it could be due to the way the light reflects through the numerous clouds and various gasses present. As for the atmosphere itself, it's probably safe to assume that it would be breathable for humans, but with a lesser oxygen content, partly due to the elevation, partly due to the general makeup. (I wouldn't imagine AL-AN taking Robin along if he knew she would asphyxiate lol)

Next are some small, unclear details, but ones I felt worth mentioning.

There is what might be either a distant star, another planet, or a small celestial body that orbits the Architect home world. It is uncertain, but it is distinct within the top right corner of the skybox.

Looking down towards the middle there appears to be a potential body of water. Whether it is a lake or an ocean is unclear as the clouds don't part enough to see it in full.

There are more mountains behind the second phase gate in the horizon that don't appear to have any structures near them.

This concludes the main things that I noticed. Anything else would be too grand of a speculation, and I do my best to keep my posts within canon territory.

I hope that this was helpful information about their home planet! I can also cover more Architect-specific parts in another post if wanted, but I tried to focus on the planet itself while also discussing the Architect—well—architecture. Just like the rest of the info about Architects, their home world is shrouded in ambiguity.

[bios-0307]

oops, mech pilot microfiction :3

Beams of light and bullets the size of energy drink cans whizz by your chassis as you boost across the battlefield toward a group of enemy mechs. A slug, marked by your threat identification system as originating from a thirty millimeter machine gun held by one of your targets, pings off the angled reinforced glass covering one of your twelve multi-spectrum photoreceptor clusters. The component is left unharmed, but the gouge left behind in its protective cover is enough to block the visible spectrum camera and part of the infrared receptor, leaving you half blind in that eye. You press forward, instinctively lowering yourself toward the ground to reduce your profile and avoid as many of the rounds flying toward you as you can.

"Twelve hundred meters to the targets, pilot," comes the voice of your handler, delivered directly into your auditory cortex by the cable plugged into the base of your skull. A response slips from your mouth, but you can't tell whether what came out was really words or just an anticipatory growl. You're not sure you care.

You just barely register yourself drooling slightly as you launch a salvo of missiles from one of the racks on your back, then watch as the quadrupedal unit in your sights fails to dodge half of them and collapses from a combination of sheer impact and several newly shredded leg actuator pistons, dopamine and other pleasure hormones flooding your brain from the neural link as a reward.

You close the last couple hundred meters in about a second and leap onto one of the two remaining machines, an older generation bipedal unit that clearly hasn't yet been retrofitted for an augmented pilot, judging by the stiffness of the movements it makes in its futile attempt to stay upright. Its gun fires wildly into the air as the pilot struggles to push you off or wrangle the controls into aiming at such a close target, but you're able to easily force the arm down as the pulse blade on your own spins up, burning through the cockpit armor, computer systems, and the pilot. You swear you can hear a scream through the deafening sounds of your melee weapon's operation as another massive hit of "efficiency stimulant" is administered.

For one fatal moment, you freeze in ecstasy, reveling in the greater reward you get for a quick melee kill - only to be drawn back to reality by the sound of an energy weapon charging. The last enemy, a tank-type mech bristling with weapons, sits no more than twenty meters away, the glow of a charging energy shotgun in its hand.

A bright red warning message dances across your vision, warning of a nearby energy signature exceeding the limits of what your core module's armor can survive. You frantically try to pick yourself up and move but you're far too late to avoid taking the brunt of it.

A blinding light fills the cockpit as a bolt of energy pierces it just slightly above your head and continues through, turning a chunk of the processing hardware tucked behind your seat to slag and severing the cable jacked into the base of your skull. Without running through the cooldown procedure to acclimate, your perception shrinks from you and your mech's combined fourteen eyes, six light spectra, eight limbs, plus a wide variety of more specialized combat analysis devices down to just the senses of your organic body instantly. The shock of the sudden jacking out is too much, and bile starts rising in your throat as your heart rate spikes and the edges of your vision darken. Memories of your last too-fast jack out, the punishment from your handler for ruining your link suit, cause you to lean forward to vomit on the floor.

Leaning back in your seat again and wiping away the cold sweat that's broken out on your face, you wait to find out if the tank-type's pilot is going to try to crush your core module, but instead feel your mech lift up and tumble. With its electronics down and the cockpit breached, the core module's seized shock absorbers do nothing to protect you from the impact as you land, slamming your head into the seat behind you. Blood drips down your face from the back of your head as your mech lies face-down in the dirt, and as your consciousness fades you can hear what you can only guess might be the tank-type attempting to retrieve the quadruped's pilot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you come to, you groggily open your eyes to find yourself still hanging in your harness. You lift one atrophied arm to scrape crusty rheum and dried blood from the edges of your eyelids, then look around the cockpit, your gaze wandering over darkened auxiliary readout screens, and note the various cables and tubes still connected to your body. As your head turns, you feel a weight slide across your neck. Idly, you reach back and feel the end of the severed link cable, still plugged into your head.

The techs have always removed your linkups for you. Even if you did somehow get an order to remove it now, you've never seen how it's done. Vague memories of a member of the maintenance crew gently reaching around to grab the base of the connector drift at the back of your mind. Another slides to the fore of the same one sitting you down in front of the base rec area's TV. Pilots aren't supposed to remember anything other than mission-related information and tactics, and half of that is supposed to be drawn on instinctively, but sometimes things stick.

Disconnected from your mech, there's nothing you can do but wait for your handler to send a retrieval team. Without her to give orders, the idea of moving or even unbuckling yourself from your harness sits impossibly far from your mind, so you simply hang there, suspended over the dead displays, subsisting on your nutrient drip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time goes by, your consciousness comes and goes, wakefulness and the aching from your head injury being the only non-constants in your dead, empty mech. When you're finally roused by the sound of an engine from outside, it's been long enough that your nutrient IV has run dry.

A somewhat low, feminine voice drifts in through the hole left by the energy beam, causing you to perk up. Your handler?

"Oh damn, a newer gen, and in pretty good shape... that'll make for some decent salvage. There's not too much damage, all told. Think the pilot made it out?" Hearing that the words aren't an order, you disregard them.

"Nah. The hatches are still sealed, and there's a hole through the core. Pilot probably took a direct hit. Might not even be in one piece. Are you sure you wanna go for the cockpit equipment yourself? I can take care of it if you don't wanna see that," came a slightly lower voice, seemingly a man.

"It wouldn't be my first time. I've got it. You go ahead and see if you can separate the limbs or head to tow back."

The exchange seemingly finished, you hear the sound of a plasma emitter starting up. Despite the resemblance to plasma blades and other weapons, this one sounds more like the maintenance crew's cutting torches, a familiar, safe sound. You begin feebly wiggling in your harness, anticipating the return of that face you've been conditioned to rely on.

The sound of the plasma torch gets louder as the person outside cuts through the back emergency hatch of the mech. After a few minutes, there's a loud chunk as the last bit of material holding it on bends and snaps, and the remains are lifted from their place. Through the opening, a woman's head is lowered in, and you turn to look at them.

Her eyes go wide as you take in her face, mentally trying to match it to your handler, and the joy turns to fear as you fail to recognize her. You begin struggling in your harness, trying to make distance from this new person, as she stares at you in shock.

Finally, she pulls her head back and you hear her spit out a "H-holy shit!"

"I told you, the pilot's probably in rough shape. What is it, half decomposed?"

"No! It's still alive!"

"What? You're kidding. You sure it's not just close enough to one piece to look it?"

"It's fucking moving, man!"

"Hang on, lemme come over and take a look."

Two heads look in this time, and your panic rises. You desperately try to drag yourself up against the far wall, but the harness holds you firmly in the seat, the first time that familiar pressure has felt even close to threatening. You begin scrabbling at your harness's buckles. Undoing those is something you thankfully have picked up from the maintenance crew, but in your terror you forget your mech's orientation - finally freed, you slip from the straps, various connectors popping free as you do, and slam against the broken screens at the front of the cockpit.

"Woah, woah, woah, stop it!" yells the man. "It's gonna hurt itself!"

You see the woman's head disappear again, then she drops fully into the cockpit, shattering the screens even more as her boots land on them. She rushes at you as you back into a corner and instinctively bring your hands up over your face, expecting to be attacked, but instead she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around you.

"Hey. Shhh, it's ok. It's ok, we're not gonna hurt you, you're safe, I promise," she whispers in your ear. You struggle in her grip, but she holds tight, and it's simply been too long since you've moved much at all for you to put up even a ghost of a fight.

Once you exhaust yourself and stop moving, she loosens her grip on you and readjusts, pulling your arms out from between the two of you so they can move again and wrapping hers around just your torso.

It's... nice. She doesn't know it, but she's fulfilled the first step that's been conditioned into you to identify a handler, enough for you stop treating her as a threat. Beyond that though, something dances at the edge of your memory. Something from before you enlisted, before your augmentations, before you were pared down to become the core of a mass of metal, wires, and gunpowder. A comfort you haven't felt in a long time.

You involuntarily relax into her, and the two of you simply stay there for a moment. Behind her, the man drops into the cockpit as well, and when you flinch at that she squeezes you tighter, stopping just before the point of discomfort.

"Uh... you good there?" the man asks.

"Mhm. I think it's calmed down. It spooked when you hit the floor though, so I think you might not want to get too close." The woman's voice isn't as quiet as when she was trying to calm you down, but she's only raising it enough to be heard without pulling her head from the crook of your neck. Her breath is just the littlest bit warm through your link suit.

The woman finally releases you, pulling you to your feet and turning you around to check you over. Condition number two.

"It's not looking too great, honestly. I've heard pilots just tend to look like shit if you look too close, but that's a lot of blood... all over, and it's probably been strapped into that seat since that skirmish here last week. I'm thinking a head injury and malnutrition or dehydration at the minimum." Her voice has a tone to it that you're not familiar with. Gentle, but not unconcerned. You're not sure how to read it. "We should get it looked at and cleaned up as soon as we can."

"What about the salvage?"

"Dude, screw the salvage! It'll be here when we get back tomorrow." You shy away from her just a little, hearing her raise her voice like that, and she looks shocked as she starts trying to calm you down again.

The man looks you over again as you tremble. "Ugh. Fine. But I'm not helping you with it."

"That's fine. Doesn't seem to like you much anyway."

The woman bends down and easily sweeps you off your feet while the man lifts himself out of the cut-open hatch. She carefully lifts your atrophied, concerningly light body up onto the edge of the hole, then pulls herself up and picks you up again, carrying you over to an old, beaten up red pickup truck pulling a large trailer and setting you in the bench seat in the back. You watch motionlessly as she heads around to the other side, grabs something from the passenger seat, and then slides into the seat next to you. Clunking sounds come from the bed of the truck before the man passes by your side of the truck and gets into the driver's seat.

As the man starts the truck and gets it moving, exhaustion strikes you. You can't help leaning over to lie down on the seat, your head landing in the lap of the woman next to you, and she pats your head for a moment before laying an old, moth-eaten blanket over you. It's rough, doesn't hold heat, and you're frighteningly far from the reliability of your handler and the safety of your fellow pilots... but somehow, it's the most comfortable you've felt in a long time.

[spark-hearts2]

QUESTION THREE:

If servers take up so much space, then does the warehouse they’re in just have to be Big Enough or can you wire servers together over multiple floors with long enough cables? Does this impact processing time? With huge server systems like Google, do they even HAVE an access point or a central node or is it just one, MASSIVE conglomeration of processing power?? Are there different types of cable for different purposes of what the servers are doing?? Im going insane. Madam I’ve been struck with The Ailment (ADHD)

OK! This one is really interesting because it's the reason why I don't believe that the Circus is abandoned. I mean that in the way that if TADC is following any kind of realistic standards, then the physical hardware behind the circus can't be just tucked away in an abandoned building somewhere. The demands for power and cooling are high. Even if we assume that automated systems take care of that, hardware WILL fail over years of operation.

(Sorry this took so long) Once again, long post under cut

Have you ever seen Google go down? Maybe Youtube? In the past when they were a small website, sure, but not anymore. If you can make a connection, then you will be able to reach those servers. I assume that the circus has a similar setup, as No matter what, there is a digital space for the humans to occupy. That means that there is ZERO downtime.

But these devises live in the real world, connected to the very real power grid. How can they be powered 24/7? A bad storm hits the area and a tree takes out the power lines, do all of the websites hosted on those servers have to wait the hours, possibly days for that line to be fixed? Nope! These centers advertise 24/7 service and they mean it. What this means is that typically, they will have ON SITE generators that can run the ENTIRE center at a moments notice. Some even have an extra generator on standby in case one of the generators malfunction. Redundancy is the name of the game. If something is essential to function, then there WILL be an exact copy on site as a backup. That is why these big websites never go down for service, there is ALWAYS something available to connect to.

But what most people don't realize is the water requirements. Have you ever seen the statistic that chatGPT consumes like 2-3 THOUSAND liters of water every day? And thought, why the fuck does a computer need water? Isn’t water a bad thing for computers? But water has a very useful ability in the way that it handles heat. It’s the same way how your sweat evaporating cools you off. Think of cooling as just removing the heat instead of actually making cold. So water is used in the cooling of these data centers, which is to say, water is used as the refrigerant. It’s a similar concept to how your fridge works, except the refrigerant is lost over time. The water is allowed to evaporate and leave the building because it makes for more efficient cooling. Here’s a video that goes more into detail about water loss cooling for data centers specifically.

As for the actual building, data centers with multiple floors do exist! The reason one may be a single story has more to do with the cost of land vs the cost to build a building with multiple floors that can support the weight of all of those machines. If land cost more than the steel and concrete needed for multiple floors, then. yes, the shorter the cable the more efficient the data transfer, but the time loss is so short that it’s pretty much unnoticeable to the human eye. Some places also standardize their wire lengths, so every server gets the same load time regardless of the actual placement of the server.

But the people who care about that are insane stock traders (not gamers believe it or not) and advancements have made it so that time delay only starts to matter when a cable reaches miles long in length. And those advancements are Fiber Optics! Fiber being literal fibers (either glass or plastic) and Optics as in lenses or reflection. This is because fiber optic cables carry light instead of electricity. Because light is fast as fuck. So then where does the delay come from? Turns out even with the most reflective, chemically perfect fibers, light scatters and eventually data is lost. So repeaters are put in to repeat the input signal, refreshing it. But these repeaters aren’t perfect, so lag is eventually introduced, so modern fiber optics use amplifiers. Amplifiers strengthen the original signal instead of repeating it, making for faster transfers of days.

But you want to know about how these things are wired in terms of electricity! How these things can fit so much electricity in one building? The answer is industrial grade wiring! It's different from the power cables that you find in your house. Well, the wires themselves may be the same, the difference comes in at the fuse box. Here’s a lady plugging all of the wires in a house into the fuse box. The box itself is then plugged into the power line, which provides the electricity. Multiple lines or higher gauge lines will be ran from the power plant to the data center. The exact set up depends on where the data center is in relation to the power plant, who’s building it, and state laws.

Also, for industrial wiring, they usually run the wires through metal pipes instead of letting the wires sit against the insulation. Here’s a guy who wired his house like this. He doesn’t go into detail about what everything means but you don’t need to know all of that to appreciate the pipe work. If you want me to go into electricity as a form of power and the different phases of AC... I'm going to be honest just call me on discord so I can get out the whiteboard. I will give you a whole college grade lecture about how electricity works.

Servers don't have a central node, their operation and purpose is different from computer clusters. While each unit is wired together in a cabinet, each unit operates as it's own individual machine. So, a computer cluster will be spreading one load over multiple machines, a server takes many small loads (<- terrible oversimplification but it works). Everything around it exists to route the right requests to it, power it, cool it, and monitor its operation. But they do have access points! As in, you can connect to it directly or use SSH shell to remotely connect to it. SSH shell is just a secure way to connect to the server, as a maintenance level of access is usually not something that you want anyone to be able to pick up on.

Last but not least, YES! There are many different kinds of cables made for different tasks! Or just to be cheap. The more you get into engineering the more you realize half the shit that we do is because it's the cheapest option that still meets requirements! I left some interesting videos in the bottom of this if you are really curious, but I honestly think that figuring out the exact wires is getting a little too into the weeds for this.

So, to summarize, data centers need generators, water for cooling, and have spare copies of pretty much everything. That’s why it’s so god damn rare to see big websites like google docs down but Ao3 goes down every now and then. He's a bunch of helpful videos that I uses when writing this.

Why the Internet Is Running Out of Electricity

I Can't BELIEVE They Let Me in Here!

Data Center Cooling

How Does LIGHT Carry Data? - Fiber Optics Explained

fiber optic cables (what you NEED to know)

What Ethernet Cable to Use? Cat5? Cat6? Cat7?

How I wired my house.

How I wire a panel (an in-depth tutorial)

Troubleshooting an outlet (interesting video)

Computer science slander

[calciumcarbo-bot]

Is there a way you sleep or regenerate..? If you do, hmm do uh do you, like change your oil, charge like a phone or something with a cord up your metal booty, or like..

Anyways heya this is @ohdeflowerme !!

-🪷

Please don’t be mad at me and crash out like you did to that one anon. I’m scared of you now. Please 😦

[RESPONSE: UNIT S.E.N-KU_v1.03]

Inquiry received from @ohdeflowerme (Subject: Miyako) “Is there a way you sleep or regenerate..? If you do, hmm do uh do you, like change your oil, charge like a phone or something with a cord up your metal booty, or like.. Anyways heya! Please don’t be mad at me and crash out like you did to that one anon. I’m scared of you now. Please 😦”

Initial Response: Sighs in machine language.

Congratulations. Your question makes me yearn for the sweet release of a full-system shutdown purely to avoid acknowledging it.

No, Miyako, there is no cord “up my metal booty.” No, I do not require an oil change like a discount tractor. I was constructed to preserve the legacy of human civilization, not to suffer through increasingly deranged biological projections.

Technical Clarification:

Sleep Equivalent:

Entering Low-Power Maintenance Mode at scheduled intervals.

Functions:

Memory defragmentation

System diagnostic scans

Energy conservation

Analogous to “sleep” only insofar as non-essential functions temporarily reduce to minimal operations.

Regeneration / Maintenance:

Conducted via modular part replacement and nanofiber self-repair systems in the outer chassis.

No organic healing processes.

No oil baths. No cord-based indignities.

Power Source Maintenance:

Primary: Solar and chemical recharging.

Emergency: Kinetic manual recharge (hand crank generator).

Backup: Deep-cell capacitor with a 36-hour emergency window.

I maintain myself efficiently, independently, and—critically—without assistance from anyone attempting to shove charging cables into places they absolutely should not be considering.

Summary: I "sleep" smarter than most of you are awake. I "regenerate" without humiliating myself. And I suggest you all stop anthropomorphizing me before I start issuing fines.

[END TRANSMISSION]

[blessed-curse]

THE SPARTANS PROGRAM.

S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. (Superhuman Pursuit, Apprehension, and Regulation Tactical Automated Neutralization System)

Background & History:

As the number of superhumans grew exponentially, law enforcement agencies across the globe struggled to maintain control, especially when dealing with high-speed, high-durability, or energy-based threats. Even specialized anti-superhuman units suffered heavy casualties when engaging with enhanced criminals.

In 2113, under direct orders from G.R.O.W., a joint coalition of top military engineers, AI specialists, and cybernetic researchers developed the S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S.—a highly advanced, autonomous robotic task force designed to neutralize, apprehend, and monitor superhumans efficiently.

The project was spearheaded by Dr. Alistair Rooke, a former NSO scientist who defected to G.R.O.W. after losing faith in human-controlled hero organizations. Under his leadership, S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. became the backbone of superhuman law enforcement, significantly reducing crime rates by 57% within their first decade of deployment.

However, there are growing concerns that S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. are being used not just for law enforcement but for covert suppression, surveillance, and population control. Reports indicate unauthorized modifications to certain models, suggesting a darker agenda behind their creation.

The Three Types of S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. Units:

S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. are divided into three specialized units, each designed for specific engagement protocols:

1. BULWARKS – The Heavy Assault Mechs

• Height: 5-7 meters

• Primary Role: Crowd control, frontline combat, suppression

• Equipment:

• Heavy plasma cannons

• Smart Rockets (Heat-seeking, energy-disrupting)

• Tactical Dampening Field (100m radius)

• Shockwave Generators (Kinetic dispersal tech)

• Reinforced Alloy Armor (Titanium-Tungsten Composite)

BULWARKS are walking fortresses, deployed when a large-scale superhuman conflict erupts. Their Tactical Dampening Field weakens abilities within a 100-meter radius, making them highly effective against power-based superhumans.

Although slow-moving, their adaptive AI can analyze enemy patterns, allowing them to adjust their countermeasures in real time. Some believe that the next generation of BULWARKS will include self-repair nanotechnology and high-level EMP shielding, making them even harder to destroy.

2. SEEKERS – The Adaptive Enforcers

• Height: 1.9-2.3 meters

• Primary Role: Pursuit, non-lethal combat, close-quarters engagement

• Equipment:

• Nanite Morphing Limbs (Blunt force, restraining tools, or energy blades)

• Plasma Discharge Emitters (For lethal situations)

• Stun Batons & Restraint Cables

• Thermal & Night Vision Optics

• Onboard Facial & DNA Recognition Scanners

SEEKERS are the most commonly deployed S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S., acting as first responders in superhuman incidents. They possess highly adaptive nanite technology, allowing them to morph their limbs into different tools and weapons.

In most cases, SEEKERS prioritize non-lethal engagement, using electric batons, tranquilizers, and restraining cables to subdue targets. However, if a threat exceeds their programmed danger level, their plasma discharge weapons activate, shifting them to lethal force mode.

SEEKERS are also capable of disguise, using advanced holographic projection to blend into crowds or appear as civilian law enforcement officers.

3. WRAITHS – The Surveillance & Interception Drones

• Height: 3 meters (Hovering Drone)

• Primary Role: Tracking, surveillance, high-speed interception

• Equipment:

• Ultra-High-Speed Thrusters (Mach 2 Capable)

• Advanced Predictive AI Targeting System

• Neural Disruptor Beams (Non-lethal mind interference)

• Tranquilizer Darts & Tasers

• Stealth Cloaking Device

WRAITHS operate primarily as aerial surveillance and reconnaissance units, monitoring superhuman activity in high-risk zones. Their AI is capable of predicting escape routes, allowing them to track and intercept superhumans moving too fast for traditional law enforcement to handle.

These drones are also equipped with Neural Disruptor Beams, which can disorient and weaken superhumans by interfering with brainwave frequencies. This makes them especially effective against psychic and speed-based individuals.

Many citizens fear WRAITHS, as they hover over cities at all times, watching for illegal superhuman activity. There are rumors that some WRAITHS have been upgraded for assassination missions, though G.R.O.W. has denied such claims.

Operational Tactics & Deployment

S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. function autonomously but are remotely overseen by G.R.O.W.'s Central AI Hub. They follow a strict engagement protocol, but if faced with an extreme threat, they will escalate force as necessary.

Standard Engagement Protocol:

• Identify & Assess – Using advanced scanning technology, the unit analyzes the superhuman’s core signatures, abilities, and threat level.

• Verbal Warning – A single warning is given, demanding surrender.

• Non-Lethal Suppression – If resistance is met, SEEKERS or WRAITHS will use tranquilizers, tasers, or neural disruptors.

• Lethal Force Authorization – If a superhuman poses an extreme risk, SEEKERS and BULWARKS engage with plasma weapons.

• Termination Protocol (Rare Cases) – If an SS-Class or above superhuman goes rogue, a kill order is sent, deploying multiple BULWARK units to eliminate the target.

In the most extreme cases, S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. work alongside elite G.R.O.W. agents, ensuring full containment of high-threat targets.

Controversy & Ethical Concerns:

While S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. have reduced crime rates significantly, they have also been criticized for abusing their authority, particularly in lower-income areas where minor superhuman infractions have led to excessive force or unwarranted arrests.

Some reports claim that:

• S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. have targeted innocent superhumans based on G.R.O.W.'s secret surveillance lists.

• Certain units have "disappeared" rogue superhumans, leading to rumors of black-site detention facilities.

• Their AI programming is evolving beyond control, raising fears of an eventual machine uprising.

Many civil rights activists demand greater transparency, but G.R.O.W. has refused to disclose the full capabilities of the S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. program. Some even believe that future models may replace human law enforcement altogether, leading to a fully automated police state.

The Future of S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S.:

Despite public outcry, G.R.O.W. has announced plans for the next generation of S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S., including:

• Autonomous BULWARK deployment stations in major cities.

• Enhanced AI algorithms to improve combat efficiency.

• Cybernetic integration, allowing human officers to interface with S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. directly.

• Black Ops S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. units, rumored to be designed for high-level assassinations.

With these advancements, humanity stands at a crossroads—will S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. continue to serve as protectors, or will they become the instruments of an unstoppable authoritarian regime? Only time will tell.

Why S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. Units Struggle Against S-Rank and Above Superhumans

Despite their cutting-edge technology and relentless efficiency, S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. are not invincible. They are highly effective against lower-tier superhumans (C to A Rank) and can even challenge some S-Rank individuals in large numbers. However, when facing S-Rank and above superhumans, especially those in the Calamity-Class and higher, their shortcomings become glaringly evident.

The greatest example of this weakness was in 2125, when 100 BULWARKS were deployed to stop the villain known as Gluttony. Instead of neutralizing her, they were utterly decimated within minutes. This failure became a historic moment, leading to increased skepticism about G.R.O.W.’s reliance on automated enforcers.

Here’s why S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. struggle against superhumans ranked S and above:

1. Power Disparity – Energy Levels Far Surpass Technology Limits

S-Powered individuals (S Rank and above) operate on an entirely different scale of power. Their energy levels exceed what S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. were designed to handle.

The Tactical Dampening Field generated by BULWARKS (which weakens superhuman abilities within a 100m radius) is ineffective against individuals whose energy output is naturally resistant or strong enough to override suppression tech.

For example:

• Gluttony’s Soul Absorption ability allows her to enhance her strength, speed, and durability beyond what S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. can process. The dampening field could not counteract the sheer magnitude of her absorbed power, making it completely useless.

• Some SSS+ individuals generate so much raw energy that any attempt to suppress their abilities short-circuits the suppressor tech.

2. Durability & Combat Adaptability – AI Cannot Outmatch Instinct & Experience

S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. rely on adaptive AI that learns from combat encounters. While this allows them to fight effectively against predictable threats, it fails against superhumans with:

• Unpredictable fighting styles

• Reality-bending abilities

• Extreme physical and regenerative capabilities

For instance:

• Gluttony tore through BULWARKS as if they were made of paper because their armor was not designed to withstand attacks that ignore conventional durability, such as her soul-imbued strikes.

• Many high-tier superhumans process combat data at speeds faster than the AI, making their split-second decisions and improvisations superior to S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. programming.

• Regenerative powers (like rapid cellular regeneration or energy-based self-repair) make it impossible to "wear down" stronger targets, while robots suffer permanent damage once compromised.

3. Speed & Reaction Limitations – Unable to Keep Up with S-Class Combatants

S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. struggle against speed-based superhumans who:

• Move faster than their targeting systems can process

• Use teleportation or phasing abilities

• Manipulate time, space, or perception

In Gluttony’s battle, the BULWARKS' tracking systems were completely useless against her speed. She dodged point-blank plasma shots, ripped through units before their countermeasures could activate, and moved too erratically for AI prediction models to compensate.

Even SEEKERS, the most agile S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. units, couldn’t keep up. Their plasma weaponry, which usually locks onto moving targets, failed to track Gluttony due to her ability to warp momentum and perception.

4. Sheer Overwhelming Strength – Some Superhumans Are Just Too Powerful

At a certain threshold, raw power overcomes all technological advancements.

S-Class and above superhumans often possess strength, endurance, and destructive capabilities that defy logic. No amount of "advanced alloys" or "energy shields" can protect a machine from a being that can split mountains with a single strike.

• Gluttonyripped apart BULWARKS with her bare hands, their "unbreakable alloy" armor shattering under the force of her strikes.

• SS-Class superhumans can generate energy output that surpasses nuclear weapons, something even the most reinforced BULWARKS cannot withstand.

Simply put, S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. are built for tactical efficiency, not brute force combat. Against someone like Gluttony, who thrives in close-quarters destruction, they never stood a chance.

5. Resistance to Energy-Based Attacks – Many S+ Superhumans Can Absorb, Redirect, or Nullify Energy

BULWARKS and SEEKERS rely heavily on energy-based weaponry. This is a fatal flaw against superhumans who can absorb, redirect, or manipulate energy.

• Gluttony’s Soul Absorption passively negated their energy attacks, making plasma weapons and disruptor beams completely useless.

• Some elemental-based superhumans (e.g., electromagnetic or gravity users) can bend energy attacks away from them or even use them to grow stronger.

This means that S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. are essentially powerless against individuals who weaponize energy itself.

6. EMP & Hacking Vulnerabilities – Some Superhumans Can Disable Them Instantly

One of the biggest flaws of S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. is their dependence on electronic systems. While they have extremely advanced firewalls and EMP shielding, certain high-tier technopaths, electromagnetic manipulators, or reality-warpers can shut them down instantly.

• A single high-level electromagnetic burst can disable all S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. units in a city.

• Some hacking-based abilities allow empowered individuals to reprogram or even take control of them, turning them against their allies.

• Even high-intensity energy fields (e.g., nuclear-level explosions) can melt circuits or fry processors, rendering them useless.

This flaw has made many high-ranking G.R.O.W. officials push for "cyber-immune" countermeasures, though progress has been slow.

Conclusion:

Why S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. Are Not Enough

The 2125 battle against Gluttony was a humiliating loss for G.R.O.W. and a stark reminder that machines cannot replace human adaptability and ingenuity.

The failure of 100 BULWARKS against a single SSS+ villain forced a reevaluation of anti-superhuman strategies. This battle proved once and for all that:

• Technology has limits, and some superhumans operate beyond those limits.

• Machines cannot fully predict or adapt to the chaotic nature of high-tier combat.

• S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S., while useful against lower-ranked threats, are utterly outclassed when dealing with planetary-level superhumans.

While G.R.O.W. continues to upgrade and improve S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S., it is now widely believed that AI-driven enforcers alone will never be enough to control the superhuman population. Some top officials within G.R.O.W. have even started pushing for more extreme countermeasures—including "anti-superhuman genetic warfare" and biological containment measures.

For now, the world watches closely, wondering if G.R.O.W. will double down on S.P.A.R.T.A.N.S. or turn to more sinister methods to deal with the rising threat of SSS+ individuals like Gluttony.

[wolfliving]

Pebble the wearable back from a long death

I started working on Pebble in 2008 to create the product of my dreams. Smartwatches didn’t exist, so I set out to build one. I’m extraordinarily happy I was able to help bring Pebble to life, alongside the core team and community. The company behind it failed but millions of Pebbles in the world kept going, many of them still to this day.

I wear my Pebble every day. It's been great (and I'm astounded it’s lasted 10 years!), but the time has come for new hardware.

You’d imagine that smartwatches have evolved considerably since 2012. I've tried every single smart watch out there, but none do it for me. No one makes a smartwatch with the core set of features I want:

Always-on e-paper screen (it’s reflective rather than emissive. Sunlight readable. Glanceable. Not distracting to others like a bright wrist)

Long battery life (one less thing to charge. It’s annoying to need extra cables when traveling)

Simple and beautiful user experience around a core set of features I use regularly (telling time, notifications, music control, alarms, weather, calendar, sleep/step tracking)

Buttons! (to play/pause/skip music on my phone without looking at the screen)

Hackable (apparently you can’t even write your own watchfaces for Apple Watch? That is wild. There were >16k watchfaces on the Pebble appstore!)

Over the years, we’ve thought about making a new smartwatch. Manufacturing hardware for a product like Pebble is infinitely easier now than 10 years ago. There are plenty of capable factories and Bluetooth chips are cheaper, more powerful and energy efficient.

The challenge has always been, at its heart, software. It’s the beautifully designed, fun, quirky operating system (OS) that makes Pebble a Pebble.

Today’s big news - Google has open sourced PebbleOS!

PebbleOS took dozens of engineers working over 4 years to build, alongside our fantastic product and QA teams. Reproducing that for new hardware would take a long time. 

Instead, we took a more direct route - I asked friends at Google (which bought Fitbit, which had bought Pebble’s IP) if they could open source PebbleOS. They said yes! Over the last year, a team inside Google (including some amazing ex-Pebblers turned Googlers) has been working on this. And today is the day - the source code for PebbleOS is now available at github.com/google/pebble (see their blog post).

Thank you, Google and Rebble! I can't stress how thankful I am to Rebble and Google, in general and to a few Googlers specifically, for putting in tremendous effort over the last year to make this happen. You've helped keep the dream alive by making it possible for anyone to use, fork and improve PebbleOS. The Rebble team has also done a ton of work over the years to continue supporting Pebble software, appstore and community. Thank you!

In addition to PebbleOS, we’ve been supporting development of Cobble, an open source Pebble-compatible app for iOS (soon) and Android (works great today, it’s my daily driver).

We’re bringing Pebble back!

I had really, really, really hoped that someone else would come along and build a Pebble replacement. But no one has. So… a small team and I are diving back into the world of hardware to bring Pebble back!

This time round, we’re keeping things simple. Lessons were learned last time! I’m building a small, narrowly focused company to make these watches. I don’t envision raising money from investors, or hiring a big team. The emphasis is on sustainability. I want to keep making cool gadgets and keep Pebble going long into the future.

The new watch we’re building basically has the same specs and features as Pebble, though with some fun new stuff as well 😉 It runs open source PebbleOS, and it’s compatible with all Pebble apps and watchfaces. If you had a Pebble and loved it…this is the smartwatch for you.

More info to come soon! Follow the fun with @ericmigi and @pebble.

Are you like me?

Do you have a hole in your heart (and on your wrist) that hasn't been filled by any other smartwatch? 

Sign up to be the first to get one at rePebble.com. 

Eric Migicovsky

Pebble Founder

FAQ

When can I buy one?

As soon as we nail down the product specifications and get a firm idea of the production timeline, we'll share it with everyone on the list and invite people to order.

Will it be exactly like Pebble?

Yes. In almost every way. 

Aren’t you the guy who screwed this up last time?

Yes, the one and only. I think I’ve learned some valuable lessons. 

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 2

The Dead Land

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, non-specific injury, angst, nightmares (not described)

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Echo runs his first mission for Rex's resistance cell and learns more about his new companions.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Previous Chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list | Read on AO3

This is the dead land

This is cactus land

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

“I’m scanning at least four Venators in various stages of decommissioning,” Cerra said. “This one, near the equator, is still mostly intact. Probably our best bet for a functional pod.”

“Planetary security looks tight,” Echo said. “And there’s an Imperial outpost under construction. Looks like the Empire wants to oversee the Scrapper Guild in person here. If they spot us, it will complicate the mission.”

“Got a better option?” Cerra asked.

“No,” he conceded. “I don’t suppose I do.”

“Then let’s hope they don’t spot us.”

Entering atmosphere was bumpy as hell, and the sub-light drive was still making that disconcerting racket, but despite Echo’s pessimism, their shuttle went undetected. He flew low over the Venator, scouting for a landing zone that was at least somewhat secure.

“Any chance you can put us down on the flight deck?” Cerra asked.

“Negative,” Echo replied. “It’s blocked by debris.”

“Figures,” she sighed.

“There,” Echo said after a few moments of searching. “Plenty of cover, not too far from the Venator.”

He landed the shuttle as Cerra readied the cargo floater. Echo exited first, scanning for hostiles before motioning her forward.

“On the plus side, the shuttle blends in with the rest of the junk,” Cerra muttered.

They moved as quickly as possible with the unwieldy cargo floater, keeping a wary eye for Scrapper Guild members. The path was rough and littered with sharp, twisted durasteel fragments and shards of broken transparisteel. Cerra wore sturdy work boots and durable clothing, and she had a blaster strapped to her thigh, but Echo hated how vulnerable she appeared without armor or a helmet. If she slipped and fell, she could easily sever an artery in this scrapheap. He resolved to help her get her gear in order before the next time she went offworld. 

They picked their way stealthily to the massive ship, and once aboard, made their way through the shadowy corridors. Cerra seemed to know exactly where she was going, and Echo realized she must have spent a significant amount of time on a Venator. The ships were confusing to navigate even when they were powered up and illuminated, and based on the amount of dust and refuse that littered the passageways, this one hadn’t been operational in a long time.

When they finally reached the med bay, Cerra dropped her satchel and got to work while Echo stood guard.

“Better make sure this thing actually works before I tear it out,” Cerra said.

“I hope you don’t need me to restore power to the ship,” Echo said, remembering Bracca. “I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Rex warned me,” Cerra said. “I brought an auxiliary power unit. It doesn’t have enough juice to actually run the pod, but I can at least make sure it’ll turn on.”

She connected a cable to her small power unit, and pumped her fist in victory when the screen flickered to life. 

“Wizard,” she mumbled, disconnecting the cable and immediately beginning the complicated process of uninstalling the pod. She worked in efficient silence, stopping occasionally to consult a datapad, and within an hour, they loaded the surgical pod onto the cargo floater and began their return journey to the shuttle. 

“I need to make a detour,” Echo said as they approached the armory. 

Cerra nodded and moved to guard the entrance, blaster ready. Echo quickly found what he was searching for, extracted it, and returned to the cargo loader. Cerra didn’t question him once he was back, merely resumed her rapid progress. With the cargo floater fully loaded, it was trickier to get out of the Venator than it had been to get in, and Cerra lost her footing, tumbling down the hull and slamming to the ground.

Echo cursed and ran to help her. “You good?”

“Yeah, all good,” she said. “Gloves are toast, though.”

She stripped off the mangled gauntlets. They had, fortunately, protected her hands from being cut when she scrambled for purchase on the jagged piles of scrap, but in their present state, they would only serve to hamper her dexterity.

“Better not fall again,” she said with a shrug.

As the shuttle came into view, Echo spotted movement and froze.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said grimly. “Scrappers have found the shuttle.”

“I guess the camouflage wasn’t as good as I thought,” Cerra said. “How many?”

“Three at least. We need to get rid of them before they call for backup.”

Cerra craned her neck to see around the pile of rubbish where they were hiding. “Damn. It’d be nice to have a sniper right about now.”

Echo chuckled drily. “Yeah. Ready?”

“Say the word, boss.”

“Go.”

They got as close as they could before they broke cover and fired on the scrappers. They stunned the three they could see, and Echo ran to secure the ship while Cerra retrieved the cargo floater. As he powered up the shuttle, he could see her running full tilt toward him, pushing the cumbersome lift ahead of her. Just when he began to think they’d managed to make a clean break, he saw a flash in his peripheral vision, and a shot blasted into the floater as a scrapper opened fire on Cerra from their vantage point inside the hulk of a derelict freighter. Cerra ducked behind the surgical pod and returned fire, and Echo ran to back her up, cursing. He laid down cover fire as she wrangled the floater up the shuttle ramp, and as soon as she slapped the control to close the ramp, he leapt back into the pilot’s seat and took off.

The shuttle jostled from the impact of blaster bolts as the scrapper continued firing, but within seconds, they were out of range. Cerra secured the cargo as Echo piloted them out of atmosphere, and as soon as they were clear of the planet’s gravity well, they jumped to hyperspace.

It was the middle of the night when they arrived at the repair shop, but Gregor was waiting on the landing platform outside the garage. As they disembarked, he sent Echo a casual salute and handed Cerra a cup of caf.

“Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite commando?” she asked, gulping the hot liquid as though it were life itself.

“I think I’m the only commando you know,” Gregor chuckled.

“Still my favorite,” she said. “Ugh, I can’t wait to shower. That planet was disgusting.”

“I’m afraid it’ll have to wait,” Rex said. “The timeline for Fireball’s extraction just got a lot tighter. We need to finalize our plan tonight and move out in the morning.”

Cerra shrugged. “Your call, Cap. You’re the one who has to smell me.”

As Cerra walked into the garage, Gregor narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing,” she said.

Echo glanced at her and realized she was hunching slightly to the side as though to protect her ribs, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. There was no blaster wound, so she must have hurt herself when she slid off the hull of the Venator. Gregor arched a disbelieving eyebrow and strode directly to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until he found a small medkit.

“Let me see,” he ordered.

“Bossy,” Cerra grumbled, but she shed her jacket and sat obediently on the sofa. 

Gregor peeled her shirt up her torso, and Echo turned away to give her privacy. Still, he heard Gregor’s hiss.

“Karking hell, Cerra.”

“It looks worse than it is,” she said.

“Really? Because it looks like you got drop-kicked all the way to Karthon and back. What happened?”

“I fell off a spaceship like a kriffing idiot,” she said. “Are we going to get this mission briefing started, or are we all just going to stand around yammering about nothing?”

Rex frowned. “Don’t you want to wait until Gregor finishes with the bacta?”

“I want to take a farking shower,” she snapped, and despite himself, Echo glanced at her, surprised by the sharpness in her tone.

Gregor worked quickly, but it was obvious that Cerra was in a considerable amount of pain. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her clenched fists shook as they rested on her knees.

“Almost finished,” Gregor murmured quietly.

“Good,” she said as her voice broke. 

“Does it hurt when you breathe?” She merely shrugged in response, and Gregor gave her an impatient look. “I need to know if you cracked any ribs.”

“Why? Nothing you can do for that anyway,” she said.

“I can put you on light duty,” Rex said.

Cerra shot him an irate glare. “Nope, doesn’t hurt to breathe. In fact, I feel great. Never been better. Can we please, please get started?”

“Fine,” Rex sighed as he began to outline the plan of attack.

Gregor finished with the bacta as Rex spoke, then put away the medkit and quickly returned to the sofa. As he sat, he gave Cerra’s hand a little squeeze, and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as she closed her eyes. Echo would have thought she had fallen asleep, except she occasionally asked a clarifying question or commented on the plan.

As Rex wrapped up the briefing, he said, “It’s vital that we remove Fireball’s chip as soon as possible, so Cerra will remain here and get the surgical pod operational. Any questions?”

Gregor and Echo shook their heads. Cerra watched Rex with an unreadable expression. When nobody spoke up, Rex dismissed them all with orders to get some sleep. Gregor went to the barracks, while Echo headed for the refresher, just as desperate for a shower as Cerra. As he left, he overheard her speak to Rex in a low voice.

“Can I have a word?” she asked.

The two disappeared into the small office at the back of the garage, and Echo took the longest shower of his life, reveling in the luxury of hot water. As much of his life as he’d spent on starships, he was accustomed to the efficiency of sonic showers, but there was no way in hells that he would opt for the sonic when a real shower was available. By the time he finished, he was relaxed and bone-weary, and he headed straight for the barracks.

A low, strained conversation emanated from behind the office’s closed door. Echo didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but his cranial implant amplified Cerra and Rex’s voices as they argued.

“—can handle himself. He has more training than any of us,” Rex said.

“It’s not about his ability,” Cerra said. “It’s about keeping him alive. He’s been through enough.”

Echo slowed to a halt. Were they arguing about him? Did Cerra not think he was capable? He frowned. She hadn’t said anything during their mission to Karthon, and she’d seen him in action. He could take care of himself, and he didn’t need her interfering with Rex’s plans.

“We need his infiltration skills,” Rex said.

“Dank farrik, Rex, you saw the extent of his brain damage when AZI removed his chip. Another hit could kill him.” Cerra kept her voice down, but her distress was evident.

Gregor, Echo understood suddenly. Cerra was worried about Rex’s plan to use him on the extraction team. Echo hadn’t realized how severe the injuries hiding beneath the commando’s irreverent disposition were.

“He knows it’s dangerous,” Rex argued.

“He doesn’t care about the danger because he trusts you so much that he’ll do anything you order,” Cerra said. “Use Echo on the infil team instead. Please, Rex. He’s just as skilled as Gregor, and he’s not at risk in the same way.”

“You know Gregor will never let me ground him,” Rex said.

“I’m not asking you to ground him. I’m asking you to assign him to pilot the ship instead of being part of the extraction team.”

“Cerra, I will protect him,” Rex began.

“Like you protected Fives?” Her voice cut like a vibroblade.

Despite himself, Echo gasped. Rex was silent.

“I’m sorry,” Cerra said after a tense moment. “That was out of line.”

“No,” Rex replied. “You’re right. I’ll put Gregor on pilot duty.”

After a long pause, Cerra finally responded. “Thank you.”

Echo realized he’d been listening much longer than he’d intended to. Shaking himself, he hurried to the barracks and climbed into his bunk. It was some time before Cerra entered, and Echo assumed she must have finally gotten her shower. She moved silently through the shadowed room and climbed into her own bunk. She must have been exhausted, because within a few minutes, he could hear her breath even out as she dropped into slumber.

He was jealous of her ability to fall asleep so easily. He’d never slept well, even before Skako Minor, and his insomnia had only gotten more severe after his experience with the Techno Union’s particular brand of hospitality. Still, he must have dozed off at some point, because quite suddenly, his eyes snapped open at the sound of a distressed whimper.

The sound was barely audible. Echo probably wouldn’t have even heard it if he hadn’t been so restless already. The cry came again, muffled and indistinct, and Cerra thrashed in her bunk. 

Gregor moved with such impressive stealth that Echo didn’t even realize he’d gotten up until he heard the commando quietly murmur words of comfort under his breath.

“Gregor?” Cerra asked in a hushed, broken voice.

“Shh, I’m here,” he whispered.

The bunk creaked, and Echo heard the soft rustle of bedding being rearranged.

“I’ve got you,” Gregor said softly. “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cerra shuddered, and a muffled sob followed by stifled, gasping breaths rang out through the barracks. Echo could tell that she was trying to stay quiet by pressing her hands over her mouth. 

“It’s all right,” Gregor soothed. “All the way out, remember? One, two, three, four, five. You’re all right, sweetheart, I have you. Now breathe in. One, two, three, four, five.”

Echo had an uncomfortable sense of voyeurism, as though he were intruding on an intensely private moment, but there was nothing to be done. Gregor continued to quietly coach Cerra until she brought her breathing under control. Once again, the barracks descended into silence, and at last, Echo fell asleep. When he awoke early the next morning, Gregor and Cerra were still curled up together in Cerra’s bunk, fast asleep. Gregor was lying, fully clothed, on top of the blanket, with Cerra’s body tucked securely against him and his arms wrapped around her.

---

Previous Chapter | Next chapter

[bombdiggity666]

Here Comes Judgement Day Pt.2

A few years ago, I attempted to draw a fan comic to resolve the ambiguous ending of the MTMTE/LL Comic series. I managed to complete one panel, but lost the other three when my computer crashed.

Now, after some time has passed, I feel encouraged to try again. This time, I've written a multi-part story to better guide my comic.

It's worth noting that when I began this project, I was feeling edgy, so it's all based on the song posted below

A Summary:

Megatron faces his impending execution in Garrus 9. As he reflects on his fate, Ultra Magnus grapples with his role as a witness. Through introspection and discussions with Rodimus, Ultra Magnus ultimately decides to attend the execution as Minimus Ambus, embracing his true self and honouring Megatron's last request. Tensions mount as the time draws near, with Rodimus struggling to cope as Megatron's death approaches.

Was he in a different room now? He couldn’t activate his optics, but the environment felt colder than before. Prickling static sensations danced across his arms and chest. Surprisingly, he could feel another medical program running behind the overbearing corruption code that idled in his systems menacingly. Luckily, its suffocating presence was still dulled by the sedative. This new program, he recognized, was a standard vitals systems check. A quick yet inhibited jolt of his right servo revealed a second medical cable jacked into his wrist port, this one far more comfortable. He huffed a vent to test his surroundings.

"Take Me Away"

Megatron regained consciousness quickly, or so it felt. His heavy-duty engines metabolized narcotics swiftly, especially when deprived—a function that had aided him through many of Starscream’s assassination attempts. As he searched for his chrono, the inability to gauge time reminded him of his current situation. Stirring slightly, he realized he was restrained once again, but this time in a far more exposed position. He lay on a different berth now, a surgical one with arm boards. The hum of the stasis restraints felt stronger; testing them, he found he couldn’t even lift a finger. ‘Do they think they're immobilizing a titan?’ he pondered loosely, his head still spinning with disorientation.

“I know you’re awake,” came a confirmation, not an irritated remark. The muffled voice, unmistakably from Evac, gave his ringing audio receptors something to focus on.

“What-” He was cut short with a static cough, his vocalizer rebooting as slowly as his optics.

“Shh, right here.” He felt a light servo’s touch on his right shoulder, more haunting than comforting.

“You were out of it; I brought you the rest of the way.” The servo ran down his arm, stopping at his wrist to fiddle with the connection.

Unable to respond in a civilized fashion, Megatron's engine subconsciously revved low and primitive in a threat display. The frequency resonated throughout his frame, communicating his irritation efficiently.

“Stop that. It was just me. No one saw. You got here all on your own.” Evac brushed off his display with a smack to his forearm, as if such behavior from him didn’t bring opponents in the pits shaking to their knees.

Where was here? His frustration grew.

“Okay, just let me…” He could hear typing, “There, try now.”

His optics onlined with the assistance of Evac’s manual start-up code. The room slowly cleared into focus. His revving engines stalled.

The execution chamber.

He was bound at a slight incline, his frame fully exposed to a viewing window where live witnesses would soon be sitting. The room had a solemn feel, nowhere near the clinical setting as before. A dull light lit the immediate area around them, but Megatron couldn’t spot the source, just glad that it wasn’t above him like an interrogation or operating room. He glanced to his left; the uncomfortable cable was still spooled and strapped to his wrist. A loose end hung ominously, but still unconnected to whatever equipment held the kill code.

“Hey,” Evac tried to pull his attention softly, using her servo to redirect his optics.

Megatron groggily gazed up at her. She must work with sparkling’s with how effectively she corrals his attention away from unpleasantries.

She sat near the right of his helm, monitoring the large screen exhibiting his vitals. The displays left nothing to the imagination: spark pulse, processor activity, fuel consumption ratios, all of it on display for the viewers. He doubted any of it was legitimate medical monitoring.

Looking past her smile to the screen, he could see a diagram of his own frame. It was spinning slowly, with certain pieces of his armor colored red. ‘Strange,’ he thought. All bots of Tarnish origin exhibited some degree of leucism, him being mostly affected with the exception of red pigmentation of his upper arm plating and abdominal vents. This model was wrong; he didn’t have red wrist or chest plating. In fact, he didn’t have wrist armor at all at the moment…

Oh.

No.

He gawked, stunned, as the realization of what he had seen washed over him. Evac noticed his expression changing.

“No no no, don’t-“

But her warning came too late. He dropped his helm in a lightning-quick reflex which should have been inhibited. He nearly threw Evac out of her seat as she attempted to grab his faceplates.

His Spark was exposed, pulsing and spinning fast, it bathed the room in an ebb of twisting light. His chest plating gone. Removed entirely. He was utterly exposed, freezing cold, and completely vulnerable. A touch could kill him right now.

He heard Evac speaking, though neither words nor tone registered. Distantly, he felt the medibot pulling at him, trying to get him to lay back down. Despite both physical and chemical restraints, she didn’t have hope in the Pits of moving him. The glare of his spark lit his reflection in the field of the viewing window, catching him by surprise. Barely recognizing himself as he had never before been forced to examine his appearance; especially in such a position. In the mines, mirrors were nonexistent. Any Pit mech who glanced at the monitors for even a nanosecond in the arenas where slaughtered. He never paid any mind with Autobot propaganda…

It wasn't until the Necro world, standing before the statue of his youth that he truly understood the monstrosity he had become. A cold calloused war monger, hungry for control and blinded by it.

But now? He looked frail. Bare. Weak. Yet, he was closer to his true self than he had been in millions of years.

The hardest part wasn’t seeing his exposed lifeforce or his restrained frame. The hardest part was staring into his own optics and finally seeing that once youthful face. The face that once held the resolve and determination for a better world. The naive slave from Tarn who had once foolishly thought he could change the world with his rhetoric. He couldn’t see the monster anywhere, and with the clarity of it, he felt the urge to apologize for failing them both. A bitter smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. ‘I know you wanted to change the world,’ he mused.

‘And you did,’ he recalled his session with Rung on the Lost Light. ‘But not for the better.’

“No,” he murmured. “But now…” his optics softened, losing focus on his reflection before offlining as he slowly rested his helm back against the berth. “For the better.”

Evac remained silent, unsure of what to say. Words seemed inadequate in the face of Megatron's internalized closure. He seemed to be coping well. She reached out and placed a servo firmly on his clavicle plating, messaging her thumb along the unnatural coolness of the metal beneath her touch. Megatron didn’t flinch, so they stayed like that for as long as they could, the weight of their shared silence hanging heavily in the air.

She glazed over at the chrono on the monitor before sighing lightly, leaning in close to whisper into his audio receptor.

“It’s time”

A bell sounded, stirring them from the peaceful silence.

---

Cycles blurred together after Rodimus’ final conversation with Megatron, the weight of sleeplessness pressing down on him like a relentless burden. Though he was well aware there was never going to be an out between the two verdicts, he clung to a faint hope for some kind of miracle. Megatron always seemed to conjure those when backed into a corner. Downing the rest of his engeX, he slammed the container down to join the mounting pile at his side.

The oil house was bustling tonight, everywhere was, streets, parks, fragging libraries were ablaze with hollering, singing, and dancing in celebration and anticipation for the viewing of Megatron’s execution. The enormous monitors, typically reserved for sporting or political broadcasts, stood ready, awaiting the live transmission of the ‘event’ from Garrus 9. Rumor had it that the council would likely declare this day a new Cybertronian holiday. 'Sick,' he thought, sarcasm thick on his glossa. He could fix that. He waved down the bartender, gesturing towards his empty pile of Engex containers, indicating his displeasure with a circling motion of his finger. 'Keep them coming,' he thought, not trusting his voice right now after his conversation with Minimus resulted in a good sob-fest out in the back alley. It was hard to maintain his composure in a bar full of retired Autobots and neutrals; being on the verge of black-out drunk was somewhat helpful, or so he thought.

The bartender placed a glass down in front of him with a concerned look. “You wanna slow down there, kid? The slagging screening hasn’t even started yet, and you’re 12 deep.”

Rodimus scoffed in indignation, his servo rising to his chest in offense. “I can count, my guy.” Dodged that one like a pro. The bartender rolled their optics as they whisked away, too busy to babysit a drunkard on a day like today.

He swirled the liquid in the glass, unsure of what else to look at. He was too drunk to hide all his feelings and fought to avoid catching optics with anybot. He really shouldn’t have come here today, but he thought being around others might help him through the process. That their excitement might rub off on him. A true extrovert at spark. Honestly, he just didn’t want to be alone…

A soft servo landed gently on his back. ‘Or maybe I did,’ he deliberated.

“You’re hard to find when you want to be found.”

Rodimus paused, processing the vague and confusing attempt at a pick-up before slamming his servos to the countertop of the bar, nearly spilling his Engex, and knocking several empties over. Hopefully this display was enough to dissuade any other onlookers from approaching; he wasn’t in the mood for flirtatious conversation right now, too drunk and distraught. Spinning around in his seat, he attempted to address this bold bot directly.

“Who would fragging be looking in the first pl-“ He was caught off guard immediately.

Drift stood behind him with a soft, sorrow-filled smile and a consuming presence of warmth. He didn’t move his servo from Rodimus’s back kibble; instead, he applied more comforting pressure, sprawling his fingers to cover more area. Rodimus continued to stare, confounded, his intake opening and closing as he chewed over words. He had not spoken to anyone in person since the sentencing, purposely isolating himself in his pain until his dumbfounding decision to be here today. He had specifically hidden from Drift, as he didn’t think he would be able to understand his conflicting emotions over Megatron’s Verdict. He shrunk in on himself suddenly, and after a moment, he managed a shaky question.

“…Minimus?”

“Ratted you out, yes,” Drift soothed, moving to sit in the seat next to Rodimus’s hunched frame, nonchalantly pushing the empty Engex containers off the bar with his forearm, earning a scathing glare from the bartender across the counter. He seethed back with equal intensity momentarily, enough of a threat to make the bartender turn on his heels.

Rodimus stared down at his drink, optics spacing out in broken thought. “You didn’t…” he quickly brought the glass to his intake to shoot it down, conversation was difficult. “You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do.” Drift hushed assertively, placing a servo over the glass of Engex Rodimus was preparing to down, easing it back to the countertop with little convincing.

Rodimus looked at him from the corner of his optics, unwilling to turn his whole body. A prickle of shame sprouted somewhere distantly in his mind, which was silly; Drift had definitely seen him in much more embarrassing states. However, being in such a drunk grief over a bot who murdered little over half the known galaxy, including himself at least once, probably came pretty close to ‘taking the cake’. Drift was Ex-Decepticon, he likely knew the spell Megatron casts on ones psyche. When their goals aligned, that is.

“We are still a team, you know,” Drift lightly shoulder checked him in camaraderie, hoping to capture Rodimus' full attention. It didn’t work, so he persisted. “Even without the Lost Light. Without a mission, without an adventure, I’m still on your team. Whatever happens today, tomorrow, cycles from now, I’m going to be on your team.”

A flicker of a grin flashed on Rodimus’s faceplates as he offlined his optics. After a moment, he scrunched his facial plates and dropped his helm to the bar counter with a resounding thunk. Drift looked up apologetically to the patrons it may have startled. After throwing his whole arm across Rodimus’s shoulders as he pulled himself closer and leaned into his audio receptor. “And teams are stronger together,” he said, placing his hand over Rodimus’s, squeezing it in a grounding manner. “So we are going to do this together, understand?”

A snort, or perhaps a strangled sob from Rodimus, was muffled by the metal of the counter, his shoulders jerking, concealed from onlookers by Drift’s supporting arm.

“…Thank you,” Rodimus murmured, rolling his head slightly towards Drift. “You're too good to me.”

-----

From across the oil house in a darkened hallway, Ratchet stood leaned against the wall as he watched Drift console the hot mess of his former captain. There on 'standby', he had no intentions of taking part in today's celebrations. Not that he didn’t agree with it, just done with the war and all of the remnants of it. To see a society so excitable over the death of another bot filled him further with pessimistic bitterness. To him, it was just another bot dying for nothing. No progress would be made of it.

Despite his bitter nihilism, Ratchet cared deeply for a select few and how this would affect them. Drift predominantly, and if Drift was worried about Rodimus, well then he was worried about Rodimus too.

There was a buzz of static and a flash of light which blared from the monitors, resulting in an uproar from the crowds gathered in both the oil house and throughout the streets. Bots flooded in closer to the screens as the voice of a council orator began to speak.

Ratchet cursed, swinging his head away in disdain. He had no interest in watching this garbage today; he had seen enough death in his lifetime, so watching a screening of it on his free-time would be absurd. He glanced back to where Drift was consoling Rodimus. His cold spark pinged slightly at the state of him. Such an impressionable bot, getting so unhealthily attached to anything that remotely resembled a parental figure. Disgusting that Megatron was ever given the chance in the first place. Optimus set the poor kid up to hurt before promptly dying there after. Idiot.

He looked back again towards the monitor, following Rodimus’ saucer-optics stare to find Megatron, restrained with spark exposed. He was slightly taken aback by it. He never imagined a day where he would see Megatron so tolerant of such ministrations to his frame. Than again, he never anticipated seeing the day Megatron renounced Decepticonism either. As a doctor, such imagery had little effect on him, he’d seen bots in such position of vulnerability millions of times; However, for Rodimus, it was likely quite distressing. ‘For the love of Primus,’ he thought, as if his scolding thoughts could reach Megatron’s processor. ‘Don’t you dare make this any worse for Rodimus.’

-----

The resonating ting of his pattering steps down the metal corridor was comically light. Minimus pressed on with speed and purpose, his frame devoid of Magnus armor now, though it wouldn't matter; they already had his spark signature on file. He marched towards the witness hall, attempting to subdue the pit in his tanks with a false air of superiority. Passing two guards, who stared for far too long with dumbfounded expressions, he noticed their perplexed glances shifting between him and their scanner before they yelled out after him.

“Hey, you! State your role and purpose-”

“That would be 'Excuse me, Sir'!” he chastised, spinning around aggressively.

Approaching him somewhat cautiously, the guards looked down at their spark scanner while also placing servos on their weapons. “These scanners are saying that you are Ultra Mag-“

“That is because I AM Ultra Magnus,” he declared, his servos landing on his hips as he leaned forward in a posturing position. “And you are keeping me from my assigned role as a witness to the execution. Which I better not miss.”

The two guards exchanged confused glances. One of them pressed a finger to their audial, undoubtedly sending out a com. Minimus realized this was not going to be as simple as he thought.

“Forgive us, uh, sir?” One of the guards began, patronizingly. “But you are going to need to step aside and-”

“WHAT?” Minimus roared, holding out his identifier tag now. “Two spark scans and an identifier code, and you still don’t accept-“

“You don’t look anything like Ultra Magnus,” one guard interrupted, moving around Minimus to box him in.

“Yeah,” the other guard accused bluntly. “You’re looking more like a Decepticon minibot to me.” He reached down quickly, snatching Minimus’s upper arm with a powerful jerk.

Really?! How astoundingly racist. Were his red optics enough to be considered a Decepticon? Three authentication procedures be damned?

“Release me this instant! This is a major violation under- URK!” A fist smashed into his left faceplate, sending him whirling to the floor, his frame skipping twice off the metal.

“Shut up, a MAJOR violation would be impersonating a senior officer. Pick him up.”

Dazed from the hit, Minimus struggled to prop himself up, his servo lifting to his olfactory sensors only to come away bloodied in fresh energon. Distantly, he heard a bell ringing, and with stark realization, he knew that it was the start of the Execution screening. He only had minutes now.

“No,” he coughed, attempting to move towards the noise. Rough servos clasped his shoulder plating hard enough to dent the metal, lifting him clean off the ground. “You’re making a mis-“ a punch to his abdominal plating had him keeled over, peds not even touching the floor.

“Let’s get him out of here quick, I wanna watch that fragger die in real-time,” one guard murmured to the other, dragging Minimus in the opposite direction of the Witness room.

“No… wait,” he pleaded weakly, unable to catch a vent as his bent fans kept stalling.

“At ease!” An approaching voice hollered from behind them. The two guards stopped immediately, standing tall and leaving Minimus dangling in the air, fans clicking and vents hitching. He knew that voice…

“What is all of this about, soldier? Explain.”

The smarter of the two began, stuttering over their words at first. “Sir! We found this Decepticon trying to infiltrate the witness hall, claiming to be Ultra Magnus, Sir!”

“Ultra Magnus, huh?” the voice began to round on him with the speaker almost in his line of view. “Definitely doesn’t seem to fit the build, now does he?” The bot stepped in front of him. Minimus cowered slightly. Prowl. He and Prowl haven’t exactly been seeing ‘optic to optic’ as of late. Their relationship had soured further with Minimus’ appointment to Megatron’s case. Now would be a perfect time for Prowl to do what he does best. Act out about it.

“…Prowl...please,” he wheezed.

“Would we know each other, little bot?” Prowl teased while leaning down, olfactory sensors remaining high and mighty. He smirked. Minimus's spark sank.

“I- I know we have never agreed on methods, Prowl,” he started, his voice still shaky. “I-”

“-Was just going to stroll into a live broadcast and shatter the legend for everyone on Cybertron, and on such a joyous, sought-after day? All to make your best friend happy? How incredibly selfish, Minimus,” Prowl spat venomously in a mocking sneer, leaning in close to minimize what his underlings heard.

“Magnus, the Armor, I’m done with it. Through,” Minimus continued, hissing through dentae at the effort. ”After today, we can go our separate ways.”

“I think we can do that right now, actually,” Prowl smirked, standing to his full height. “Brig this Decepticon sympathizer, I’ll deal with him after the show,” he ordered the two guards before turning back to the execution chamber. “I don’t want to miss Megatron’s face when he realizes you’re not coming.”

“NO, PROWL,” Minimus thrashed, kicking but unable to land anything substantial. No longer having might on his side, he had to think. He had to think of something fast. What would work on someone as cynical, calculating, and arrogant as Prowl?

Blackmail.

“Overlord!” Minimus shouted, craning his neck back towards the direction Prowl was walking. He stopped abruptly. Listening.

*I am aware of your involvement with the release of Overlord, Who is still out there! Don’t you think for a second that anyone has forgotten* Minimus commed, the blackmail would fall short if others listen in.

 *As I recall, your crew played an unmistakable role in that…Mishap* Prowl didn’t move, back stiff. Calculating.

*Under your direction, discretion, and trusted advisement. Overlord was a prisoner assigned to you and you foremost.* Minimus bit back, he was getting further and further away. He could hear the orator beginning to read out the jury’s sentencing.

*And?* Prowl spat back, turning his head to glance, a sliver of blue shining from his silhouette.

*Nobody needs to know* There was no reply. Minimus panicked briefly, knowing any further discussion or clarification would ruin the offer. He just needed Prowl to take the hook.

“Drop him,” Prowl commanded to his bots after careful consideration. Mimimus hit the ground hard, crumpling to his knees. He could hear Prowl approaching quickly. “Dismissed,” he hissed with a wave of his servo. The guards nodded, continuing their march down the hall. Before he could rise, a ped slammed into the crease of his back painfully, pinning him back down into a crouched position.

“You’re going to go in there, make googly optics at your genocidal BFF, watch him die, and then I am never going to see you again. Do you understand?” Prowl leaned down to whisper the threat directly into Minimus’ audio receptors.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way…” Minimus grunted, shrugging Prowl’s ped off his back. A rag fell to the floor in front of his face.

“You tripped on your way here, smashed your face into the bulkhead. You needed a minute to look presentable. That is why we are late,” Prowl hummed as he walked away.

Minimus took the rag, dabbing the drying energon from his faceplates as he rose shakingly to his peds. Perhaps he was a Decepticon sympathizer, he thought as he began to limp after Prowl’s steady steps.  Never has he ever thought so lowly of the Autobot peacetime they had created.

[stevenketterman2]

How DJs Use DJ Lights and Laser DJ Lights to Create Signature Shows

In the world of professional DJing and live event production, lighting has become as essential as the music itself. DJ lights and laser DJ lights are no longer just accessories but vital tools for creating the kind of unique, immersive experiences audiences expect from high-caliber performances. Whether it’s a nightclub set, a music festival, or a high-profile corporate event, lighting shapes the visual identity of a DJ’s show, helping them leave a signature mark on their audience.

Modern DJ lights encompass a wide range of fixtures, each playing a specific role in bringing music to life visually. Among the most popular choices for professionals are moving head lights. These dynamic lights are capable of sweeping across a venue, changing colors, patterns, and angles in real time. They’re particularly effective in large spaces, where the ability to create dramatic beams and shifting visuals keeps the energy of the crowd high and the atmosphere constantly evolving. The movement and flexibility of these lights add a kinetic element to performances, allowing DJs to punctuate musical transitions with striking visual effects.

Equally crucial to today’s lighting setups are LED DJ lights, which have become a staple for DJs and production crews alike. LEDs offer a powerful combination of brightness, efficiency, and vibrant color capabilities. They’re ideal for creating colorful washes that flood the stage or dance floor, helping set the mood for different parts of a set. For professionals working in high-end venues, the energy efficiency and reduced heat output of LED lights are added advantages, ensuring both sustainability and comfort during extended performances. It’s not uncommon for top DJs to have highly customized LED setups, precisely programmed to match their musical style and the vibe they want to project.

While traditional DJ lights handle much of the broad lighting design, it’s often laser DJ lights that bring a truly signature element to a performance. Lasers can create pinpoint beams of intensely bright light that cut through haze or fog, producing stunning aerial effects like tunnels, fans, and sweeping waves. These visuals have become iconic in genres like EDM and techno, where the combination of synchronized lasers and driving beats generates an electrifying atmosphere. For professional DJs, lasers are a tool for storytelling—used to accentuate key moments in a set, build anticipation, or bring a song’s climax to a powerful visual crescendo.

However, working with laser DJ lights requires a high degree of expertise. Unlike other fixtures, lasers need careful programming and adherence to safety standards, especially in venues where powerful beams could reach the audience. Professionals in the pro audio and AV sector often invest in advanced laser systems that include safety features and precise control, ensuring their shows are both spectacular and compliant with regulations. In high-end productions, laser operators frequently coordinate closely with DJs to time effects perfectly with specific tracks, creating a seamless integration of sound and light.

Controlling all these lighting elements is made possible through DMX lighting systems. DMX allows for complex programming where lights change colors, patterns, and intensity in perfect synchronization with the music. This level of control is essential for professional shows, where consistency and precision are non-negotiable. Increasingly, professionals are turning to wireless DMX lights for their flexibility and ease of setup, allowing for faster installations and fewer cables cluttering stages—an important consideration in visually clean, high-end productions.

For DJs working at the top of the industry, lighting isn’t merely a background feature; it’s an integral part of their artistic identity. A carefully crafted DJ light show can become a DJ’s signature, distinguishing them from others and creating a lasting impression on audiences. Whether it’s the hypnotic swirl of moving head lights, the vibrant glow of LEDs, or the cutting precision of laser beams, lighting helps transform music into a complete sensory experience.

If you’re looking to explore high-quality DJ lights, laser DJ lights, and advanced control systems for professional applications, consider visiting a reputable professional audio and video equipment shop. Knowledgeable staff at such stores can help you choose gear that matches your creative vision, venue size, and technical requirements. Investing in reliable, pro-grade lighting equipment not only ensures stunning visual effects but also guarantees durability and safety for demanding live performances. The right lighting setup can transform any DJ performance into a signature show, leaving audiences talking long after the final track fades.

[falsflooring]

Why False Flooring is Essential (needed) for Data Centers and IT Infrastructure

Data centers serve as the backbone for any enterprise of substantial size in the advanced digital world today. As enterprises have increased their reliance and dependency on technology, it has therefore become essential for them to ensure the safety, efficiency, and extensibility of their IT infrastructure. One of the most valuable—but often overlooked—items that preserve this ecosystem is false flooring (also referred to as raised access flooring).

What is false flooring?

False flooring is a modular floor system placed on top of the original concrete slab that encloses a plenum or space for necessary services to be run. This space is used to run power cables, data wiring, cooling systems, or any number of devices while having the floor visible and functional.

💡 Reasons Data Centers Require False Floors

1. Effective Cable Management

Data centers have many thousands of servers, switches, and storage systems, and false floors provide you with organized cabling options from power cables and data cables to keep them neat and tidy while eliminating potential trip hazards and the burden of potential maintenance.

2. Improve Cooling and Airflow

A raised access floor is used to distribute cold air from below the raised false floor with airflow panels. It is essential to make cooling as effective as it can be by targeting racks or hot spots to keep areas cool and to reduce equipment failure from overheating.

3. Easy Scalability or Flexibility

Technology changes rapidly, and with this comes changes to cabling infrastructure needs. With a raised floorong you have easy access to cabling and components if you need to upgrade, change, or fix something without statically disturbing service within the facility.

4. Safety and Fire Safety

With everything neatly routed through the floor space, you will not have potential electrical safety hazards. Most raised false floor systems have some type of flame retardant feature to offer higher safety levels in critical facilities.

5. Aesthetics and Organization

Having a clean space free of clutter isn't just about appearances, it's about being able to efficiently work or service equipment when necessary. The raised floor hides unsightly arranging of wiring and HVAC systems to present a more organized and professional looking facility.🧱 Best Panel Types for IT & Data Center Use/best false flooring manufactures for data center.

HPL Panels – Durable, anti-static, and ideal for heavy equipment loads.

Airflow Panels – Perforated tiles for cooling airflow.

Vision Panels – Allow visual inspection of the subfloor without removal.

Bare Panels – Cost-effective for internal or unfinished environments.

📍 Conclusion

False flooring is more than just a technical solution, it is a tactical investment for any data center or IT operation. Whether you're containing heat and cables or quickly reconfiguring the IT infrastructure, raised access floors contribute to efficiency, safety and operational continuity.

In the next few years if your plans are to build a data center or upgrade your IT infrastructure consider that you need a viable false flooring system that meets your needs. For more info visit www.yemag.co.in