Ep 0.5 - Morning After - Open
Apr 11, 2012 21:38:27 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 11, 2012 21:38:27 GMT -5
His duty shift routine was simple - a check with the duty officer (Blaster), a physical pedes-on-the-wall check of all of the critical security points, another check in with Blaster (if all was well) or Jazz (if anything looked remotely disturbed), and then a round of monitor duty, supplemented with work on the mainframe. Later in the duty shift was reserved for brainstorming more security measures with Jazz, or, on some particularly fun days, testing the ones they had come up with earlier. It wasn't particularly hard work, all things considered, but it was even and steady and Steeljaw liked the routine of it. Thus far, nothing had gone wrong with it.
Nothing, until the morning he paged Blaster for his usual morning check-in and received back a static laced reply after a three times as long as usual lag. If it had been Jazz, Steeljaw would have asked if the other mech felt alright. Blaster he didn't feel quite the same ease talking to, but the discrepancy in the comm mech's usual demeanor left him unsettled. It itched at him enough that he diverted a portion of his attention while he was checking the security points, reviewing the other mech's movements through the last twenty-four hours, as seen through the security cameras.
OH. Well. Yes. The contents of THAT particular unmonitored room in the basement was the worst kept secret on the entire base, and the time stamp in compared to the rather staggering time stamp out told its own story. Blaster was doubtlessly feeling the effects of a tank full of homefiltered high grade. Steeljaw smirked and kept on with his rounds, and if he was a little MORE cheerful when he paged Blaster again, well, really, he was just making up for the groggy, hungover slump the other mech was obviously in.
It did make monitor duty particularly difficult, though. He had no sooner sat down than he had IDEAS. Horrible, evil, no good, very bad ideas, which just made him twitch for the sheer longing of doing it. Uplink was laughing, nonstop, and Steeljaw was BORED.
And really, in his experience, anyone who drank themselves into a miserable state for the next duty shift deserved exactly what they got.
It ended up being as simple as grabbing a large ball of guilty green - "I will," Steeljaw had said expansively, "absolutely forgive that tail stepping incident if you will just sit this one monitor shift for me. Please?" Bulkhead had looked appropriately stricken, done some squirming, and finally agreed. Steeljaw had softened the deal by leaning in and promising the other mech video when he was done, which had made Bulkhead perk up with the sure instinct of one prankster to another. From there, it was a quick stop at supplies - Miko had left some glitter from her last art project, which Steeljaw appropriated a bit of, along with a small container of thick oil.
Half an hour later found him cheerfully repositioning yet another security camera in one of the main corridors, nudging the range of it two inches off from true, and smearing a ring of oil around the edge of the lens before dusting it with glitter. It wouldn't - QUITE - be visible from the camera, but the bokeh glare from the glitter at the edge of the video feed should be maddening, particularly to an overcharged and delicate processor. Humming, Steeljaw slipped up to the ceiling and trotted on to the next camera.
Nothing, until the morning he paged Blaster for his usual morning check-in and received back a static laced reply after a three times as long as usual lag. If it had been Jazz, Steeljaw would have asked if the other mech felt alright. Blaster he didn't feel quite the same ease talking to, but the discrepancy in the comm mech's usual demeanor left him unsettled. It itched at him enough that he diverted a portion of his attention while he was checking the security points, reviewing the other mech's movements through the last twenty-four hours, as seen through the security cameras.
OH. Well. Yes. The contents of THAT particular unmonitored room in the basement was the worst kept secret on the entire base, and the time stamp in compared to the rather staggering time stamp out told its own story. Blaster was doubtlessly feeling the effects of a tank full of homefiltered high grade. Steeljaw smirked and kept on with his rounds, and if he was a little MORE cheerful when he paged Blaster again, well, really, he was just making up for the groggy, hungover slump the other mech was obviously in.
It did make monitor duty particularly difficult, though. He had no sooner sat down than he had IDEAS. Horrible, evil, no good, very bad ideas, which just made him twitch for the sheer longing of doing it. Uplink was laughing, nonstop, and Steeljaw was BORED.
And really, in his experience, anyone who drank themselves into a miserable state for the next duty shift deserved exactly what they got.
It ended up being as simple as grabbing a large ball of guilty green - "I will," Steeljaw had said expansively, "absolutely forgive that tail stepping incident if you will just sit this one monitor shift for me. Please?" Bulkhead had looked appropriately stricken, done some squirming, and finally agreed. Steeljaw had softened the deal by leaning in and promising the other mech video when he was done, which had made Bulkhead perk up with the sure instinct of one prankster to another. From there, it was a quick stop at supplies - Miko had left some glitter from her last art project, which Steeljaw appropriated a bit of, along with a small container of thick oil.
Half an hour later found him cheerfully repositioning yet another security camera in one of the main corridors, nudging the range of it two inches off from true, and smearing a ring of oil around the edge of the lens before dusting it with glitter. It wouldn't - QUITE - be visible from the camera, but the bokeh glare from the glitter at the edge of the video feed should be maddening, particularly to an overcharged and delicate processor. Humming, Steeljaw slipped up to the ceiling and trotted on to the next camera.