Ep. 1 - "Off-Base Inspection" - Closed
Sept 15, 2013 8:16:40 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 15, 2013 8:16:40 GMT -5
Set at the beginning of Episode 1!
This time, he was ready for it.
As he stepped from the portal the light abruptly dimmed. The cavernous space of the control room was gone, replaced with rock walls that echoed his footsteps back to him. As the ground bridge whirled shut behind him the darkness closed in, and so did the ghosts. Fortress Maximus stood tall and silent and let them, and as he kept his back stiff and his optics fixed ahead he thought, not this time.
A dark room hadn't bothered him once. Now it held menace. It was an empty theatre, a prelude to a slideshow of images that came the most intensely in the dark, things he did not want to see.
Not always. Sometimes he could keep it in check. But there were still bad days.
This did not seem to be one of them. After a moment his unease subsided. His mind returned to the present, and Maximus exhaled once and risked a glance around. The Atrium looked just as it had on his first visit to the Neutral base. The bare rock walls were still rough and hewn, lit only with a few sparse lamps jury-rigged together with cables. All was still and quiet. The weight of the earth seemed to linger in the air, a relentless sense of pressure that made his audials ring.
The big mech shook his head irritably. He focused his thoughts back on the task at hand.
"Just make sure that they've ensured that their security is tight enough so as to prevent a breach on our end of things," Arcee had told him. She sat at the monitors, one foot resting on her knee, small and decisive. The rest of the control room was empty; they had spoken quietly, trusting the lateness of the hour to keep the conversation private. "We don't need to badger them into doing things our way. We just want to know that whatever they've done to prevent unauthorized ground bridge access at their end will suffice in keeping the Decepticons from ever knocking on our back door."
"You don't believe the demilitarized zone will hold either," he had said.
She had looked at him then, and despite her neutral manner he thought he had detected a glint of something shrewd.
"Protocol states we cover all possibilities," she had said.
That was the answer of an officer if he had ever heard one. He once thought like that too.
Maximus set his jaw.
Don't badger them. Like hell. This place smelt like an unsprung trap.
He did not want to be here. He had made his opinion of the DMZ clear enough. But he suppressed his petulance and touched the side of his head. He activated his internal comm.
Best to keep things civil.
"Chief Medical Officer Cleaver," he said. "This is Fortress Maximus, acting Chief of Security of Outpost Omega, here to speak about matters of security. I'm currently holding short in the Atrium, awaiting instructions."
As per Haven protocol, he had left his rifle at home. As he stood and waited for a reply Maximus wondered how pleased Cleaver would be to see him. His last visit to the Neutral base had not been a very friendly one.
This time, he was ready for it.
As he stepped from the portal the light abruptly dimmed. The cavernous space of the control room was gone, replaced with rock walls that echoed his footsteps back to him. As the ground bridge whirled shut behind him the darkness closed in, and so did the ghosts. Fortress Maximus stood tall and silent and let them, and as he kept his back stiff and his optics fixed ahead he thought, not this time.
A dark room hadn't bothered him once. Now it held menace. It was an empty theatre, a prelude to a slideshow of images that came the most intensely in the dark, things he did not want to see.
Not always. Sometimes he could keep it in check. But there were still bad days.
This did not seem to be one of them. After a moment his unease subsided. His mind returned to the present, and Maximus exhaled once and risked a glance around. The Atrium looked just as it had on his first visit to the Neutral base. The bare rock walls were still rough and hewn, lit only with a few sparse lamps jury-rigged together with cables. All was still and quiet. The weight of the earth seemed to linger in the air, a relentless sense of pressure that made his audials ring.
The big mech shook his head irritably. He focused his thoughts back on the task at hand.
"Just make sure that they've ensured that their security is tight enough so as to prevent a breach on our end of things," Arcee had told him. She sat at the monitors, one foot resting on her knee, small and decisive. The rest of the control room was empty; they had spoken quietly, trusting the lateness of the hour to keep the conversation private. "We don't need to badger them into doing things our way. We just want to know that whatever they've done to prevent unauthorized ground bridge access at their end will suffice in keeping the Decepticons from ever knocking on our back door."
"You don't believe the demilitarized zone will hold either," he had said.
She had looked at him then, and despite her neutral manner he thought he had detected a glint of something shrewd.
"Protocol states we cover all possibilities," she had said.
That was the answer of an officer if he had ever heard one. He once thought like that too.
Maximus set his jaw.
Don't badger them. Like hell. This place smelt like an unsprung trap.
He did not want to be here. He had made his opinion of the DMZ clear enough. But he suppressed his petulance and touched the side of his head. He activated his internal comm.
Best to keep things civil.
"Chief Medical Officer Cleaver," he said. "This is Fortress Maximus, acting Chief of Security of Outpost Omega, here to speak about matters of security. I'm currently holding short in the Atrium, awaiting instructions."
As per Haven protocol, he had left his rifle at home. As he stood and waited for a reply Maximus wondered how pleased Cleaver would be to see him. His last visit to the Neutral base had not been a very friendly one.