[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]The Cruel and the Credulous [Closed] Jan 11, 2019 22:46:45 GMT -5
Post by Optimus Prime on Jan 11, 2019 22:46:45 GMT -5
Episode 2.5 | Week 2 | Day 7
Days bleeding into other days, time slipping between fingers like sand... It was hard to really get a grasp and a feeling of security when events were flicking past like a shoddily drawn flipbook. It would be one thing however, if it were mere tasks around the base. Repair this, look into ordering that, file paperwork to submit to Fowler for a a new water heater or a replacement generator for the one that was lagging behind and causing intermittent issues... Those were manageable, troublesome, but far more tolerable than what was being contended with at present. A disease, a defector, a Truce being put on the edge, teetering back and forth ready to topple down to shatter and bring the war back into full swing... It felt like their concerns with MECH were being sidelined, the base that should’ve been infiltrated by now continued to work and create future problems they would need to traverse and face later on.
So much was going wrong, so much was being flung into the air, and now more than ever Optimus was finding himself wishing that everything would just...
A moment of peace, a moment where the world could go still and new threats did not rear their heads. For every hurdle that was overcome, like the hydra of lore and myth of this world, it was reborn anew twice as dangerous as previously faced. He needed stillness; he needed to find balance, but even now despite being injured, tired, and overworked in stress from the actions of his own team, he had to buckle down and trudge forward through the trials with his helm held high and psyche unshaken, starting with the video recording from Skirmisher's point of view of events that'd transpired earlier in the day.
It took a minute to get the energy to even cross this hurdle however, retreating from the main corridors, pulling away from the Control Room and public areas, disappearing into the back wing of the personal quarters where he shut himself away into his room. Here, using the computer terminal, he brought up both recordings, and placed them side by side on the screen, synchronizing them so that he could take in what was going on from both perspectives, and look for discrepancies or issues that could be seen between them.
Optimus was not a slow observer. With his past job as a Monitor he had overviewed countless hours of data and recordings to be filtered away into the Hall of Records. A constant flow of data, flickering past and needing to be tucked away appropriately... and while such a job was lifetimes away, some things were never truly forgotten, allowing him to compare and process what was going on when he focused, especially in the shut off location where he needn't listen to others talking or the children running past on the catwalk.
The event with Windshield was a mess.
There was no better way to describe it.
The arrogance of both sides was nauseating. Everyone believing they were doing what was right, some trying to help, but their ideas of help skewed and mutated like a cancerous growth, bringing forth more harm than any kind of good. Starscream was being flippant and passive at once in an odd combination. He did not demand Windshield be given over, almost baiting the two Autobots to take the Decepticon, while Windshield was cast around like an object of conquest instead of a living Cybertronian. Botched field medicine, Whirl claiming the mech was a prisoner with zero prompting, saying Starscream couldn’t have him, Soundwave silent as ever simply watching with a steady hollow gaze...
When it was all over, and everything fell into nothingness, the Prime starred with his singular tired optic at his own reflection in the black monitor in the darkened room.
They were in so much trouble here, the Truce was as good as terminated by their actions... shamefully aggressive to a temporary ally, and denying allowing Windshield to make his own choice until it boiled over and emotions were kindled. Things felt stilted and awkward, like people were not listening to one another and... there was no real good way to describe what he witnessed other than a cluster of madness and insanity, ending with him having to come after the fact and pick up the pieces.
There was no time to fully process and come to terms however, he had to address it.
Activating a communication line, Optimus connected to a secure channel aimed at the Decepticons, leaving the visual feed blank so it was audio only at this point. He did not need, nor want them to see him as tired and beaten down as he was with his injury, choosing instead to work vocally only, which he gathered together well. Speaking with the all too familiar power of the Prime, Optimus sent the connection clearly.
::This is Optimus Prime, I need to speak to Megatron::