[ti]Ep 3[/ti]The mauling of it all [closed]
Jul 24, 2022 4:31:34 GMT -5
Post by Red Alert on Jul 24, 2022 4:31:34 GMT -5
Episode 3 | Week 2 | Day 6
Omega Outpost > Jasper, Nevada
They wouldn't be for long, he had no doubts about that. They were simply enjoying a brief reprieve, the calm before the next inevitable storm. How things could possibly get worse than they already were, Red Alert could only guess – which he did. At length. To excess, really. But worrying obsessively over every potential future wasn't the only thing Red Alert had been doing during the calm – far from it. He had done what he always did whenever some new disaster struck; he did damage control, then tried to get ahead of the situation and take aggressive measures to prevent it from ever happening again.
Of course, as with any innovation born of tragedy, Red Alert was left to mourn and curse the fact that he hadn't thought to take such measures before they became necessary. For a mech as dedicated to his job as he purportedly was, it was occasions like these that forced Red Alert to question just how deep his dedication actually ran. Surely, if he were as devoted as everyone thought, as he should have been, as his comrades deserved for him to be, he would have prepared for this. He would have prevented it.
But he didn't. Despite all his plans and precautions and all the endless hours spent anticipating disaster, the worst still came to pass. All his efforts had amounted for nothing. He might as well have done nothing at all, for all the good he did Ratchet.
It was this thought that spurred Red Alert on through the night, working on the security measure he ought to have thought of and implemented long before something like this ever happened. Nevermind spite, guilt was the strongest motivator in Red Alert's mind, guilt and the stubborn resolve to never make the same mistake twice.
He should have slept, probably. At some point. It would have been a futile effort, he never would have been able to sleep even if he had tried, but he was sure Ratchet would have appreciated it if he had at least made a token effort.
Not that Ratchet was in a position to lecture him on his atrocious self-maintenance habits. He wasn't in a position to lecture anyone about anything, because Red Alert had failed to do the one thing he was good for – the thing he was quite literally built to do – and so Red Alert had been free to shut himself away and work on his project to excess without fear of reproach.
It only took him four days to finish, though it would have taken him considerably less time if there weren't so many other duties for him to stay on top of – duties he couldn't trust to anyone else, not when the slightest mistake or oversight could lead to an endless cascade of disasters. Red Alert had already allowed one tragedy to come to pass, and he would be damned if they suffered another so soon after the last.
Nearly everyone at the outpost was ineligible, for one reason or another. Either because they were too important to risk exposing to unnecessary danger, too untrustworthy or aggravating to deal with, or too likely to question his mental and physical well-being. That left only two or three mecha who were qualified for the task, and of those mecha only one had volunteered their time to Red Alert in the past. He could only hope she would be inclined to do so again.
::Javelin - if you're available, I could use a spotter::