[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Graveyard [Flux]
Sept 29, 2022 3:22:19 GMT -5
Post by Megatron on Sept 29, 2022 3:22:19 GMT -5
Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 3 | Open
A monument to the Decepticons' failure marred the landscape upon the remote, rocky plains of Africa. It was but the latest victim of Starscream's hubris and recklessness—of his very ego. Where once Megatron could find his "future subjects," he only saw ruin and desolation now. Haven. What remained of the great bastion of the unaligned was but an empty shell. Tunnels caved in by the explosion, all valuables looted by his Decepticons or scavengers who returned thereafter to see their home destroyed. A more caring Spark would skip a beat in solemn respect. He did not care, his sentiment was not pity, only disappointment and indignation at the fact that Starscream robbed him of his prospective servants. And for what? To destroy Optimus Prime? Laughable. It would take more than a collapse, more than a simple ruse, to crush Megatron's greatest foe. No, only he could do it.
So, why return? There was nothing left.
Almost nothing.
Unbeknownst to even the highest echelons of the Decepticon army, Megatron had secretly withdrawn a mining crew from one of their less profitable ventures and thereafter instructed Soundwave to increase the work order of the remaining mines to make up for this secretive move. It has been a few days since this decision was made. None were privy to their presence here and no communications were held outside of those with the Warlord himself. As far as the Decepticons at large were concerned, these miners and guards were ghosts for the time being.
Very busy and active ghosts.
As Megatron waited at the precipice of the old ruin for a new arrival, it would become obvious that Haven was far from deserted at this very moment. Several Decepticon boring machines, such as those found at their conventional dig sites, littered the area. The concerns for stealth were few in a location so remote, with a crew so secretive. Further still, there was a new entrance now. It was but a hastily-hewn mineshaft, supported by steel beams undoubtedly looted from human depots. The conditions were precarious, given the dangerous terrain of a collapsed mine, and the Vehicon miners worked around the clock to maintain its stability—but it was enough to keep the roof from falling again.
However, something else was much more concerning. The purpose of this operation seemed so unclear at first glance. There were no resources left to gather, no valuables, no Energon, not even usable technology. The best a salvager could get here was scrap metal—and yet, the miners have clearly found something of value to Megatron. The evidence of this was plain. In a remote section of the dig site, a few drones maintained vigil over a strange display. Black tarps, lines, and lines of them, covering unknown objects. They were laid out in a designated area away from the tunnel and machines, and the guarding troopers shooed away anyone who got too close. The things that were under the dark fabric seemed long, narrow, and of various shapes and sizes. But none could see under the tarps, bolted to the ground as they were. Occasionally, a harsh wind would blow by, but not disturb the coverings enough to offer a proper glance.
Such were the surroundings of the arid ground upon which Megatron awaited his underling. He stood tall and proud, his arms resting at the small of his back. Occasionally, a Vehicon would approach him for directions or to inform him of new developments. But by and large, he was a solitary shape, unmistakable. What possible reason could he have for summoning such a middling Decepticon to this operation? Surely, whatever dealings were afoot here in the ruin were way above Flux's station and most assuredly "none of his business." And yet, Megatron's will could not be denied. He would have to come to this hopeless place, alone, whether he wished to or not.
A monument to the Decepticons' failure marred the landscape upon the remote, rocky plains of Africa. It was but the latest victim of Starscream's hubris and recklessness—of his very ego. Where once Megatron could find his "future subjects," he only saw ruin and desolation now. Haven. What remained of the great bastion of the unaligned was but an empty shell. Tunnels caved in by the explosion, all valuables looted by his Decepticons or scavengers who returned thereafter to see their home destroyed. A more caring Spark would skip a beat in solemn respect. He did not care, his sentiment was not pity, only disappointment and indignation at the fact that Starscream robbed him of his prospective servants. And for what? To destroy Optimus Prime? Laughable. It would take more than a collapse, more than a simple ruse, to crush Megatron's greatest foe. No, only he could do it.
So, why return? There was nothing left.
Almost nothing.
Unbeknownst to even the highest echelons of the Decepticon army, Megatron had secretly withdrawn a mining crew from one of their less profitable ventures and thereafter instructed Soundwave to increase the work order of the remaining mines to make up for this secretive move. It has been a few days since this decision was made. None were privy to their presence here and no communications were held outside of those with the Warlord himself. As far as the Decepticons at large were concerned, these miners and guards were ghosts for the time being.
Very busy and active ghosts.
As Megatron waited at the precipice of the old ruin for a new arrival, it would become obvious that Haven was far from deserted at this very moment. Several Decepticon boring machines, such as those found at their conventional dig sites, littered the area. The concerns for stealth were few in a location so remote, with a crew so secretive. Further still, there was a new entrance now. It was but a hastily-hewn mineshaft, supported by steel beams undoubtedly looted from human depots. The conditions were precarious, given the dangerous terrain of a collapsed mine, and the Vehicon miners worked around the clock to maintain its stability—but it was enough to keep the roof from falling again.
However, something else was much more concerning. The purpose of this operation seemed so unclear at first glance. There were no resources left to gather, no valuables, no Energon, not even usable technology. The best a salvager could get here was scrap metal—and yet, the miners have clearly found something of value to Megatron. The evidence of this was plain. In a remote section of the dig site, a few drones maintained vigil over a strange display. Black tarps, lines, and lines of them, covering unknown objects. They were laid out in a designated area away from the tunnel and machines, and the guarding troopers shooed away anyone who got too close. The things that were under the dark fabric seemed long, narrow, and of various shapes and sizes. But none could see under the tarps, bolted to the ground as they were. Occasionally, a harsh wind would blow by, but not disturb the coverings enough to offer a proper glance.
Such were the surroundings of the arid ground upon which Megatron awaited his underling. He stood tall and proud, his arms resting at the small of his back. Occasionally, a Vehicon would approach him for directions or to inform him of new developments. But by and large, he was a solitary shape, unmistakable. What possible reason could he have for summoning such a middling Decepticon to this operation? Surely, whatever dealings were afoot here in the ruin were way above Flux's station and most assuredly "none of his business." And yet, Megatron's will could not be denied. He would have to come to this hopeless place, alone, whether he wished to or not.