[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Where the End Begins [Patch]
Sept 19, 2023 8:10:18 GMT -5
Post by Windshield on Sept 19, 2023 8:10:18 GMT -5
Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 3 | Closed
A silent dread took hold of him as he passed a pair of Vehicons standing by the mouth of a deep and dreary tunnel. It was a grim place, hewn from stone, reinforced by cold iron, and deep within it, she remained bound in chains. It was a fate he consigned her to. He knew this, he'd been here before when the wounds were still fresh and the depressing trappings entirely unfamiliar. He convinced himself, for a time, that he felt nothing about it, about her, and what he'd done. And yet, despite every claim of indifference, every profession of cold loyalty to the cause, something deep within him screamed at him, hated him for what he did.
His grip tightened around an iron tray held close to his chest by a pair of sharp, black-tipped claws. Upon the tray, two items gently trembled to the rhythm of his soft footsteps. The tunnel ahead stretched on, it seemed eternal in those fleeting seconds, each digging deep into ruined memories—of laughter, of false friendships, of painful recovery. He shook his head briefly, took in the stagnant acrid air, and pressed on.
No second-guessing now. You asked for this duty.
...
Her surroundings cruelly mocked the home she'd found amongst the Autobots. Rock, stone, and metal. The same materials, the same structures, twisted and old. They remained unchanging. It was a bare-bones hall where nothing was meant to live—a limbo for her and no one else. The cacophony of swinging chains and the inane chatter of Vehicon guards carrying through the tunnels were here sole companions.
And that tunnel, that tunnel ahead, there was no light at the end of it.
At least, not usually.
Today, there were two lights. A pair of fiery candles in the pitch blackness, pointed, growing, growing. Optics. Bright, amber optics. They couldn't belong to anyone else—could they? As his figure slowly emerged from the darkness and into the dim fluorescent light of her holding cell, he stopped briefly. This was him. Windshield. The betrayer, the perpetrator. His customary smile was nowhere to be seen and he looked altogether as grim and as despondent as the prison.
The faded ceiling lamps cast his harsh symmetry in tall shadows.
He did not say anything at first, those intense optics of his simply inching down to meet the items on the tray. One of them was a metal cup filled with liquid Energon. Cerulean, life-giving. The other was an empty medical syringe. The first, if she would take it, would provide her with enough energy to stay alive. It was less than the Vehicons received, but it would beat the thirst in a pinch. The second... Well, he'd been instructed to bring it with him, in case she refused to drink.
Windshield considered the options briefly, and only then, he finally mustered the nerve to look back at Patch.
"I've brought you some rations," he said in a quick, empty tone.
Her surroundings cruelly mocked the home she'd found amongst the Autobots. Rock, stone, and metal. The same materials, the same structures, twisted and old. They remained unchanging. It was a bare-bones hall where nothing was meant to live—a limbo for her and no one else. The cacophony of swinging chains and the inane chatter of Vehicon guards carrying through the tunnels were here sole companions.
And that tunnel, that tunnel ahead, there was no light at the end of it.
At least, not usually.
Today, there were two lights. A pair of fiery candles in the pitch blackness, pointed, growing, growing. Optics. Bright, amber optics. They couldn't belong to anyone else—could they? As his figure slowly emerged from the darkness and into the dim fluorescent light of her holding cell, he stopped briefly. This was him. Windshield. The betrayer, the perpetrator. His customary smile was nowhere to be seen and he looked altogether as grim and as despondent as the prison.
The faded ceiling lamps cast his harsh symmetry in tall shadows.
He did not say anything at first, those intense optics of his simply inching down to meet the items on the tray. One of them was a metal cup filled with liquid Energon. Cerulean, life-giving. The other was an empty medical syringe. The first, if she would take it, would provide her with enough energy to stay alive. It was less than the Vehicons received, but it would beat the thirst in a pinch. The second... Well, he'd been instructed to bring it with him, in case she refused to drink.
Windshield considered the options briefly, and only then, he finally mustered the nerve to look back at Patch.
"I've brought you some rations," he said in a quick, empty tone.