We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
“That would be good,” said Optimus, surprised at how much he really did think that. He released Max’s hand, the pressure of his grip still a ghost in his palm, and felt suddenly that some kind of shadow had passed. Like a pressure eased of a hair-trigger at the last second. “There has not been much time just for… talking. Not since we came here and our unit has been too small until recent for anything like taking our ease. We are the first response to hostile Decepticon activity here on Earth and like any part of war it is mostly downtime and extreme boredom punctuated by fighting for our lives. Luckily, you have found us on the tail-end of a victory. Tonight is a celebration.”
He smiled very slightly, an expression rare enough to take note of.
“So we do, actually, have some time to talk. Everyone back on base is winding down for the most part so there will not be… a welcome wagon exactly.” Something Fortress Maximus might not have been so keen on, Optimus supposed. “But there should be a stock of highly contraband high grade that I don’t know anything about, sitting in the rec room for you.” His expression and tone remained serenely stoic as he said this. “Just be sure to not tell me about it.”
Last Edit: Sept 3, 2012 21:41:34 GMT -5 by Deleted
Maximus could not suppress the sense of relief that came over him when he realised there would not be a party of Autobots waiting back at the base. That was all right. That was fine. He had hoped to make a quiet arrival. Unseen. Unnoticed. The thought of coming under scrutiny, even by his allies, was one that filled him with dread.
No more scrutiny. No more questions.
But still... it did his spark good to hear that somewhere out there, Autobots had found a reason to celebrate.
"Contraband, eh?" he said, letting a little of his old hard-nosed manner leak into the words. Fort Max the Warden, once again. Didn't feel right any more, but he knew that through nothing more than sheer size and presence he could still pull it off if he tried. He lifted his brow and feigned a stern look as he glanced back to the place where the portal had first appeared on the shoreline. "Suppose I should be the one to crack down on that. Confiscate it. I'll let it slide this time."
He trailed off. Then, looking back at Optimus he soberly added, "We should sit and have a glass sometime. Whenever you're free. Make a toast to still being alive."
He didn’t really have to elaborate, the both of them knew it was.
He lifted two fingers to his audial. “Bumblebee, groundbridge. I am coming back with Fortress Maximus.” There was a brief beeping whirr-chatter from the other end. “Yes, that Fortess Maximus.” Another pause, more excited chatter. “Bumblebee, groundbridge?” There was a momentary beat, then the air sparked where it had before and the vortex green of the groundbridge came spinning open again, throwing the same soft green-white glow across the shore again. Optimus glanced at Fort Max. “He has heard of you,” said Optimus by way of explanation.
Then again, Bumblebee had heard about just about anyone who’d ever worked with Optimus for any very long stint of time, and the events at Simanzi had been nothing short of historical. Optimus glanced back toward the lake, his scanners didn’t pick up anything immediately, but that likely only meant that Fort Max’s ship still had its basic cloaking tech engaged. He looked to Fort Max.
“Is there anything you need from your ship? We have been getting a lot of new arrivals, so we have extra quarters ready for your use. If you need to get any personal effects I can hold the bridge.”
Maximus slowly shook his head. He gazed out over the place where his dropship had settled upon the surface of the lake before sinking beneath the waves. He didn't know how long it would rest there, among the rocks. A long time, he hoped. Long enough for it to gather its own coat of silt and grime. Forgotten. Just like the old aircraft he had seen lying crumpled on the lakebed during his long slog through the dark.
With luck, this would be the assignment that lasted.
A flicker of light appeared at the corner of his optic. He turned back in time to see the green portal reappear along the shore in obedience to Prime's request. Maximus had not overheard the reply from the bot manning the bridge, but from the sounds of things his name was not unknown among at least a few of the Autobots here on Earth. Probably thanks to Simanzi. Hopefully not anywhere else.
"No, nothing," he said. He gave Optimus another small, grim smile as he reached back and laid his hand on the rifle clipped to his back. "This is all that came with me from- from Delphi. Guess I'm travelling light. But I'd appreciate the quarters. A lot, in fact. Thank you."
It was good to have Fortress Maximus back. That was the bottom line. There seemed to be some strings attached to his return, but that didn’t change anything about the bottom line. There was a lot of time between the last time Optimus saw Max and now, a lot of unsaid and a lot of questions and everything a war could throwat a mech when their friends weren’t looking, but that didn’t change the bottom line. Optimus could name a hundred things off the top of his head to put that tension in his friend’s back strut and that slight, telling, hesitance into some of his words. But that didn’t affect the bottom line either.
He was glad Max was here.
“In that case,” said Optimus, turning toward the groundbridge, “welcome home.”
Maximus lingered back and watched his friend turn towards the shallows.
Unease mingled with weary relief at the prospect of safe harbour. The voice in the back of his mind spoke quietly to him. You thought of the Last Resort as an unassailable home once. Don't forget how that turned out.
He irritably pushed that thought back with the all of the rest of his unspoken fears. Lock it back. Keep your head and do your job. You failed at the prison and all of your officers died, long murdered behind those dark walls. Optimus had enough to deal with right now. He did not need the burden of an officer gone weak. He did not need a good friend to fail him in his time of need.
Steeling himself, Fortress Maximus rolled back his shoulders and stepped forward to follow Optimus through the shallow water, to the green light waiting patiently for them on the shore.
"Never thought I'd hear something like that again," he admitted. "Means a lot to hear it now. It's good to know there's a place like this waiting for us. Let's keep it safe."
“That,” said Optimus as they emerged from the other side of the graoundbridge, light peeling back into the control room of Omega Outpost One, “is the idea, Maximus.”
Bumblebee was still at the control for the groundbridge, pulling the lever to shut down the tunnel behind the two larger mechanoids. Optimus nodded slightly to the yellow scout who held off for a moment while Fortress Maximus got a look at their base of operations here on earth. The missile silo was still enormous, more and accommodating even for mechnoids of Fort Max’s class size. Gasket had almost no trouble maneuvering through the massive interior of their home and he very much towered over the Prime… actually, more than some of their Bots were larger than their leader, Fort Max now included.
There was a chirp at his elbow. Blue optics peered around from his side.
“Fort Max, this is Bumblebee. He is one of the best scouts I have had the opportunity to work with. He did first recon for Team Prime before we made contact with the US government here in North America.” Bumblebee waved, pinging an introductory hullo. “Bee, are the others through in the rec room”
“Yeah.” The click-whirr of the scout’s Basic seemed more subdued than usual. “Everyone out/recharging/drunk. I’m still good/sober for duty though. Um, it’s good to have you on the team, Fortress Maximus. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Maximus felt a sense of great space and circulated air even before he had stepped from the groundbridge behind Prime. Startled, he came to a halt and stared up at the vast ceiling above their heads, the echoing rock and darkness. Lights shone in the gulf.
It was strange, he reflected, to feel the walls tower over him. Even in many Cybertronian installations he had still needed to duck his head on occasion. Standing here, he felt oddly reduced, one spark caught within a bigger and greater world.
The portal closed behind him, cutting away the green light. Maximus heard an inquiring chirp, shook off his wandering thoughts and turned to face it, recognising a friendly hello.
And then, recognised an Autobot.
The prickling dread he had earlier felt at the prospect of coming face to face with the other members of Optimus' team faded as he realised just which Autobot stood at his friend's elbow. Light frame, yellow armour - he did not need a name to find familiarity within the face.
Bumblebee. Maximus frowned as he cycled through his mental directory of Autobot soldiers, hundreds of files collected and filed in his long term memory core. Up front were those of his own soldiers and officers, of course. But while he had taken a step away from the war during his time as the warden of the Garrus-9 penitentiary, he had not allowed himself to forget that he was still a part of the Autobot army, with a greater duty to serve the mechs who made up its ranks. He kept up with the files, because to do otherwise felt like a lack of respect.
"Bumblebee," he rumbled, inclining his head in greeting. "I've read a lot about you myself, that you're one of our sharpest and most adaptable scouts. I was impressed with your dedication to remain and fight at Tygar Pax, though I understand it came at a personal cost. For that, I'm sorry."
“Thank you.” Bumblebee lifted his chin a bit. “Would have cost everyone a lot more, if I’d done something different.”
If the mention of Tygar Pax was painful, and it always was, he wasn’t about to let it show. Bumblebee had, through no real understandable means that he understood, developed a reputation. Actually, no. It was his proximity to Optimus that got him his reputation, as all mechanoids who operated close to the Prime there was no getting around the Autobot rumor milling and there was a certain kind of celebrity –that ugly military, get shot at and killed kind of celebrity – to operating regularly on Team Prime. What Bumblebee truly had no understanding of was how, of all scouts, the many, many, many of them, he’d survived long enough to have that reputation
Then again, everyone who was still alive in these days had some questions about ‘why me?’
“Scans aren’t picking up your ship/vehicle so it should be safe/secure/isolated where it is for now. Can scramble recovery team later/tomorrow/at night. Contact Fowler, Optimus: yes/no?”
“I will contact Agent Fowler about both our new arrivals,” said Optimus, “Is Smokescreen being settled in?”
Bee chirped affirmative, jerking his head toward the main corridor. “Yeah, left with Steeljaw/Danger-Cat a little bit ago. Looking into dibbing/claiming quarters.” He looked up at Fort Max. “You looking to settle in, or wanna get the tour/walk around?” He glanced accusingly at Optimus. “You missed the rest of Jazz’s film.”
“I believe,” retorted Prime smoothly, “You have monitor duty, do you not?”
“Still, ah, rations in the rec room,” said Bee, bouncing off to the monitors. “It was good to meet you, Fortress Maximus.”
Last Edit: Sept 5, 2012 17:20:10 GMT -5 by bumblebee
As the scout retreated back to his post, Maximus watched him go with a frown.
During the long flight in the dropship he had reviewed the personnel files of the team under Optimus' command here on Earth. He had downloaded the datalogs straight into his brain- at least, those he did not already have on file. Force of habit. It seemed like a good crew - skeletal, but good. There had been a few names on the roster list he had recognised, others he did not. He had lingered over the scout's file, struck cold by several details.
His voice box. How he had lost it.
And yet, here he was. Still fighting.
"And you," said Maximus quietly, in response to the farewell. He studied the array of glowing monitors with a warden's eye, paranoia refined into critical vigilance by hundreds of years of prison duty. Then he turned back to Optimus and raised one brow. There had been one name mentioned that he hadn't recognised, that Command had not included on the list he had been given.
He followed this up by forwarding Fort Max a small data packet containing the man’s resume and military record as it had been provided to the Autobots… plus whatever data Arcee and Bumblebee themselves had dug up on the man via their own investigation. Obviously, they had not told Fowler that they’d done their own investigation into their human liaison to the US government, but the dossier covered the man’s stint in the US Army Rangers, his current withdrawal from what he’d called ‘real field work’ and his subsequent assignment as Autobot liaison under General Bryce.
“He is currently our most regular military contact,” said Optimus gesturing for Fort Max to follow him out of the control room.”If the Autobot require cooperation from the native populace it is Agent Fowler who facilitates this. He is not, strictly, our only liaison, but during the two-year lag - local time - in Decepticon activity, personnel assigned to Outpost Omega One was reduced.The resurgence in Decepticon actively has rekindled both support and critique of our position as first response to the Decepticon threat here on earth."
Last Edit: Sept 10, 2012 0:44:56 GMT -5 by Deleted
Fortress Maximus' gaze grew distant as the data packet arrived. He glanced aside with a preoccupied frown and extracted it, before paging through the information laid out within.
It took little time to recognise it as a typical military dossier. Fowler had an admirable record. With footnotes attached to his lifetime of service, bits of data likely gathered at later dates. Nothing suspicious. The big mech relaxed. This was the liaison to the Autobots, assigned specifically by human military command. If he posed any sort of security threat, it was a distant one.
He shook his head as he filed the packet away. Seemed like everything was a potential security threat these days. He couldn't put a finger on the time he'd begun to think that way.
No. That was a lie.
"Critique?" he said as he trudged in Optimus' wake. His footsteps rang slow and heavy in the echoing chamber. He gave the other Autobot a sideways look, his frown deepening. "Good to hear that support is being provided by the local government, but has anything happened that would merit a critical response from the human military? Or is it just more of the usual... collateral damage, mechs forgetting where they are and not adhering to protocol regarding the use of alt modes, etc."
“The usual,” said Optimus, leading the way through the back halls. “Our alliance here on earth is not dissimilar to inter-planetary alliances the Autobots have held in the past. The only notable difference is that this planet’s technology class is significantly below that of most of our previously held alliances. At the very least other Class Three planets had knowledge of the greater inter-galactic community, even if they had yet to achieve the know-how to fully interact with it. This is the first time we’ve dealt with a populace so… unprepared. The first time we’ve held military alliance with one. Much of our situation here in unprecedented.”
It was at this moment they reached the rec room, which had been emptied of its previous party-goers. There was a general sense of disorganization still, the echo of a high-concentration of EM fields previously there, that slight tang in the air of many Cybertronians unabashedly shedding electromagnetics... oh yes and Smokescreen applying what looked like a barely-serious headlock on Optimus Prime's field lieutenant, who was almost certainly mildly inebriated. Or at least behaving as such. It was hard to tell.
"Uh," said Optimus, spoiling the last ten minutes of commanderly efficiency and cool in a single syllable. "I see you're settling in quickly, Smokescreen?"