Ep. 2 - Enduring the Storm - [Closed]

[Optimus Prime]

Episode 2 | Week 2 | Day 6


Two highly unexpected and unusual messages in one day?

What was happening...?

Optimus was standing before the multiple monitors in the control room, each one shining a faint light out that bounced off of the surrounding structures. Because it was later in the evening the primary overhead lights were down a few notches, it being one of the very few indicators of the later timeframe. The Prime was alone, which is what he had intended, the displays in front of him host to much that he didn't wish to have to explain to a curious Autobot, but was no so secretive he wished to work in the smaller layout in his quarters.

The system hummed with a high volume of information. Tabs and layers of different tasks in progress were folded upon one another with dozens of glyphs and data points, paired with a couple diagrams and 3D wireframes of objects or maps. It seemed as if the multiple monitors of the control room couldn't even keep up to the pure volume of data it was being tasked to display coherently, leaving some markers half covered by another that was placed on top of it.

To an outsider it would all look like a mashed jumble. Incoherent. Illegible. To a past Archivist, it was simple to keep track of. Everything had its place, and everything was organized even if the patterns weren’t rightly recognizable. Individual elements could be seen however. A map of the MECH facility that had been drafted out from the satellite photographs then overlaid with what the location looked like now. A list of recoveries already obtained by humans from said location as well as benchmark goals for future excavation of the rubble. There was a profile readout on what information they knew of Cleaver that regrettably had been edited with a 'deceased' tag, as well as a readout on Air Raid and current progress if any that had been obtained since his capture.

One chunk of the far left monitor held a progress bar that was loading up at an agonizingly slow pace, uploading a copy of every single bit of MECH information into one file location, while the right monitors held readouts on Haven and statistics on last sited locations of the Nemesis.

The main monitor held an amassed document that was being constructed. It displayed a wall of glyphs with no proper formatting in place that was almost choppily worded. Fast notes, quick implications. Streaked over these markers were lines and directional notes in different colors that pointed the eye to a separate bubble of information that was added to the side.

Long story short... it was a cluster and a half.

But all of this work, all of this information that was being mapped out in progress, was suddenly decimated from the main monitor with a single click of a button. Optimus' hand slowly lowered back to his side as the system hemorrhaged off the pages and layers to reveal the main navigation once more.

He just stared at the empty void, barely registering his own reflection staring back at him with tired optics and conflicted feelings as the announcement from Thundercloud gradually played out in full through the base wide comms.

They all had no idea. They had no clue what change was on the horizon. The good news could bring so much greatness, or only an uncomfortable change. Some may not take it well, others may reject it outright, ideally most would clutch to the concept. The notion, the very IDEA that the discussion with Megatron had kicked off, was going to alter the day to day lives of all the Autobots.

Peace...

A possible Truce...

He could do an announcement, he could tell them what was brewing behind the scenes, but there was no point. Either it worked out and they would all hear the good news, or it did not and only Ratchet would be any wiser to the experience. He didn't intend to be so secretive, but... there was no need to raise expectations or alarm then bash them upon jagged rocks if it were to be futile. It is this that made Optimus decide to abandon his task, and plan to go somewhere secluded and very far away from the party that was brewing in the Rec Room.

Let them have their fun, let them have a night of enjoyment. His team was hard working, and if they somehow found means to let off some steam and bond through a party? Then so be it. Because of who the host was he assumed there would be Highgrade present. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to know where Thunder obtained it. Was it stolen? Was it traded for at Haven? If so what did he squander for the fuel?... Too many questions that in the end didn’t matter.

Just let them have their fun.

He could hear the yelling, the laughter. Thundering footfalls and a crash. The noises were growing fainter, more subdued and numbed as he made his way down to the lower levels of the base. He didn't even cross paths with anyone during his retreat, which was for the best. To them? He simply didn't exist this night. They needn't be burdened by his presence and feeling they couldn't relax or have fun with a leader around. Needn't be reminded of the war they wage or the obligations set down upon them.

As the lift stopped, he stepped off and began down the stone hallway of the subsection. It was all unfinished, mostly just torn stone that carved out structures just big enough for their kind, the floor slicked over and smoothed with rough tools that left it just even enough. He went to one of the furthest rooms on the base, turning into it and intending to just find a place to settle down and work on a datapad. It was only when he stepped fully into the dimly lit area, that he noticed a red and white figure across the way.

Optimus froze, his stride coming to an abrupt stop as he realized Red Alert was down here. He hadn't expected to come across anyone, and it showed in his stance which somehow seemed off balance.

Caught off guard.

"I am under assumption you are here to avoid the commotion transpiring above?"

[Deleted]

Red Alert heard Optimus coming long before the mech addressed him. He had heard his footsteps as he came down the hall, and before that, the quiet hum of his internal systems as he rode the lift down to those lonely sub-level corridors.

It wasn’t as if Red Alert had been deliberately keeping tabs on the Prime - though he certainly did that often enough. It was a simple matter of hearing where the mech was going because he couldn’t not. His senses were too acute, too sharp. He couldn’t turn them off even if he wanted to - which he most certainly didn’t, because just the idea of living with a shortened sensory range was horrifying to him. He honestly didn’t know how other mecha could stand it, having their perception of the world so harshly crippled.

Sure, they probably slept easier, but he didn’t know how they could do that either when for all they knew, with their weak senses, someone could be lurking outside their door.

So, no. He wasn’t surprised by Optimus’ intrusion, nor was he unprepared for his question.

“No.” He replied, as he looked up from a bit of exposed piping on the wall which, moments prior, he had been examining with a tight frown.

“I’m here because something down here has been leaking for the past forty three hours and it’s driving me up the wall.”

He cast Optimus a look over his shoulder, before turning to face the mech directly.

“It’s just a coincidence that this room just happens to be the furthest in the base from the “festivities.” He added dryly, raising his hands to make air-quotes around the final word just to punctuate what he thought of the party going on upstairs.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus was all too familiar with the way Red Alert functioned, but that didn't make it any easier to bear seeing. It made him sad knowing how anxiety riddled and uptight the Security Director could be, and how the smallest of things could drive him up a wall if given enough time. An ideal example was what was happening right here and now, namely the concept that a small drip from a pipe down in the lowest recesses of the base could make him go mental enough to have to hunt it down to repair it himself.

From what he could recall, Red was not always like this, and that was what made it even harder to see. Sure, he may have been uptight about security, and desired having more fail-safe's put all over that were a bit overkill, but the pure intensity of his... sickness... for lack of a more appropriate term... had never been at the pinnacle it was now. It seemed like things were constantly getting worse, and it pained Optimus to see, because there was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

How bad would it get?...

How far would Red Alert go?

There was no concrete answer to this, and worrying about it solves absolutely nothing. The only thing any of them could do was simply endure and be there to offer help to the most paranoid soul on this base. As such, Optimus peered over at the other Autobot, trying to evaluate what was said perhaps a bit more than was needed.

Either Red Alert truly had gone mental over dripping, or he was being facetious and actually did just come down here to avoid the party... Optimus didn't ask, and in the end the point to it didn't really matter. All that did matter was that the other individual had found himself in the same exact corner of the base where Optimus was trying to seek refuge. He didn't mind that much, he knew they could both simply exist in one another's company and not need to talk.

There was no obligation to hold chitchat, there was no drive to try to be social, because in the end? They were both broken when it came to such things, and try as they might they couldn't create something from nothing. This understanding of one another nurtured through countless years of being tasked to work with each other, meant that Optimus could relax a bit further under the idea he could be understood.

"It brings me joy to know they can find it within themselves to seek pleasure. Not becoming consumed by the dark cloud that follows us."

Upon these words, Optimus seemed to break out from the trance he had been in moments prior. The Prime shifted his weight over to one leg slowly, only to ease into a calm walk that took him further into the room. He was in no rush, and he had no particular goal. The room was mostly empty, save for a couple voided cargo containers that were taking up too much space elsewhere, and some heavy duty pallets that had once held the metal beams and posts to create shelving units for the new storage area.

Stopping before one of the crates, Optimus turned around and eased down into a sit, being mindful to not drop his immense weight down too fast less even the reinforced containers could give out. It is once he was settled, he sat the datapad he had brought with him upon his leg, flattening a palm across its dark face to keep it from falling off the rounded armor just above his knee.

"That said, I find silence to be welcoming."

To any that did not know the Prime, they could assume this was a very blunt and only slightly polite way to tell someone to be quiet. The fact was Optimus was not telling Red Alert to 'shut up' nor was he implying he should leave. The quiet conversation that was occurring now was something he welcomed, especially with one he has known so long.

[Deleted]

Red Alert let out a quiet scoff, wryly amused by Optimus'...well, optimism. Of course the mech would be able to find some good in the situation, no matter how bleak and hopeless it actually was.

"You think it's quiet in here?" He asked flatly, the question entirely rhetorical.

Optimus of all mecha knew that silence - welcoming or otherwise - was an entirely foreign concept to him. He had never known what it was, at least, not that he can remember. From the moment he was first brought online, the world appeared to him as a chaotic flurry of sound and color which far exceeded the scope of the mecha around him. The world as he knew it was simply beyond comprehension for them, just as things like silence and stillness were alien to him.

It was quiet to Optimus, yes, but Red Alert's mind was buzzing with noise.

"I'll never understand how you all can stand it, being nearly deaf."

He said this with a shake of his head and a kind of solemn respect one might expect to be given to someone who managed to survive a harrowing accident, only to come away from it severely crippled.

[Optimus Prime]

It was impossible to not know the nuances and quirks of Red Alert after working together for so very long, and boy did the Security Director sure have a lot of them. But most of all, the more notable constant presence, was that of his exceptional hearing that bordered absurd. Optimus could not imagine being able to hear as well as him, the concept just couldn't even touch what reality must be like. He can try, envision being able to hear conversations long off in the distance, but that didn’t take into account the general ambiance of an area that was a constant thrum of noise.

Optimus could only give Red Alert a knowing look then when he asked the rhetorical question, trying to mask over the twinge of sadness that he felt for the other Cybertronian. To him, it was peaceful down here, quiet, soundless save for the words that Red and himself spoke of, but he knew that was not how the other experienced life. When he asked the follow-up question however, he lightened up a bit, leaning back slightly on his makeshift chair.

"It is hard to miss that which we do not know"

He stated this simply as fact. To him, he has never experienced anything but the level of hearing and world sensitivity that he currently did now. He knew that to do so abruptly, would probably alarm him just as much as true unfiltered silence would to Red Alert. Perhaps sometime they'd have to send the poor soul somewhere TRULY remote so he could try to get some actual rest without the world screaming at him.

"I am fairly certain, compared to being within the same room as the aforementioned event, that this is your version of quiet here. Perhaps not silent, but far more at ease"

Optimus may not have shown a smile, or too much in way of expressions any longer, but he did offer faint flickers of facial features that were just natural and showed he was happy at the moment. He found some amusement in his own commentary, and hoped Red Alert would as well.

"I suggest setting roots and waiting for the incident to pass."

[Deleted]

Red Alert was nothing if not observant - Optimus' micro-expressions might have gone unnoticed by any other mech, but Red Alert noticed them readily and recognized them for what they were. Optimus was not the smiling sort, or at least he hadn't been in all the time Red Alert had known him. The mech was too reserved to emote so openly, too somber to ever break into a wide grin.

Red Alert could sympathize.

"Alternately," He began, his tone as flat as ever. "I could bang my head against this wall until I lose consciousness, or death takes me and delivers me from the insanity."

He tapped the wall in question with his knuckles in demonstration, his expression deadpan. Rather than wait for Optimus to respond to his facetious comment, he pulled up a crate of his own and sat across from the other mech.

"Knowing my luck, I'd probably just wind up giving myself brain damage." He added with a scoff, before retrieving a datapad from his subspace.

"Which is just what I need, really. More head-problems."

Were he speaking with anyone but Optimus, he would never have made such a casual reference to his...health issues. As it was, Optimus was already well aware of his condition, and more importantly, Red Alert trusted him to keep it secret. The Prime had kept his business private for thousands of years: he could rest assured that nothing he said to the mech in confidence would be repeated.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus just gave Red Alert the most flat look he could muster, his helm crooking ever so slightly forward as if he was giving a bit of a nonverbal scolding for what had just been said. While he knew the other Cybertronian was mostly being sarcastic in his own sideways pass at joking, it wasn't the best hearing him speak in such ways. But the Prime didn't directly comment past the look he sported for a moment, finding no need to open that box of trouble and frustration for everyone involved.

"Alternatively..."

He started slowly, considering what he could say.

"We could find other means to pass the time that do not involve a trip to the Medical Bay. I am under impression Ratchet will not be particularly thrilled by tonight's events, and I wish not to get in his way over preventable ailments."

And who would? The poor medic was the sole lifeline to the team's health, and without him they would all certainly slide towards disrepair where rough patched wounds compound and add up until they all began to fall. But this also made the Medical Bay a place that could seem scary to go to about injuries obtained by being foolish.

Not even Optimus would want to go to Ratchet with an unintentional self inflicted injury.

He wasn't suicidal...

Despite what his actions could argue at times...

The Prime shifted his weight back again, shoulders rolling in their joints momentarily to try to loosen a lingering stiffness from constantly holding a rather ridged pose. The mechanisms within clicked lightly at this, a slight bit of strain as they were pushed into poses and angles not traditionally obtained outside in day to day life. It pulled at the support cables a bit, to unreel them just enough to attempt to relax, but his pose was still very formal once he was done.

"I doubt you would enjoy that either."

[Deleted]

Red Alert knew full well that Optimus was not very appreciative of black humor, but that never stopped him from making dark, self-depreciating jokes before, and that certainly wasn't about to change any time soon. Rather than feeling chastised under Optimus' flat stare, he simply raised his brows and flashed a faint, brief smirk at the other mech.

Contrary to popular belief, Red Alert could, in fact, smile when the mood suited him.

"You know full well that I never set foot in the medbay unless I absolutely have to." He replied flatly, as he swiped his fingers across the touch-screen of his datapad.

He seemed to be working on something or other, though what exactly Optimus wouldn't be able to tell unless he decided to lean over and take a peek. Not that he really needed to - he could simply hazard a guess and say "something to do with security" and he would be correct. That was always a safe bet when it came to Red Alert. If you didn't know what he was doing, chances were it was somehow related to his job.

"And not just because the last time I was there, our dear medic coerced me into drinking with him under the threat of violence."

It was clear by his amused tone that he actually looked upon this event favorably, and that despite his jokingly harsh description, he considered it a positive experience.

[Optimus Prime]

A smile which could look creepy or downright scary to others upon Red Alert's face, instead was a comforting gesture. It always made Optimus quite happy to know that even one as damaged and beaten down in life could find flickers of joy. It was always the little things that did this, grand victories or steps forward were otherwise seen with skepticism. But... the little things are often what count most for emotional wellbeing.

Carefully, as Red Alert spoke about his lack of desire to venture into the Medical Bay unless being forced to do so, Optimus lifted up his right ped and folded the lower limb to rest upon his opposite knee. It was a resting stance, one he seldom took and it showed, for just as soon as he got relatively comfortable, and Red spoke of his prior visit to see Ratchet, Optimus unfolded the leg and sat it back down flush with the ground as if nothing had even changed.

It was too casual for it to feel even remotely comfortable.

Upon Red Alert's words, Optimus became painfully aware once more to the last visit the Security Director had made to such a location in the base. While Red chose to highlight a more pleasant event, something that was implied to be enjoyable in the most sarcastic of means, it also brought back the memory of the grievous injuries he had undertaken.

He had almost lost one of his Autobots that day, and to look at them now you wouldn't be any wiser to the event. Welds since painted over, buckled armor smoothed out. All of the visual damage was gone, leaving just what may lie beneath the seams of his processor. Optimus wanted to do more, but attempts to speak of the event more so than the report made on it to see if Red was ok had been brushed aside and avoided.

For a moment the Prime wondered if now was a good opportunity to bring up the prior trauma and assure that he was there if Red wanted to speak about it, or if he had anything still amiss that needed to be patched up still. But... he knew better. He knew to drudge up such a serious topic when they were retreating from a party upstairs, was just a cruel trap that left the other Cybertronian very little means of escape. It is because of this, he held his tongue, and continued.

"Part of me is concerned to note where all of this high-grade keeps coming from."

He stated, keeping the subject away from what he really wanted to speak of.

"Though if it boosts moral so much, I suppose such a cost is simply a necessity despite what our rations may be."

[Deleted]

As usual, Optimus' words earned him a scoff from Red Alert.

"Oh, I can tell you exactly where it's coming from, though I don't think you'd like to know the answer."

His tone was flat, wry, and dry as a desert as it was wont to be when he was in a particularly snarky mood - which was always. He frowned a bit at his datapad, his brows drawing together thoughtfully as his optics darted back and forth across the screen. He let out a noncommital grunt at Optimus' next statement, knowing better than to pitch in his two cents on the issue. There was no reason to rain on Optimus' parade by being negative all over his (extremely rare) good mood.

If the mech wanted to see the glass half full, who was Red Alert to point out that the glass was probably (knowing the state of the world they lived in) half full of poision?

"...Oh, what the hell." He grumbled suddenly, under his breath.

He frowned even harder at his datapad, this time less in thought and more in annoyance. He sighed, ground his teeth a bit, then reached up to rub absently at the still-fading scars along his jaw that Flatline had dug into his faceplate all those weeks ago. The marring he left wouldn't last forever (he hadn't sliced deep enough to leave a permenant mark) but it was still taking far longer to disappear than Red Alert would have liked. If things had gone the way he prefered, he wouldn't have a single bit of evidence that that terrible encounter ever occured left on his frame. Alas, things rarely ever went the way Red Alert wanted them to, a fact to which he had long since resigned himself.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus had been reserved to not know where the high-grade was originating, but Red Alert had to prod this decision and challenge it with some commentary that was just built to instigate interest. One had to be rather dead emotionally for it not to do so. As such for a fleeting moment he considered chasing down the answer to the issue further, ask Red just WHERE the stuff was coming from and if he needed to rightfully be informed... but he backed up and kept himself firmly rooted in his previous belief.

A low hum of skeptical acknowledgment was formed to show Red he had heard what was said, just that he chose not to pursue it further. If there was some real danger to it all, if there was a real issue he had to be aware of, than he trusted the Security Director to fill him in thusly. Red Alert had always been very good at this, and in a way just a bit too good.

Not that Optimus wanted to have his team unsafe...

...But Red didn't know when to turn his work off.

In a way Optimus could relate, for being a Prime was a heavy burden and toil on his systems. He couldn't just turn off his thoughts and concerns about all those who follow him, just as he was sure the other Cybertronian couldn't turn off his own fretting over the stability of the base. But while the mind couldn't be halted, there was the issue of tangible work and how you can put that down momentarily to not stress every waking hour.

The Prime eyed the other Cybertronian quietly as he commentated upon his unknown work on the datapad and seemed to be plunking along with figuring something out. The details of what he was toiling on were lost to Optimus, but he was certain it was something that could wait a bit of time without the base going through a catastrophic meltdown or having a system combust.

"I do not suggest joining the party, but perhaps you should take a memo from it and put down your work to take a break?"

Bit of pot calling the kettle black, considering he had a ton of work he had to be doing himself and had the Datapad ready on his knee to do so. He really should be putting together the peace treaty, he should be formulating the datawork needed that would be the foundation to have the rest build out upon, but he already told himself he would be getting no recharge this night. He had all night to put something together that Megatron would just systematically tear apart.

"While I appreciate your diligence, I wish not to see you work yourself ragged."

More raged...

[Deleted]

Optimus' suggestion, while well-meaning and stemming entirely from a place of good-will, was not one Red Alert appreciated in the slightest. In fact, he couldn't even respond to it with an indulgent "maybe" or a gentle "no-can-do" let down. Instead of either of those things, he took a third (less polite) option and lowered his datapad before slowly looking up to regard Optimus with a dull look.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He simply looked at Optimus with that flat-stare and tight-lipped frown as if the expression on his face alone could somehow communicate to Optimus exactly what he thought about his suggestion. It was unflattering, whatever it was, like something one might say under their breath as soon as someone they were particularly miffed at walked out of earshot.

"Optimus. You know who you're talking to, right?"

He gestured to himself, the light of his datapad casting a faint glow over his armor as he waved his arm towards his chest.

"We've known each other for how many years, now, and you're still flogging that dead horse?"

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus knew that look, and he essentially knew Red Alert's reply before it was even uttered. It was hard not to, he had been given it many times though the millennia in different words and he had grown to recognize it and similar expressions. Despite social struggles, he even knew some of the minute details associated with reading this particular situation. Really, the two had clashed so many times on the issue in security and working themselves ragged, that they could probably have an argument by expression alone.

One angry scowl verses a calm and unyielding look of disappointment.

The Prime did not need to put his foot down in this particular endeavor, and he was not intending to force the other to relent upon an issue either. It is because of this he felt no need to take the harder approach that cut a lot of the verbal... chatter... out of the equation, and instead continued down the more lax path of actually vocalizing thoughts and opinions.

"I am well aware who I speak to, yet stand by my claims and will continue to do so."

Hopeless optimist, it was easy to see how the Prime got his name. He wasn't one to give up on another so easily, despite the influx of information that said that the security director was set in his ways and wasn't going to readily change unless he was chained and drug there the entire way.

"What is in such dire need of alterations that cannot wait until morning?"

While he spoke about this, he lifted his arm up and carefully gestured to the datapad that Red was holding. The action was gradual, and calm, paired with a bit of a helm tilt in the general direction before returning to rest upon his leg once more. The charcoal fingers of his hand idly hooked over the sharper flaring of his knee cap as his hand settled to rest.

He was still rather convinced what was there could wait.

[Deleted]

Rather than respond immediately, Red Alert simply held his datapad a little closer to himself, as if to prevent Optimus from snatching it away as he gestured to it. He knew the mech wouldn't actually do such a thing, but Red Alert just couldn't help himself. Instincts were instincts, and he was no more in control of his than the average mech - even less so, one could argue, considering how much influence his subconscious mind had over his reactions.

"I'm looking over monitor reports." He said haltingly, knowing full well Optimus wouldn't consider that a task of the utmost importance.

"Seems no one in this place knows how to follow procedure and actually fill out their checklists."

He couldn't help but frown, casting a furtive glance back down at his datapad before looking back up to the Prime.

"We might want to hold a meeting about that, actually. Seems the longer this war drags on, the more you need to breath down people's necks to get them to do their damn jobs."

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus' expression had been quite calm and complacent, until Red alert gave him some kind of accusing look like he suspected he was going to attack him to get his personal belongings. This made the Prime give back his own look, this one laced in disapproval that Red even thought such things about him. He said nothing though, for in all likelihood the action was reflex and nothing to even be contended with mentally.

"Some of our residents are new, and may not know now to fulfill the process within reasonable measure of your expectation."

A fact. Not everyone here was military in origin, and in all truth most were ragtag individuals who just cobbled their way through the war and got where they are now. This unique... flair... kept them alive well to these days, and is what made his team so resilient and strong. Their differing backgrounds and a general WANT to serve and help is the thread keeping their heads out of the water. This boon had major flaws though, like the unapproved party going on at this moment, and the lack of proper documentation.

It was a small price.

"You cannot blame. This war is long lived, and we cannot expect, nor desire, for them to cast aside what makes them who they are."

Rocking his shoulders up in their housing, Optimus shrugged at the end of these words, displaying his dismissal to the issue.

"If you wish to hold a meeting to teach them your expectations, than by all means, I will not stop you."

There was permission right there for Red Alert to house whatever lessons he damn well pleased, but... the question is if he would do it or not. That was bound to be a headache to conduct. If Optimus' memory was correct on human sayings, than the best applicable term would be 'herding cats'.

"In the meantime, I propose a strategic diversion."

He said simply, considering some kind of puzzle game. While old digital sets of Cybertronian games have long since been lost as far as he was aware, the Datapads should be able to accommodate something and should busy Red Alert enough to not toil and worry for a flicker of a moment...

...maybe.