Ep. 2 - Enduring the Storm - [Closed]
Oct 12, 2015 1:53:46 GMT -5
Post by Optimus Prime on Oct 12, 2015 1:53:46 GMT -5
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?"
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?"