[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]A Matter of Necessity - [Closed]
Apr 7, 2017 19:57:22 GMT -5
Post by Optimus Prime on Apr 7, 2017 19:57:22 GMT -5
Once the cubes were passed out, and the mission was handed over so that Bumblebee took charge of the scenario, Optimus seemed to disengage from the others. He did not readily speak or give directions, for he wanted to make sure Bee had a strong footing, and wouldn't be undermined by him in even the smallest ways now. Because of this, he simply sat back and watched, observing how they responded to their extra rations.
Each individual tended to their fuel differently, from downing it all in one go to get it over with to not even be a concern, to saving every drop of it to be used later, and the middle ground in-between. It was interesting in some ways, to see what each person did with it, and what it said about their character, but in the end the most prominent display was the response the canine produced.
Bolo was acting like he had been denied fuel for weeks, and only now has seen the resource. Whines of protest, broad motions to try to cut Carbine off... there was no logical reason why Carbine would be as low as Bolo seemed to make it seem they were, or the ex-cop would have probably tried to refuel already. It made no sense unless they were skimming their own rations, but that didn't seem right.
The Prime watched the interactions warily, though soon turned to finish typing what he had started, reaching over and pulling down the lever to activate the Ground Bridge.
A loud roar of mechanics coming online formed then, a blast of sound and light that danced and skirted over the area with flicks of teal and blue. Small light particles lapped and sprayed away from the open portal like sparks, dissipating not far from the vortex.
"The Energon mine entrance is due east. I will be on standby."
As they proceeded forward, everything would abruptly change.
The road they suddenly found themselves upon had once upon a time seen ample use back in the day. It was wide, able to accommodate larger trucks and vehicles, and had grey gravel poured over its surface to add traction and assist if things got rainy. However, wear and tear through erosion and time did not do it any favors. Lines wove and split through spots where water runoff flowed, and bald patches of tan peeked through the gray where the gravel had been pushed aside. It created a sloppy ground surface, that was littered in small divots and holes that did not offer anything of value for a wheeled vehicle.
Nature decided it wished to keep some of this land that was taken from it, small bundles of foliage encroaching and breaking up the outer perimeter, while straight ahead to the east the road dissolved entirely as if a land slide had taken part of it many years back. Trees branched and curved down where the road sloped towards a great basin, the environment beyond them swarmed with thick swaths of green. On ground level, the grasses that sprouted up were flicked in purple, a splattering of violet and white tones that brushed softly in the wind that passed through the region.
Off to their left to the north, before they would head down the inclined path, they could see the far horizon. Rolling fields, distant structures, some windmills breached into the sky like guardians, the white paint standing out starkly against the green and gray environment. Their three propellers hung in limbo, not moving despite the soft winds that passed through the open landscape. In contrast, their right to the south held far less nature, and far more construction.
The road dropped off after a small bank of dirt, careening down to a basin that was nothing but slate gray and gravel. No browns, no greens, nature could not claim or take back the damage that had been done. It stretched across for at least two miles of nothingness, the void broken up by a few vehicles that were abandoned during the process. Once bright colors of yellow and orange, they were faded and dulled, paint blistering and peeling from their frames, while cloth coverings were tattered and worn down. While this was bad, what was more notable were the myriad of pipes that jutted out on appealingly random intervals. They twisted out of the earth like artificial trees, but instead of branches and foliage, smoke curled and drifted out to cloud and clog up the air in a shifting haze.
The smoke acted almost like heated fog, coiling and drifting up to the sky to mingle and meld with the dark overcast that was in play. Despite it being the middle of the day, when the sun should be high and nearly overbearing, the area was dimmed down, a few rays of light splitting through thinner portions of cloud cover to spackle the ground along the far horizon.
Each individual tended to their fuel differently, from downing it all in one go to get it over with to not even be a concern, to saving every drop of it to be used later, and the middle ground in-between. It was interesting in some ways, to see what each person did with it, and what it said about their character, but in the end the most prominent display was the response the canine produced.
Bolo was acting like he had been denied fuel for weeks, and only now has seen the resource. Whines of protest, broad motions to try to cut Carbine off... there was no logical reason why Carbine would be as low as Bolo seemed to make it seem they were, or the ex-cop would have probably tried to refuel already. It made no sense unless they were skimming their own rations, but that didn't seem right.
The Prime watched the interactions warily, though soon turned to finish typing what he had started, reaching over and pulling down the lever to activate the Ground Bridge.
A loud roar of mechanics coming online formed then, a blast of sound and light that danced and skirted over the area with flicks of teal and blue. Small light particles lapped and sprayed away from the open portal like sparks, dissipating not far from the vortex.
"The Energon mine entrance is due east. I will be on standby."
As they proceeded forward, everything would abruptly change.
The road they suddenly found themselves upon had once upon a time seen ample use back in the day. It was wide, able to accommodate larger trucks and vehicles, and had grey gravel poured over its surface to add traction and assist if things got rainy. However, wear and tear through erosion and time did not do it any favors. Lines wove and split through spots where water runoff flowed, and bald patches of tan peeked through the gray where the gravel had been pushed aside. It created a sloppy ground surface, that was littered in small divots and holes that did not offer anything of value for a wheeled vehicle.
Nature decided it wished to keep some of this land that was taken from it, small bundles of foliage encroaching and breaking up the outer perimeter, while straight ahead to the east the road dissolved entirely as if a land slide had taken part of it many years back. Trees branched and curved down where the road sloped towards a great basin, the environment beyond them swarmed with thick swaths of green. On ground level, the grasses that sprouted up were flicked in purple, a splattering of violet and white tones that brushed softly in the wind that passed through the region.
Off to their left to the north, before they would head down the inclined path, they could see the far horizon. Rolling fields, distant structures, some windmills breached into the sky like guardians, the white paint standing out starkly against the green and gray environment. Their three propellers hung in limbo, not moving despite the soft winds that passed through the open landscape. In contrast, their right to the south held far less nature, and far more construction.
The road dropped off after a small bank of dirt, careening down to a basin that was nothing but slate gray and gravel. No browns, no greens, nature could not claim or take back the damage that had been done. It stretched across for at least two miles of nothingness, the void broken up by a few vehicles that were abandoned during the process. Once bright colors of yellow and orange, they were faded and dulled, paint blistering and peeling from their frames, while cloth coverings were tattered and worn down. While this was bad, what was more notable were the myriad of pipes that jutted out on appealingly random intervals. They twisted out of the earth like artificial trees, but instead of branches and foliage, smoke curled and drifted out to cloud and clog up the air in a shifting haze.
The smoke acted almost like heated fog, coiling and drifting up to the sky to mingle and meld with the dark overcast that was in play. Despite it being the middle of the day, when the sun should be high and nearly overbearing, the area was dimmed down, a few rays of light splitting through thinner portions of cloud cover to spackle the ground along the far horizon.