[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Aftermath [Closed]
May 24, 2020 4:20:39 GMT -5
Post by Optimus Prime on May 24, 2020 4:20:39 GMT -5
Episode 3 | Week 1 | Day 5
Follows Interior Design and Intermission
Optimus was trying to get things rolling in a new direction after his discussion with Ratchet. Finding a goal to walk down, watering down the overabundance of tasks into simple attributes he could hand out to others so some of the workload could be eased from his shoulders... He was trying to get on top of things after everything had spiraled so far out of control due to the Truce, starvation, and then the incident at Haven that crashed everything to pieces. That was a few months ago however, things were recovering, things were flourishing, things were starting to look up once more. The arrival of some key components to this War also aided, giving a brighter haze to look forward to as their footing on this world grew ever stronger.
And then this happened.
Oh... Optimus knew not all would favor a Decepticon defector. There was nothing the individual could say, nothing they could do to prove they were truly on their side now unless they somehow heroically sacrificed their own life for the cause. "Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon" was the viewpoint of the majority. To be open minded was difficult, to expose vulnerability and kindle comradery with one who supposedly was willing to stab them in the back was a hard thing to do. The Prime knew this. He knew it oh so very well... Not all could afford to risk such a thing, not all able to grunt a gunshot and not end up downed... but some understanding should be offered. Civility EXPECTED.
Instead of this basic right being offered, one of his Autobots had punched the mesh right off Windshield's face.
Optimus had a first hand view of what followed this agreement because of this recording, a bit of concern offered on WHY it only began then and there. This fact alone revealed much, there more than one thing to unpack with it, things to consider about the situation and Windshield himself, but it was sidelined for the moment for the more surface level concerns. Carbine took a petulant agreement and wrenched it to a new level. A punch, a hard whap... while that was something Optimus did not agree on at all to settle their dispute, it would have been a one and done scenario where they could all move on with perhaps a dent around the eye or jaw. Instead, the black and white mech reeled back, deployed his taser, and threw every ounce of his weight and determination forward with a hard slam that was measured and done purposefully. It was not a situation of unintentional force; Carbine was not underestimating his power and could not hide behind that excuse. There was potent WANT to cause as much pain as possible, and the information Ratchet gave about the injury was proof enough there.
Autobots were bound to make mistakes, and Optimus accepted the fact that in war they would be pushed to do things that crossed a line of the stereotypical concept of 'good' for their own survival. None of them had clean hands, and none of them could adhere to laws with a perfect score. However, there was a difference between being forced to lash out on the battlefield, and lashing out upon one of their own with a severe case of battery and assault that bordered on the edge of attempted murder.
--
"What were you THINKING?"
Heavy footfalls thrummed down upon the concrete floor, a faint tremble of the immense weight occurring from the double impact sound of the ped hitting first followed by the ankle joint absorbing the crushing weight. Optimus paced across the meeting area of his quarters with measured strides that edged the line between calm consideration, and stressed frustration, not even sure how to comprehend let alone react to the news of what happened. His frame was ridged, processor milling through this, still in a sort of shock THIS was what was dropped on him today of all things. Out of any scenario in the world that could divert plans in a new direction, a grotesque mauling of an individual he considered one of his own Autobots by another of their own was NOT what he had anticipated. Alert of some Decepticon attacking a small human encampment to clear the way for Energon harvesting? Sure. A sneak attack where something went horribly wrong and the Decepticons found Omega? Not ideal, but it could happen. Yet this...
"You have walked the wrong side of the line far too long in this outpost. We are all expected to work together to fight for the survival of not only our team, but others that roam distant reaches."
Optimus stopped in his pacing, frame turning to square off directly with Carbine. His stance was tall, proud, shoulders rocked back upon their hinges as his helm was held high, cyan optics holding a fierce edge to them.
"What separates us from the Decepticons is an understanding that we will not cross the lines they do. That we will not become the very monsters that we face."
Savage mutilation of a teammate may be a power grab in the Con's, but not here. There was no level of being 'impressed' by such brutality.
Across the way, Carbine stood in silence. His shoulders were hung down loose within their sockets, arms at rest at either side with fingers only gently curved. The rotors that were typically propped high on their mounts were instead slumped towards the ground; the posts crooked as far as they were able without real strain put into it. He didn't contest, he didn’t speak, knowing the earlier question was rhetorical, and the fact that there was no excuse that could even remotely paint it as an action that was warranted. Optimus could have directly prodded for a reply and he didn't even know if he could fabricate one in his current mindset. All he could do was quietly watch, the yellow projections on his visor showing a tired exhaustion that raked him to his core, not having an ounce of fight in him to even try to apologize and ask for leniency one last time.
He didn't deserve mercy here, he had to face what was coming. In days past Carbine would have contested, spoken up, fought for WHY he was right and Optimus must have been mistaken! He would have had the gall to challenge the Prime and debate the topic! But after he saw the aftermath of Windshield's face... the ripped off sheet of mesh, the splintered cracks with a damaged eye staring out from an abyss... the glint of teeth that should not even be slightly visible... it shook him to his core and he didn't know how to process it other than giving up under the weight of his own noxious self-reflection.
Optimus continued, his hand raising to point upon Carbine with a single motion, the emote atypical which said much about how unhappy he was in this moment.
"You cannot act on whim; you cannot see yourself beyond repercussions."
Omega did not conform to strict laws and a militaristic edge, that was for certain. Many of their team truly bonded as friends and in a way, the rough concept of family. This produced grand results, and was what kept them alive despite horrific odds against them as an unexpected boon... and yet, boiled down to its core, this WAS War. No level of friendship and antics would erase the fact that if they didn't get along and wouldn’t cope together because they were too busy messing around... it would straight up be the end of lives, causing immeasurable grief to those that survived, wondering what may be different if they put more value in what was occurring.
"You are sentenced to incarceration until I can find appropriate measures for your negligence."
Carbine continued to not really emote in response to this, a deadened gaze looking up upon the Prime with silent acceptance of the cards that had been dealt. He knew he had to respond in some way however, to not make it look as if he were brushing him aside or ignoring him outright like some kind of child. Because of this, the black and white mech's eyes closed as he dipped his helm once, speaking with a sort of croaked static to his words.
"Y̕es ́S͡i͘r̷."
Calm, hollow, not an ounce of fight within his words to be found. He then folded his arms back along his lower spine, trying to take on a more formal posture, one that was a tad more becoming of a soldier. Trying to not look like he was pouting, to look stronger even if his rotors were still angled down and his eyes still seemed so tired as he peered back up.
A placeholder sentence.
A hollow ending of uncertainty.
Carbine didn't know what to think about this, but he knew that it could not end well for him. If this were a few weeks prior... it would be different. He would feel a bit more secure even if it was still not a good situation in any way shape or form. But now? Oh... now they had new individuals in the base, those that weren't on his level, but were stationed a bite up higher on the food chain. Individuals with a harsher edge, with less leniency than their Prime seemed to have. He wondered what would come of it, if things were going to be worse than if he had let himself rip apart sooner. It didn't matter though, he deserved it, and it was because of this the ex-convict turned true convict once again would do nothing but allow himself to be guided down to the brig by whoever came, where he would try to get acquainted with four walls and a berth once more.
That did not leave many to choose from.
Easing back some, Optimus reached his hand up to his helm, pressing the panel upon his audial to connect to comms.
::Javelin. Escort Carbine to the brig::
Follows Interior Design and Intermission
This wasn't how today was meant to go.
Optimus was trying to get things rolling in a new direction after his discussion with Ratchet. Finding a goal to walk down, watering down the overabundance of tasks into simple attributes he could hand out to others so some of the workload could be eased from his shoulders... He was trying to get on top of things after everything had spiraled so far out of control due to the Truce, starvation, and then the incident at Haven that crashed everything to pieces. That was a few months ago however, things were recovering, things were flourishing, things were starting to look up once more. The arrival of some key components to this War also aided, giving a brighter haze to look forward to as their footing on this world grew ever stronger.
And then this happened.
Oh... Optimus knew not all would favor a Decepticon defector. There was nothing the individual could say, nothing they could do to prove they were truly on their side now unless they somehow heroically sacrificed their own life for the cause. "Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon" was the viewpoint of the majority. To be open minded was difficult, to expose vulnerability and kindle comradery with one who supposedly was willing to stab them in the back was a hard thing to do. The Prime knew this. He knew it oh so very well... Not all could afford to risk such a thing, not all able to grunt a gunshot and not end up downed... but some understanding should be offered. Civility EXPECTED.
Instead of this basic right being offered, one of his Autobots had punched the mesh right off Windshield's face.
Patch had told her side of the story, direct and to the point, perhaps a bit nervous wanting to defend either individual for the atrocity that had occurred. Optimus had no time to discuss it beyond hard facts however, acquiring what information she could offer him on her perspective before sending her on her way back to the Medical Bay to assist Ratchet. She had told him how there was animosity right from the onset of the encounter, the bubbling edge of a fight wanting to break through a thinly shackled veil of civility... but things had remained in this state of limbo up until the point Carbine had made a proposition, and Windshield obliged. An offer, a simple request for some hollow fabrication of revenge taken far over the border of acceptability.
It was just after the arrangement was made, that the security footage picked up.
Optimus had a first hand view of what followed this agreement because of this recording, a bit of concern offered on WHY it only began then and there. This fact alone revealed much, there more than one thing to unpack with it, things to consider about the situation and Windshield himself, but it was sidelined for the moment for the more surface level concerns. Carbine took a petulant agreement and wrenched it to a new level. A punch, a hard whap... while that was something Optimus did not agree on at all to settle their dispute, it would have been a one and done scenario where they could all move on with perhaps a dent around the eye or jaw. Instead, the black and white mech reeled back, deployed his taser, and threw every ounce of his weight and determination forward with a hard slam that was measured and done purposefully. It was not a situation of unintentional force; Carbine was not underestimating his power and could not hide behind that excuse. There was potent WANT to cause as much pain as possible, and the information Ratchet gave about the injury was proof enough there.
Autobots were bound to make mistakes, and Optimus accepted the fact that in war they would be pushed to do things that crossed a line of the stereotypical concept of 'good' for their own survival. None of them had clean hands, and none of them could adhere to laws with a perfect score. However, there was a difference between being forced to lash out on the battlefield, and lashing out upon one of their own with a severe case of battery and assault that bordered on the edge of attempted murder.
--
"What were you THINKING?"
Heavy footfalls thrummed down upon the concrete floor, a faint tremble of the immense weight occurring from the double impact sound of the ped hitting first followed by the ankle joint absorbing the crushing weight. Optimus paced across the meeting area of his quarters with measured strides that edged the line between calm consideration, and stressed frustration, not even sure how to comprehend let alone react to the news of what happened. His frame was ridged, processor milling through this, still in a sort of shock THIS was what was dropped on him today of all things. Out of any scenario in the world that could divert plans in a new direction, a grotesque mauling of an individual he considered one of his own Autobots by another of their own was NOT what he had anticipated. Alert of some Decepticon attacking a small human encampment to clear the way for Energon harvesting? Sure. A sneak attack where something went horribly wrong and the Decepticons found Omega? Not ideal, but it could happen. Yet this...
"You have walked the wrong side of the line far too long in this outpost. We are all expected to work together to fight for the survival of not only our team, but others that roam distant reaches."
Optimus stopped in his pacing, frame turning to square off directly with Carbine. His stance was tall, proud, shoulders rocked back upon their hinges as his helm was held high, cyan optics holding a fierce edge to them.
"What separates us from the Decepticons is an understanding that we will not cross the lines they do. That we will not become the very monsters that we face."
Savage mutilation of a teammate may be a power grab in the Con's, but not here. There was no level of being 'impressed' by such brutality.
Across the way, Carbine stood in silence. His shoulders were hung down loose within their sockets, arms at rest at either side with fingers only gently curved. The rotors that were typically propped high on their mounts were instead slumped towards the ground; the posts crooked as far as they were able without real strain put into it. He didn't contest, he didn’t speak, knowing the earlier question was rhetorical, and the fact that there was no excuse that could even remotely paint it as an action that was warranted. Optimus could have directly prodded for a reply and he didn't even know if he could fabricate one in his current mindset. All he could do was quietly watch, the yellow projections on his visor showing a tired exhaustion that raked him to his core, not having an ounce of fight in him to even try to apologize and ask for leniency one last time.
He didn't deserve mercy here, he had to face what was coming. In days past Carbine would have contested, spoken up, fought for WHY he was right and Optimus must have been mistaken! He would have had the gall to challenge the Prime and debate the topic! But after he saw the aftermath of Windshield's face... the ripped off sheet of mesh, the splintered cracks with a damaged eye staring out from an abyss... the glint of teeth that should not even be slightly visible... it shook him to his core and he didn't know how to process it other than giving up under the weight of his own noxious self-reflection.
Optimus continued, his hand raising to point upon Carbine with a single motion, the emote atypical which said much about how unhappy he was in this moment.
"You cannot act on whim; you cannot see yourself beyond repercussions."
Omega did not conform to strict laws and a militaristic edge, that was for certain. Many of their team truly bonded as friends and in a way, the rough concept of family. This produced grand results, and was what kept them alive despite horrific odds against them as an unexpected boon... and yet, boiled down to its core, this WAS War. No level of friendship and antics would erase the fact that if they didn't get along and wouldn’t cope together because they were too busy messing around... it would straight up be the end of lives, causing immeasurable grief to those that survived, wondering what may be different if they put more value in what was occurring.
"You are sentenced to incarceration until I can find appropriate measures for your negligence."
Carbine continued to not really emote in response to this, a deadened gaze looking up upon the Prime with silent acceptance of the cards that had been dealt. He knew he had to respond in some way however, to not make it look as if he were brushing him aside or ignoring him outright like some kind of child. Because of this, the black and white mech's eyes closed as he dipped his helm once, speaking with a sort of croaked static to his words.
"Y̕es ́S͡i͘r̷."
Calm, hollow, not an ounce of fight within his words to be found. He then folded his arms back along his lower spine, trying to take on a more formal posture, one that was a tad more becoming of a soldier. Trying to not look like he was pouting, to look stronger even if his rotors were still angled down and his eyes still seemed so tired as he peered back up.
A placeholder sentence.
A hollow ending of uncertainty.
Carbine didn't know what to think about this, but he knew that it could not end well for him. If this were a few weeks prior... it would be different. He would feel a bit more secure even if it was still not a good situation in any way shape or form. But now? Oh... now they had new individuals in the base, those that weren't on his level, but were stationed a bite up higher on the food chain. Individuals with a harsher edge, with less leniency than their Prime seemed to have. He wondered what would come of it, if things were going to be worse than if he had let himself rip apart sooner. It didn't matter though, he deserved it, and it was because of this the ex-convict turned true convict once again would do nothing but allow himself to be guided down to the brig by whoever came, where he would try to get acquainted with four walls and a berth once more.
Optimus' gaze flicked across Carbine's expression in the few moments of lingering silence, recognizing that indeed there were no further threats of an outburst loaded and ready to go. As unhappy as he was, he knew that things were done, and that the true results of this affront would come in time. Now, the question remained of how to get Carbine to his new quarters without causing another incident.
The Prime's first thought was one of his higher ranked personnel, however? There were bound to be backlashes or the chance that any one of them could take the situation into their own hands, even if ordered not to. Prowl or Red Alert would likely flow right into grilling Carbine for more details, interrogating him even to try and get to the source of what was going wrong. Avalanche would just pursue her own punishments more likely than not, especially given her interaction with Carbine just yesterday. Then there were those like Bumblebee or even Bluestreak, who while he knew they were capable, may be uncomfortable with the task. A slew of others that came to mind had unfortunately already had unpleasant clashes as well, which was further evidence of Carbine's reckless behavior, and as such whoever was picked needed to have no commander authority, be someone he wouldn’t brawl with, while also not being the type to be steamrolled by manipulation.
That did not leave many to choose from.
Easing back some, Optimus reached his hand up to his helm, pressing the panel upon his audial to connect to comms.
::Javelin. Escort Carbine to the brig::