Ep. 1 - Nevada - Sunday Drivers - Closed
Oct 14, 2012 0:14:50 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 14, 2012 0:14:50 GMT -5
With the exception of the sky, it was a little like being back on Elba.
Fortress Maximus stood on the edge of the cliff, lifted one hand against the blazing Nevada sun, and squinted down across the Basin.
It was the emptiness, he decided. That great expanse of light and shadow and red, red rock, upon which the sun beat down like a forge. In the distance he could see mountain ridges and open desert, all dirt and sagebrush.
Beneath his feet the land rose up into a range of cragged rock. Steep gorges carved through it, hard and sharp, banded with ancient layers of red and grey stone. The wind whistled through them, lifting dust from the rock and spinning it into wandering dervishes. What trees he could see were mostly dead, twisted things with bare branches and roots knotted deep into clefts in the cliff walls. Dried grasses grew at their roots, speckled here and there with tiny yellow desert flowers.
The sun cast a dark shadow beneath him. Another shadow passed over him and he looked up sharply, saw an eagle circling high overhead. Looked pretty big.
His mouth flattened into a hard line. Not the kind of flier he had been hoping to see, however.
With base secrecy in mind, Maximus had opened a ground bridge far to the north, in as remote an area as he could find amidst the canyons of the Basin. Left the co-ordinates behind for someone to find if they needed him, and had walked into the desert. There were roads nearby, some steel rails, but no towns, no settlements that he could scan. Just heat and rock as far as the eye could see. If the Decepticons were to find him, well... they would find only him. And he would be waiting for them.
He stood a moment on the cliff, his shoulders back and his fists closed. Threw a silent, wrathful challenge into the sky. Waited. Nothing answered.
Maximus scowled. Damn it. Well. Time to get down to business then.
The new body worked perfectly from what he had seen so far- but what had he seen so far? Nothing but the inside of a lot of Autobot outposts across the scattered fringes of civilized space. A few firing ranges. Nothing arduous. Nothing to really put his systems to the test.
He had a new alternate mode now too. They had managed to find one for him to scan that was close to his old Cybertronian model. Fit his class size well. But it was an Earth vehicle, and from what his self-diagnostics were telling him it operated a lot differently than anything he had used before. It was for this reason he had picked such a remote location. He had not found a chance to test this transformation yet. If he was going to embarrass himself by grinding gears like a rookie, then dammit, it was going to be a private humiliation, witnessed only by snakes and eagles.
The big mech drew his thumb across his chin and peered down the cliffside. Had to be a several hundred foot drop down onto the canyon floor below. All red rock and violet shadows, narrow and quiet. Good.
He leapt.
Hit a ledge halfway down and sprang again, newly forged joints whirring with ease. Near the bottom he twisted, reared back his fist. Slammed his hand directly into the rock face, like it was water. Tore a line down the cliff until his descent slowed; amidst a cloud of dust he deftly planted his foot against the cliff and kicked off, wheeling into open space. Landed on the canyon floor hard enough to be driven into a crouch, but straightened and stepped casually out of the crater. Looked back up to the top of the cliff high overhead, now outlined in sunlight. Dust still hazed the air. Not bad.
Felt pretty good to be moving again. Not sitting in his quarters, not watching monitors. No thought, no memory. Just movement.
Maximus looked around himself warily. There was open desert to the south and west, but still plenty of shelter by the canyon. Nothing stirred, save for a few tumbleweeds. Even better.
He transformed.
The gunmetal-blue and grey M1A2 Abrams tank landed hard on its treads and rocked in place, while dust billowed out around it. Maximus huffed. Felt a lot different from his Cybertronian mode now that he was sitting in it. His own engine meshed effortlessly with the tank's drive train and fired up, sending a low growl reverberating through the canyon. As he sat with his engine idling he ran through a checklist of auxilaries. Cooling checked good, fuel flow was normal. Targeting systems were already online. Transmission seemed to be automatic. Thank Primus for small mercies. Four forward gears and two reverse. Huh. Might actually be a pretty fast mover if he got onto open ground.
He slowly pivoted his turret until it was pointing towards the desert. Speaking of which...
Gears howled as he tried to release the brakes and lurched forward. Maximus gave an irritable sigh. Yeah. Called that one.
Fortress Maximus stood on the edge of the cliff, lifted one hand against the blazing Nevada sun, and squinted down across the Basin.
It was the emptiness, he decided. That great expanse of light and shadow and red, red rock, upon which the sun beat down like a forge. In the distance he could see mountain ridges and open desert, all dirt and sagebrush.
Beneath his feet the land rose up into a range of cragged rock. Steep gorges carved through it, hard and sharp, banded with ancient layers of red and grey stone. The wind whistled through them, lifting dust from the rock and spinning it into wandering dervishes. What trees he could see were mostly dead, twisted things with bare branches and roots knotted deep into clefts in the cliff walls. Dried grasses grew at their roots, speckled here and there with tiny yellow desert flowers.
The sun cast a dark shadow beneath him. Another shadow passed over him and he looked up sharply, saw an eagle circling high overhead. Looked pretty big.
His mouth flattened into a hard line. Not the kind of flier he had been hoping to see, however.
With base secrecy in mind, Maximus had opened a ground bridge far to the north, in as remote an area as he could find amidst the canyons of the Basin. Left the co-ordinates behind for someone to find if they needed him, and had walked into the desert. There were roads nearby, some steel rails, but no towns, no settlements that he could scan. Just heat and rock as far as the eye could see. If the Decepticons were to find him, well... they would find only him. And he would be waiting for them.
He stood a moment on the cliff, his shoulders back and his fists closed. Threw a silent, wrathful challenge into the sky. Waited. Nothing answered.
Maximus scowled. Damn it. Well. Time to get down to business then.
The new body worked perfectly from what he had seen so far- but what had he seen so far? Nothing but the inside of a lot of Autobot outposts across the scattered fringes of civilized space. A few firing ranges. Nothing arduous. Nothing to really put his systems to the test.
He had a new alternate mode now too. They had managed to find one for him to scan that was close to his old Cybertronian model. Fit his class size well. But it was an Earth vehicle, and from what his self-diagnostics were telling him it operated a lot differently than anything he had used before. It was for this reason he had picked such a remote location. He had not found a chance to test this transformation yet. If he was going to embarrass himself by grinding gears like a rookie, then dammit, it was going to be a private humiliation, witnessed only by snakes and eagles.
The big mech drew his thumb across his chin and peered down the cliffside. Had to be a several hundred foot drop down onto the canyon floor below. All red rock and violet shadows, narrow and quiet. Good.
He leapt.
Hit a ledge halfway down and sprang again, newly forged joints whirring with ease. Near the bottom he twisted, reared back his fist. Slammed his hand directly into the rock face, like it was water. Tore a line down the cliff until his descent slowed; amidst a cloud of dust he deftly planted his foot against the cliff and kicked off, wheeling into open space. Landed on the canyon floor hard enough to be driven into a crouch, but straightened and stepped casually out of the crater. Looked back up to the top of the cliff high overhead, now outlined in sunlight. Dust still hazed the air. Not bad.
Felt pretty good to be moving again. Not sitting in his quarters, not watching monitors. No thought, no memory. Just movement.
Maximus looked around himself warily. There was open desert to the south and west, but still plenty of shelter by the canyon. Nothing stirred, save for a few tumbleweeds. Even better.
He transformed.
The gunmetal-blue and grey M1A2 Abrams tank landed hard on its treads and rocked in place, while dust billowed out around it. Maximus huffed. Felt a lot different from his Cybertronian mode now that he was sitting in it. His own engine meshed effortlessly with the tank's drive train and fired up, sending a low growl reverberating through the canyon. As he sat with his engine idling he ran through a checklist of auxilaries. Cooling checked good, fuel flow was normal. Targeting systems were already online. Transmission seemed to be automatic. Thank Primus for small mercies. Four forward gears and two reverse. Huh. Might actually be a pretty fast mover if he got onto open ground.
He slowly pivoted his turret until it was pointing towards the desert. Speaking of which...
Gears howled as he tried to release the brakes and lurched forward. Maximus gave an irritable sigh. Yeah. Called that one.