Fortress Maximus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
warborn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2013-01-28 09:11 pm
warborn) wrote in re_alignment_logs2013-01-28 09:11 pm
CLOSED; that i am just nothing
WHO; Fortress Maximus, Optimus Prime, later a medic or summat
WHERE; Outskirts (inskirts?) of Prima's quadrant, closer to the Junkyard.
WHEN; Not overly long after Max's conversation with Whirl.
WHAT; Maximus has a drunken tantrum.
WARNINGS; SOMETIMES BEING DRUNK DOESN'T HELP THINGS and just gets you thinking dark things
The world was spinning - a sure sign that soon enough, it'd hit the 'numb' stage, which only meant that Fortress Maximus needed to focus just long enough to get there. Then he could stop, then he could stop caring, though truth be told he'd already hit the latter...partly, at least.
But not enough to burn away the anger.
That was what led him here tonight, to a friend whose acquaintance he'd been making more and more often as of late- one who burned just as much, but, well, that was the point. The point was to burn, to burn everything away until it all hit that numb state and he could just do nothing, feel nothing, be nothing-
Not tonight.
Tonight the highgrade twisted in Fortress Maximus like a poison, leaving him feeling ugly and toxic inside - which fit, didn't it? Fit just fine. Fit how he felt, wanting to twist something, himself, maybe a neck, maybe a body, twist it once before ripping it limb from limb, then rip those apart, keeping the torso for last because that should go slowly, that should have just enough attached to it to keep the spark alive as he- as he-
Fort Max coughed, flecks of highgrade flying from his lips. He reached up to thump his chest, Slag, he-...he hadn't had enough if he still felt like that, but looking down at the cube, it was already empty. The ex-warden scowled at it, grip tightening. The hell was wrong with this mix, it was supposed to-
-the vessel shattered in his grasp, shrapnel flying everywhere. Startled, he shouted, all but leaping out of his seat and back as guns flipped down, powering on-
It took a few seconds for systems to catch up to processor, and for entirety to realize that he wasn't under attack. Despite the pain in his hand...
"Fragging- pathetic," he muttered, glancing down at his palm. And slag if that didn't fit as well. Fit damn well, being startled by stupidity, and slag if he hadn't been hellishly stupid lately, enough for a lifetime...
His fist gripped, pieces of the cube being pressed further in the flexible metal of his hand. He didn't care. Didn't care about any of it, it was all so- so moronic, especially this, especially-
With another snarl, he whirled, slamming his hand in to the wall - through the wall. His other hand followed suit, the sudden exertion like a spark to a trail of explosives- and they all set off at once. With a howl, he struck out at the only thing he could - the small residence he'd taken as shelter. He screamed and raged, a hysterical tantrum that he could not stop despite himself.
There was a poison within him, and he was feeding it day by day. Every day he ignored from the greatest threat, every day he ran from what he had to do, every day he let his cowardice get the better of him - excuses were worthless. It didn't matter about upping his weaponry, it didn't matter about not going in to things half-prepared, it didn't matter that he knew full well, in his spark, that he could not do this-
The poison coursed through him like fire and he rode it until it was done, helpless in the its familiar thrall.
When the outburst was over, he was left in rubble as ruined as though one of those centipede-creatures had done it themselves. Gasping, Fortress Maximus fell to his knees, and then his hands as well, bowing over the debris of his former shelter. More energon dripped from his mouth, but this one a foul, dark color.
Highgrade had its effect on a mech's systems - multiple ones. Most systems were designed to process it, yes, but take too much and the fuel pumps would inevitably corrode. Build-up from the decay would form, and there were only so many ways to rid oneself of it...
On his hands and knees, Fort Max retched, stress-worn systems purging what poison it could. He let this, go, too; stopped thinking and just let go, not caring about how vile or disgusting this was, not caring about how this wouldn't change a thing, either, he'd just start all over again, start until he was numb once more and didn't have to think...
Despite it all, Fortress Maximus couldn't help but bark out a short, bitter laugh.
Whirl didn't know just how right he was. And didn't know that that- the truth, the harsh, fragging bitter truth, no matter how Maximus tried to deny it, no matter how he tried to be something different and to change...
He was a trashed mech, a walking corpse. Should have been melted down for parts instead of revived, but short of throwing himself in to a smelter...
Not that he hadn't thought of it before that, but.
He let himself fall on to his side, strength sapped out of him with the bile. Part of him was still /in/ it, but...he couldn't bring himself to care.
Apathy.
Numbness.
Or at least as close to it as he'd get for a while, and that'd have to be enough.
WHERE; Outskirts (inskirts?) of Prima's quadrant, closer to the Junkyard.
WHEN; Not overly long after Max's conversation with Whirl.
WHAT; Maximus has a drunken tantrum.
WARNINGS; SOMETIMES BEING DRUNK DOESN'T HELP THINGS and just gets you thinking dark things
The world was spinning - a sure sign that soon enough, it'd hit the 'numb' stage, which only meant that Fortress Maximus needed to focus just long enough to get there. Then he could stop, then he could stop caring, though truth be told he'd already hit the latter...partly, at least.
But not enough to burn away the anger.
That was what led him here tonight, to a friend whose acquaintance he'd been making more and more often as of late- one who burned just as much, but, well, that was the point. The point was to burn, to burn everything away until it all hit that numb state and he could just do nothing, feel nothing, be nothing-
Not tonight.
Tonight the highgrade twisted in Fortress Maximus like a poison, leaving him feeling ugly and toxic inside - which fit, didn't it? Fit just fine. Fit how he felt, wanting to twist something, himself, maybe a neck, maybe a body, twist it once before ripping it limb from limb, then rip those apart, keeping the torso for last because that should go slowly, that should have just enough attached to it to keep the spark alive as he- as he-
Fort Max coughed, flecks of highgrade flying from his lips. He reached up to thump his chest, Slag, he-...he hadn't had enough if he still felt like that, but looking down at the cube, it was already empty. The ex-warden scowled at it, grip tightening. The hell was wrong with this mix, it was supposed to-
-the vessel shattered in his grasp, shrapnel flying everywhere. Startled, he shouted, all but leaping out of his seat and back as guns flipped down, powering on-
It took a few seconds for systems to catch up to processor, and for entirety to realize that he wasn't under attack. Despite the pain in his hand...
"Fragging- pathetic," he muttered, glancing down at his palm. And slag if that didn't fit as well. Fit damn well, being startled by stupidity, and slag if he hadn't been hellishly stupid lately, enough for a lifetime...
His fist gripped, pieces of the cube being pressed further in the flexible metal of his hand. He didn't care. Didn't care about any of it, it was all so- so moronic, especially this, especially-
With another snarl, he whirled, slamming his hand in to the wall - through the wall. His other hand followed suit, the sudden exertion like a spark to a trail of explosives- and they all set off at once. With a howl, he struck out at the only thing he could - the small residence he'd taken as shelter. He screamed and raged, a hysterical tantrum that he could not stop despite himself.
There was a poison within him, and he was feeding it day by day. Every day he ignored from the greatest threat, every day he ran from what he had to do, every day he let his cowardice get the better of him - excuses were worthless. It didn't matter about upping his weaponry, it didn't matter about not going in to things half-prepared, it didn't matter that he knew full well, in his spark, that he could not do this-
The poison coursed through him like fire and he rode it until it was done, helpless in the its familiar thrall.
When the outburst was over, he was left in rubble as ruined as though one of those centipede-creatures had done it themselves. Gasping, Fortress Maximus fell to his knees, and then his hands as well, bowing over the debris of his former shelter. More energon dripped from his mouth, but this one a foul, dark color.
Highgrade had its effect on a mech's systems - multiple ones. Most systems were designed to process it, yes, but take too much and the fuel pumps would inevitably corrode. Build-up from the decay would form, and there were only so many ways to rid oneself of it...
On his hands and knees, Fort Max retched, stress-worn systems purging what poison it could. He let this, go, too; stopped thinking and just let go, not caring about how vile or disgusting this was, not caring about how this wouldn't change a thing, either, he'd just start all over again, start until he was numb once more and didn't have to think...
Despite it all, Fortress Maximus couldn't help but bark out a short, bitter laugh.
Whirl didn't know just how right he was. And didn't know that that- the truth, the harsh, fragging bitter truth, no matter how Maximus tried to deny it, no matter how he tried to be something different and to change...
He was a trashed mech, a walking corpse. Should have been melted down for parts instead of revived, but short of throwing himself in to a smelter...
Not that he hadn't thought of it before that, but.
He let himself fall on to his side, strength sapped out of him with the bile. Part of him was still /in/ it, but...he couldn't bring himself to care.
Apathy.
Numbness.
Or at least as close to it as he'd get for a while, and that'd have to be enough.
KICK THE BABY
Oh, and then-- Huh. He shuttered his optics at the sound. "Right," Ambulon mumbled, and moved his way carefully through the debris. Not much to dig up, fortunately, before he carefully pulled the drone free.
Ambulon held it out at arm's length, studying the little beep-booping thing. Without another word, he made his way back to the duo. "We're ready to go when you are," he said, holding that drone like some teddy bear.
don't kick the baby
The drone, for its part, seemed quite pleased, nosing its cannon at Ambulon not-quite-affectionately - if anything, insistently. Where Max went, it went, pure and simply.
;A;
Optimus gave Fort Max a reassuring shoulder slap as he half led, half dragged him up the ramp. Bringing him all the way in to the back of the trailer, where his own drone beeped from his recharge dock, Optimus finally allowed Max to relax, settling him back down against the wall. There were no seats, but cargo restraints built into the floor should suffice.
"Ambulon, the drone can stay in the back with Roller. Help me get Max settled, and we'll be on our way. Upright or laying back?"
The question was directed at them both - the medic would know best, but he also didn't want purged energon seeping into his floors if one or the other made Fort Max woozy again.
oops too late
"Sit him upright," Ambulon said. "I don't need him choking on his vomit should he need to purge again." He placed the drone toward the edge of the trailer, then looked to Fort Max. "If you don't like it, I apologize, but lying down is too risky." He didn't sound too apologetic, but this was Ambulon. "And if you do purge, it's unfortunate," he turned to Optimus, "but the mess can be easily cleaned up."
no subject
...it was only for a moment before as though on cue he shifted forwards, coughing once. To his credit, nothing came up- not yet. He did raise a hand, as though ready to try and catch anything that came out.
Because that was a wonderful idea.
no subject
"I'll leave him to you, Ambulon." Optimus gave Max another firm pat one the shoulder.
"Let me or Roller know if you need anything else."
Prime stepped outside and transformed with an engine rev; a moment later the trailer rattled as he linked up with it. The mentioned drone rolled next to Max and Ambulon with a beep as the ramp to the trailer lifted up and closed.
::Which medbay should I be taking us to?::
no subject
He glanced to Fort Max. "How are you feeling?" It may have been a stupid question, but it was still important to ask. "Any dizziness? Feel like you need to purge? You sobering up any, you feel?"
no subject
Pit, he was tired.
no subject
::Will do.::
And with that, the trailer shock once more as Optimus set off toward the nearest temple. He trusted Ambulon to handle Max while they traveled...but he really hoped Fort Max didn't purge on his floors during the drive. Max's comment was as much reassuring for his inner-cleanliness as it was worrisome for the big mech's health. He increased his pace as soon as he was able.