The Bellators

1:10:3

Grains of sand are picked up in large patches and blown to drift across the expansive plains and dunes. Some of that sand is caught against a wall colored the same golden shade, yet while it has that same grainy texturing, it also has a metallic tint.

That wall is only a part of the exterior of a huge structure with sharp ridges and corners, standing in place against the breeze without wavering.

Below the black night sky, the great golden structure composed of a network of rectangular prisms stands as the heart of the facility, surrounded by other structures albeit smaller such as tall towers and long bunkers, all built with rectangular shapes for the most part; the bunkers being a series of cubes placed along a strip.

Populated, there are crowds of individuals standing around and patrolling the area bordered by dunes, although they'd hardly be distinguishable if it weren't for their movements as they're the exact same color of the sand. Some stand by the bunker strip, others by the tower, with most by the core building.

Still, even with all those people, little noise is produced, rather the desert is largely silent. So much so the breeze is audible, the stronghold cloaks itself even in what may at first glance seem to be a flat biome. But even then, since the conception of the stronghold, not one siege had been made against it, in fact it was regarded as the best base, leading it to also pioneer much of the manufacturing and storage.

One of if not the most paramount storage units resides in that central building, sized appropriately as a warehouse, dimly lit and crammed with metal racks and containers in aisles and squares. The room's interior walls and floor are industrial gray, jaded without the shine that a metal material would otherwise emit.

Crates house arrays of cylindrical missile tanks tightly packed together, and tables hold numerous cone-shaped warheads, snuggly fit the wavy design of the surface which separates all the warheads from one another. More than handheld weaponry, greater devices of war appear to be being kept in the facility, dangerous devices.

Among those lethal weapons are individuals colorized with the golden shade of sand, wearing their fully covering fiber woven bodysuits. They patrol the storage room with the masks resembling human faces, although they do not initially have weapons on their hands unlike their fellow guards patrolling the outside.

One of those individuals stands in front of a closed door, indicated by a darker shade of gray, his suit sporting the artificial grain to better disguise itself as sand. He glances around the room, which is only vaguely visible due to the lackluster lighting, the only sounds to entertain him being the gentle footsteps of his comrades.

The guard lets out a soft sigh, and speaking in a familiar voice, he examines, "It's only been about half an hour since the shift started, damn."

A fellow guard standing on the far right side of the room turns towards the complaining guard, responding with a deep African accent, "Hey, what's the crying for? You have probably the best or at least one of the best stations here, you have no reason to make a fuss over it."

The first guard turns towards the responder and lowers his head in shame after being scolded. He then raises his head to justify, "Well, it's just more empty here without the breeze or anything, and there's a lot less people around. It's kinda nice outside usually, at least during the night."

The fellow guard shakes his head before disagreeing, "It's nicer here with the conditioning, and you don't need to worry about the sand; I don't like sand. Let me guess, this must be your first time being in an indoors station, isn't it? What's your name?"

The first guard stretches his back and answers, "Reggie, and you'd be right, I was moved here the other day. I want to call it a promotion, but the supervisor might've also just gotten tired of me. I know this station is a lot more important, sorry for whining...."