Visage: The Rig

Chapter 1

In the distance, a structure jutted out of the ocean, easily mistaken for an oil rig by the untrained eye. This particular rig, positioned in the middle of the sea not too far from Blackpool, was visible as a faint silhouette on a clear day like today. However, its true purpose was far from extracting oil; it was dedicated to monitoring the local weather and issuing updates or alerts regarding weather conditions.

The rig's isolated position and unique function meant it was only manned by a small crew of four individuals, each with a crucial role.

- The chef, who was tasked with preparing meals to sustain the team, ensuring they were well-fed and energized.

- The security officer, vigilant and steadfast, ensured that only authorized personnel had access to the rig, maintaining its safety and integrity.

- The tech specialist, who constantly monitored the intricate systems and data, tracking weather changes with precision and expertise.

- Finally, the maintenance worker, whose responsibility was to keep the rig in pristine condition, performed general upkeep and cleaning to ensure the smooth operation of the entire facility.

Surrounded by the vast, open sea, the rig stood as a solitary sentinel against the elements, its crew dedicated to their vital work amidst the relentless rhythm of the waves and the ever-changing sky above.

Sitting in the main control room where everything was monitored, Calvin, a dark-skinned man with dreadlocks, hummed along to music playing through his headphones. Lost in his own world, he remained seated, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the nearby desk as he passionately sang along to "Down with the Sickness" by Disturbed.

His musical reverie came to an abrupt end when a firm hand suddenly appeared on his left shoulder, causing Calvin to jump out of his skin. If it weren't for Gary standing behind him, he might have fallen backward out of his chair. Calvin shook his head in disbelief, yanked out his earbuds, and turned to face Gary.

"Damn, dog, you can't be sneaking up on a black man like that. You get what I'm saying?" he said, his tone a mix of irritation and jest. After a brief pause, he added, "I could've shot your ass." He gave Gary a cocky once-over, but Gary's response was a broad, amused smile, finding humor in his friend's dramatic reaction.

The control room, usually a hub of constant activity and vigilance, momentarily filled with Calvin's spirited humming, now returned to its usual hum of electronic equipment and the soft whirring of air conditioners. The incident, a small break in the monotony of their watchful duties, left behind a shared chuckle between colleagues amid the high-tech monitors and flashing indicators that filled the room.

Gary removed his hand from Calvin's shoulder, his smile lingering for a few moments. "How's everything looking on the monitors?" he asked, glancing down at Calvin briefly before turning to gaze out the window, appreciating the beautiful scene and clear weather.

Though he was primarily a cleaner, Gary enjoyed his job on the rig. It often felt like hanging out with friends every weekend, except they were getting paid for it. Calvin glanced at Gary for a moment and then back at the monitor. "Clear skies," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"That's what I like to hear," Gary said with a smile. "Back on the helicopter tomorrow." He backed away from Calvin and moved to the trash bin in the room, beginning to replace the old bag with a new one. The control room, with its array of blinking lights and softly humming equipment, provided a stark contrast to the serene, sunlit ocean view outside. The camaraderie between the men added a sense of warmth to the otherwise sterile environment, making their shared time on the rig feel more like a paid vacation among friends.

Rebecca stormed through the door to the main monitoring room where Calvin and Gary were, startling them both. "God damn, girl!" Calvin shrieked, jumping up from his chair with one hand on his chest, looking at her with a mix of shock and irritation.

"Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance, that's for sure," Gary added, exchanging a glance with Calvin before turning back to Rebecca.

"Put Channel 4 on—some shit is kicking off," Rebecca said, completely ignoring their comments. Her tone was urgent and unyielding.

Calvin looked at Gary in disbelief for a moment before turning to the controller on the nearby desk. He picked it up and switched the monitor to Channel 4. The room, which had been filled with a sense of anticipation...

As Channel 4 came on, the news headline blared: "Russia to Declare Nuclear War." All three in the room—Calvin, Gary, and Rebecca—exchanged a quick, alarmed glance before turning their attention back to the monitor. On the screen, a male and a female anchor were discussing the alarming headline in an interview.

"Do you think Putin will really go ahead with this?" the man asked.

"I wouldn't put anything past him," the woman replied. "I mean, look at what he did to Ukraine. I wouldn't like to test him, that's for sure." She paused briefly, her expression serious.

"You come from Russia yourself," the man continued, pressing the point. "Do you think he really will deploy a nuclear weapon?"

The woman looked at him with irritation. "Isn't this the same question you just asked? I wouldn't put anything past the man!"

In the control room, the gravity of the news settled over them. The casual camaraderie was replaced by a tense silence, each of them processing the potential implications of the headline. The control room, with its flickering screens and steady hum of equipment, now felt charged with a palpable unease, the serene seascape outside seeming worlds away from the turmoil unfolding on the screen.

The male news anchor paused for a moment, unsure how to respond to her. "Put it this way, he seems to be a man of his word, and I would imagine if he did attack us with some sort of nuclear weapon, it would be in a way we wouldn't expect," he said, and she nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, the monitor went dark. Gary and Rebecca looked at each other, almost as if accusing each other of turning the TV off, but it was Calvin who had done it. "Enough of that shit," Calvin said in his usual cocky tone, though in truth, the thought of another world war terrified him.

"At least we're safe from it all, right?" Gary asked with a nervous chuckle, glancing at Calvin and then back at Rebecca. His voice wavered slightly, betraying his unease. The tension in the room weighed heavily on him, amplifying his need for reassurance.

"Sure," Rebecca replied sarcastically, patting Gary on the shoulder as she made her way toward the exit. Her dismissive tone and casual gesture did little to alleviate his anxiety.

Still not convinced and craving a more comforting response, Gary turned around and asked again, "Right?" His eyes pleaded for clarification. He wasn't the smartest on the rig, and in moments like these, he sought the kind of reassurance a child would need from their parents. The gravity of the news had shaken him, and he looked to his colleagues for the comforting certainty he couldn't find on his own.

Thank you for reading this part. The next part will be posted on 8th June 2024. (Regular updates will be posted)