Pyramid Jet (Fleet) dives in, although the speed and angle make it rather a lazy approach; if it were a serious landing, he'd be using the spaceport. Of course, tetrajets didn't actually have wheels in their alternate modes, so it wasn't likely he'd be making a serious landing in that form, after all. He transforms and touches down lightly, right foot contacting ground first, and scans the crowds for a moment to get his bearings.
Fleet transforms from pyramid jet to robot.
Catechism sees another Seeker, one with a tetrajet mode, descend from the sky. This one is really quite pale, though. Don't see too many of those. Might even be someone she knows. In any case, maybe he'll know what she's supposed to be doing. She waves and grins.
The conehead's wave catches Flee's attention, and he gives the other a closer look. A conehead - not too many of those, and he's sure he recognizes this one, despite a few minor physical alterations that resulted from the change to her alt mode. Catechism! A bit overenthusiastic at times, but all-in-all, a rather tolerable personality. He walks over, his footfalls more silent than by rights they should be, and smiles pleasantly. "Catechism? Is that you? Haven't seen you in awhile!"
Catechism's grins broadens. Someone she knows! Someone who tends to know what's going on! Some would chalk it up to luck, but Catechism just files it as a minor subset of the glorious destiny that all Decepticons have store. No really, she does. Honest. Pleased, she exclaims, "Fleet! Yeah, it's me. Not an alien shape-shifter or a cross-wired Autobot spy or... oh, forget that. How have you been doing? I got put into stasis back during the fuel shortages. Just got released recently."
Fleet looks Catechism over, expression thoughtful, "And already saddled with a terran alt-mode, I see..." his voice as he says this is carefully neutral. He understands the reason it's done, and thus knows enough not to insult those who have them, but some little part of him is disturbed by the idea that someone might think to give *him* such an alt, and try as he might, he couldn't shake a vague feeling of disgust at the prospect. Finally, he nods, a faint smile playing at his mouth. "Yeah, actually, I've been active for awhile now... even during a fuel shortage, there's cleaning and other crud duty that needs doing, and someone who can perform double duty as both cleaning drone and occasional warrior is just a shade more fuel efficient, no?" He chuckles lightly at his particularly NON-glorious duties.
Catechism shrugs. She already got interrogated about why her head is pointy. At this point, she doesn't care if she turns into a flying brick or what, so long as it works. When Fleet mentions that his janitorial skills kept him from stasis, Catechism smirks slightly and folds her arms across her chest, not in a threatening way. Rather, she looks a bit amused. "Eh, if you spread yourself out like that, you're preventing yourself from being really good at any one thing. And sure, there's a place in the Empire for all that. So what'd I miss?"
Fleet looks rather... startled. "You mean they gave you *no* kind of update at all?" He shakes his head, sighing slightly. "Well..." he holds his hands out. "This planet, for the obvious one. It's where we've been getting most of our energon, despite much objection - often physical - on the part of the Autobots. They seem quite taken with the native inhabitants. Apparently when Megatron, Optimus, and the bunch that accompanied them left, they crashed here, and were only revived fifty years or so ago. After they were reawakened, we managed to drive them off Cybertron, while they gained a strong foothold here. In some sort grand, climatic battle that I managed to miss entirely, Megatron killed Prime, and... well, frankly, I don't have a slagging clue on the details. Next thing we know Starscream was showing up at home claiming the big boss was dead, Galvatron shows up claiming to be said big boss reformated, kills Starscream... a giant transforming planet eating PLANET shows up and got beaten back - I don't EVEN know how, but we took huge losses. Like, 60% of our forces. We were exiled to a planet called Charr for a little while, have since managed to take back most of Cybertron, and gained this little foothold here. And that's about where we stand now."
Catechism grins sheepishly and mock-dusts-off her arm guns. "Well, I did know some of that. I was more wondering what we're supposed to be doing right now. I heard some stuff about a big plan for an attack." Her optics brighten with anticipation.
Fleet crosses his arms, bouncing back on his jet-heals. "That's right. Galvatron's wanting to take back Cybertron, but to do that, we need energon, so he's stepped up the raiding schedule." He bounces for a bit, narrowing his optics as he thinks. He's not really looking at Catechism, but some unspecified point above and to the right of her head. Finally, he looks directly at her. "How long have you been on planet, anyway? Have you had proper time to acclimate to the new atmosphere and weather conditions... not to mention your new alt mode? I was included on a raid my first day on-planet, and it... did not go too well. I was caught totally unprepared, to be completely honest."
Catechism looks over her shoulder, wondering what Fleet was looking at. She doesn't see anything, so she looks back at him. A bit reluctantly, she admits, "Not too long." While she doesn't want to admit weakness, she doesn't want to repeat whatever it is that Fleet did on that raid, either.
Fleet claps his hands together and nods, not even noticing Catechism's distraction. "All right, then. In that case, we shall learn from others' mistakes and go in for a bit of practice before we go out for the real thing. It's a lot more energy efficient than to practice first and prevent failure rather than fail and then run home to practice, which is the way I did things." What he doesn't mention is that this also neatly saves him from planning a raid on his own on the spot, something he's been putting off since Galvatron's latest announcement was made. What he does instead is smile a bright, winning smile. "You up for a bout in the Arena?"
Catechism presses a fist into the palm of her other hand and "stretches". Fleet's logic is sound. Always a smart one, that Seeker. "Sure thing. It'll be good to get this body broken in."
Inside the Holo Arena are black, rubber-coated walls to protect the steel and also to reduce the noise, as these sparring matches can get very violent. A central control room is suspended from the ceiling, heavily reinforced to protect the advanced computer that controls the holo-imaging and stores thousands of simulation scenarios. If a desired scenario isn't already available, then the computer allows for additional programming.
Training Drone <NCC/Trypticon>
Catechism gawks, looking much more like a stereotypical tourist than a proper Decepticon warrior. The unsubtle lethality of the arena doesn't phase her; that's pretty much par for the course when it comes to Decepticon architecture. A few impaled heads on pikes and it might even look like home. Her optics glitter when she sees the holo arena. Now that ought to be fun, indeed.
Fleet walks over to the controls. He's always been a practiced liar, and if one didn't know better, one would think that he has done this a million times. "Any preferences? Since the point is to get used to the terran environment, it'll need to be some place on Earth, but beyond that..."
He waves a hand, trying to hint at the infinity of choices available. "Or we could just set it to random."
Catechism taps her fingers on her lower arm, thinking. Because of the obvious Decepticon destiny as universal conquerors, it follows that they'll have to get used to alien planets. She shakes her head at Fleet's suggestion of a random choice. "We should pick an area where we're likely to end up fighting a lot. That'd be the most useful thing."
Fleet rests a hand against the console, leaning forward. "Well, from what I've seen looking into the older reports, there have been battles all over the place on this world, and at a later date it might be a good idea to go ahead and practice more out of the way environments... but for now, you have a point. The majority of our battles take place, naturally, near obvious energy sources. Plants, damns, that sort of things. Often on the North American continent, because they have very rich yields... but unfortunately, they're also well guarded." He frowns thoughtfully as he considers.
Catechism considers the new information, still thoughtfully tapping her fingers against her lower arm. She smiles slightly when she hears that this planet is rich in energy. It was a lack of energy that got her shut down, and if they can get enough energy to prevent that from ever happening again, she'll be ever so glad. Catechism'll suffer stasis if that's how she can best serve her cause, but somewhat guiltily, she much prefers being awake. "Well, let's try a North American scenario, then."
Finally, the yellow seeker's hands dance over the controls, entering in a scenario that is by now familiar to him: a dam near the city of Cincinnati. He's been defeated here twice, once in reality, once in virtual here in the arena. On the slim chance he does win, he'll finally redeem himself for this particular locality... and if not, hey, why break up a perfectly good streak?
As soon as the landscape appears, Fleet takes to the air, hovering some distance above the ground in robot form, so as to more easily maneuver once the session begins.
Fleet points to the dam. "Energy production station. Used to convert the kinetic energy of the water flow into electrical energy... which we are then able to gather. My first raid occurred at this particular dam... I've already told you it went poorly." Fleet is not proud of this fact, but the information is already there for someone who wants to dig for it, so he uses the tact that it's harder to use information that he doesn't bother hiding against him. If Catechism bothers to look at the dam, or even if she doesn't, his next motion, without pause, is to point his right arm at her and fire his energy weapons at low before kicking his jets into high gear and rocketing upwards. He doesn't often make the first attack, but on the other hand, being too predictable can be dangerous...
Fleet strikes you with Energy Rifle (pulsed mode) for 7 points of damage.
Catechism quickly gets into the air herself. Standing around on the ground is just begging to get shot, and that's exactly what happens. She takes the hit to the wing, which figures, as it is an obvious and easy target. Catechism volleys back with her disruptor, hoping to unsettle Fleet.
Fleet evades your disruptor attack.
Still moving upwards, Fleet twists to the left as well, avoiding Catechism's disruptor as he spins once. Now he angles his boots, moving sideways through the sky, one knee bent as he points diagonally downward (Catechism still being a bit lower than him so far as elevation goes) with both arms, firing a low-powered energy weapon attack.
You evade Fleet's Energy Rifle (low) attack.
Catechism had forgotten how acrobatic Fleet is. It's rather pretty, really. It'd probably be prettier if she wasn't trying to shoot him. She manages to keep enough of her wits about her this time to doge his attack, letting it collide with some of holographic scenery instead. Catechism uses her pistol, aiming, oddly enough, for Fleet's feet. It's a weird move, but he has his jet thrusters and his alternate mode fins down there, and it might mess up his aerial abilities if it connects.
You strike Fleet with Zap!.
The yellow seeker grimaces and jerks his right foot back as Catechism's zap! connects, and the sudden jerk does indeed cause him to vary his flight path a little, but it's a relatively minor injury and unlikely to cause further disturbance of his ability to maneuver. In fact, he instead takes advantage of the jerking motion to continue bringing that foot backwards, letting the other joining it until he is laying facedown, pointing slightly downward in the air. He jets directly towards Catechism, transforming as he does so to access his better weapons, although he realizes as he does so that he's taking a big risk. She's likely to respond in kind, which will hurt all the more in his vulnerable jet mode.
Fleet transforms from robot to pyramid jet.
Pyramid Jet (Fleet) strikes you with rocket for 12 points of damage.
Catechism grimaces as the missiles knock her back in the air, connecting right with her torso. She notes Fleet's transformation, but rather than transforming as well, she lunges forward and makes a grab for the other jet. Catechism doesn't have anything of note beyond the basics when it comes to melee weaponry, but she doubts that Fleet does, either.
Catechism succeeds in grasping Pyramid Jet (Fleet), throwing him off-balance.
Dammit all to the Pit! Fleet had not been prepared for that! And not only does he have even less than the standard assortment of melee weaponry, he doesn't really have any options in his jet mode. So instead he rolls suddenly and transforms, trying to either throw the conehead off him with the quick barrel rolls, or break her grip with the twisty-turny transformation. (No attack. Also, no way to really tell if I succeed. S'up to you. Keep in mind that (a) I'm much weaker than you, but (b) I'm a bit better at twisty-turnie-ing, and I have the escape artist skill)
Fleet transforms from pyramid jet to robot.
Fleet breaks free of Catechism's hold, but he's still in close range, and better yet, he's in robot mode now, which ought to cut how fast he can get away. Well, that worked better than she had expected! Grinning like a wing nut, Catechism tries to get in a kick before he gets too far away.
Fleet evades your kick attack.
Ordinarily, being a robot would, indeed, cut down on Fleet's speed considerably. But he's actually rather addicted to the feel of freefall, knowing, as he does, that he can quit any time he likes. He leans back and cuts his antigravs entirely, quickly falling out of the way of Catechism's kick. As he plummetts, he raises his left arm, right arm positioned as if to steady it, and fires his shoulder mounted rifles, the movements looking almost lazy in defiance of the speed with which they are accomplished.
Fleet strikes you with Shoulder-Mounted Laser for 6 points of damage.
Catechism winces as Fleet's lasers scorch her. Missing with that kick had caused her to overshoot her intended position, leaving her open to be shot. On the plus side, now he's just falling down, and the path of a falling object is drone's play to calculate. Clutching a hand over some of her wounds, Catechism aims with her other arm and fires with her gauss weaponry.
Fleet evades your gauss attack.
The path of a falling object is, indeed, drone's play to calculate, which is why the yellow seeker doesn't stay on that path for very long. Unexpectedly, he rockets "upwards," relative his mostly-horizontal position, anyway... he's really only doing a rather gentle incline at first. He increases his vertical momentum faster than he does his horizontal, bending left knee as he rises and turning slightly to present a slimmer profile to attack. He reaches his nearest arm - the left one - towards Catechism as he does so and lets loose his ballistic weaponry this time.
Fleet strikes you with Rail Gun for 8 points of damage.
The conehead lets out a small yelp of pain as Fleet's rail gun shot neatly put a hole through her already-damaged wing. Hunching her shoulders, she growls. Getting smacked all over the place like this by Fleet, of all Seekers, is just downright ridiculous. Her optics flashing brightly, she releases a laser bolt and tries to gain some altitude.
You strike Fleet with laser.
Apparently, Catechism fights better when pissed! Fleet starts to spin out of the way of the way of her laser bolt, but even this squirmy yellow seeker is no match for the speed of light! The bolt catches him in the far (right) wing and spins him a bit faster then he wants to go, although he recovers into more graceful twirl quickly, leaning sideways and changing direction as he does. Once more, it's not a bad hit, but he's begining to worry about the accumulation. He fires up at the rising conehead with his disruptors as he himself moves upwards relative the 'line' they had been on.
Fleet strikes you with disruptor for 5 points of damage.
She may shoot better when pissed, but her dodging ability remains dodgy, to make an oh-so-lame pun. The disruptor bolts arcs over her frame, looking like lightning against her cloudy grey. Fleet may not be packing big missiles, but this "death by a thousand cuts" adds up. She flies a little higher and tries to put Fleet between herself and dam's reservoir. Then, she fires off a shot with her taser. Right now, it'd be nice if it connects, but that's not critical. Catechism has other plans.
You strike Fleet with taser.
Poor Fleet! Poor tiny dancer! Not only is he hit by the taser in the left shoulder (owie, owie, owie! These little hits are starting to add up!), but he's also, unknowingly, playing right into the other seeker's hands. Somewhat. The little yellow seeker is never one for staying on a straight path for very long, and with the hit he moves back a bit - not through the force of the rather minor strike, but it is what provides the inspiration. He turns on both his horizontal and vertical axis as he does (axis! axis! not Axis!) and begins flying more in Catechism's general direction, firing in pulse mode as he does. Odds are he intends to turn soon, as his aversion to melee is probably well known by the other.
You evade Fleet's Energy Rifle (pulsed mode) attack.
Catechism drops her arms to her sides and tips over, letting herself fall pointy head-first towards Fleet. In this case, having a conical head actually helps, as it means less air resistance. This unexpected motion means that Fleet's rifle attack misses. At the last moment, she swings her legs down and exploits the resultant change in motion to swing a punch towards the other Seeker. If it connects, it ought to knock him closer to that reservoir and all that horrible, horrible water. Someone who knew more about Earth fauna might be tempted to make a comparison to the hunting stoop of a falcon, but Catechism doesn't, and she'd probably insist that a Decepticon flying ace invented it eons before falcons evolved, anyway.
You strike Fleet with Smiting the Heathens.
Fleet is struck with Catechism's attack, although, not being a heathen, he's not particularly smitten. However, by this point he's taken quite a few minor hits, and they add up to a number he doesn't care for. Rather then being pushed back with the force of the conehead's not-so-mighty blow, he takes the strike in his left shoulder and then turns to the side, twisting to her left, around, and behind her, but instead of taking advantage of his new position he gasps, "Very good... you seem to have adapted- quite well- to your new set of circumstances... I think you've proven that sufficiently." With that he withdraws, intending to step outside the arena to safety and complete health.
Fleet begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Catechism.
Catechism grins ferally and lets out a victory whoop as Fleet makes his retreat, err, tactical relocation. She hollers, "Yeah, take that, ya pastel polygon!" A genius at taunting, Catechism is not. Still sore over all the hits he managed to score on her, she takes a potshot at him with her taser.
You strike Fleet with taser.
Comcast comes into the Holo Arena.
Fleet is hit in the foot, being as that's the part of his body that's presently closest to Catechism. The same one he was hit in earlier... youch! This second hit is enough to goof with his flight pattern, and he almost crashes - before leaving the arena, at which point he's returned to full health. At this point he stabalized, and manages to turn an awkward tumble into a controlled two-axis twist, touching down upright and facing the arena, which is the position he will be in when Catechism (and Comcast, should he desire to follow) exit as well.
Fleet exits the Holo Arena.
Catechism has a hole through one of her wings, damage to her torso, and assorted scorch marks everywhere, but she's merry despite all that and punches the air over her victory. Given that she just beat Fleet, it's dubious if she should be so happy but give the girl a break, eh? She exits the arena, waiting for the refreshing feeling of having all that damage reset.
You leave the Holo Arena.
A huge enclosed oval structure, the Arena is now nothing more than a deathtrap. What were once tiered rows of seats are now seamless walls that slope sharply downwards into a deep gloom. The arena floor, once a flat expanse of dull metal has sunk further into the ground and reconfigured itself, dark shadows hiding the massed array of spikes and treacherous pits that the surface has become. The Imperial box has become a virtual bunker, thick armor plates hiding the opulence inside. Small gleams of light in the shadows hint at hidden weaponry now exposed, and overall, the arena complex is now an extremely dangerous place to linger - especially if you happen to be opposed to the Decepticon Empire.
Hall of Heroes
North leads to NCC Dungeon.
South leads to NCC Residential Plaza.
West leads to NCC Central Hub.
Catechism is laughing as she exits, and she claps her hands together when she sees Fleet. The conehead exclaims, "Good game!" Despite his relative frailty, Fleet's a tricky one, and now, looking back, she can say that she enjoyed the round. It wasn't nearly so fun at the time when she was being hit by rockets.
Fleet nods and smiles pleasantly, his friendly demeanor belying the fact that he just got his tailfins whipped. If he knows that this tends to take some of the enjoyment out of the victory for most folks, he doesn't show it. "Very good, indeed. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to check in on a friend of mine." He pauses. Did he just call Arachnae 'friend'? Yes, yes he did. And it had been automatic. Something to think about later, he supposed. "If you like, you can join me," he finishes.
Comcast emerges from the Holo Arena.
Comcast has arrived.
Let's see what automatically comes when referring to Nae later on...
If Catechism notices that Fleet doesn't seem upset about his loss, she doesn't seem to care. Instead, the cloudy Seeker leans against one of the arena walls and rubs the back of her helmet. "If you don't mind. I wouldn't want to intrude."
Fleet shakes his head. "Naw, I wouldn't mind. Besides, it'd probably be best if you started getting familiar with the individuals you're likely to be dealing with here, so you may as well come along, I think."
"Fair enough, then. Where to?" She drops her hand from her head down to her side and leans forward slightly, curious to see who Fleet esteems enough to call a friend so thoughtlessly. Ought to be interesting, at the very least, and networking serves the cause better than standing around does.
A light grey hand raises and motions slightly in a "follow me" sort of gesture. "Medical," replies the 'pastel polygon'. "Even if Arachnae hadn't been injured recently, that would be the likeliest place to find her." With that he turns on heel - well, jet-thruster-thingies (to use the technical term) and heads towards the Central Hum.
And to the Central Hub, as well. Which is... erm, humming with activity. That's right! It was intentional!
Fleet moves west to the NCC Central Hub.
Fleet has left.
NCC Medical Ward
The Crystal City repair bay is far larger than previous versions in Imperial Headquarters or Trypticon himself. Clearly it was designed by a medic, for a medic. The entire room is rectangular in nature with medical beds arranged in a neat grid pattern. The beds themselves vary, with some being precious little more than metal slabs, and others having full scanners and tools attached, as well as everything in between. In total, there are about twenty beds. There is room for more in an emergency situation. The cabinets line the walls, spaced out between medical terminals. Everything has a place, and organization is key. With battle mode being initiated, the huge windows are covered up as the bay is encased in metal for its own protection. Access can still be gained with the right codes, however. Red warning lights flash on and off.
Scrapper's Art - Fourteen Pieces
MSE CO OFFICE (Earth)
Gumby Medic <NCC>
South leads to NCC Central Command.
Southeast leads to NCC Central Hub.
East leads to Mount R'Lyeh.
Mixmaster is standing over an unconscious Arachnae, technicians at his side, a can of green paint and a dented can of purple next to him, and a large pool of purple paint on the ground.
Mixy decides to use the purple the most, since there is more of it (Gotta keep that Constructicon green for those who need it!) and loads it into a spray applicator. "She's going to be the prettiest sweep ever!" He says, happily.
Arachnae's still unconscious but perfectly put back together. The technician that was overseeing the diagnostics looks at Mixmaster.. "Wha?" then looks at her paint. "I think.." rubbing his helm, "she just got a fresh topcoat and sealant. Actually." looking at Mixmaster, "Eh.. Clean?" Mixmaster is the XO.. "Yes sir." setting the injector that he was about to use aside to go get solvent and a mop to clean the spill. "The reversal's on the table next to her sir, when you are finished touching her up."
"Will do," Mixmaster says absently a he begins to coat her wings in a very royal Constructicon purple (TM).
Catechism tries to stay somewhat behind Fleet, not wanting to disturb anything critical. She doesn't know anything about medicine, except that it's really useful once she's been damaged. Catechism looks around the medical ward, wondering just who Fleet's friend is.
Fleet walks in quietly - more quietly than a giant robot probably should, evidence that he still has his antigravs turned on, although set too low to entirely overcome his mass. He's looking for Arachnae, and spots her rather quickly - can't miss that green and purple Constructicon standing over her! He flinches noticeably when he realizes what Mixy is doing, but approaches softly anyway.
Arachnae would have been awake and returning to looking at reports at this point were it not for the timely interruption of the Constructicon. So much to do.. Lying there, she's oblivious to the 'work' being done to her.
Catechism isn't half as quiet as Fleet. She's a clunky conehead, but she does make a conscious effort to stay out of the way and not knock things over. The sculptures in one area of the medical bay do catch her attention. More classic Decepticon art! Someone around this place has taste.
Mixmaster is finished applying the purple to Arachnae's helmet, wings, upper torso, calves and feet. Even her back, although he had no way to get there. How? Cartoon physics! He now loads up the Constructicon Lime Green (TM) into the sprayer, to apply onto her lower torso and upper legs..
This takes a fairly quick amount of time, the painting is one of Mixy's specialties. At least he's not 'expressing' his creativity on Arachnae, and is sticking to a set colour layout. Mixy lowers the applicator, eying his efforts. "Hmm..." He mutters. Not quite right...
Then mixy's optics light up. He gets a fine paintbrush, dipping it into the purple. He applies a fine line of purple around the femme sweep's lips, giving her a beautiful purple 'lipstick.' Just like all the other femmes! Be lucky Mixy didn't have any pink on him, or else Nae would have rosy cheeks, too.
The technician that's mopping looks up.. blinks at the painting.. and works on coming up with reasons not to be in the area when the CMO gets woken up. No. He has no interest in being in the area. Backing up, he stows the mop and sidles out.
If he were human, Fleet would clear his throat to draw attention. Instead, he does the Transformer equivalent, his vocalizers emitting a brief, static-like noise. He is surprised (and, admittedly, impressed) at the speed by which Mixmaster has coated so much of Arachnae with paint, but he's simultaneously dreading her reaction when she finds out... hopefully she'll keep in mind that it's a problem easily corrected?
Mixmaster looks at his work. Magnifique! The Constructicon is happy, and is also unaware of the two Seekers who have just entered. Either way, Mixy helps himself to the injector to reverse the anaesthetic process. The sooner that Nae is awake, the sooner she can thank him for the wonderful paint job!
Mixmaster injects the device into an access panel in Arachnae's neck, reversing the anaesthetic process and returning her to life.
Fleet sighs, lowering his face into his left palm as he supports that elbow with his right hand. This is probably not going to be pretty... in fact, it's already not pretty, but is probably about to get a lot less so. In fact, his instincts for self-preservation are currently telling him he should be moving away very, very quickly, but he really would *did* want to be around when Arachnae woke up, or not long after. Flee may be the master of uncommon sense, but sometimes even he's known to override it.
Arachnae's systems were nominally under powered due to the sedative administered. While diagnostics are not usually uncomfortable, having life support hardwires removed is. The reversal agent serves to shift systems back over the line and she starts to wake, nominally in a disagreeable mood to begin with. Medics.. sometimes make poor patients. "I need a drink.." mumbled as she slowly sits up, wings creaking out behind her in jerky movements. She puts a hand to her helm, "Hate sedatives..." and now notes that the technician that was helping isn't standing there. Mixmaster is given a narrow optic'd look, "Hello. Did he have problems with the disconnecting?" She.. hasn't noticed...
At the drink request Fleet looks up. "Sure! I'll go get you one!" He scurries off for a mug of energon, hoping that maybe, just *maybe*, the medic will look favorably upon his helpfulness - or *hurt* him the least, anyway - once she finds out what's been done to her.
Mixmaster throws scalpels at Fleet!
...wait, no, that's not right. But the medical ward IS a scary place. They don't so much have a 'bedside manner' in these places as they have a 'desire to conduct experiments on the patients.' "No.. I just felt it was best to oversee," Mixy explains, "and then your mechanic decided to evaporate for some reason. Remind me to dock his energon ration this week." He doesn't bother explaining to her about the paint job. Oh no, that will be a pleasant surprise!
Arachnae slides off of the table, giving Fleet a faint smile, "That would be appreciated. The aftertaste is foul. Should be a mug on my desk and a flask int he second drawer." Wings continue to slowly work stiffness out as she turns and now looks down at herself, to recheck that the disconnections went smoothly.. "..." Blink... Optics narrow.. "..." lips downturn into a thin scowl.. and she slowly.. looks over.. at her XO...
Shellshock has connected.
Catechism knows that the medical ward is scary place. However, any place that contains Deceptions is a scary place by default, so she doesn't see what's so particularly upsetting up the medical ward.
Shellshock walks in with a small box, one that looks almost like a small armored case.
Fleet follows Arachnae's directions, even though that means approaching her desk, which is by far one of the scarier parts of the very scary medical ward! He pulls out flask and grabs mug, filling it up and rushing back quickly... all things considered, he would NOT want to keep Arachnae waiting at the moment!
The fact that this place is also where mad scientist-like experimentations as well as where people are repaired is scary for most. But also, the fact that these are carried out on patients who are there for repair work, against their consent, makes a repair job a scary task. Either way, Mixmaster is beaming with pride, having given Arachnae the best paint job EVAR. When he finally notices Nae glaring at him, he sincerely doesn't know what is going on? "..what?"
Arachnae turns her head, fanning a wing out to study the violet panels.. Another look directed at Mixmaster. Very deliberately, she fans the other wing out.. and takes a look at it. The self inspection continues. Feet, check. Hands.. Check. Arms.. check.. At each part that is looked at, she gives Mixmaster a look that's beginning to devolve into a snarl. "What?" voice soft, calm sounding, even timbre, delivery tone. A shake of her head and she accepts the mug from Fleet, using the moment of taking a sip as something to work on overriding her base urge to rip her XO several new exhaustports.
"Any particular reason you felt that I needed a new colour scheme, Mixmaster?" she pauses and takes another sip as her wings start to mantle. "Because this.. had best be a slagging good reason." Another sip. Whatever is in that flask must be mood control medication. She's looking less startled. "I'm waiting.."
Catechism has more courage than she does intelligence, which ought to explain a few things about her. She also has a dyed in optimistic streak that lets her think of things like horrific experiments as valuable scientific and engineering contributions to the cause. So entirely unaware of the disaster waiting to happen, she continues to stands where she's been standing, her wings twitching slightly.
Mixmaster has four words. They are his entire defense. He knows that this is a good reason, but it NEVER works somehow. He simply looks at Arachnae, trying to make himself look smaller (he already is smaller than the sweep-sized Nae, but for more effect.) He shrugs his shoulders loosely, and says quietly, "We were outta blue...."
"Actually, I'm quite shocked myself..." Fleet says silently, talking quickly in an attempt to diffuse things a bit. "I mean, he must have a considerable amount of respect for you and your abilities as a scientist and medic, to be so willing to share the sacred Constructicon color scheme with you..."
Shellshock says, "Mixmaster, you of all cons should know how to MIX blue, or are you so out of it that you've forgotten how to mix anything but energon moonshine?"
Arachnae headtilts slightly, giving Mixmaster a /look/. "Out of blue?" casually noted as she sips from her mug, "Interesting... As I finished checking polymer inventory before the diagnostic... and there was no note on that." Another sip before she snap-stares at Fleet. Optics slit... "Hmm." Ponder, pause, then she shrugs, "I suppose either this is you getting me back for the spider incident or acceptance back into your peculiar little familial group. Either or... And I'm hoping this is more the latter and not the former." Wry smirk as she seems to settle more. "Good thing I'm not as obsessed with looks and paint schemes, now isn't it?"
Shellshock looks down at his datapad and then up at Nae, "Excuse me Commander, do you have a moment to look over something. As it is kinda related to the current subject?
Catechism tilts her head to one side, puzzled by the whole exchange. Sheesh, a girl takes a nap for a few eons, and boom, the cultural dynamic is all different. She looks over at Fleet and queries, "So she's not supposed ta' be purple?"
Fleet leans a bit closer to Catechism and whispers, "Not really, no. She's kind of a dusky blue." He's not being *particularly* secretive, but someone would probably have to be paying attention to make him out. Well, besides Catechism, that is.
Arachnae shakes her head, smirking at Mixmaster a moment before turning attention to Shellshock, "What?" blinkblink. sip.
Mixmaster phews! What the slag brought that on? "You.. you're not?" Mixy recalls when the predacons painted him in their colours. There is something /wrong/ about a constructicon that is coloured orange or yellow. He decides to get a chemical breakdown of whatever is in her mug later on. "Uh.. well good. I'll be sure to get you a proper mix of your shade of blue whenever we get some more prepared. We decided that your systems receiving the appropriate insulation from rust and heat that the paint was better than maintaining a certain colour pattern."
"Ah," the conehead says simply. That would explain things. She points at Mixmaster and asks, "Does he do that often?" Paint isn't, in the big scheme of things, terribly important, as far as Catechism is concerned, so long as it isn't a bright cheery red - ack, only Autobots would wear something so disgusting - but she'd like to be forewarned.
Shellshock walks over to Nae and offers her a datapad, "ran across something the humans had and improved on it a little. You think it's doable? Its a pattern/color changing paint. small electrical current at a specific current and it'll change colors."
Fleet shrugs left shoulder and wing, answering Catechism, "I'm afraid I wouldn't know for certain... I've only even been in the same room as he is three times now. Although, come to think of it, of those three, this is the second time paint colors have received in-depth discussion, so I'd be prepared for the possibility."
Arachnae eyes her mug for amoment, then smiles at Mixmaster. "No. color is just color. Easily changed really." Sip. Mellow nae. The world is a safer place, really. "As far as color goes, this isn't bad, all things considered. Flattering really, if you think about how closely you and the constructicons guard your stores." Wing fans out, "And the reversal of such an esteemed paint scheme, taking into account my own green optics as a counterbalance is simply the machinations of a genius, Mixmaster." Wouldn't you like to know what was in that flask, hmmm? She slips attention to Shellshock, optics slitting as mug pauses midway to lips, "Hard to maintain on the molecular level. And minor personal electrical field variances tend to interact with transformation and subspace generators with sometimes interesting and oftentimes odd reactions." Sip. "And no, Shellshock, that box is still in my desk."
Shellshock nods, "Alright, though I would run it past you and see what you thought. I had looked into a small polymer stabilizer, as long as the presets are not more then two or three patterns, it looks like at may be viable."
Catechism frown slightly at Fleet's answer, looking a tad put out and paws at the floor with her foot. They had better not paint her bright Autobot red... or like Ramjet... or maybe she had better stop thinking like this, lest she invoke Murphytron's law.
Mixmaster peers at the paint. "Well, I'm sure I could make something like that up...." He says, ever the helpful Constructicon,
"...only I need to mix some more energon moonshine, don't I? Congratulations, Shellshock, I'll be making a note to be the person who services you next when I'm doing MSE's schedule."
Arachnae eyes her mug before she pads to her desk and retrieves that particular flask, pouring herself another. "Hmm. Need to ask Dredclaw to pick more of this up." quiet pause before she turns around, looks at Catechism, looks at Fleet.. and doubletakes, peering at Catechism, "New or returning?" directed at the latest seeker addition.
Fleet just listens quietly, as he has little to contribute to the current conversation. He's *used* to his paint scheme, and would probably go back to it if someone else changed it, but he's not particularly attached to it. Sure, he's been told that his pale yellow and white color scheme is 'pretty', but he's always been of the opinion that 'pretty' could be considered a design flaw in what is meant to be a war machine. On the other hand, he did sometimes suspect it helped in his occasional successes with the femmes.
Shellshock shrugs, "just remember, my weapons fail because of you then who's going to be there to take the hits when the autobots start shooting up your pretty green hide. I've soaked up more then my fair share of damage covering for you and your brothers. I think i've earned the right to take the occasional verbal shot at you.
Catechism perks up at the question, glances over at Arachnae, and answers, "Returning. I was put in stasis back during the fuel shortages on Cybertron. I'm Catechism, an air warrior." She rocks back on her heels a bit, the prospect of a dire new paintjob already forgotten.
Arachnae mantles wings behind her, sipping from the refilled mug with an expression of enjoyable satisfaction. Rather like the cat that got into the canary's cage. "Cryo. Interesting experience and one I care not to repeat." Crooked smirk. "Pleased to meet you, Catechism. I'm Arachnae, Medical's head technician and commanding officer. I think you know or know of Mixmaster." A nod to her XO. "Rules of medical haven't changed since then so not much for me to update you on in that reguard." Another sip and a look at Shellshock. She shakes her head.. and leaves this for Mixmaster to handle. "Are the two of you." a nod to Fleet to draw him into this, "Currently under orders?"
Shellshock has disconnected.
Fleet pauses to consider Arachnae's question, tilting his head slightly to the left and focusing his gaze on a spot a bit above and to the left of Arachnae's head.. "Aside from Galvatron's generalized 'step up raiding' ones? No, not really."
Mixmaster would point out that Shellshock hasn't covered the Constructs all THAT much, that Devastator would easily be the one who would cover him, and that being fixed by the constructicons and MSE would cancel that debt, that Mixmaster IS a superior officer, and that regardless of WHO you are, if your name doesn't rhyme with Valvatron, you do not earn verbal shots and that people will still resent you. He COULD. But he doesn't. He instead makes a note to be the one who drains Shellshock's oil next, and to find some more strawberry jam. "MORE of you? How many do we have in storage?" Oh well, at least there is plenty of parts available for a Seeker, none of this custom-crap people like Soundwave need.
Catechism says, "Nice to meet you, too." Catechism seems to mean it, too. She's inclined to like other Decepticons unless given a reason not to. She continues, "There are standing orders for raids. I was thinking about scouting out some potential sites. I'll be going, then."