<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "I need a volunteer squad to report to medical for a small.. project assignment."

 

You move northwest to the NCC Medical Ward.

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.

 

Contents:

Arachnae

Scrapper's Art <SA> - Fourteen Pieces

MSE CO OFFICE (Earth)

Gumby Medic <NCC>

Obvious exits:

 South <S> leads to NCC Central Command.

 Southeast <SE> leads to NCC Central Hub.

 East <E> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

 

<Decepticon> Comcast says, "Hmm. Sounds interesting. I'll be there in a half-breem, Arachnae."

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Excellent, Comcast."

 

Comcast arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Comcast has arrived.

 

Comcast, exactly one half-breem later, enters the medical ward! Hurrah!

 

<Decepticon> Catechism says, "I'm free. I'll be there shortly."

 

<Decepticon> Comcast says, "Don't call her shortly."

 

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "My gratitude Catechism."

 

 

Fleet walks in, finally back up to full operational status. He looks around for Arachnae and approaches her, somehow giving an impression like a butterfly fluttering but for no easily determined reason.. "You were wanting some seekers to help with something, Arachnae?"

 

 

<Decepticon> Catechism boggles. "...but... I didn't call her shortly."

 

Arachnae is pacing in front of her office, once more her usual pristine shade of blue on blue. Wings are tilted back at a jaunty angle as she looks over a datapad with a crooked smirk. She peers upwards, noting Comcast enter then nods to Fleet. "Yes, I did. Working on the trap for the moment then I will be right with you."

 

Catechism arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Catechism has arrived.

 

Comcast stops. He /was/ curious. Now it's just damn intriguing. "...trap?" He asks inquisitively. Arachnae.. he thinks to himself.. this better be for an Autobot...

 

The trap? Once more, Fleet's curiosity battles with his awareness that grunts aren't supposed to ask questions, and this time the grunt side wins out, if only because he realizes that he's probably about to get more information shortly anyway. Besides, Comcast just asked for him.

 

Arachnae grins merrily, nodding her head towards Catechism as way of greeting. She's fairly bouncy as she paces away from her office. "Yes, trap.:

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "What is this babble?"

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Simply part of a series of test projects, my lord."

 

AND she's bouncy. Bouncy Arachnae. BOUNCY. ARACHNAE. Scared Comcast. "..I see."

 

Catechism enters and takes in who all is here. Given that there are two highly ranked Decepticons here, she finally remembers to salute. Then, the conehead glances over at Comcast and comments cheerily, "Good you see you in one piece, sir." And she does mean that, really. Lying to make oneself look better is a fine Decepticon habit, and Comcast's obviously very valuable to the Decepticon cause. It's just that if she ever has to carry him off a battlefield again, she thinks she's going to drop him a few times.

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Ah.  Carry on"

 

Fleet smiles amusedly at Catechism. Thanks to the... interesting wording of Comcast's report, he was pretty sure that things didn't go exactly as told, but he wasn't inclined to say anything. Of course, he's been the victim of someone else lying to make *him* look better, which is somewhat less common in the ranks of the Decepticons. Life is just that strange sometimes.

 

Arachnae grins as she studies Comcast with perhaps just a touch more than comfortable level of scrutiny. "I'm rather pleased you came. You do have some nominal ability with radio systems and relays, yes?" A primus-damned actual purring lilt to her tone. "That will be highly useful I should think." Her attention tracks to the butterfy-esque air about Fleet, "Good good." What's good? DO you really want to know.. Then she looks over at Catechism, of whom she's read some reports about efficiency. "Excellent. I think this will most assuredly do nicely." Her wings flick out before tucking in neatly behind her. "Now.. to set the stage.. Comcast, could you assist me with making my next few outgoing transmissions somewhat static-filled and distorted?"

 

<Decepticon> Mixmaster sounds like he's just woken up.. "Whuzzis?"

 

Oh yeah.. the conehead that Comcast 'saved.' "Err. And you, Catechism." He says, deciding to explain himself at a later date, when so the audio input units of others are not around.

 

But anyways, back to Nae who is.. purring? Eep. "I can.." Comcast says. "Though I'm assuming there is a reason for this.. if you want it to be authentic, I can do my job best operating a position here in the command centre."

 

Good, huh? Good? Strange that 'good' can make Fleet so nervous. But then, a lot of things make Fleet nervous, so this shouldn't be toomuch of a shock. He finds himself an out of the way place to stand and watches with interest, waiting to be told whatever his role in this will be.

 

After all, Catechism just got defrosted, if she needs to be 'saved' too much, she's obviously not worth keeping awake and might get shoved back in that freezer or worse. Much worse. There's always a call for Seeker parts... but she doesn't dwell on such thoughts. The conehead smiles at the others, leans back against a wall, and waits to be told what to do. Catechism has no technical talents, but she can moves boxes and such. To Comcast's well-wish, she replies politely and quietly, "Thank you, sir". He has rank, thus offending him probably isn't a good idea. Besides, she knows from that four-way free-for-all that he can beat her seven ways to Sunday.

 

Arachnae narrows her optics to thin slits, tapping on her datapad for a moment before, "Now this, I should think, will do nicely.." She headtilts, peering at Comcast, "Minor distortion is all I need. Like if I were whispering in a corner trying to be secretive." then begins to send a transmission: Target - an Autobot frequency. 'Arachnae to Jazz. Might I have a moment of your time?' Spoken softly and with an all of a sudden cautious tone. Granted, her expression doesn't reflect the wary concern in her voice.

 

Arachnae transmits a message via radio.

 

Comcast shrugs, and does as he's told, adjusting the background noise and 'stretching' the sound long and short to reduce the quality using his own internal radio configuration.

 

Arachnae receives a radio transmission.

 

Fleet hops agilely onto the nearest medbed, giving Arachnae a very curious look with this one. Jazz? That would be the one he encountered in Greenland... and the one who sat on his wing. He was none-too-pleased with his second encounter with the Autobot, but at least it resulted in no damage.

 

Arachnae chuckles softly, optics glinting emerald behind her visor. She continues the radio conversation in that soft, wary whisper of hers. 'Few moments of time face to face with you. About.. can't go into detail here. Got a scheduled out rotation, there's some kind of terran musical festival in New Orleans. It's good cover for both of us. Can you meet me in the vicinity?' Her wings rustle behind her, "Take the bait.." she murmurs softly, giving her datapad a glance. "Come on..."

 

Arachnae transmits a message via radio.

Arachnae receives a radio transmission.

 

Comcast is confused, and peers at Fleet and Catechism while he eyes Arachnae's conversation.

 

Catechism also ran into Jazz in Greenland and watched him sit on Fleet's wing. She later battled with him in a big raid for some metal, which went rather better for her than the raid in Greenland, probably because Fulcrum was also battling Jazz. No hurty rockets that time. What the techs are doing baffles her, and she files it under things that air grunts are not meant to understand. She looks over at Comcast, because he's looking at her and Fleet. The conehead's expression vaguely connotates 'Need something?' but she doesn't say anything.

 

Fleet leans back in his spot on the table, studying the ceiling. Hmmm. Looks the same as last time. He wonders vaguely about what sort of past history might exist between Jazz and Arachnae that would actually lead the Autobot to actually fall for such a trick, but then, he already knew enough to know that there were a lot of strange things in Arachnae's past.

 

Fleet, for his part, hasn't noticed that Comcast is looking at him.

 

Arachnae grins, "Good. Bait taken." She looks up and over at the seeker grouping, "We're going to New Orleans. I need you three to maintain as low a profile as possible in order to insure that the Autobot isn't bringing along friends. This is to be a very simple run: The goal.. is to bring him in." She taps her datapad off and tucks it away. "Any questions?"

 

Fleet sits up straighter and gives Arachnae a long, considering look. A pastel yellow seeker with a Cybertronian jet alt-mode... and this time he didn't even have a handy air show and 'this is a movie prop' sign to help him out. Low profile? A pretty tall order! "I'll, erm, do my best, Arachnae."

 

Catechism raises a hand to her chin, and her optics brighten in surprise. "How alive does he need to be?" It's an odd way of asking how much damage they're allowed to inflict, but the conehead doesn't seem to be aware of the odd phrasing of her query.

 

Comcast hmms. "I don't think so.. I'll just have to.."

 

-BEE-DEEP-

 

The Red Seeker looks infuriated at his internal communicator. "Yes.. this is Comcast." He says, not looking at anyone in particular. "...they did what? I'll be there soon." He turns to Arachnae, saying "I'm sorry.. I have a small divisional matter to attend to.." Sure.. small. Right. The Seeker runs out of the door, not waiting for another word.

 

Comcast moves east to the Mount R'Lyeh.

Comcast has left.

 

Mixmaster arrives from the Mount R'Lyeh to the east.

Mixmaster has arrived.

 

Mixmaster trudges into the medical ward, muttering something about some seeker nearly plowing him over.

 

Arachnae blinks, watches Comcast leave, "Bother.." she grumbles, reworking out some minor detail in her head. "Alive. As long as he is functioning when we bring him in, the condition of his exocarapace is not a factor." Wings flick behind her. "Granted, he is labeled as potentially hazardous, which is why I wanted to take him down with superior numbers..."

 

Mixmaster picks up the better part of a juicy conversation! Ooh! "Sounds like fun. Who we getting? Is it.. Awww!" Mixy looks /very/ disappointed at Arachnae. "I thought you liked your new colours scheme!" Mixmaster is sounding genuinely /hurt./

 

Fleet looks up at the trudging, nearly plowed Mixmaster, a bit relieved it wasn't a particular one of his brothers. Strange as it may seem, he had a much easier time dealing with him than Hook. He nods politely, saying, "Mixmaster," quietly by way of greeting.

 

Catechism studies Mixmaster. She's only seen him once before, and that wasn't for long. It was still long enough for her to learn that he's handy with paint, though. Hrm. Noting that Fleet didn't salute, Catechism waves and hails, "Hello."

 

Arachnae shuffles wings and stares at Mixmaster a moment. "Got paint of other colours all over it and since I need to look myself for this mission, went with the autofile in the paint closet. As I don't have your expertise and gentle touch when it comes to making the layers of green and purple seem so brilliant." Flattery? Yes. "When I'm done with this project, if you have the time, mayhaps you can show me how you do all those wonderful colours of yours." Pause, headtilt, "Actually, if you arn't occupied, I need a fourth for this little outing. If you'd like to help bring in an Autobot Test subject." Brilliant - not quite all there- grin.

 

Mixmaster:intrigued! "Hmm. I'm in!" And when he notices a Seeker.. um.. waving, he gives a confused look and responds with "Er.. Hello." before returning to Arachnae. "Sounds like fun. Cut me in for some of the chassis and I'm in!"

 

Arachnae laughs oddly, "You can have as much of the chassis as you need, Mixmaster. I just need some leftover for stage two." wicked grin. "Shall we?"

 

Mixmaster has nothing better to do. "Sounds good to me."

 

No need to ask what Mixmaster wants with the chassis. Even if he were a complete artistic ignoramus, Scrapper's masterworks in the very same room make it blatantly obvious. He hops off the table and nods in response of Arachnae's request/order/suggestion to get started. "Certainly," he replies.

 

Catechism remembers that she left herself logged into workstation. It's not big deal, but she should go log herself out. She whacks a hand to her helmet, comments, "I'll be a bit late. Forgot something," and hurries off to rectify that error.

 

Arachnae turns on a heel and heads out, grinning merrily. In fact.. she starts to hum, she's so pleased.

 

* Spinny! *

 

New Orleans, Louisiana

 

     The Crescent City, the city that care forgot, a piece of Europe in the heart of Dixie, are all names that this sprawling city at the delta of the mighty Mississippi has earned. New Orleans, Louisiana has definitely earned the name as the largest party on Earth, as once a year the Mardi Gras shuts down the entire city for a massive party. It's also earned its keep as a piece of Europe with its historic districts and Old World charms.

 

Contents:

Arachnae

Porsche 935 Turbo

Obvious exits:

 French Quarter <FQ> leads to French Quarter.

 Naval Station <NS> leads to GECCO Grounds.

 Out <O> leads to Louisiana.

 

Catechism arrives from the Louisiana.

Catechism has arrived.

Mixmaster arrives from the Louisiana.

Mixmaster has arrived.

 

<OOC> Mixmaster points to his back. "Keg. There."

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Mixmaster, Fleet and Catechism, endevor to do your best to remain out of the Autobots line of sight until futher notice. And leave the natives alone for the moment."

 

<Decepticon> Fleet transmits an acknowledgment code roughly equivalent to 'I understand and will obey.'

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Might I humbly inquire just what in the blue hell is going on?"

 

<Decepticon> Mixmaster says, "I don't see why not. You're the boss, after all."

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "As I said before sir, simply working on an experiment."

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "No no.  I get that part."

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "The part I don't get is the mention of the word "Autobot" without giving me a briefing, my dear."

 

Where the music is right, and the days and nights are humid and warm, and the beverages flow like... well. What the hey. New Orleans is a party town. The music is right-- and the Jazz Festival has an Autobot visitor to it. But he's hanging back at the edges somewhere. Probably looking for a certain dark colored scientific type.

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae gets a puzzled tone, "Oh.. My apologies sir. Had it labeled simply as test subject for so long that the actual designation of the target slipped my mind."

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Ahhhh, I will, of course...be receiving a full briefing once you are in a secure location?"

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Of Course sir. I would now, however as this is a rather.. delicate manuver, my attention should be focused on this."

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Specifically about the part that doesn't include the words "Autobot"  and "Shot in the face" in the same sentence?  Or "Destruction of all their kind"  or even "Absolute victory over" ?"

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Understood.  Carry on."

 

<Decepticon> Comcast says, "My Lord.. I am in the command centre and can provide what I know about Arachnae's.. project."

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae chuckles softly, "Shooting them in the face is your field of expertise, my lord. I simply take them apart for study."

 

Mixmaster was flying in for a great distance of the journey, but decides since we are going to be all 'subtle,' he should transform and drive the rest of the way, blending in with all the other lime green construction vehicle with purple tinted windows that are on the road.

 

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) flies around in circles. High, high in the air. Very high. Like well out of Jazz's visual range. Uhm. Because it's dark. And/or there are clouds. He's ready to swoop down at a moment's notice, but he doesn't really have a blend-in Earth mode, so this is really his only option.

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Very well."

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Comcast.  I will have you meet me and Arachnae when she is finished."

 

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "That way I can have your expert opinion, but she also has the option of offering full expert insight, as it is her project.  She dislikes me learning of her work without her present."

 

Arachnae breaks away from the group that has come with her some distance off from the city proper, issueing a few choice orders and making excuses to make more time. She's all over dark blue, her usual shades. As she moves to land close to the festival that is going, she makes the point to pull something out of a compartment, s moothing over a quick-patch to obscure her emblem and rank badge. Doing her part to prevent all out chaos and confusion. At least for the initial part. Wings splay out. She pauses, fanning wings out to look about, endevoring not to look too too threatening to the local populanace.

 

-Which reacts to having a large robot drop down with the usual Big easy aplomb. "AAAAAAAAAH!"

 

F-35 <Catechism> soars up very, very high in the sky, hoping for cloud-cover. Once at a satisfactory altitude, she picks a leisurely pace but doesn't hover. A slow-flying plane is boring and normal. A hovering plane stands out.

 

Jazz really isn't sure why Arachnae decided to land in the middle of the festival, instead of over there, and walking towards it, but hey. He gives her a terse nod, the usual half-smirk on his face. At least she's not ... er... shooting. He'll be waiting over here, at the edge of the scary scary crowd. She wants to talk? She can come to him.

 

Arachnae watches the people move away from her landing area in great tidal movements. A shake of her head as she looks for her meeting partner. Wings tip back at a jaunty angle and the neosweep-medic hums softly along to some tune being played as she ever so gingerly picks her way towards the Autobot. "Greetings." soft tone.

 

Cement Truck <Mixmaster> navigates through the traffic of New Orleans.. which is a lot easier when you don't know much about the rules about traffic lights. Though you /do/ acquire a few rude gestures from the human drivers and a few dents from their metallic steeds. The whole time, Mixy curses and grumbles about how /Scrapper/ gets to be the one who can fly.

 

Circlie-circle, loopti-loop, Fleet flies around lazily in the sky. This can henceforth be assumed until he's called on.

 

Jazz headtilts, just waiting, "Arachnae," he says with a cool tone, "Ya wanted t'talk?" Hey. He's not being friendly. Or overly hostile. Meeting with winged beings that have tried to kill you before makes you a little cautious. People will get over seeing giant robots. Actually. This might make it the best Jazz Fest evar.

 

Arachnae ofers a faint, if wary smile, tucking wings n neatly behind her. "Jazz.. Yes.. I did want to talk to you." She looks about at all the people then back to the Autobot agent. "Remember an incident some months ago. Involving repairs and a scan?"

 

F-35 <Catechism> doesn't do anything fancy. That sort of thing might call attention to her. She continues to fly steadily, in gently arced lines. The F-35 doesn't circle, as such a pattern might look odd, but she does keep herself in the area.

 

Cement Truck <Mixmaster> continues to make his way through traffic. No loop de loops for him. Well, okay, just one.

 

Wheeee! Round and round he goes!

 

Right, that was fun. Now, back to driving towards Arachnae!

 

<OOC Editor’s Note: I’m /assuming/ he did a doughnut here, because the thought of him doing an actual loop-de-loop with upside down bits in cement truck mode makes my brain hurt badly, but you never know…>

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Get ready..."

 

Jazz would raise an eyebrow, if he had one. "In the forest?" he asks, still. Same smirk. "If it's th' one I'm thinkin' of-- yeah. Ain't said nothin'." What does she want? Femmes. No understanding 'em.

 

Arachnae nods once, "Had to check. No way to come out and ask you unless it was in person." She gets a wry smile, optics flickering. "Enjoying the music?" she glances off at the herds of humans before flicking attention back.

 

<Decepticon> Fleet replies, "Ready." Woah! He said an actual word! On a mission!

 

<Decepticon> Catechism replies curtly, as to not keep the radio channel open too long lest it be noticed, "Acknowledged."

 

<Decepticon> Mixmaster didn't realise that he had to say something! "Um.. me too."

 

Jazz chuckles. "Yeah. Not a bad set this time 'round." Okay. So she had to ask him in person about that. Well. It IS something she wouldn't want anyone finding out... "Ya like it?"

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Move in."

 

Arachnae nods, wings rustling behind her in absent fashion. "Rather nice. One could dance to it." Wry smile crosses her face. "Care to dance?" conversational tone.

 

The yellow tetrajet nose-dives sharply, homing in on the source of Arachnae's signal. He uses gravity to increase his speed that much more, transforming as he nears the ground. Just when it seems that there's no way Fleet could avoid smacking in the Earth he topples in the air, feet over head, to move upright and then bootjets roar into life as he puts his antigravs on full power to aid their efficiency. He crashes through some trees and stops just a few feet above the ground, weapons powered up but awaiting further orders and reinforcements to attack.

 

F-35 <Catechism> changes her lack-of-pattern, gently dipping her nose and losing altitude slowly. Ever optimistic, Catechism hopes that she looks like she could just be a Terran jet going in for a landing at a local airport, nothing out of the ordinary. Then, much as Fleet did, the F-35 drops her nose sharply and comes rocketing down. No Terran jet would do that, unless a crash was impending, but this F-35 is no Terran jet. Likewise, she transforms before impact, perhaps crashing through a few more trees than the other Seeker. Eh, it's not like trees can do anything worse than scuff her paint, and falling was a quick way of getting down to the site of the fight. Catechism glances over at Fleet and readies her weapons.

F-35, Marine Corps variant, transforms into robot form. Catechism's feet unfold, her arms unfold out of her body, her nosecone rotates through her body and ends up on her shoulders to expose her face, and her wings rotate into position.

 

Cement Truck <Mixmaster> drives around the corner just as the other two have arrived, and he too transforms! Hurray! His pistol is out and his nozzle has been extended in his headpiece. Mixmaster is ready for action. Hey, do the three of them assume a Charlies Angels-esque pose?

The Cement Truck's cab folds down and splits in two, forming Mixmaster's legs and feet. His wheels and part of his sides shift out into his arms, which push himself up. The Constructicon lifts himself up onto his feet and looks eagerly for something to smelt.

 

And that's a grin. "An' you ain't been drinkin' this time." Jazz gives a glance towards where the music is coming from. "But whatever will Galvatron say?" But of course, the sweet moment is interrupted by the sudden appearance of two seekers and a ... constructicon. Where'd the grin go? It's magic. Just like the magically panicing humans. "What the--" Innocent Nae, or clever Nae? As Galvatron's Angels have appeared, out comes the gun.

 

Arachnae chuckles softly, "No. Haven't been drinking in some time, actually Jazz." Her wings fan out behind her - panel by panel locking into place in a full arc. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." She pauses as her mask slide sinto place, obscuring her crooked grin. "Actually. No we can't." And here it comes as she raises a hand, electricity coalescing into a pulsating ball dancing on her fingertips, "Decepticons.. Attack!"

 

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Take him down."

 

Mixmaster is good at following instructions! Look! His gun is out already, and he begins the assault! "Hee!" the manic Constructicon giggles to himself as he fires off a blast from his Constructicon pistol towards the Autobot.

Mixmaster misses Jazz with his Laser Pistol! (Low) attack.

 

There is something uplifting about hearing that phrase called. It is an indication that all is right with the world! Wordlessly, Fleet points both arms in Jazz's direction, as though reaching for him, and fires from both shoulder rifles. Funny how it does the same amount of damage when it hits as just one! Ah, well!

You strike Jazz with Shoulder-Mounted Lasers (pulsed mode).

 

But Catechism isn't a yellow and a blue F-18! Oh, not that kind of Angel. Grinning madly, she lets out a war-whoop and fires with an arm laser at the Autobot. Maybe he'll talk about manners again.

Catechism strikes Jazz with Zap!.

 

Okay. So that probably shouldn't have been unexpected. "Right--" Jazz doesn't have to move much to evade Mixmaster's shot. But he does start trying to move away from the crowds. They're apparantly there to attack him? "An' what are we doin'?" he asks, aiming for... the insane one first. Because he's not very accurate, and could hurt an innocent bystander.

Jazz strikes Mixmaster with Zoloft.

 

Arachnae knows that the local populance should be aware enough at this time of eve to get out of the way. If they don't, darwin awards can be handed out. Her wings begin to crackle as she moves as if herding Jazz away from the crowds as well. "Dancing. But not in a style you'd think of." Wry tone, the electricity crackles and zots outwards, twisting in on itself in a pretty little sphere.

Arachnae misses Jazz with her Happy Fun ball - Electricity attack.

 

Mixmaster is Zolofted! Ohnoes! "Oww!" he yelps as the rifle blast grazes his shoulder. "Slag you, /Autobot!/" Mixy transforms and does just that, melts him into slag. Well, hopefully.

Mixmaster leans down as his legs fold up backwards. He falls down frontwards as he completes his transformation into a Green Cement Truck. His Cauldron begins rotating once again.

Once transformed, a small emitter appears from the tip of his cap, sending a red thermal beam out, powerful enough to melt Autobots into, well, slag. Should they let him.

Cement Truck <Mixmaster> strikes Jazz with Thermal Beam!.

 

Fleet moves up just a little, because he doesn't feel right this close to the ground, but not so high as to make it harder to hit. Be begins circling around Jazz at this point, not yet employing any of his prettier combat moves, although something about the position of his legs seem to hint that he's ready to dance off at any moment. Now only his right arm is pointed, but the weapon used is the same (if perhaps in a slightly different mode).

You strike Jazz with Shoulder-Mounted Laser Rifle (Low).

 

Catechism decides that staying put is not a great idea, also flies up a little, and shifts her position over laterally. She hasn't been shot at yet, but she doesn't see any reason to make it easier for the Autobot by staying in one place. Catechism snipes at the Autobot her disruptor this time. At the very least, they're all disrupting the Jazz Fest. Heh.

Catechism strikes Jazz with disruptor.

 

Dangit. Those humans had better be out of the area-- because Jazz is runing out of room to run. "Yeah." he ducks the electricial ball, "'Spose ya could call this a tango-- Ow" Fire. Hotfoot! Hotfoot! "But why-- Argh" Taser... This is not fun. Maybe he should... think about calling for backup? "Watchit! *slag*" Okay. This is not getting any better-- he can at least try firing back at say... the instigator. Maybe if he takes out the 'non-combatant', the others will.. .retreat? Wishful thinking. They outnumber him.

Jazz misses Arachnae with his Photon shot attack.

 

Cement Truck <Mixmaster> decides to limit Jazzes options a little. The Cement Truck backs up, allowing everyone to freely take their shots.. while a large hose appears from the back of Mixy's cauldron as the emitter vanishes. A very sloppy-like black substance Schooops out of the hose, coating the ground around Jazz in black slick. If he tries to move /too/ much while people shoot him, there will be a good chance he could end up flat on his aft.

 

Arachnae doesn't depart the ground for the air. If anything, she's sticking close to the quarrey. Twisting to the side, she snaps her wings behind her, still expanded as the photon shot streaks past and aids in illuminating the jazz festival. "Sorry. Classified." smirk to her tone, even if one can't rightly see her expression. Wingtips angle forward over her shoulders, igntinging with faeriefire before submiting for the Autobots interest, another electrical apparition. This time, the stream of excited electrons dances from point to point before pulsing outwards, a crackling ball of lightning just waiting to be touched.

Arachnae strikes Jazz with Ball Lightning.

 

Dance? Did someone mention dancing? The yellow Seeker is forced to twist and spin a bit to avoid the trees, his position changing from horizontal to vertical and some things in between fast enough that it's hard to follow, and indeed, his moves look very much like dancing. However, an important part of Cybertronian Aerial Dance is an awareness of others on the 'floor', and when Fleet sees that Mixmaster has slicked up the ground, he employs a tactic that would be against the rules in a proper competition, speeding directly at Jazz and attempting to close-line him with his left arm, intending to knock Jazz down to the slippery earth.

Jazz evades your grasp attack.

 

Catechism loves having a useful numerical advantage. Given that Fleet has decided to get in close to the target, she refrains from shooting, not wanting to hit her fellow Seeker. Catechism doesn't go in close herself, because she doesn't want any of her comrades to shoot her. Instead, she flies up and above Jazz to wait for a better chance. <no attack>

 

And he's trapped. Outnumbered-- and still able to duck. Well. All but the ball lightning-- which makes something start smoking. Uh. Jazz? You were going to call for help, weren't you? Guess what that lightning did to your radio? It'll make a pretty modern art sculpture now. "Ghh...." Jazz is, in a word, frustrated at the moment. A mental command brings a familiar launcher into being on the Meister's shoulder. "Classified, huh? Guess I'll hafta work harder t'get it." The natural inclination is to target the closest-- oh. Yellow. It's Fleet. Er... Poor little seeker.

You evade Jazz's Seeker Missile attack.

 

Catechism has disconnected.

 

Cement Truck <Mixmaster>, having taken a shot already, isn't even the target anymore! What luck! The Constructicon transforms back into robot mode (stationary large machinery are ususally insanely easy to target,) and fires yet another chemical concoction of his: A high-power acid. If he hasn't melted much of Jazz, this should surely eat a whole through him!

The Cement Truck's cab folds down and splits in two, forming Mixmaster's legs and feet. His wheels and part of his sides shift out into his arms, which push himself up. The Constructicon lifts himself up onto his feet and looks eagerly for something to smelt.

Mixmaster strikes Jazz with Wide-Angle Acid Spray!.

 

Now now, not nice bringing out the big guns... Arachnae catches the sight of the slicked ground and then that flash of yellow as Fleet makes move to unbalance the target. A flick of wings to propel her up, a simple pop-flash of bootjets to propel her fowards and she draws in for a glide by slashing mere seconds after Mixmaster sprays acid on the unlucky autobot. She pulls something off of a wing, something that for a moment seems nothing more than a spar before the light catches the faint gleam of edges. The sword isn't in position for a full backed swing, however but she does flick-swing it in passing, aiming at Jazz. Or more so the laucher. Disarm and it get far easier. "Oh.. You'll find out soon enough. However, I'm not stupid enough to discuss it in pu-blic."

Arachnae strikes Jazz with Sword-slash.

 

You gotta love the dance! Fleet rolls to the right, a robot-mode version of a barrel roll done to avoid the rocket, then rights himself and twirls around, stopping his forward momentum just in time to avoid crashing into another tree, arm raised before he's even come around to fully face the Autobot. From his position he does have a clear shot at Jazz, being 'side-ways' to his and Arachnae's battle, and with the failure of his last tactic he's eager to get back to contributing.

 

....As for the rocket? Well, there was a tree behind him.  Since the rocket didn't hit the robot, it's up to Jazz's player what gets hit, although the robots may have a forest fire on their hands here shortly.

You strike Jazz with Shoulder-Mounted Laser.

 

That'd be a mini-forest fire back there. Not that Jazz can see it right now. He's kinda busy staggering at the sudden barrage of hits. Yes. There's a nice bunch of acid holes going through his armour-- then a sword going through the connection of the launcher to his shoulder-- before he can send it back to subspace, it falls to the ground with a *splat*. Ew. Right in Mixmaster's goo. "Nghh.." Flickering optics, and he's still trying to raise that rifle. He might not last much longer, but he sure as heck isn't about to give up. Not without a fight. Oh Mixmaster? You're standing still. Guess what?

Jazz strikes Mixmaster with Photon shot.

 

Mixmaster is too busy giggling at the fact that he managed to melt holes into Jazz's frame AND slip up on his slick that he forgets to dodge the Meister's cannon blast when he shoots! "Ghaaa!" The Constructicon yipes as he catches the blast on his side, leaving a healthy crater where the blast connected. "I'd drain your energon dry for that!" he snaps as he returns fire with his own gun.

Mixmaster strikes Jazz with Laser Pistol! (High).

 

Arachnae touches ground for but a moment after her sword makes it's connection, getting rid of the launcher on the target. Wings hunch over her shoulders, giving her the momentary illusion of being a gargoyle in a cememtary. Then she moves again, turning back to the fray, gripping the blade with both hands and leaping to strike at Jazz from something less than decorus, the rear. This time the swing is set for a full backing of mass and momentum.

Arachnae strikes Jazz with Phase-Blade <Solid>.

 

Fleet once more 'jumps' up (not literally, of course, as he isn't standing on anything to begin with), flying this time above the battle to fire down as he passes overhead, keeping himself in a position to continue striking at the Autobot with minimum risk of hitting the semi-sweep. At the top of his climb is when he fires his weapons, tumbling immediately afterwards so that when he near-lands, he's once more facing the combatants.

You strike Jazz with disruptor.

Jazz falls to the ground unconscious.

 

Well. Yes. Jazz has been very conscious that his life is in serious danger in this battle. Probably about the time that he realized his radio was out-- and Arachnae's blade goes in through his back, out through the chest. Optics widen behind the visor, barely comprehending-- before Fleet's shot connects through one of the acid holes. Smoke. Limpness. The Meister is down, without a quip for people to remember him by.

 

Arachnae slowly pulls blade out of the falling form of Jazz, optics gleaming brilliantly. "Excellent." quiet tone as the target falls. "Before any rescue forces arrive." The blade is stowed and she kneels, working out how best to grab on. A pause, systems tensing and she hefts the bot in both arms like one would carry a bride across a threshold. "Time to head back. Excellent work." Wings flex outwards, she crouches and leaps upwards, target in arms. She may look delicate, but evidently apperences *are* decieving.

 

Mixmaster giggles at the righteous victory, before finding something funny... over there. Yeah. Over there. So off he goes, as his player needs to sign off. Whee!

 

Mixmaster has disconnected.

 

Fleet looks frankly... shocked! as Jazz falls with his hit. It takes him a moment to bring his mind out of combat mode. He works to clear his mind as he slowly lowers his arm, but he is built a weapon and cannot help but take pleasure in violence until the pain starts... and this time there is no pain! An enormous grin splits his face, and he leaps up after the neosweep, transforming as he goes.

 

Arachnae will give Fleet personal congratulations on a mission well done once the test subject is properly stowed at base.

 

* Spinny! *

 

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.

 

Contents:

Arachnae

Scrapper's Art <SA> - Fourteen Pieces

MSE CO OFFICE (Earth)

Gumby Medic <NCC>

Obvious exits:

 South <S> leads to NCC Central Command.

 Southeast <SE> leads to NCC Central Hub.

 East <E> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

 

Arachnae strides into medical... after entering the city.. after not heading towards any brigspace.. and heads for her lab.

With Jazz.

 

Fleet has been following Arachnae this whole time, so he's fully aware of this. He stops here, however, considering the lab 'Nae Space.'

 

Arachnae pauses at the door to her lab, "Fleet, mind tapping the door open. Hands are full." Wry tone as her mask slides away to reveal a grin.

 

Fleet nods. "Erm... Okay." He reaches towards the door, the way he holds his hand making it seem as though it's going to bite him. He taps the panel to open the door and steps back, very quickly. You'd think he was worried that something would jump out and get him!

 

Something could jump out and bite.. Usually. But tonight, as the doors open there is glipse of shrouded forms on tables set up inside.. wint the faint beep-click of medical monitors in place. "Thank you, Fleet." She steps into the doorway, "You did exceptionally well out there. Pull yourself an additional energon ration." With that, she dissapears into the 'office' with the target, starting to hum to herself even as the door slides shut and locks with a click behind her.

 

Arachnae has left.

 

================================= Decepticon =================================

Message: 2/9                       Posted        Author

Mission accomplished               Tue Jan 11    Arachnae

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brief mission to extract a test subject for ongoing project was a success. Fleet, Catechism and Mixmaster's assistence in this was highly useful and all are to be commended for quickness of requested performence of duties. Arachnae out.

==============================================================================