+ictime

IC Time on Earth: Sat Aug 31 12:26:30 2024

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:

Chimera

Jazz - Corpse

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.

Chimera idly sits on a medical table, waiting her turn. Because it's not like she's really... well. Badly hurt or anything. Actually, she's smiling broadly. And... probably enjoying it. She swings her legs randomly, and giggles.

Fleet walks in and sits near Chimera, although all he really needs is a refuel. Any damage he had from a couple of nights ago has healed up. He gives Chimera a somewhat curious glance as she giggles. He doesn't know this one well, but... random giggling is often a poor sign. Or maybe she just thought of something really funny. Hmm.

Chimera gives Fleet a glance, and feral grin. "Wasn't that fun?" She asks, kicking the air. Hey. The secretary got to go out and kick some butt. . . eek.

Fleet nods, smiling slightly. "Indeed it was." He leans backwards slightly, although, since he doesn't put his arms down to support himself (this would be hard, as his wings are in the way) his balance looks a little odd. "It's nice to accomplish a mission early, and have the option of staying in battle or leaving whenever you wish."

Chimera swings. Air. "Very nice... I almost wish the Autobot had lasted longer." She tilts her head, glances to where the medics are, and then shrugs, making her own wings wiggle a little. "Did you get your injuries taken care of?" Wow. She actually noticed that someone shot Fleet.

Fleet shakes his head. "It was just the one hit. Autorepair system handled it. I was half-way back to full operational efficiency before I even left the battle. Well, aside from the fuel." He glances over at Chimera. "You seem to have trouble getting their attention."

Chimera makes a face, "They're mad at me for coming in too often." She tells Fleet. "By the time they get to me, I will probably be at 'operational efficiency', and they'll just have to polish out the dents." A shrug. She doesn't seem to mind the idea.

Fleet looks down at the scarred paint of his own shoulder and nods. "Yeah, I suppose I should really take care of the repaint. Unfortunately, my colors are a bit hard to come by." He shrugs. "Maybe it really is time I considered a new color scheme."

Chimera tilts her head, studies the paint. And then shakes her head, "No... it wouldn't be you." She answers, and swings a green leg of her own. "It's a part of who you are by now. Like... green is a part of me."

[Friends] Mirage has connected.

Fleet looks down at himself. "So I'm yellow?" he asks. Having little experience with terran cultures, he's unaware of just how appropriate his question is. "I suppose you're right, though. I'd feel strange in a different color scheme. And really, with our kind, sometimes colors are all others have to tell us apart. If I were to go for something more common, others might get confused."

Chimera shrugs, not particularly liking the idea of being 'common' herself. "Sets you apart." She says after a minute of frowning. "And... changes do feel strange."

Fleet sits up a little straighter and gives Chimera a curious look. Odd comment, that. Ah, well. The place is full of odd ones. It gets to the point where you're only strange if you're normal. But he does have to agree to an extent. "Yeah. Coming to this planet was quite a change... used to be, I was good at being overlooked, despite my color. Then recently, things have just... gone weird on me. I've got the attention of sorts that... I never would have expected." Here he thinks of Geist, although the statement could be applied to Arachnae as well. Or hell, Comcast. Since transferring, he seems to deal regularly with every department head but his own.

Chimera gives a tilt of her head that might be a shrug, and might be a nod. "Strange things happen." secretive smile on her lips. "The universe is very strange."

A bark of laughter escapes Fleet's vocalizer. "Oh, this is defiantly very true!" he exclaims. He grins and shakes his head. "Very true indeed." Really, it was one of those things that it's hard to argue with. Especially when you're dealing with the sorts of people day-in and day-out that Fleet has been dealing with. But he gives Chimera a sideways glance. "I just used to be better at avoiding the bigger cases of strangeness, is all. Somewhere along the way, I've lost the talent." It was that transfer to Charr, dammit! He apparently left his talent for avoiding weirdness back on Cybertron when he got sent to Charr!

Chimera gives Fleet a huge grin. "Welcome to the wild wierd world of oddities" she tells him, "You're lucky that you didn't loose it earlier--" She lost hers.. uh... did she ever have one? Nope.

Catechism arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Catechism has arrived.

Catechism needs a refuel. No, honestly, she does. As such, she paces over to gumby medic and sees about doing just that.

Fleet pulls his feet onto the meditable and crosses them, looking at them thoughtfully. Odds are he's actually /thinking/ about something else, not his legs, but they happen to be the location where his optics are turned. "Yes," he murmurs softly. "Unfortunately, this may mean I'll have to devise a new survival strategy." Ah, joy. When you start getting mentioned in official reports and even *shudder* commended, it gets harder and harder to play dumb and incompetent grunt. But now he feels like he's gone from a league where he can more then hold his own to one where regularly, he feels badly overmatched.

Chimera smirks, "There are other ways of surviving." She mentions, and swings her own legs. Again. Kicking air. "By blending in with the wierdness."

Fleet gives Catechism a nod of acknowledgement before turning an amused glance towards Chimera. "Well, as established earlier, yellow doesn't really blend in very well around here."

Chimera peeks over at the very helpful conehead. (hi Catechism!), nods, then shrugs at Fleet. "It's just a color. Could be worse-- you could be pink."

Catechism nods to the other Decepticons in a vaguely friendly wat. Then, with hopefully better luck than she had with the broom closet, she inquires about getting a refuel.

Catechism asks the Gumby Medic for refueling. The medic complies.

Gumby Medic <NCC> refuels Catechism.

Pink? What's wrong with pink? It's a fine Decepticonly color... well, provided it wasn't your only color. Or you were a female. Honestly, all those pink female Autobots... that's almost painful to look at! Although actually, it may be the point. But Fleet really doesn't feel like arguing color anymore, even if he was the fool who brought it up, so he just shrugs a shoulder and drifts into his thoughts.

Chimera sorta wanders off after that. She's random sometimes, which completely fits. Next time you see her she might be totally serious. Or something.

Chimera has disconnected.

Arachnae has arrived.

Arachnae slips quietly into the area.

Catechism seems to perk up a bit once refueled, although it's a bit hard to tell with her. At least she didn't have some disasterous accident in the process. Once done, Catechism notes that Chimera seems to be gone, but Fleet's still around.

Fleet is sitting on a medtable with his legs crossed looking thoughtful, while Catechism is getting refueled. Oooo! Exciting. Both probably have some scorchmarks on their paintjobs or some such, but no real damage. He looks up at Catechism and leans back a little. "Hey, Catechism," he starts, something on the order of a polite greeting. By Decepticons standards, anyway. "I don't recall, but did you even take any hits last night?"

Wildrider arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Wildrider has arrived.

Wildrider walks into the medical bay running his arm around in a circle. He grumbles to himself but then chuckles actually liking the pain, if only a little. The stunticon glances around wondering what's all going on.

Catechism has an odd look on her face. Getting hit too much means you can't dodge, but not getting hit at all can mean that you're not doing enough. She shrugs and answers, just a hint of challenge in her tone in case the other Seeker wants to press the point, "No, I didn't."

Arachnae strides out of her office, a merry grin on her face, wings tipped back at a jaunty angle. She's not carting about her usual mug or datapad. No.. Oddly enough, she's got a sword in hand, or rather the hilt with the tip behind her (dont want to poke a technician after all).

Fleet, who is still sitting crosslegged on a meditable, gives Catechism a rather surprised look. Press the point? Him? Fleet himself is perfectly happy with a fight that leaves him unscratched, so Catechism's reaction confuses him a bit. Coneheads. Who can figure them? He shrugs. "I was just curious. Checking to see if you're currently fighting fit. I took a little damage that night, but I'm back up to full myself..." He flicks his left wing slightly, unconsciously.

Red F-15 Seeker <Comcast> has arrived.

Wildrider glances towards Nae, a grin on his own face, but that's only because he's not right, in the head. Wildrider shonders up to Arachnae and leans on a table. "Hey there, so what does a stunticon have to do to get a nurse give him an oil bath around here hum? Hehehehe."

Arachnae blinks as Wildrider saunters on over to her. She opens a cabinet, pulls out a grinding stone and leans back, sharpening her sword as wings flick behind her, "Not piss off the CO?" wry tone, "Actually..." lilting purr to her tone, someones pleased with herself, "Feel like wrecking a lamborghini with me? A yellow one?"

Catechism still has a bit of that odd look about her, but she seems calmer. Still with a touch of her earlier defensiveness, she waves a hand dismissively and insists, "Of course I'm fighting fit. I just needed a refuel, is all." The conehead glances at Fleet's wing, noting the twitch. Maybe that was where he got shot?

Comcast enters the repair bay, still damaged but happy. A report has been logged and is about to be filed, and the smiting of the eeeebil autobots has been done again.

Wildrider chuckles and shakes his head, "You know I can't help myself, it's just too fun! Yay!" He snaps his finger and points at Nae, "You bet I wanna wreck some pussy lamborghini. Stupid four cylinder freak." He smacks his fist into an open palm and cackles with glee.

Fleet is really just twitchy, honestly. Strange Catechism hasn't picked that up by now. He slips off the table and wanders in Arachnae's direction, nodding to Catechism first to indicate that he thinks something might be stirring that could use their attention.

Arachnae chuckles, evidently Wildrider doesn't irritate her. For some reason. Wings flicks she eyes her sword and runs the stone along the edge again. "I know I know..." She eyes her sword again, brushing a talon along the edge before smiling. "Good. I think it is time for the final piece to be retrieved."

Is it really that strange? Catechism does have a bad habit of being oblivious, after all. She follows Fleet, glancing at Wildrider and Arachnae. The conehead tilts her head a little to one side, wondering what's going on here.

Wildrider grins wide, joker style and says, "Oh? Final piece huh? What's this final piece? Something on that worthless autobot's hide maybe?" He pulls his bowie knife from subspace and runs a finger over the edge with his thumb, "Want me to skin it off his hull hum?"

Comcast goes up to one of the medics pottering about in the medical ward. A small green casetticon, whose name is Bead-Blast. "Refuel." The Seeker demands of the little one. Bead-Blast opens up a small cabinet and gets out an energon cube, shimmering with the pink shimmering goodness that only high-grade energon can provide. Comcast takes a few gulps, before adding, "And a repair."

Comcast asks the Gumby Medic for refueling. The medic complies.

Gumby Medic <NCC> refuels Comcast.

Chimera wanders through the medical center, back towards the place where she was sitting before. Silly momma's girl. She so enjoys watching mom get ready to go out and stab things to death. Almost as much as watching her stab things to death. Which is close behind... well... anything.

Fleet finds a spot near Arachnae to listen, blissfully unaware of his recent, dreaded promotion. He's just trying to avoid getting cannoned for doing a bad job, and his job is raids, which is something this is shaping up to be. "They're going to be very riled up by now," he comments softly, even if it is pointing out the obvious. Sometimes people need it pointed out.

Arachnae chuckles, putting her sword away along a wingseam. "Actually, the piece I need is inside the yellow one, Wildrider." Wry smile, "Need to.. remove it from it's host." She looks up, watching the movement of Fleet as he draws near and Catechism. Attention flicks to Comcast and she directs a polite nod in that seekers direction. "Thank you all so much for the effort in retrieving the subject." Wings flick and settle behind her as she begins to speak in a clear, low tone.

"Exactly, Fleet. They are going to be much more quick to respond and more than likely to respond in larger numbers. Which means that the last piece to this project needs to be retrieved before they can pull their collective.. spoilers up and get their heads out of their little holes in the ground. With what we have already gathered, I can be certain that the last one can be lured out. However, as much as I would like to deride the intelligence of this one, he would be foolish to come out alone. Which is why I am asking for volunteers for this mission and will completly understand if you choose to remain in base for standard patrols." She passes her gaze from seeker to seeker to the stunticon and back. "Well?"

Chimera would so be volunteering for this, if it wasn't for the fact that she's probably going to get herself in trouble for leaving medical before repairs are complete again. As it is... isn't Arachnae pretty when she goes off on a rant?

Comcast looks up from his energon cuble while Bead-Blast gets out a miniature medical kit, designed for smaller hands. "Always a pleasure, Arachnae." He says with a smirk. "It was a pleasure. Especially considering how I got to finally wipe the smile off of that irritating Smokescreen." He points to Bead-Blast. "You know I'd like to help you Arachnae, but I just can't. Sorry."

Comcast asks Gumby Medic <NCC> to fix him.

Gumby Medic <NCC> begins work on Comcast's minor injuries.

Wildrider does not even wait for Arachnae to say well. As soon as last full sentence is finished, he cackles, "You betcha! Let's rip some components from that sunnystreaker fragger! He dares call him self a car, I'll put tire tracks across his codpiece and kick it a cybertronian mile! Hehehe, yeah!"

Fleet, still not realizing that it's time to start avoiding the high profile missions, pauses. He looks around. A good-sized group. And frankly, /anything/ they do at this point is going to get a big response, and they just can't /stop/ their attacks. That's likely to get them more hurt then doing them. What's more, they're going to be even more riled up if they achieve their target tonight, and a few injuries tonight will provide as good an excuse as any to avoid going back out there the next few days... Using his own specialized sort of reasoning, he finally comes to the conclusion that he should volunteer for this one. "Erm, I'll go, Arachnae." Not much enthusiasm, but hey.

Catechism is still feeling a bit out of sorts from Fleet's earlier line of questioning. So what if she didn't get shot? She's useful, scrapit. To prove just how useful she is, Catechism is of course going to volunteer for this dangerous mission. Lovely. Thus, the conehead nods enthusiastically and says, "I'm in!"

Arachnae tips a wingtip towards Comcast, "I understand. Damage takes time to recover from." She peers at Fleet for a moment, "Alright and thank you for your assistence in this." A lopsided grin given to Wildrider. "Thought you'd be up for this." A wingtip to Catechism, "Good. Need to insure that all the proper pieces have been delivered." She peers at Chimera with a brow lifted.

Chimera smiles at Arachnae, "If you wish me to accompany you, I will, Ma'am." She answers. "My injuries were light."

Arachnae peers at Chimera.. "Not according to the reports I got. Why don't you go check on the second subject and insure that it isn;t going anyplace?"

Chimera does the grumblyface thing. Disappointed? Sure. But she's perking up at the idea of checking on subject number 2. It's not dead. "As you wish, Ma'am."

Wildrider cackles and runs his thumb over the blade of his knife. Unfortuetly, he cuts into his thumb. Wildrider yelps and sticks his thumb in his mouth before throwing the knife on the floor, "Stupid knife! The edge was sharp!" It thuds into the ground and sticks in with a slight wobble.

Chimera skedaddles on outta here, and towards the dungeons. Her favorite haunt. Other than the medical center.

Chimera moves south to the NCC Central Command.

Chimera has left.

Arachnae transmits a message via radio to Sunstreaker.

Arachnae receives a radio transmission from Sunstreaker.