IC Time on Earth:Wed Jul 24 17:39:14 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:

Earthscorch

Hook

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.

Fleet is refueling at the moment. Yeah, that's it. From in between all the scoutings and raids and such. Since, after all, as Fulcrum mentioned, the Seekers have to work on keeping up with the rest of the Empire with the raiding and re-supplying and such.

Hook appears to be dialing through radio stations on the medbay computer. "Blast it all" he mutters. "I /told/ Scrapper the dish is off by 0.002 degrees, but did he listen? Noooooo!"

Which means that Chimera should probably be helping more than she has been. Slacker.

Chimera does wander through the bay, heading for the exit towards the mountain. Of course, she does manage to pause and give a glance at the yellow seeker. And a nod towards Scrapper's brother. Yeah. She almost misses Scrapper. Almost...

Fleet looks up at Chimera as she passes. Chimera... she strikes him as an odd one. He doesn't really know much about her yet, however. He nods his head in greeting. "Chimera," he says politely as she walks by.

Hook gives the console an irritated smack, which suddenly fills the medbay with classical music. Hook blinks. "Ah, yes" he says, turning to nod back at Chimera, as if he meant to do that all along

Chimera pauses, nods towards Fleet. "Fleet." Of course, she's got no real reason to be anywhere right now. Aimless wandering. It's what's for dinner. Along with the Energon Pi.

The yellow one jerks sharply and spins to look in the direction of the radio, pondering the terran originated noise. "Tha- what's-" he pauses a moment, then gives up. "Never mind." He listens for a bit, but can't make much of it. Rather limited range, really, although he's read the frequency range of human hearing was equally limited.

Hook hums along to what turns out to be "Ode to joy", the perfect counterpart for giant robots doing... stuff. "Human music" Hook replies to Fleet. "When we enslave the humans and force them to toil for us I'll ask Lord Galvatron if I can have a few to make this sort of thing for me."

Chimera tilts her head, listens for a moment. "Bay-toven." She finally says, frowning. Of course, she could like this music for all anyone knows. She's just going to stand here and frown at it. "I liked the ones that performed for Galvatron better."

"But their audial range is so limited," Fleet pointed out. "Why couldn't we develop music of our own? Something that takes advantage of our expanded senses?" Really, this terran taint was getting out of hand. They were Decepticons! They could be so much more!

<OOC> Fleet puts that in present tense. "Sorry. ezBoard RP is past tense, MUSH is present, but sometimes I get mixed up."

<OOC> Hook thinks we should all MUSH in future tense

<OOC> Chimera will.

"Well... uh.. Flip" Hook will reply, "Other xenotypes do have music with a wider range. But sadly, our sensors aren't configured to pick up their transmissions." He will roll his optics. "Something about it being a "waste of resources" or some nonsense."

<OOC> Fleet will throttle Hook.

<OOC> Hook promises not to do that anymore. :p

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Chimera pauses at a sudden radio transmission, and if anything that expression on her face turns to one that clearly says 'what the hell?'. And she steps backwards to reply.

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Fleet narrows his eyes. "So instead we copy this organic species that's younger than most of our individuals, because we've created in ourselves such a cultural void that we'll fill it with whatever we encounter rather than coming up with something that's _ours_?" This appears to be something of a sore point for him... good thing he's distracted by Chimera's actions, or he would probably be winding up for a genuine Fleet-rant.

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Hook blinks. "Who's copying what now?" he asks. "My dear.. Flaunt, I'm merely /listening/ to it. Were there any Cybertronian musicians on this Primus-forsaken rock, or if Lord Galvatron allowed what he calls "pointless" long distance broadcasts, I would be listening to that. Do try not to overheat your processor"

Chimera's got one optic going wide, one going narrow as she . . . starts to look around. Is she... sniffing the air? And then replies.

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

By this point, Fleet is more than a little distracted and even a little concerned with Chimera's behavior. Not that he has any reason to worry about her, mind, but he's concerned about how it might affect him. Still, he's paying enough attention to snarl out, "Well, if you're so damned superior, why don't you try learning a bit of it yourself?"

Chimera shakes her head, as the transmission comes again. Okay. Both optics wide. Uhhh....

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Chimera receives a radio transmission from DepthCharge.

Hook raises an optic ridge, casting a glance at Chimera. "If you /must/ know, Flute, I play the Astrotrumpet" It's true! Watch the movie! "And extremely well, I might add." As Chimera pulls another crazy face, the Constructicon turns to face her. "Something wrong, Chimera?"

Chimera flinches suddenly, trying to resist the urge to smack her radio. Fails. SMACK SMACK SMACK. "Contamination."

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Chimera receives a radio transmission from DepthCharge.

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Although Fleet actually did have enough interest in Cybertronian music (what with it coming in handy for dancing and such) that he would have been interested in perusing the subject, by this point something else takes priority. "Contamination?" he asks, taking a few light, nervous steps in Chimera's direction.

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Hook casually presses a few buttons on the medbay console, the door sliding shut and sealing with an ominous hiss. "Contamination, you say?" Hook says, eyeing Chimera warily. "Explain."

And if robots blink, Chimera is certainly blinking a lot. "Maintainance is reporting a problem... and---" Okay. RADIO.

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Chimera shakes her head, "From the vents. In here." She's being short. Maybe because she's not getting a lot of helpful information from whoever's on the other end of the radio.

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Fleet's optics widen in alarm and he looks around, as though it might be something he can perhaps see. And... damn! He's on the inside, and it's already sealed. He takes a few steps towards Hook and lowers his audio output in an attempt not to be overheard by Chimera, "Is there anyone about who can intercept those transmissions? Maybe help figure out what's going on?"

PANIC! PANIC! PANIC!

Yup. Kimmie's looking a bit panicked right now. "Can you hear a high pitched ringing sound?" Frantic frantic.

Chimera transmits a message via radio.

Fleet shakes his head very slowly, looking at Chimera with a definite expression of wariness. "No... not really. Although it may be a good idea to turn the radio off..." he glances at Hook.

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

"Realllly" Hook replies, hitting another button and surrounding himeself with protective forcefields. Ah, medbay. What's it NOT equiped with. "Flange... if she shows any symptoms of the Hate Plague, do be sure to shoot her in the face, won't you?"

"Right, Nook," Fleet murmurs in response, crossing his arms as he emits a staticy sighing noise. He tilts his head up slightly and appears to be focusing his attention on the ceiling.

Chimera blink. Blink. Blink. "Nitricous gas... exposure." She's still got the radio on. "System reboot can... OH!" Stupid high pitched noises. Cutting out the necessary information.

Chimera transmits a message via radio to DepthCharge.

Hook switches on the recording equipment, focusing several cameras on Chimera. "Now.. Chimera" Hook says in a carefully neutral tone. "I'm going to run some things by you, if that's okay?"

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Fleet gives up. He just. Gives. Up. Obviously, making sense of this situation is beyond him, so instead he just uncrosses his arms (hard to use shoulder mounted weaponry when your arms are crossed) and settles in to watch, although he does take a moment to glower at Hook. "She's complaining of noises... so perhaps it will be a good idea to *turn* THAT noise off?" He'd reach over and do it himself, if it weren't for the damned force-field.

And if the panicked look wasn't enough, Chimera barely gets over nodding to Hook's first question, before she just starts hopping up and down on one leg. Wobble. Hop. Wobble. Hop. Wobble. Hop.

Chimera transmits a message via radio to DepthCharge.

"The noise helps me think" Hook replies calmly, adjusting the controls so that the cameras zoom in on one of Chimera's optics, the medbay displays showing the closeup image. Giving the hopping Chimera a lonnnnnnng look, he begins. "Now, Chimera - You're in a desert, walking along in the sand, when all of a sudden you look down.."

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Fleet looks at Hook. Looks at Chimera. Looks at Hook. Looks at Chimera. Obviously, he was dealing with two very different forms of insanity here, although one was considerably more subtle than the other. He does once more take a few steps in Chimera's direction, ready to flee should things go badly, but close enough to try and catch her if she should lose her balance.

"In a..." hop hop "Desert..." Hop..."OHH!" Chimera gets the last radio, and starts chanting something really fast. "DeeeCeee Roooools Meeee" Repeatedly. Yep. Someone's making a fool out of Kimmie. Not that that's really hard to do.

Hook ignores Chimera's rantings for now. Obviously she's gone crazy, or is infected with something, or both. "In a desert, yes. And you look down and you see a tortoise. Do you know what a Tortoise is, Chimera?"

Meanwhile, the medbay screens record every flicker, every movement of the femme's optics.

Earthscorch arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Earthscorch has arrived.

Fleet's jaw drops and he just stares blankly at Hook for a moment. Two moments. Three. Finally, he recovers his senses, growling, "Oh, for the-!" he walks in Chimera's direction, his steps light enough now that he hardly bothers to touch the ground, his motions indicating that he's ready to run away at any moment... but instead he holds out his right hand. "Come on, Chimera," he says quietly, his voice calm. "Let me help you to one of the medtables."

Chimera is still hopping on one foot. Chanting. It might sound interesting, if you actually listen to 'DeeCee Ruuuulez Meeeee' long enough. "It's not working!" She's gone to the point of ignoring silly old Hook. He can ask her whatever, and she's not going to bother with hypothetical questions anymore.

Earthscorch staggers in, not looking his best. His legs are all dented and a good number of little laser holes are burnt in him. He looks at the people moving around doing stuff, and asks, "What transpires here...?"

"No clue, Earthscorch, but you're welcome to try and figure it out. So does anyone know who 'DC' is, anyway?" asks the yellow robot as he tentatively tries to grasp Chimera's shoulder. Naturally, he's actions are not entirely altruistic - the medical tables have restraints, of course. He doesn't seem particularly worried about catching the crazy at this point, having thus far proven a bit more resistant to it than Hook himself.

Hook frowns. "Chimera, you're not being very helpful" he chides. He shakes his head. Poor crazy Chimera. Still, it might be catching, so it's better if Fleet helps her to the table. Of course, that means Fleet will probably catch the crazy too, but you can't win them all. "Deesy Rulesmi? What is that, some kind of code? Focus on the Tortoise here, Chimera!" Hook looks over at Earchscortch. "Watch out, mech!" he calls. "Chimera appears to have caught the Crazy!"

Earthscorch looks taken aback at Hook's words. "The crazy? What's wrong with her?" He peers closely at Chimera, as if to discover what ails her.

Fleet snaps at Hook, "She's saying 'D. C. rules me.' Who or what is a D. C.?"

"The human capital of the United States?" Earthscorch ventures.

Chimera stops hopping, as Fleet suddenly asks the right question, but puts a hand on her personage. Optics narrowed, she shrugs the hand off. "Nevermind. NEVERMIND." Pissed? Chimera? NAHHH.

Chimera transmits a message via radio to DepthCharge.

"DC, DC, DC.." Hook murmurs, then snaps his fingers. "Of course! Depth Charge! The Autobot scientist! he must be interfering with her somehow.. via radio, perhaps?" Yes, Hook is actually very intelligent. When he wants to be.

Earthscorch hurmphs. "Well, rip her radio out. That'll shut her up." He hefts himself onto a repair table and sits on it, watching with detached interest.

Chimera receives a radio transmission.

Fleet’s gray hand snaps back at Chimera's reaction, scuttling back a few steps. Still, he gives a sigh of relief as things seem to be reaching *some* sort of resolution. "Can't she just adjust her receiver's center frequency and bandwidth so that she doesn't have to listen to it?"

Chimera snarls. "He's shut up now. But I will kill him. Slowly." She's not rational, or reasonable. She might have to find a knife somewhere to do it as well... oh wait. She's got throwing blades.

Earthscorch says, "How powerful is this DepthCharge? I do not believe I've encountered him."

Hook hmms. "Interesting" he says, not lowering the forcefields. "By all accounts, he's combat capable, though not a specialist" Hook replies to Earthscorch. "Apparantly he took down Fulcrum single handedly, though that's hardly a feat" He eyes Chimera curiously again. "And how do you feel now?"

Chimera scowls at Hook. "I'm fine. Leave me alone." She's heading for the opposite door again. Snarky biatch.

Earthscorch ponders on this. He's not entirely sure he himself is any tougher than Fulcrum. "When I'm repaired, I'll be happy to help you destroy DepthCharge. I expect his head would make you a fine mug."

Emergency past, Fleet glides over to one of the tables. He places his right hand on it and uses it as a pivot point as he jumps a little, spins, and seats himself on the empty table. How does she feel? Pissed! Fleet could have told Hook that without asking! And, unlike the crazies, that emotion *did* seem to be contagious!

"His head would make a fine target." Chimera snaps as she pauses by the door. "I would not want to look at his loathesome face..." Or maybe... Ugh. Maybe she should just go shoot rocks or something.

"Are you sure you don't want to answer the tortoise question?" Hook calls. "No? Ah well." With a quick motion he switches off the forcefields and unseals the exits. "Perhaps some other time."

Fleet now puts both hands on the table, leaning back and once more looking at the ceiling. "Seekers are made for the sky. Stretch your wings, it'll help calm you down."

Yes, and Chimera isn't entirely seeker. But flying seems to be a good idea. Must fly!

Chimera moves east to the Mount R'Lyeh.

Chimera has left.

Earthscorch hurmphs. "She won't accomplish much with that attitude..." He looks over at Hook and asks, "'Tortoise question'? What do you mean by that, if I may ask?"

Hook looks to Earthscorch, idly moving the cameras as he does so to focus on the damaged mech's optics. Ambling over to the medtable, he picks up a medscanner and runs it over his frame. "A little.. cyberpsychological analysis" Hook replies.

Hook pulls out a medical scanner and runs a check on Earthscorch.

Earthscorch says, "My raid with Fleet left me in rather damaged condition. Frankly we're both lucky we're in as good a shape as we are, consider Rodimus Prime himself decided to show up."

Hook picks up a sonic screwdriver and begins work, carefully prising away dented and damaged armor plates. "Perhaps you should have run away quicker" Hook remarks, glancing up at the screens. "So. Earthscorch. You're in a desert..."

Hook begins work on Earthscorch's injuries.

Fleet pushes himself off the table, spending just a moment more in the air than perhaps he should have. "I managed to escape with minimal damage myself. My self repair systems have already taken care of it." He looks over at Earthscorch. "I'm glad to see you're being taken care of, though." He had meant what he said about Seekers being intended for the sky, and after what just happened he was ready to ride the winds again. He headed for the exit.

Earthscorch smirks as he watches Hook work on him with intense interest. "I couldn't resist taking the time to at least nick them up. I landed on the one they call Foxfire." He smirks more widely at the memory. "A small price to pay for that!"

Earthscorch nods at Fleet. "Yes, I believe we did rather well. I will look forward to working with you again."

Hook hmms. "Well, that is something" he admits, soldering together some of Eartschorch's damaged circuitry. "You have to take time for the important things in life."

Fleet appears rather startled. That was the first time in recent history someone had told him *that*! "Erm... likewise," he replies, and it's an honest enough answer. After all, if Earthscorch hadn't been there, all three of the Autobots would have been focusing their fire on Fleet himself, and that was certainly not acceptable! With that, the yellow seeker heads out, ready to take his own advice and stretch his wings a little.