Sky above New Crystal City

The air above the island is rough and turbulent, but it does little to hide what lies below. Instead of the rocky islands typical of this region of the Pacific, there is an enormous, blueish metal structure of some kind, like an outlandish, oversized oil-drilling platform. Huge sparkling spires stretch up into the skies, massive squat domes litter the island, and tall sky-scrappers loom over the ground, all made of solid metal. The city is currently in battle mode, and one can see huge cannons and missile turrets targeting any invaders. The entire coastline has been lined with long-ranged weaponry to ward off any invasion.

Contents:

Blackmail

Obvious exits:

Fly <Up> Plaza <P> Spaceport <S> Coastline <C> R'Lyeh <R> Central Hub <H>

Blackmail flies up from the beach head, after bursting out of a sandbank, her sleek diamond shape Cybertronian mode shooting like a black arrowhead.

A yellow pyramid-style jet is dipping and weaving lazily through the sky, twisting and turning in graceful arcs and turns that seem to serve no real purpose. The movements are slow and languid despite the buffeting winds. In fact, they almost seem to be in defiance of them.

Blackmail pauses in mid-air, another Cybertronian mode seeker was a strange sight on this planet, hovering a distance from him she called out. "Hey, Canary, what on Cybertron are you doing in my air-space?" Wow, a nickname and an insult within the first few moment of meeting him, she was feeling generous.

At Blackmail's call the yellow jet's barrel roll stabilizes and he goes into a more... standardized flight pattern. He gives something of a jerking motion the moment after the other shouted, indicating that he was taken off-guard. *Blast... did she see?* he wondered. What he radios back, however, is, "Nothing. That is, I'm not doing anything on Cybertron because, sadly, that's not where I am. But, erm... what's a Canary?" His voice over the radio is firm and calm, but there's a somewhat... embarrassed undertone?

A small snicker comes from the Black customised Seeker. "A Canary is an earth avian, small, helpless and yellow" She states and gracefully cuts her engines, lazily gliding towards him as if the air was simply a tool for her amusement. Cutting her engines back in only to stabilize her flight. "Let me guess, you were slacking off..."

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) doesn't reply to the other's explanation, although he does bank slightly as the other approaches. "As so happens," he replies, a touch of annoyance in his message, "I was engaged in combat only a few hours earlier, and am still recovering. I was only recently transferred to this planet for the first time, and decided to use the time to get used to their atmospheric conditions."

The Black seeker hrrms "Well good as an excuse as any I suppose, it took me a while to get my 'earth wings'" She flies around casually, "So, why were you transfered to the mudhole?"

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) goes into another languid arc, although the flight pattern is considerably less showy than it had been before he had been aware of the other's arrival. "Not sure. Think I pissed off a supervisor, but whoever it was didn't let me know who or why, so I'll never be certain."

Swooping in and out of the clouds the black seeker, seems to be lazily circling the 'newcomer' "I don't beleive I caught your designation? I am Blackmail." She states in a more friendly voice.

'Blackmail,' the other thinks sourly. 'And she saw me dancing. Just... wonderful.' However, his radioed voice reflects none of these musings as he matches her general level friendliness. "I'm Fleet," he says, turning his nose down just slightly and twisting into another barrel roll.

Blackmail does usually live up to her name, but until she knows a little more about Fleet's 'buttons' he's relatively safe. She does her infamous 'sonic dive', climbing to quite a height before diving at soundbreaking speeds and pulling up in a snap, causing a loud 'whipping' sonic boom. "Fleet, I'll remember that." She states.

It's something of an oddity, that Fleet seems to be "showing off" LESS now that he knows someone is watching. He finishes his barrel roll and Transforms, stopping suddenly in the air and hovering to watch the other. "That... would not surprise me," he answers, his tone carefully neutral.

Fleet transforms from pyramid jet to robot.

Blackmail stops and transforms too, she flies over to him, her head canted on one side with a grin. "You catch on quickly."

From under the black jet's engines emerge two legs at from just under the wings emerge two arms, the engines fold away as the wings lift and lock into place. The Cockpit retracts and folds back to reveal Blackmail's head, completing her transformation.

Fleet allows himself a slight, almost silly grin, part joke, part smirk. "So *that's* why they call me 'Fleet'!" he exclaims.

Blackmail doesn't laugh, she stays as somberfaced as she can and just stares at him.

Fleet shrugs, sighs, and shakes his head. "Erm, never mind," he adds, his expression sheepish and his voice embarrassed. He cuts his boot jets and anti-gravs suddenly, going into freefall, although if one watches one can see that he occasionally fires them back up to keep the fall from being completely uncontrolled.

NCC Central Hub

This is the very center of New Crystal City, and serves as the gateway to the other areas of the base. A feeling of claustrophobia exists here despite the fact that this part of the city is open to the air. Now in Battle Station Mode, the Central Hub has far less buildings than usual, as many have transformed themselves into huge laser defense cannons and missile turrets. There are very few positions one can take to hide from the weapons without being forced to take evasive action. The roadways have laser point-defense systems protecting them. The important buildings, including the medical ward and the command center now have a huge layer of thick metal protecting them, covering up the facilities and protecting them from harm.

Contents:

Trypticon <T>

Decepticon Sensor #1792

The Powerbase

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to Mount R'Lyeh.

Northeast <NE> leads to NCC Dungeon.

Northwest <NW> leads to NCC Medical Ward.

South <S> leads to NCC Coastline.

Southeast <SE> leads to NCC Residential Plaza.

Southwest <SW> leads to NCC Spaceport.

East <E> leads to NCC Arena.

West <W> leads to NCC Central Command.

Fly <Up>

Blackmail descends to the Sky above New Crystal City above.

Blackmail has arrived.

Blackmail descends too, landing gracefully behind the other Seeker, she snickers at his embarrassment with a cruel laugh.

Fleet turns his jets and anti-gravs back on at the last moment, allowing himself to touch down gracefully at the end. It's a trick he uses often, and perhaps it is a bit showy, but he loves it so. He looks back at the other, annoyance tingeing his expression, but doesn't see the point of starting any kind of argument, so instead he just asks, "So, is there anywhere around here where a 'Con can get something to drink, or do you have to return to Cybertron for that?"

Blackmail grins and ponders, usually she just got her energon off those who 'owed' it her... so to speak. She looks around, "Well, I can't say I've ever heard of a facility here for that, you might be as well to ask some other decepticon..." She states.

Fleet turns his optics skyward and shakes his head. "Blasted backwards flat wet germ-infested MUDBALL," he growls. "I never imagined I could hate a world so much after spending so little time on it, and I'm including Charr there!"

Blackmail grins "Well I look on the bright side, more to kill then on Charr." She says cheerfully.

Fleet eyes Blackmail warily, then shrugs. "Yeah, but if you're not careful you have to scrape them off when you're done, and that takes awhile," he replies almost casually. He looks up at the sky again, hands on his hips. "Don't know why I landed. Just seemed like the thing to do at the moment, I suppose."

Blackmail shrugs "Probably felt like the right thing to do." she looks around, "It's quiet around here lately..." She states.

Fleet lowers his head and tilts it slightly, giving the impression that he's looking at Blackmail out of the corners of his optics. "'Quiet around here lately'... would that be before or after the horrible rage-inducing virus swept through?" he asks warily.

Blackmail blinks and purses her lips in thought, "Huh? I've been buried under tons of sand and mud for 4 months... don't tell me a miss loads of fun..."

Fleet's optics flicker in surprise and he snaps his head up, regarding Blackmail curiously. "'Buried under tons of sand and mud'? How'd *THAT* happen?" He paused for a moment and murmured thoughtfully, "And if that is the case, I would imagine that it HAS been quiet for you..."

Blackmail explains "It was after a battle, I was flying back badly damaged and I hit the water at full speed, slamming into the mud, thankfully I managed to activate my force sheild, but it knocked me off line"

Fleet nods thoughtfully, considering. By now, the other might have noticed that his tone of voice and stance is, in general, less certain, more... nervous than it was in the sky. "Well, that would do it, I suppose. But anyway, the 'fun' you missed would be a hate-inducing plague that, to my knowledge, primarily spread among the Autobots on Cybertron. However, as a result of it, all of our bases were placed into lock-down and the spacebridges were keyed to Lord Galvatron and Commander Cyclonus, only. So afore mentioned 'fun' would have consisted primarily of being locked in the city and not allowed to go anywhere."

Blackmail nods and frowns "Well that doesn't sound much fun, any Autobots die at least?"

Fleet shrugs, turning his palms towards the sky. "I wouldn't know. I was stuck on Charr! But for the duration we were ordered to not view ourselves as 'Autobots' and 'Decepticons' but as 'Infected' and 'Cybertronians,' anyway. I have my doubts as to how effective *THAT* went, but since there were only 'Cybertronians' who happened to have little purple-pointy faces on them on Charr, I really don't have any first hand information on the matter."

Blackmail nods "That's a shame really, I enjoy a good punch up." she snickers, "You look nervous, it's unbecomming of a decepticon." She states in her more 'mature' cybertronian voice. "I remember when we were all cybertronian's anyway."

Fleet holds himself still for a moment when Blackmail points out his nervousness, then glares at the other. "And what would you rather? Threats? Bravado? Boasts?" He growls, leaping up lightly and firing up his jets and hovering in the air. "You know, at this point I don't even know why I'm still talking to you!"

Blackmail frowns and looks up "Why do the young ones have such faulty emotional circuits." She leaps after him "Because I'm probably the most attractive seeker you've seen thus far." She quips with a teasing yet evil voice.

Fleet snarls, regaining his confidence now that he's back in the air. "This may have escaped your notice, but outside of color scheme and a few variations of weight, build, and face, we seekers all look pretty similar. Beyond that, we are *war* machines. We are supposed to look intimidating. 'Attractive' could be considered a design flaw." With that he kicks up the power output of his boots, jetting upwards.

Blackmail grins "Now you sound like a seeker..." She states, almost proudly. She was like a cat tormenting a mouse almost

Fleet, warrior in the sky, weakling when grounded, only continues his assent, refusing the feline her satisfaction. This mouse seeks to change the rules, preferring a game that favors him.

Sky above New Crystal City

The air above the island is rough and turbulent, but it does little to hide what lies below. Instead of the rocky islands typical of this region of the Pacific, there is an enormous, blueish metal structure of some kind, like an outlandish, oversized oil-drilling platform. Huge sparkling spires stretch up into the skies, massive squat domes litter the island, and tall sky-scrappers loom over the ground, all made of solid metal. The city is currently in battle mode, and one can see huge cannons and missile turrets targeting any invaders. The entire coastline has been lined with long-ranged weaponry to ward off any invasion.

Obvious exits:

Fly <Up> Plaza <P> Spaceport <S> Coastline <C> R'Lyeh <R> Central Hub <H>

Blackmail flies up from NCC Central Hub.

Blackmail has arrived.

Blackmail practically 'swims' up, grin fixed to her face. "So, tell me asides from being such an amusement, what do you do asides be cannon fodder?"

"Well, perhaps if you spent less time hiding in the sand," sneared the other over his radio, to be more easily heard over the winds, "you'd already know." He begins spinning, transforming as he does, leveling off in a barrel roll.

Blackmail's wings unlatch as her cockpit rises over her head, her legs retract as her engine's expand and her arms fold away to just under her wings.

Blackmail transforms also, her jet mode was weaponless, and thusly designed more for speed.

Blackmail flies up to Fleet, keeping her speed steady as she cruises in the sky "I think I've found out she sneers..."

The yellow jet's flying pattern gets more elaborate as he goes. He makes a sharp turn to the left, then dives suddenly before twirling again and leveling off. There is a note of... challenge in his actions. While he notes Blackmail's lack of weaponry, and worries that perhaps she makes up to it in maneuverability, at this point he's too annoyed to back down. "Ah, now I know why I'm still talking to you!" the sky dancer radios back. "You keep *following* me!"

Blackmail fires her afterburners and shoots off, what she lacks in general speed, she makes up for in an enhanced velocity. She streeks through the sky "Keep talking young Canary, we'll see who has the last laugh..."

In fact, Fleet does NOT keep talking. To preserve his concentration, he makes it a policy not to speak during dance or battle and this... this was both. Straight-line velocity was all well and good, but this little bird knows better than to fly straight. He banks sharply to the right, arcing smoothly into a dive. The black cat could run as fast as she wants, but she'll need more than forward-moving-velocity to catch THIS little yellow bird!

Blackmail watched the birdy's little dance as she arched upwards in a spiralling twist and banking to the left, mirroring his flight before turning into a reverse loop, pirouetting into a sharp dive. "Fancy flying my canary." She mocks with amused tones.

'That,' thought yellow bird, though he does not actually reply with sound or radio-wave, 'Is exactly the point.' He quickly pulls out of his own dive, his beak going from turned down to turned up faster than any human craft would be able to mirror. Now he is regaining altitude, flying upwards in a tight spiral, twisting along his own longitudal axis as he does so. Perhaps bird shall buzz cat?

Blackmail turns on her central axis, using her cybertronian atmospheric jets in earth atmosphere, the result would be a pretty fancy flash of light, and a sharp turn that would rip lighter hulls to shreads, with her engines still on full burn this has the result of what can only be described as the aerial equivilant to smoking one's tires.

Shock! Scandal! But what is this? Canary on the ground becomes hawk in the sky? But who dyed the poor bird's feathers yellow?! Were his face in evidence, the other could have perhaps seen that it was smirking as the cat changes directions. Yellow bird levels off once on the same plane as black cat, prepared to harry the poor feline as only a darting little thing can. Perhaps cat could outrun bird, but if it did, it would be... well... running.

Blackmail flies towards Fleet, her body turning like a drill as she heads towards the other jet, she was old, but obviously not all that wise, she heads for a course with Fleet, but who would turn first? the cat or the canary?

Yellow bird stays his course, confident in his ability to flit away at the last instant, if it comes to that. In the air, it doesn't take much, a minute, precise tilt of the steering flaps to twist at the last second, passing black cat by microns if it comes to that. He won't go down its maw, oh no, oh no, but if cat is foolish enough try to touch nose to beak, he knew he could duck at the last millisecond.

Blackmail isn't however confident at her armour or flight skills, as they get close she pulls up hard, cursing the canary.

Who has the last laugh? By the curses, not the cat! The yellow jet slows his forward momentum, twisting once more into a lazy barrel roll. "So... was THAT more becoming of a seeker?" he radios back smugly.

There is a mutters as the cat rights herself, "Silence.." She mutters

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) begins turning his nosecone downwards once more, heading back in for a landing. "Thank you for that," he radios back, and strangely, he sounds sincere. "I did enjoy our little dance... perhaps we can do it again sometimes?" Okay, so it's not totally sincere. There's still a *hint* of Decepticon smugness... but it's only a hint, which still ranks him as rather polite on the Decepticon scale.