=================================
Decepticon =================================
Message:
2/3 Posted Author
Grah! Tue Apr 05 Galvatron
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*Galvatron
appears*
"The most recent turns of events have
been, how shall we say, LESS THAN FRESH! Where are my raids? Where is my mass
groups of technology? Where are robots other than my CoC without THUMBS in
their arses? NYAH! I am personally going to start taking charge of things. Do
you know what that means? Prepare yourselves. The price of failure is once
again nigh!
==============================================================================
Carbombya
The grassy hills and savannas in the
east, bordered by ancient volcanos and sprawling lava fields, are the only part
of Carbombya not made up of barren desert. Until recently, the country depended
on meager livestock herding and subsistence agriculture, but upon the discovery
of a huge reserve of very high-grade oil beneath the shifting desert sands,
things changed radically. The struggling democracy weathered multiple coup
attempts by greedy neighbors and other interested foreigners before finally
succumbing to the tender mercies of a home-grown dictator. There are no
refugees from war torn Ethiopia being taken in as slave labor, not here under
the enlightened rule of President-for-Life Abdul Fakkaddi!
Contents:
Catechism
CPT
Trypticon
<T>
Carbombyan
Palace
Obvious
exits:
East <E> leads to Red Sea.
West <W> leads to Nile River.
Fly
<Up>
Fleet
walks out of Trypticon, fresh paint job shining in the desert sun, and looks
around. Raids again. Fleet /had/ been starting to get a bit antsy, it was true,
and he was indeed anxious to quit playing these human games, but there was
something about the tone of their Emperor's last message that worried him.
Fleet had managed to be far away from the center of the things during
Galvatron's previous... phases, but if it happens again...
Catechism
hasn't noticed any undertones (or overtones for that matter), but that's to be
expected. They can raid again! Dimly, she knows that raiding's probably not
good for public relations. After all, she's not exactly stupid, she just makes
a habit of assorting with those vastly superior to her in intelligence. So
maybe she ought to after a place that doesn't get much media coverage or
something...
Catechism
is actually standing up on top of one of Trypticon's platforms, as if surveying
Carbombya. From there she can jump off and transform for an easy fly away, and
she can see a fair distance. It's a good spot to be contemplating random acts
of violence.
Fleet
is going to assume that Catechism is within his line of sight as he's looking
around, because otherwise we'll never get this scene started. The seeker leaps
into the air and lands silently next to the Conehead. "Catechism, I assume
you've reviewed the latest round of... well, I guess they're counted as orders...
from our Emperor?"
Catechism
is a little startled by the yellow Seeker's quiet arrival. Slagging Fleet!
Those Sweeps are a bad influence on him. She recovers quickly and nods,
grinning a tad ferally. Catechism gestures expansively, actually pointing
towards the south. She says, "Yeah, I've been thinking about them. They
sorta mess up all that diplomatic junk we've been doing, so I wanna hit
somewhere that doesn't have that great a media."
Well,
there's always Tasmania... but they don't have what's needed. Fleet nods in
agreement. "Yes. Also, we don't need Energon... I overheard recently that
we're over two years ahead of our predicted need. So something else. Steel, or
electronic components... only I'm no technician, so I wouldn't know what to gather."
Catechism
would know less than Fleet does about electronic components. She has, however,
been doing some scouting now and then and getting herself familiar with what
parts of Earth have what. Catechism's been a bored (but happy) little Seeker of
late, and hey, the charts and maps were there for the reading. So, she says
cheerily, "Africa's got steel." Oh, great. Africa's also huge,
Catechism.
Fleet
nods thoughtfully. He, also, has been studying up on their native planet.
"Correct. More of it's in the Sourthern portion, I believe, although
sections of that continent are still... feeling the effects of our prior
occupation."
Catechism
stretches, loosening up her joints for a quick transformation into jet form.
She says, her optics unfocusing as she performs a search query in her own
databanks and pulls out the information, "The South African west coast
boasts a pretty decent plant, if the reports I've read are up-to-date."
"All
right, then. Sounds like we've got a plan, then." Or something that
remotely resembles one, in any case. The pastel yellow seeker leaps into the
air and transforms. "Shall we be on our way then?" he radios back.
Fleet
transforms from robot to pyramid jet.
Catechism
dives off the platform, flicks into her alternate form, and follow after Fleet.
Even if he didn't have a lead, she'd have to follow, because he's faster than
her and all that. She replies simply, "Roger."
Catechism
transforms into her alternate mode: a F-35, Marine Corps variant. Her feet flip
up against her shins, her nosecone rotates through her body and out in front
where it belongs, her arms tuck into her torso, and her wings rotate into
position.
*
Spinny! *
Western
Africa
Rich in iron, gold, diamonds, copper,
lead, zinc, and uranium, Western Africa is more than just its mineral wealth.
The coast varies from low, muddy swamps and tidal creeks to well-defined sandy
beaches, barrier ridges, and lagoons. Inland are lush rainforests with their
200-foot broad-leafed trees eventually giving way to deciduous woodlands,
grassy savanna grazed by flocks of sheep, goat, and cattle, and finally the
Sahara desert. The climate ranges from hot and dry in the north to hot and
rainy to the south. Dakar, which means 'tamarind tree', is one of the chief seaports,
located midway between the mouths of the Gambia and Senegal rivers. The capital
of Senegal, it houses embassies, hospitals, museums, and public buildings and
is a leading industrial and service center.
Contents:
Ore
Processing Station <OPS>
Obvious
exits:
Southwest <SW> leads to Eastern Central
Atlantic.
East <E> leads to Sahara.
Fly
<Up>
F-35
<Catechism> soars down into view from the skies above.
F-35
<Catechism> has arrived.
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) soars low over the area to avoid radar, going by memory and
Catechism's research. They come upon their target, which is no where even close
to in-sight of the Ore Processing Station object that just so happens to be
owned by their Emperor. "Catechism, do you have an energon net with you?"
Hell of a time to ask, but if she doesn't, Fleet usually carries a couple.
F-35
<Catechism> comes in high, trying to do her best, 'I'm a little grey dot,
honest,' impression. At least, that's how she hopes she'll look on the ground.
Catechism could use a few lessons in sneakiness. She could use a lot of other
lessons, but those are neither here nor there. The F-35 radios back to Fleet,
"Yup! Grabbed one when I read the news about raids."
"Good,"
answers Fleet, "because we're upon are target, and in order for this thing
to be even vaguely worth the energon spent, we're both going to have to bring
back a full load. Oh, and you /do/ realize that the higher you fly, the further
away you can be spotted by ground-based radar, right?" With that he transforms
and lands, blasting a hole in their intended target. "Do not resist,
germs, and you will not be harmed," is all he says to the hard-hatted
humans scurrying about.
F-35
<Catechism> isn't a radar tech! She doesn't know these things! But she
files it away for future use. Catechism doesn't say as much to Fleet. Let him
think she was just being a doofus, which she was. The F-35 drops out of the
sky, taking a rather erratic course that mirrors what would happen if her
engines had burned out and she was heading for a particularly ugly crash. At
the last moment, the Seeker transforms and hits the ground with a resounding
thud.
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.
<Earth>
Catechism, standing in for some rather upset hard hat-wearing steel plant
workers on the western coast of Africa, calls in, "We are under attack by
flying Transformers!"
Verdant
soars down into view from the skies above.
Verdant
has arrived.
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) removes an energon net from his cockpit and activates it. He also
hands Verdant one (who just flickered into existence, animation error style) if
he doesn't have one. "We have to work fast. Like I said, all three of us
need a full load in order to make this raid worth the energon spent." Why
is he repeating himself? Because we've just returned from a commercial break
and a rehash is needed to make sure the kiddies with the shorter attention
spans are up-to-date.
The
yellow Cybertronian jet unfolds, revealing the robotic form of the seeker
Fleet.
Catechism
withdraws her own energon net, which she just started carrying again recently.
Handy! She locates where the steel bars are stored, as those are in nice,
non-molten form for transport, and starts bagging them. She calls out to the
others, "So we'll all just keep an optic out for trouble? No formal
watchman this time?"
"Understood,"
Verdant says, optics darting around for signs of trouble. No do-gooder Autobots
around yet anyway. Still, it was curious, the ban on raiding suddenly being
lifting. Of course, he was so far removed from the command element as to make
his knowledge of decissions less than stellar, but the matter still seemed
rather abrupt. Perhaps he'd ask Fleet or Catechism... or even Long Haul about
it later.
"We'll
rotate," answers Fleet. "Verdant, stand watch for now. As soon as one
of us have a full load, we'll replace him. Verdant, alert us the moment there's
trouble. No one's expecting you to deal with it alone." For his part, the
pastel yellow seeker is scooping steel bars into the net as hurriedly as he
can.
Catechism
doesn't know why, anyway. She's just happy to get out a bit and be able to have
her guns primed for trouble while she does. She has her net laid out flat and
is loading up the bars. Grabbing bars doesn't take much thought, so even
Catechism has some processing power left over to think other thoughts. One of
them is fairly decent, so she acts on it. Catechism pulls out her jet mode
grappling hook, that Seekers in the cartoon were always able to summon at will
at convenient times, and loops it through the four corners of the net in such a
way that if she has to fly off quickly or the line is otherwise pulled taut,
the net'll automatically enclose around the bars.
Smokescreen
has arrived.
Foxfire
has arrived.
"Will
do," Verdant replies, taking up in the doorway. Eyes toward the sky, he's
actually feeling something like confidence. Scientist or not, fieldwork agrees
with him. Perhaps he's had a bit of a real warrior in him all along, just
waiting to be unleashed.
Some
several miles away, an Autobot hovercraft comes to a halt on some isolated
strech of African prarie. A door opens in the side...and promptly, a sleek, red
& blue Datsun 280 ZX comes tear-assing out of it, hitting the ground with
all four wheels turning- doesn't look like it's too adversely effected by the
road conditions...or lack therof. Smokescreen's got a target in mind, and a
satellite feed of what to expect...three seekers up against himself and a
tapebot. He's faced worse odds before...
Now, all he needs is one thing: A plan/
Smokescreen's
form twists and shudders, and mere moments later, the Diversionary Tactician is
no longer there, replaced by a red and blue stock car, engine revving.
Almost
completely silent, the small saboteur Foxfire shifts into his tape mode.
Platinum
Cassette is riding...inside Smokescreen. Because it's faster that way. He
mentally winces at the way his comrade zooms out of the hovercraft, but of
course he can't ask him about it.
Fleet
continues to scoop bars into his net. They're small compared with his size, and
thus he's able to work rather quickly, and his net is nearing full. For now he
works in silence. Most of the hard-hatted humans have already scattered,
leaving the place almost entirely deserted... outside of the two giant, alien
robots that are currently looting, of course.
Catechism
enjoys looting. It appeals to her on a basic Decepticon level. Other people
have stuff and she's taking it from them. How wonderfully satisfying. She
continues grabbing up bars as quickly as she can.
"Fleet!
Catechism! We've got /Autobots/!" Verdant practically screams, but oddly,
there is only minimal panic in his voice. Perhaps because of apparent weight of
superior numbers, or simply because lessons in confidence are finally sticking.
Regardless, the green and white seeker is ready.
Or,
rather, you've got AutoBOT. Singular. That's what it'd look like...from a
distance, at the least.
The Datsun peels out, circling around the
steel mill at a distance of a few hundred yards, jinking this way and that to
avoid getting locked on for weapons fire. And, true to his name, Smokescreen's
smoke vents start pouring out his blend of noxious black smoke, creating a ring
of blackness to surround the refinery.
"Alright, Foxfire." Smokey mutters,
various lights on his dashboard blipping. "How about some holographic
laser fire? Nice and showy...just don't HIT any of them. Wouldn't do to break
the illusion." he chuckles.
Platinum
Cassette transforms, hopping out of Smokescreen and activating his hologram
system. There goes the non-existent laser fire...which doesn't really hit
anything, especially not the Decepticons. The fox allows himself a tiny smirk
as he keeps it up.
Foxfire
transforms from his cassette mode to his fox form.
"Dammit!"
yells Fleet. If the Autobot(s) are here, that means they've already gathered as
much steel as they're going to get. He hands Catechism what he's gathered
already. "You're the strongest of us, get this back," he snaps,
blasting a hole in the ceiling (so as to allow the player to pose out this round).
Since he's not outside, he can't see the fuss the Autobot(s) are kicking up,
but he does manage a quick radio message, "Be right there, Verdant!"
<no attack>
Catechism
takes the net from Fleet and secures it to her tow hook, along with the other net.
She doesn't complain about being stuck with hauling duty, as she's happy to
serve her cause in whatever manner she can, although she does radio her fellow
Seekers, "Show 'em the smelter for me, eh?" It's an unrealistic
expectation, given that said fellow Seekers are Fleet and Verdant, but a girl
can wish. She jets up through the hole in the roof, and transforms, bracing
herself for shots as she retreats.
Catechism
transforms into her alternate mode: a F-35, Marine Corps variant. Her feet flip
up against her shins, her nosecone rotates through her body and out in front
where it belongs, her arms tuck into her torso, and her wings rotate into
position.
Catechism
begins retreating, leaving itself vulnerable to parting shots from Verdant.
"Understood,
Fleet. I shall... endevor to hold them off until then," Verdant says.
There's the briefest moment of panic in his voice, but it's quickly put down.
Once actual combat starts, he's better than he is when he's only waiting for it
to start. At this point though, it's hard to see anything, what with all the
smoke. There's laser fire too, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's
getting out of the way of fire. He can't actually see anyone to fire on, but a
low-power burst into the smokecloud should do fine. <edited repose>
Defcon
soars down into view from the skies above.
Defcon
has arrived.
*EEEEEEEEEERRRT!*
Such is the sound of Smokescreen's tire as he skids to a halt- and none too
late, however, as Verdant's blast kicks up a gout of dirt in front of him.
Smokescreen soon transforms, a smirk on his face, and a gun in his hand.
Though the sight of Catechism escaping with a
pile of steel is a little...disheartening. Looks like they're going to get SOME
resources out of this; but there's still a lot Smokescreen can do here. Namely;
supply disinformation! "Decepticons!" says the tactician as he steps
out of his self-imposed cloud. "We have you surrounded! Surrender!"
With a
changing of parts and that telltale sound, an otherwise Mundane Stock car
converts to the Autobot Smokescreen.
Foxfire's
holographic laser fire doesn't falter in the least bit. The tape looks to
Smokescreen, silently waiting for his next command. After all, Foxy can't keep
this up forever! And he wants to see if Fleet's around.
Far
overhead, there's a rumble of thunder, then another. Wait... that's not
thunder, it's the sonic boom caused by a spacecraft decelerating into
atmosphere. Screaming in at high velocity is a monstrous-looking heavy
spacefighter, studded with weapon mounts, looking terribly unfriendly as it
arrows in on the Decepticon position like a thrown dart.
As the
craft decelerates further, it begins unfolding... snapping into robot mode with
the characteristic swiftness of a veteran Cybertronian, before landing with a
THOOM. Verdant's line of sight is abruptly obscured, because there's now this
really big Autobot right in front of him, crouching slightly from the landing,
glaring at the Seeker.
Defcon
doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The hum of his weapon systems powering
up and the heavy war-club clenched in his hand say it all.
Defcon
unfolds from his starfighter mode into his ominous robot mode.
<Decepticon>
Fleet's voice is clipped and professional, not his normal gentle, almost submissive
tone. "Verdant, I'm on my way, but be prepared to retreat. We aren't going
to be able to get anymore steel if we're too busy fending them off,
anyway."
<Decepticon>
Verdant says, "Understood, Fleet," Verdant replies. With the
possibility of being outnumbered, he's a little closer to panicing, but still
keeping his cool. For now. Knowing him, it could crack.
After
ensuring Catechism is safely away, the pastel yellow seeker rushes out through
the same hole he had initially blown in the structure to enter. When Fleet sees
what's waiting for him his optics widen. He keeps up to date on his files, and
he's heard about this one. "Verdant! Retreat! Now!" he orders. As
mission leader, Fleet feels he cannot retreat until Verdant is away (unless
there's no other way around it to ensure Fleet gets out alive... after all, his
own life first), so instead he flings out his own right arm and fires, not even
taking the time to aim.
Defcon
evades your Shoulder-Mounted Laser Rifle attack.
Verdant
isn't one to ask questions, so he takes to the skies, clearly sensing the sheer
panic in Fleet's voice. Even if Fleet's a bit of a coward, he's been around
long enough to make his lead worht following. Still... a calm, collected
retreat... no pnaicing now.
Verdant
begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Defcon,
Foxfire, Smokescreen, Fleet.
Defcon
watches Verdant run away like... well, like a smart Seeker, considering who
just dropped out of the sky in front of him. Then a laser shot ricochets off
his thick hide, and he blinks, turning to look at Fleet. His optics narrow
fractionally, and then the fricking laser cannon bolted to his head winks on,
spitting narrow-apeture bursts of red photons at the hapless Decepticon.
You
evade Defcon's Head-Mounted Laser attack.
Well,
THAT was unexpected. Well, both things were unexpected; Both Defcon's arrival
and the Decepticon retreat...though to tell the truth, it's pretty easy to see
how one would lead into the other.
And so, Smokescreen is left standing there, a
bemused grin on his face. "Defcon." he nods to the Bounty Hunter, a
grin on his face...a grin that flickers as Fleet opens fire. Oh, that poor,
poor bastard.
And so, Smokescreen just shakes his head,
allowing Fleet to earn Defcon's wrath. But he DOES still taunt him! "You'd
better get used to running, 'cons! Especially with what we've got
planned!" Coming on too strong? Maybe. But here's to hoping the waves of
fabricated laser fire (along with the occasional blasts of the genuine article)
will give the 'cons something else to think about.
Foxfire
blinks a few times. Defcon? Well, that WAS unexpected. The cassette keeps up
his hologram, only going to stop when he either runs out of energy, or
Smokescreen tells him to cut it out. Whichever comes first. In the meantime, he
starts creeping toward the building...
Oh,
SCRAP! /He's/ firing! And he's firing at /Fleet!/ In a move that's pure
instinct, no thought, the yellow seeker dives forward and beneath Defcon's
laser. He completely ignores Smokescreen's taunts. I mean, please. Fleet's
already /quite/ used to running away, thanks! He does a partial tumble,
assisted by his antigravs, and the moment he's once more upright he takes off
as well. Unlike the silly botanist, he transforms into his faster jetmode,
pouring all the energy he can into getting him the hell out of Dodge!
Fleet
transforms from robot to pyramid jet.
Fleet
retreats from the area swiftly, outdistancing all pursuit and parting shots.
Defcon
watches, a flicker of irritation as Fleet runs -- or rather flies -- like hell.
His arm snaps up, and sends a coruscating blast of plasma chasing after Fleet,
though the Seeker's speed ensures he's out of range before it reaches him. The
square jaw works for a moment, then Defcon grunts, turning to face Smokescreen,
inclining his head fractionally.
Smokescreen
hmms, and glances upwards at the departing Seeker- and so he laughs.
Smokescreen just shakes his head- and with Fleet's departure, the 'con's
exahaust ports doing enough to disperse the smoke he spread out all over the
place. "You can cut the holograms now, Foxfire."
The tactician glances over at the bounty
hunter, and grins. "Thanks for the backup, Defcon. Sorry it didn't get to
be a proper brawl."
*
Spinny! *
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) flies in for a landing, transforming as he nears the entrance to
Trypticon. The roar of his engines ends when he returns to his robot mode, and
compared with that, the silence of his touchdown is almost eerie. That could
have gone better, but then, they got away with at least /some/ steel, and they
survived an (admittedly brief) encounter with Defcon, so it certainly could
have gone worse, too! He looks up, awaiting his companion and assuming that
Catechism has already placed their gains in storage.
The
yellow Cybertronian jet unfolds, revealing the robotic form of the seeker
Fleet.
Verdant
executes his own transformation mid-air, landing in a crouch that spares his
servos from a jolt. "Well," he says aloud, "that could have gone
worse. That was... brave of you, allowing me to escape first."
Uncharacteristic of Fleet, it seems, but still... it speaks well of him,
especially in light of their recent verbal spat.
Fleet
brushes off some of the dust he raised in his landing. After all, this is a
fresh paint job. "I was mission leader. It would have reflected poorly on
me to have lost any of my troops," he answers almost off-handedly. The
pastel seeker raises his head and looks the botanist dead in the eye, his
expression now grim. "Do you have any idea who that was who landed in
front of you?"
Verdant
shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he says. Fleet's oddly serious
about it. Sure, the Autobot looked dangerous, but so did a lot of them.
Certainly, the Autobot was no giant dinobird or anything... Just what was going
on? How /close/ had they come to getting torn apart?
Fleet
shakes his head, then returns to holding Verdant's gaze, his own expression
still intense. "Bounty hunter. I highly recommend you review his file next
time you come across a terminal. Name's Defcon. He typically works alone while
to track down Decepticons. That's worth noting, Verdant. He's survived millions
of years hunting our kind by himself."
Effort
keeps Verdant's jaw from dropping. "I... shall make certain I do that,"
he says after a moment's consideration. An Autobot bounty hunter... he recalls
vague memories, mentions of that, back from the old days. But one who's
survived so long alone... "We were lucky," he says.
"I'm
well aware of that," Fleet snaps back. Then he sighs, forcing himself to
sigh. "Sorry about that. I'm just a little tense." After all, /Fleet/
was the one he fired at. Twice. Including with a plasma wave. A PLASMA WAVE.
"Understandable,"
Verdant says. "Perhaps it was a good thing I did not recognize this
"Devcon." Given my propensity for cracking under pressure, it would
likely not have been good." Still, they could consider things at least a
partial victory. They got some steel, obtained some important info on the
Autobots, and didn't die. All good.
"'Defcon,'"
corrects Fleet. Then he spells it out, using the Cybertronian alphabet, of
course. "So you can look up his fire later." And with that, the
yellow seeker allows himself a slight, crooked smile. "But don't worry too
much. After all, running away doesn't require /that/ much thought." Then
he sobers, "But if we encounter him again, you will have to remain calm.
Try not to engage him. Leave him to the more powerful among us." A
category that does /not/ include Fleet.
"A
good idea," Verdant replies. "And advice I shall read. I am...
improving, using the holgraphic functions of the training room. Eventually, I
may not veen have to fight off panic at all." True enough, though the last
part is, perhaps, something of an exageration. There is a difference between
being a coward and just not being dead, after all.
Fleet,
for his part, deals with fear a bit differently. Because he's almost always in
a state of mild panic, it's a familiar situation. For him, fear is an old
friend, a tool and even a weapon. He directs it, controls it, focuses it, the
way Geist once instructed he use anger instead. It's kept him alive for a very,
very long time now. But panic... yes, panic is a different matter entirely.
Panic is uncontrolled, unfocused, and can get you and your companions good.
"Good," he says. With that, he begins walking for Trypticon's
entrance. "I need to refuel, Verdant. Thank you for your assistance. As
you mentioned, we were lucky... but part of the 'luck' on our side came from
numbers." Of course, a higher number would have been better, but... eh.
What can you say?
============================
BB Post in Progress =============================
Group: Decepticon
Title: Steel Raid In Western Africa
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The
most pastel yellow of all Seekers, Fleet, appears on-screen. His expression is
a specially practiced sort of serious, his tone professional.
"As
per the Emperor's last message, we have resumed raiding. I was accompanied by
Seekers Catechism and Verdant on a steel raid on a small plant in Western
Africa, as our Energon requirements are currently more than met. While we were
able to retrieve approximately 8 metric tons of materials, we were interrupted
by the arrival of an indeterminate number of Autobots, to include Smokescreen
and Defcon. Special note of the second should be made; wherever may have been,
Defcon has now returned. While weapon's fire was exchanged, no damage was taken
by our forces. Trooper Fleet out."
The
pastel wonder reaches forward and hits a switch. Cut to spinny.
==============================================================================
============================
BB Post in Progress =============================
Group: Reports
Title: Attack In Western Africa
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The
following report is being carried by most major news agencies:
"The
Sanhalden Steel refinery on the western coast of Africa was attacked today by
three Decepticon jets, ending the tense peace that has been in place since the
invasion of Carbombya several weeks ago. Damage to the refinery was minimal and
the Decepticons are believed to have obtained something less than ten metric
tons of steel thanks, in part, to the timely arrival of an Autobot strike
force. Political ramifications of this attack have yet to be determined, but
the U.N. is now in hot debate ..."
At
which point the reports all trail off into a bunch of boring political
yimmer-yammer that most people would just mentally tune out, anyway.
==============================================================================