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:

Mixmaster

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.

Mixmaster arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Mixmaster has arrived.

Fleet is in for a refueling, again. Because, you know, it has to happen on a regular basis. Of course, there are other places to refuel, but this place happened to be closest and handiest.

Mixmaster, the duty medic, looks up from his 'work' desk, which he is in fact using to create a more effective means of spiking energon. Psssht, another person here to ruin his fun. "Alright," He says wearily as he gets up from his work bench, looking for his tools, "What have you done to yourself now?"

Fleet pauses in his approach to the refueling station and gives Mixmaster a rather confused look. "I... erm... nothing. I'm fine! Just a little low on fuel." So far his dealings with Mixmaster have run well, if a little odd, but the Constructicons still made him wary as a whole.

Mixmaster peers at the Seeker. The yellow seeker. Hmph. Add a little blue to that colour and you'd have a beautiful lime colour scheme. But.. what's he doing here if he doesn't need repair work? "And the reason you're here, is...?"

"Nearest refueling station," answers the Seeker, indicating his destination. A little odd. After all, he was in here on a pretty regular basis, often assisting or looking for Arachnae...

"Hmm." Mixmaster grunts, seeming to reluctantly accept that as an answer. "Well.. just to be on the safe side, let's just check when you're next scheduled to have your servo motor oil changed, shall we?" And with that, Mixy makes his way to his desk to tappytaptap on the console.

Fleet raises his hands, palms out. "Erm... that's not really necessary! Honest!" Fleet makes a mental note to pick a different refueling station next time, unless he's also actually looking for Arachanae. Well, maybe he's overreacting...

Scrapper arrives from the NCC Central Hub to the southeast.

Scrapper has arrived.

Fleet is trying to get to a refuel station, but has been stopped by Mixmaster, who's currently checking to see when he's next scheduled to have his servo motor oil changed, or some such sillyness.

Mixmaster is looking at a computer console in the shift worker's desk, while Fleet is pleading for something. "Hrrm. Said you hade one thirteen cycles ago. Oh well, guess it's time to have another!" Mixy says. He still hasn't found his tools yet.. oh well. Hey, Scrapper left his lying about! Mixy will be sure to take reeeeeeel good care of those!

Mixy sifts through the kit. Hey, what's this, one of those precision tuning devices? Those are great for prying open jammed oil covers!

The pale yellow seeker looks extreamly worried. "Really, I'm due for a patrol shortly, and I'm supposed to be training after that... I've really got a rather lot to deal with at the moment." And here he was hoping to /save/ time by refueling in medical. Poor fool.

Scrapper enters, looking faintly preoccupied. He, has, of course, been busy with projects. He wasn't gawking at construction equipment in Michigan, land of potholes and perpetual roadwork. Not at all. That would be silly. Now, Scrapper just needs his toolkit, and...

Fool! That will be your fault for daring to tread into the realm of the constructicons! Which, now that you think about it, is all of NCC. After all, it was the Constructicon's little project. Mixmaster has Scrapper's toolkit lying on the ground in front of Fleet. "Now now, it's alright." Mixmaster says, reassuringly. "Thanks for being concerned, but I'm not too busy that I can't help a fellow Decepticon with an oil cha--EEP!" Mixy squeaks, shuffling the kit carefully under Fleet's ward bed with his foot.

Fleet looks down at the suddenly squeaky Mixmaster. And he thinks Fleet needs an oil change? He looks up and spots Scrapper, but nothing registers on him. Why should it? He doesn't know one person's tool kit from another (despite, absurdly, having a higher tech stat than Long Haul). "Well, erm, if you're wrapping up, then I should be off..." Granted, he hasn't refueled yet, and beyond that, underneath a medibed is hardly the usual storage spot for tool kits - even Fleet knows /that/... but still...

Scrapper glances over at Mixmaster. Sure, he's preoccupied, but 'eeps' are attention getting. And suspicious. Now, where did that toolkit get to? Perhaps that neat-freak Hook moved it elsewhere, in the name of 'organization'? Bah. Scrapper can find his stuff, organized or not. Mostly. Just not that toolkit. He nods and acknowledges his brother curtly, simply saying, "Mixmaster," and continues to search for his sadly missing toolkit. Where did the blasted thing go? The Seeker doesn't even register, as far as he's concerned. They all look alike, anyway.

"Scrapper!" Mixy calls out to his brother, pretending he just noticed him for the first time. "Come tell this Seeker here that service work isn't to be taken lightly!" This is a big change from Mixy's original stance of being reluctant to do more work... but then again Mixy isn't known for his consistency, either. Just the consistency of deleeeeshusness in his spiked energon.

With Mixmaster's attention on Scrapper, and Scrapper's attention on Mixmaster, Fleet is now standing and working on creeping towards the door. He, of course, has no particular stealth ability, but is trying to employ a trick that's served him for a long time: he's pretending to be invisible. There /are/ lots of Seekers, and they all look a lot alike, and thus one Seeker who's managed to convince /himself/ that he's beneath notice often manages to be perceived as such.

Scrapper sighs, straightens from ransacking a cupboard in a vain search for his toolkit, and looks at the indicated Seeker. Great. It's a Seeker. Looks like he's all in one piece, too. A bit peeved at his astounding inability to find a simple toolkit, Scrapper says bluntly, "Look, if you skip out on maintenance, don't come crying to us when your wings snap off from metal fatigue."

"Yeah?" Mixmaster asks Scrapper, curious as to whether or not that is a serious concern. "I mean.. YEAH!" He repeats with a more authorative tone in his voice to the Seeker.. who is trying to flee. "But even if this isn't a metal fatigue issue, it's still important! Luckily, you're dealing with the BEST medic MSE has to offer, and I'll take care of you in no time." Yes, Mixy just said he was a better medic than Scrapper. This isn't designed as an affront to Scrappy, Mixy just thinks that he's stating the honest truth.

"But... but..." the Seeker attempts to protest. After all, he gets regular maintenance! A survivalist such of himself knows full well the importance of keeping at top form, but these... these /were/ among the best technicians in the Empire. Much as Flee hates to admit it to himself, he supposes they probably /do/ know best. At least, they're supposed to, and Decepticons don't gain the reputation these ones have... He deflates and sits back down. "All right," he mumbles.

Scrapper glares sidelong at Mixmaster. It's a good thing that Scrapper doesn't have the arrogant streak that so afflicts some of his fellow Constructicons. A good thing indeed. Scrapper makes a mental note to install a tracking beacon in his toolkit posthaste. Just as soon as he finds it. Oh, sure, he could just ask his brother if he knows where the blasted thing is, but that would be like admitting defeat. Scrapper shouldn't need help to find his toolkit, and he's jolly well not going to ask for it. He snorts and ticks off on his fingers, "Well, metal fatigue is just one of many problems that come of poor maintenance. You might get rusted out from the inside - this planet's really bad for oxidation. Or corroded. Or your armor might get pitted. And then there's insulation wear..." The Constructicon continues listing off consequences for a while. Then, Scrapper shakes his head. Logically, if he can't find his toolkit here, it must be elsewhere, and so he makes for the exit.

"Yeah.. and another thing, eh Scrapper, is that.." Mixy turns to where his brother once was, but now is no more! "..Scrapper? SCRAPPER!" He throws Scrapper's tools to the ground in frustration, storming off to the door. "Hey! I was talking to you!"

Fleet watches Mixmaster leave with a sigh of relief, intending to sneak out the back way as soon as Mixmaster's back is turned... which would be now!