IC Time
on Earth: Tue Jul 16 13:51:04 2024
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>
<Decepticon>
Comcast says, "Hmm. According to my DCI files, we need some aluminium.
Someone want to go get some?"
<Decepticon>
Catechism says, "I'm game. The scouting I've been doing indicates that a
nearby landmass called Australia contains an aluminum refinery that should make
a viable target."
<Decepticon>
Comcast says, "Right. So, uh, go there, and get some aluminium, and bring
it back here. And remember, I told you guys to do this one, so it's not my turn
next time."
<Decepticon>
Fulcrum says, "I am not currently engaged. I shall join the raid.
Catechism, since you have the information... lead the way. Comcast... is that new targeting computer
acting to your satisfaction?"
<Decepticon>
Comcast says, "I haven't missed anyone, if that is what you are
asking."
<Decepticon>
Fleet transmits a code that equates to, "I understand and will obey,"
adding in actual simulated voice, "All right. Just let me come in for a landing. I'm near enough to NCC that I should be able to help on this one."
<Decepticon>
Fulcrum sounds surprised. "Really, Comcast? Hm."
<Decepticon>
Comcast says, "Do you expect me to miss people?"
<Decepticon>
Catechism says, "Excellent. Shall we gather in the NCC Hub or will we meet
up in the air along the way?"
If
Catechism was to look up, she might notice a rapidly approaching
yellow-and-white triangle. In a matter of seconds the triangle grows to the
size of a tetrajet, one that transforms when it gets to the point of being a
few yards above the ground. Fleet lands nimbly, scanning the area for Fulcrum
and Catechism as he does.
Catechism
is indeed looking skyward, waiting for Fleet to arrive. Thus, she does spot
Fleet. She nods to acknowledge his arrival and waits for the third Seeker to
appear.
Fulcrum
trudges out of the New Crystal City medbay with as much enthusiasm as he shows
for most activities - which is to say, little to none. He glances up at the
sound of Fleet's approach, sheilding his optics from the sun's glare, then
looking to Catechism.
Since
he's searching for them, Fleet spots Catechism and Fulcrum easily enough
(hey... even among hundreds of seekers, Coneheads and bearded ones are unusual
enough to make them easy to pick out). He skip-walks over to nearest, although
he seems unaware that there's anything out of the ordinary about his walk.
Catechism
spots Fulcrum, too. One of her fellow Decepticons doesn't seem to be as happy
about the prospects of a raid as she is, but she doesn't particularly care. She
claps and wordlessly relays the coordinates for the refinery, which is in
Western Australia (which is on the map). Then, the conehead adds vocally,
"Got that?"
Fulcrum
nods. "Simple enough" he drones, it not being his habit to
communicate via pure datastream. Privately, he's glad to have passed the buck
of leading this thing to someone else.
Fleet
slips his hand in between his shoulder-intakes to absently rub the back of his
head. "Good. Nice and near, likely unprotected." Just the sort of
target he prefers. For his part, he's always glad to not be in charge, and in
the rare occasions when he is, he's usually careful to make it *seem* like someone
else is, anyway.
Catechism
doesn't particularly want to be in charge, but she doesn't want to not be in
charge, either. The conehead just wants to serve her Empire as well as she can.
She grins a predatory smile at the thought of bringing back a nice cache of
aluminum for her cause and transforms into her swifter jet mode for the
journey.
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.
Fulcrum
follows suit, his MiG engines firing with a coughing roar as he follows
Catechism skywards.
Fulcrum
crouches, then leaps up, his joints screeching as he transforms into a grey and
green MiG-29.
Fleet
transforms from robot to pyramid jet.
You
take off and soar upward to Sky above New Crystal City.
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:
F-35
Obvious
exits:
Fly
<Up> Plaza <P> Spaceport <S> Coastline <C> R'Lyeh <R> Central Hub <H>
MiG-29
<Fulcrum> flies up from NCC Central Hub.
MiG-29
<Fulcrum> has arrived.
F-35
hovers, waiting for Fleet.
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) simply transforms and flies after the other two, because his player
doesn't really feel like typing out an elaborate pose to explain this.
F-35
snaps back into forward flight and heads off for Australia, seing that they're
all there now.
*Travel
Spam*
Western
Australia
Dry and unforgiving bush country.
Australia is known for its contrasts, and its west coast is one of them.
Isolated stands of trees are here and there, bravely standing against the
almost oppressive heat, but not very well. Not much of interest, unless you
like sheep farms. The southern areas, however, have a more Mediterranean feel
to them, and are the second largest tourist spot on the whole continent, after
Sydney.
Contents:
MiG-29
<Fulcrum>
F-35
Obvious
exits:
Northeast <NE> leads to Northern
Territory.
Southeast <SE> leads to South
Australia.
East <E> leads to The Outback.
West <W> leads to Indian Ocean -
Indonesia/Australian Coast.
Fly
<Up>
MiG-29
<Fulcrum> silently runs through a systems check while they're on route,
making sure his tow cable is operational. "Our widespread attacks will not
have gone unnoticed," he remarks to his comrades via radio. "The
humans will be casting their sensor net wide."
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) follows at a leisurely pace. With Fulcrum in the group, he doesn't
really have much choice in the matter. He radios to the other two,
"Acknowledged. I can keep the look out." It actually made sense. He
was physically the weakest of the three, and would thus be able to carry the least.
F-35
remarks confidently, "If the xenos show up, we'll handle them. Simple as
that." She swings around to the silos and hovers there for a moment. Then,
the F-35 transforms and drops to the ground. She points at the silos and
explains, "They keep the aluminum in there, in powder form."
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.
Well if
there's one thing that Fulcrum IS good at, it's metallurgy. He almost smiles at
the thought of obtaining so much raw materials. Almost. Transforming, he hangs
in the air beside Catechism, in much the same way a brick doesn't. "Energy
nets will have to be set to pull power, to avoid the powder escaping" he
notes.
The
MiG-29 twists around and folds in on itself with a grinding sound, transforming
into the robotic form of Fulcrum.
The
yellow tetrajet moves into a circlie-search pattern. "That doesn't take
much effort, does it?" he radios back. He imagines someone should have
probably considered this before hand, but hey, he DOESN'T know metallurgy, not
to mention the fact that he WASN'T mission leader, so that's two counts of it
not being his fault.
Catechism
looks up at Fulcrum and nods. Well, he's a tech. She figures that he must know
what he's doing here. If he was lousy, someone would have welded him to a wall
ages ago or something. The cloudy Seeker offers, "Just explains what needs
to be done, and I can help."
Fulcrum
shrugs. "Just increase the power of your energy nets," he replies
dryly. "As I mentioned. Otherwise the particulate metal will escape."
Catechism
scratches the back of her helmet and quickly excuses, "Oh, right."
She then gets out her net and fiddles with the net, in the classic way of the
technologically ignorant. The conehead ends up shaking the net after a while
and, after calling into question the factory that produced the net, manages to
increase the power of the net.
Fulcrum
scowls. What the hell are they teaching Seekers these days. Which a sound like
a death rattle, Fulcrum sighs, adjusting the power on his own net to maximum
and waiting for the order to attack.
Luckily,
Fleet misses this display due to the fact that he's off on his search pattern.
Otherwise, he'd have wondered about the logic of sending Catechism down while
he played lookout… He, at least, knew how to operate an energon net.
Catechism
can't help it - she has a low tech stat and middling dexterity. She stares at
the silos for a moment, trying to figure out what to do here. After collecting
her thoughts, Catechism suggests, "Okay, how about this… I punch a hole in
one of the silos and you net the stuff as it comes out?"
<Earth>
Fulcrum broadcasts as Bruce Thornton, shift manager of the Worsley refinery.
"Uh.. G'day. This is Worsley
Alluminium Refinery, Australia. There's
three robot things hanging around the air above us. This some Autobot thing?
Or should we be worried?"
Fulcrum
nods. Short and to the point. The best kind of plan. "Or I could do
it" he says, hoisting his hammer. "Whatever is done, were best it
done quickly."
<Earth>
DepthCharge says, "*Static and Commander Steve Irwin of some Australian
Military unit comes on* Crikey! What's say we go on and radio them and see what
the little blighters are up to?"
Catechism
wiggles ones of her hands vaguely and gets her net ready to catch the powdered
metal. Hastily, she replies, "Okay, you do it." Just so long as
someone does it, she doesn't care how the roles get apportioned.
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) continues circling, all triangle-like, and not particularly robotic
at the moment. "They have spotted us," he radios to the other two.
Being the one 'on-watch', he was also monitoring local radio transmissions.
"They're not sure yet whether we're Autobots or Decepticons, and are about
to radio us to interrogate."
Fulcrum
is already giving the silo a critical look. "Understood." Hefting his
hammer in both hands, he descends towards the silos. Swinging back his weapon,
he brings it around in a huge arc, the sound of the impact echoing for miles
around as he bashes a hole through the terran construction. Almost immediately,
powdered alluminium begins to pour from the hole, accompanied by the surprised
shouts and yells of the workers below. Guess the humans are no longer confused.
Catechism
holds out her net and allows it to fill with powder. She radios, "Fleet!
Make something up to stall them." At the very least, the yellow jet can do
a better job of lying on the fly (literally) than she can, and Fulcrum is busy
with the aluminum.
Fulcrum
receives a radio transmission.
Fulcrum's
optics flicker as he moves to crack open the second silo. "I've been
radioed" he transmits. "They're asking me to identify myself."
Ahh, the wonders of delegation. Sure, Fulcrum outranks Catechism.. but this is
HER raid. She gets to tell him what to do.
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) radios to Fulcrum, "Source and frequency? I can answer,
although, considering you're already putting holes in the thing, the question
may be moot."
Transmission
from Fulcrum – The blacksmith replies with the source and frequency.
"Apparantly it's a Commander Steve Irwin."
Fulcrum
transmits a message via radio.
Catechism
closes up the one net, get another one ready, and asks hazily of Fulcrum,
"I don't suppose that you can do a good Autobot impression?" She
pauses, unfurling and energizing the new net with a bit more finesse than the
last time - that is to say, she doesn't end up insulting the net's heritage
this time. The conehead adds over the radio to both of her comrades, "Or
Fleet can do it. Whichever is easier."
Fulcrum
transforms, unfurling his own net to help catch the alluminium streaming from
the silos. "I am not a mimic," he drones, as his net fills.
Fulcrum
crouches, then leaps up, his joints screeching as he transforms into a grey and
green MiG-29.
<Earth>
Fleet takes over as Bruce Thornton, shift manager at Worsley refinery.
"This is Worsley again, mates. I'd say it's worrying time - one of those
big robots things has just knocked a whole in our silo, and they're making off
with our aluminum!"
<Earth>
Comcast says, "Strewth!"
<Earth>
DepthCharge as Commander Steve Irwin says, "Don't ya worry. We're
dispatching some aircraft to come and sort out this robot issue of yours. But
we'll have to be mighty careful or we might bleed out and die. Crikey!"
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) radios to his two companions, "They're sending their local
aircraft to 'sort us out'. I'll keep a look out for them."
Catechism
continues netting aluminum. Someone less foolhardy might be anxious about the
approaching foes, but Catechism remains calm. They've already grabbed a
significant amount of supplies, and if they get a bit shot up in the process,
so be it. Idly, she radios her fellow Decepticons, "Think we ought to send
someone back with what we have before they show or just keep going as is? If
someone leaves now, we'll obtain some aluminum for sure. If we all stay, we'll
be better equipped to fight off any enemies that may arrive."
MiG-29
<Fulcrum> hrms. "I would suggest the first option" he replies.
"And I would suggest sending Fleet, since he is more likely to be damaged
in combat, and more likely to avoid pursuit." Privately, he thinks they
should probably ALL go. But escape is usually an option, especially since
inferior human craft don't function in orbit - unlike his modifed MiG mode.
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) isn't likely to argue with a plan that involves him getting out of
the way of potential danger first. "Very well," he radios back.
"Approaching for supplies transfer." With that he banks, approaching
Catechism's position to pick up what has been gathered so far.
Catechism
hesitates. There seems to be a consensus that they should send Fleet, although
they could keep him back and try for more overall. Do they take the safe route
or go for broke? Sighing, she starts transferring what has been gathered over
to the yellow Seeker. She suggests hopefully, "If you make it back safely
and are otherwise unbusy, return for another load?"
MiG-29
<Fulcrum>, meanwhile, continues to gather the powdered metal. "Is
there an ETA on the hostiles?" he asks. "We will be without a
lookout."
Pyramid
Jet (Fleet) hooks the energon net with his tow-line, passing Catechism by
inches. Return to danger after right after he makes it to safety - that
*wasn't* in his itinerary! "They haven't given one," he radios as he
passes, responding to Catechism's command with the "aye aye" code. He
may not want to come back, but he could think of no good reason not to, beyond
preservation of his own hide.
Catechism finishes
transferring the metal to Fleet and smiles at his confirmation that he'll
return, if possible. He can't figure out a way to weasel out of it? Good. She
mentions, "Fulcrum, if you wish, I can fly lookout. You'll have to net
aluminum by yourself, though." The conehead pauses, hovering in the air.
"If you wish"
Fulcrum replies. Huh. Guess he's left carying the load. Being much stronger in
robot mode, he transforms and begins to net more of the metal.
On the horizon, three black
dots appear... looks like the Royal Australian Airforce is closing in...
Pyramid Jet (Fleet), who
hasn't yet got very far, radios, "Incoming, folks. Three… something. Not
sure from this distance." He gains altitude, trailing his energy net.
"You want me to stick around, or should I continue as planned?"
Catechism radios,
"Continue as planned and return to assist if at all possible. We the need
the metal, not a fight." She puts some distance between herself and the silos.
"Hopefully, I can distract them long enough for Fulcrum to get another
load out." Hrm, didn't this happen before, with a few of the details
changed? Ah, well, those who do not learn from history…
…Are doomed to repeat it.
But that's nothing new to Fulcrum. The war seems nothing but a series of
repeated steps forward and back, the same old dance. He focuses on gathering
the metal, working how much he can burden himself with while still making a
getaway. And trying to do the same for Catechism.
The three Australian jets
close in on the refinery, their leader broadcasting over a broadband frequency.
"Attention unknown robots. This is Captian Hogan Serious of the RAF. You
jokers better stop what you're doing right now, or we'll open fire."
Pyramid Jet (Fleet) … just
ignores the humans. They're behind him, not in front of him, and he's rather
confident in the ability of his ability to outrun the Earth jets. He continues
trailing his net of ill-gotten gains, heading back to New Crystal City.
Catechism protests, aloud,
"But I am stopping what I'm doing!" and holds up her empty hands.
Indeed, instead of sealing aluminum, she is getting ready to attack to
Australian jets, and those empty hands are connected to arms that happen to
have guns mounted on them. The conehead smirks, laughing unkindly, quickly
drops her arms, and fires her disruptor at the Australian jets, hoping to get
them to scatter.
And indeed, the jets do
scatter, jinking to avoid the incoming blasts. "Crikey!" Hogan says.
"Alright then, you asked for it!" Circling around, the terran craft
return fire, keeping to machine-gun fire for now, since the Decepticons are too
close to the refinery to risk rockets. Fulcrum scowls at the human jets, then
continues his work. There's no way they'll be able to strip the refinery of all
its metal - not now, anyway. But he makes sure there's enough for another trip
from three seekers.
Scattering the enemy has
benefits and disadvantages. On the one hand, the can no longer focus all their
fire in one direction. On the other, they're not all in one place, which makes
it harder to shoot any given one of them and harder to dodge the fire of any
given one. Catechism twists in the air and flies up higher, trying to get a
better view of her foes. Her ascending path lets her dodge the fire of two of
the craft, but the third one's machine-gun nails her. Right now, it stings more
than anything else, but if she lets these little shots add up, it'll come back
to haunt her.
"Just like shooting
womp rats in my T-17 back home!" one of the pilots remarks.
"Cut the chatter, Red
2," Hogan admonishes, as they fix their s-foils into attack position and
regroup for another run.
Fulcrum, seeing Catechism
peppered with bullets, adds supporting fire from the ground, heat-rays lancing
skywards like deadly search lights.
Catechism continues to gain
altitude and then flips over, so that her pointy head is aimed at the ground.
From this pose, she can easily survey those below her and shoot at them.
Catechism also looks leakin' ridiculous. Seeing that the xenos are regrouping,
she fires after them with a slightly more powerful weapon, her laser. If
they're grouped that closely, she'll have a better chance of actually hitting
one, so it makes sense to use one of her better weapons.
Catechism's laser cuts
through the triangle formation, a deadly blossom of fire and dirty black smoke
erupting from the wing of an unfortunate jet. "I'm hit! I'm hit!"
comes the cry from the pilot, who quickly ejects in the grand tradition of 80s
cartoons, escaping his jet moments before it explodes completely.
"Bastards!" Hogan yells, jinking to avoid the stabbing beam of a heat
ray. "Right. No more mister nice guy." As his wingman strafes Fulcrum
with high-velocity tank-busting shells, the captain fires off a Sidewinder at
the airborne Catechism
Oh, some chaff would be
fantastic right now! Unluckily for Catechism, a) she's not in jet mode and b)
her jet mode isn't equipped with chaff, anyway. Sometimes, if the ground is
warm enough and one flies closely enough to it, a heat seeking missile will get
'distracted' and hit the ground instead.
Sacrificing her altitude
advantage, Catechism dives, head-first, to the ground, using her anti-gravs to
give her an erratic fall pattern, to further deter the missile. She practically
hugs the ground, as she flies so close to it. The missile misses but narrowly.
So distracted and in a bad position to fire anyway, Catechism concentrates on
gaining altitude again and evasive maneuvers and does not attack.
There's a shower of red dust
as the explosion rips a hole in the Australian landscape, causing Fulcrum to
bite off a curse as he dives for cover, the anti-tank shells tearing large
chunks from the armor on his leg. "If Fleet does not return soon," he
calls out, "We should make our escape with what we can carry."
Meanwhile, Hogan grins
mirthlessly. "Too bloody tricky are we," he says, coaxing his jet
around for another pass, attempting another missile lock as he opens up with
his machineguns, his wingman attempting the same, though he still doesn't want
to risk blowing up the refinery. "Come back up and play."
Although he's not yet within
view, Fleet is now within range to make a radio transmission. "Coming up
on your position. Should be there in a couple of clicks."
Catechism sighs. Fulcrum's
probably right. Ever the eternal optimist, she radios back to Fulcrum,
"Let's give it another round... if he's not back, Fleet deserves a kick in
the afterburners for not living up to his name!" Come back she does, but
this time, she puts herself between the sun and the two Terran jets. The glare
must be tremendous for her foes, but she can see them well enough. She
continues to take the odd machinegun hit and replies back with her gauss gun.
When she hears Fleet over the radio, she fairly crows, "Hear that? He's
back! Get ready to get him loaded."
MiG-29 <Fulcrum>
grumbles, thanking Primus for small favors that the humans don't want to damage
their own equipment by detonating all the powdered aluminium - a situation that
will soon change when they're out of range of the refinery. "Nets awaiting
pickup" he replies, selecting two for Fleet.
The MiG-29 twists around and
folds in on itself with a grinding sound, transforming into the robotic form of
Fulcrum.
Hogan lets out a string of
colorful words as Catechism goes into the sun. "Switch on glare reduction
filters and hit that robot!" he snarls, pressing a button on his controls,
his cockpit suddenly going dark. Ruh-roh. High technology. "Gotcha!"
he says, ignoring the fact that his wingman has just exploded in a hail of
gauss fire (it's okay, he parachuted out) as his targetting system lets out the
long beep of a missile lock, and he opens fire with another missile…
Pyramid Jet (Fleet) comes
into view, his sensors reaching out to get an idea of the exact situation
because, well, Decepticons don't have a Link-16 system or anything. His systems
tell him that they've prepared for his arrival. He banks, heading in Fulcrum's
direction.
Catechism takes a Sidewinder
up one of her feet. Given that her jet mode engine exhaust ends up split
between her feet, it's only logical that her feet are the hottest part of her.
Suddenly lacking one of her flight control devices, as her foot no longer
exists, Catechism is knocked out of her nice hiding spot in the sun. The fact
that it hurts like slag doesn't help, either. The harsh reality of the ground
swiftly approaching grounds her in reality once more, right before she would
have hit the ground. The Seeker swoops under the Australian jet. She takes a
pot shot at its underbelly with her pistol and tactically relocates to the
silos, so that she can get a load of aluminum and get out of here.
Fulcrum makes one quick
check to see if the nets are ready for Fleet's pickup, then grabs his own,
firing a burst from his heat-rays at Hogan's jet, narrowly missing. But
Catechism's shot rings true, hitting a weak point on the craft and causing a
series of explosions. As the captain ejects from his stricken craft, Fulcrum
calls out to Catechism. "What is your status? Can you still carry the
metal?"
The aerobatic yellow jet
swoops by Fulcrum, easily coming close enough to pick up the net of metal
without touching the robot himself. "Got it," he radios as he once
more attempts to gain altitude.
Catechism boasts, "Of
course I can! I don't need both feet to fly. I'll just be a little slow."
Seekers have a proud tradition of damaged feet, anyway. Just look at
Starscream. She doesn't risk a transformation, though, as her mangled
ankle-stump would probably foul up the gearing. Instead, Catechism holds out
her arms to grab some nets.
Fulcrum takes his share of
the spoils of war and fires his boot jets, ascending into the air. Desipite his
reservations, and the interdiction of the human aeronauts, the raid has been a
success. Now… if they can get back to base.
On the ground, Captain Hogan
shakes a fist at the departing Decepticons. "One day you wankers," he
vows. "One day."
Another successful raid, and
Fleet made it out unscratched. This makes it a good day in his books, but it'll
be even better if someone else handles the paperwork back home. Catechism was
mission leader, but she might actually try to give recognition to all the
participants, including Flee, who didn't want any… Fulcrum, on the other hand,
didn't seem to care for Fleet. Maybe, if Flee was lucky, the blacksmith would
make the report. These were the things the yellow seeker mused on as he flew
back towards NCC, the pace slower than before because he doesn't want to get
too far ahead of Fulcrum.
*Travel Spam*
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:
Fulcrum
Catechism
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>
Fulcrum touches down with
his cargo, his frame pockmarked by bullet holes, the armor plating of one leg
particularly damaged.
Catechism does not land.
That would be pointless, given the injury that she took to her foot. Instead,
she hovers above the ground. Catechism does set the nets full of aluminum down
on the ground, though. She looks around, grinning more brightly than someone
missing a foot and peppered with bullets has a right to. They got four loads
out! They crashed all the silly xeno jets!
Fleet, having missed the
entire battle, is completely untouched. He transforms and lands easily, neatly
catching his net in his hand as he does so. He's in an exceedingly good mood
because, well... he was untouched. And it was legit - he was
"ordered" to leave by Catechism! However, he decides that, as the
only uninjured one, it would be best for him to not speak first, the better to
*stay* uninjured.
"Medbay," Fulcrum
states, looking at Catechism. "Others can put the metal in storage."
He frowns, as if her grin were an affront. Sure, they were lucky /that/ time.
But next time, you can bet there'll be more than just three jets. He glances at
Fleet, noting that he does not appear damaged.
Catechism waves a hand
dismissively, still smiling, but she obeys and goes off to the medbay. Despite
not touching the ground, she actually seems to be skipping. Almost as an
afterthought, she pauses when almost out of the area and asks, "Which one
of us is doing the report?"
Fleet just assumes that, as
the non-injured member of the party, he's the "others" to which
Fulcrum was referring. He picks up Catechism's load and says, "Right. I'll
get these put away and catch up with you." With that he heads towards
Trypticon, his own movements light against the ground. As they always are. He
stops for a moment at Catechism's question, and considers moving on before he
gets tagged with the job.
[Final OOC note: at this
point everyone puttered off. For anyone
desperate to know who made the report, the answer is Catechism.]