Trypticon Medical Bay

Several operating tables are set in a row here, and long benches line the walls. On these benches are assorted tools and equipment used in repairing damaged Decepticons. The benches near the door are for patients waiting their turn for treatment. Scattered throughout the room are various repair droids, awaiting the arrival of more wounded to repair. The room gives you the perception of being immaculately clean, with not a single tool out of place. Your olfactory sensors pick up the faint odor of the cleansing solutions used to keep the room clean and sanitary.

Contents:

Sign

Gumby Medic

Obvious exits:

East <E> leads to Trypticon Laboratory.

West <W> leads to Trypticon Main Hallway.

Scavenger enters from the Main Hallway to the west.

Scavenger has arrived.

Long Haul is in the corner by an open cabinet, once more noisily sorting spare parts. Is this medical, the place for the injured of the Empire? Yes. Does Long Haul care? No. Even though he's not a repairmech himself, medical is /always/ the domain of the Constructicons.

"Heya Haul," Scavenger says cheerily as he walks into the room, sipping at (despite his lacking a mouth) a mug of ener-coffee. Currently off-duty with nothing to do, Long Haul simply happens to be the first of his brothers that he's come across.

What?! A Constructicon NEVER has nothing to do! Long Haul, for his part, /should/ be off-duty, but he's got these spares to put away, and they're not going to put themselves away, and Primus /forbid/ any of the /other/ supply personnel around here do what they're supposed to, oh, no! The transporter grunts a non-committal greeting to his far-too-chipper brother WHO PROBABLY DIDN'T REFILL THE POT WHEN HE WAS DONE.

Scrapper has connected.

Hmm. Long Haul seems to be in a grumpy mood. The again, Long Haul's /always/ in a grumpy mood. "So," Scavenger said amibiably, in the long practicied tone of difusing Long Haul by getting him to rant, "who screwed what up this time?" And just for the record, he didn't need to refill the pot, because he didn't get the last of it.

"The shipment was late. Again," growls the transporter. "Finally had to go to Cyberton and get it himself." He puts another part in its place and spins on Scavenger. "It's not like these damn things are that heavy!" Scavenger wanted a rant? Scavenger gets a rant. "Anyone could have done the slaggin' shipment, and yet, here I am, havin' to take my OWN time to go get these slagging part myself!"

"Geeze," Scavenger says, sugary sympathy creeping into his voice. "That's pretty bad, Haul." He's learned, over the years, when to and when not to be afraid of Long Haul flying off the handle. Now isn't one of those times. "Maybe you oughta take a break, get your mind off it."

Long Haul waves his hand absently and returns to sorting. "I'm almost done, an' then I won't have to deal with have to deal with it anymore. S'just torques my chain that I gotta take care of this, or it won't get done. It's not like I don't have enough to do around here!"

Scrapper comes in with a datapad in one hand and a mug of energon in the other. He looks significantly less a) drugged, b) drunk, and c) hungover than he has recently, so that's a good sign. Scrapper actually looks fairly cheerful, but he's in a bit of an absent-minded haze, and he trips over a floor join. After scrambling to keep the mug from spilling, Scrapper declares, apropos of nothing, "Shut up, Hook!"

Dammit, Scrapper had better not have finished off the ener-coffee, either! Long Haul made that pot, and only got one cup out of it!

"Of course," Scavenger says as he sits the mug down on a near-by table, wiping his faceplate with the back of his hand. "Anything I can do to help?" With some, the offer might be a sign of needing something from Long Haul, an offer only made for the reward. Scavenger, on the other hand, wouldn't understand such subterfuge if you gave him a map, Vector Sigma, and the Stunticons to blaze the trail.

Long Haul hands Scavenger the last box of spares and continues to finish sorting his own box. "Sort these," he replies roughly before glancing up at his other brother. Ah, we have the mouthless trio here! "Hook's not here. I think he's still tryin' to get the lime-green mix right, 'cos Mixmaster won't mix him up any." His optic band focuses on the mug in Scrapper's hand, but he doesn't say anything, yet.

Mouthless they are, but that doesn't mean they're not noisy.

Did Scrapper finish the pot? The world may never know, unless they check the security tapes. Speaking of which, did they ever look into checking those to see who defaced (not literally) Hook? His stumble apparently forgotten, he paces over to his desk and nods to his brothers as way of greeting along the way. He's even humming. Oi. After a tick, he replies to Long Haul, insisting airily, "Hook doesn't need to be here or that to be a valid comment. And I suppose we still need to figure out who did that to him."

Sort, sort, sort! Long Haul has asked Scavenger to sort, so he sorts. He's a happy little sorter, taking in pride in his work and happy to give his brother a hand. Scrapper's angry, of course, but Scrapper's always a little bit angry, though usually /at/ Hook and not /about/ Hook. "What're we gonna do to him when we find him?" he asks.

"Teach 'im that you don't mess with the Constructicons." Long Haul pauses, plunking another couple of parts in place. "Unless it turns out that Hook did it to himself. Then we're just gonna laugh really really hard." Long Haul has to grant that that probably is a valid comment... after all, wherever Hook is, he's probably talking more than he needs to.

Scrapper sighs, staring into his mug. He does have rank, and what is rank for if not to abuse? However, Hook wasn't technically hurt but this, just his pride, so anything worse than assigning the offender to drudge duty for the rest of his life or until his next assignment by some other commander, whichever comes first, would probably be overkill, as much as Scrapper might like to make a footstool out of whoever did this to Hook. Responsibility is such a drag sometimes. Unless, of course, Hook did it to himself. Then, as Long Haul said, Scrapper would just laugh for the next week or so. He agrees, "Indeed, and hopefully his assailant, if there was one, wasn't anyone of note. Opens up more... options of what sort of revenge we can wreak."

"Sounds gruesome," Scavenger says. Not that he minds gruesome. Something about wholesale slaughter really gets his transitors going. Still, Scrapper's got a point. Unless if was some nobody, there wasn't much they could do, not without bringing on the wrath of someone higher up the chain of command who was both larger and scarier.

Long Haul finishes with his box of spares and steps back, glancing over his shoulder at his superiorly ranked brother (not that you'd ever know it by the way they act). "Have you seen the tapes from in here yet?" he asks, actually sounding more excited then grumpy now, a bit of a chuckle indicated in his tone. Yes, okay, it's bad that an outsider might do this to a Constructicon... but it was still damned funny seeing Hook like that!

Scrapper murmurs, "With any luck," to Scavenger's comments of it sounding gruesome.

Lord Galvatron, and his two hands Cyclonus and Scourge easily fit the bill of larger and scarier. Scrapper shudders to even think of them. Then a terrible thought dawns on him and he blurts, glancing around with a bit of fear, "By the Spires, tell me it wasn't Axis!" Then, he calms down, realising that's not too likely, shakes his head, and answers Long Haul, "I haven't. There's a lot of red tape to go through to view tapes after they've been stored away."

Read: Scrapper is lazy.

Scavenger offers a shrug. He's as eager to take revenge on the perp as anyone (even if he enjoyed seeing Hook taken down a peg, Constructicons protect their own), but hey, if it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen. "I'm finished with these," he tells Long Haul.

Long Haul eyes Scrapper warily, despite not actually having eyes. "S’far as I know, Axis hasn’t ever actually /met/ a Constructicon." He nods in response to Scavenger and then heads over to Scrapper's desk, looking down at the mug. "That wasn't the last of the pot, was it?" he asks, his voice calm, but a somewhat... dangerous undertone is there.

Scrapper had set down the mug and datapad a little while ago, but now he picks up the mug and holds it, turning it around in his hands almost nervously. Scrapper glances down at the floor. Then, he sets his shoulders, looks up at Long Haul, and says firmly, as if to reassure himself, "No."

"I dunno, Scrapper," Scavenger says. "There wasn't more than a cup full after I got mine, so unless you got it before I did..." Of course, questioning whether or not the boss has taken the last of the coffee is never a great idea, but well, it's Scavnger. Propper social dynamics are just a smidge beyond him.

It's SCRAPPER! Like any of the other Constructicons have ever cared that he was technically the boss! Long Haul shakes his head and covers his lack-of-face with his hands. "Scrapper, you doan' even /have/ a face, and your poker face is /still/ rotten. Didja at least start a fresh pot?"

Scrapper isn't lying per se. However, he doesn't particularly want to talk about the contents of his mug. He sputters, "Look, check it, and you'll find something there." Scrapper hopes. Bonecrusher or someone might have got that last cup they're bickering about, and then Scrapper'd be stuck.

"Hey," Scavenger says, "if it's /that/ big a deal, /I/'ll make a new pot." There he goes again. Sure, they'll scuffle, they're brothers, it's what they do, but Scavenger, well, Scavenger's happier when everyone else is happier. If doing a little extra-work means everybody gets along better, so be it.

Scrapper insists defensively, his shovel flicking up as if to make him look bigger, "I didn't take the last of the pot!" He stares back into his mug and mutters, "I couldn't have." He swishes around the remaining liquid, and anyone watching closely enough would notice that it doesn't have sludgy consistency of normal Constructicon enercoffee. It looks drinkable, in fact.

Long Haul looks at Scrapper rather suspisciously, then into his mug, then back up at Scrapper. "Hey... waitaminute! Just what is that stuff, anyway?" He crosses his arms as he waits for his answer.

Scrapper clutches the mug to his chest and says petulantly, "It's just enercoffee." In a blatant attempt to change topics, he says brightly, "I thought we were worrying about Hook. Or plotting terrible revenge on his redecorator. Whichever."

Scavenger looks into the mug, then retrives his own and finds it to be of similar, drinkable consistency. As puzzled as a mechanoid with no actually means of expression can looks, he looks from Scrapper to Long Haul. "I didn't make this stuff. I always put three of the little pink packets into it when I brew. ...None of us make it like this." He stops for a moment, realizing what that means. "Somebody's been in our pantry."

"That's not the ener-coffee /I/ brewed," growls Long Haul, glaring at Scrapper as best he can. "What, is my ener-coffee not good enough for you anymore, is it? Huh? Is that it?" He absently waves off Scavenger. "Not now, Scavenger. The big Constructicons are talking."

Scrapper puts away the mug in a drawer of his desk and returns to face Long Haul, shovel still up. Still desperately trying to change subject, he bristles, "A moment ago, you were on about not taking the last cup. I engineered a solution to that predicament. So what's your problem?"

"The problem is, you're bein' all shifty, and you don't do shifty very well!" snaps Long Haul. "Now, what's in that cup?" he demands. Sure, Long Haul's talking to a member of High Command, but he's also talking to a fellow Constructicon. The second trumps the first.

Predictably, Scavenger stutters for a moment, before going, "Sure Haul. Whatever you say." They /always/ do this! They /never/ talk to him about anything important and are always treating him like some punk fresh off the assembly line. Sure, he's not exactly a fiercesome warrior or a big snooty engineer like Hook, but that doesn't mean... Oh, heck. Yes it does. They tell him to shut up, he shuts up. Better not to rock the board.

Scrapper can't do shifty very well at all! Even if he could, they'd just find out when they combine, anyway. Frustrated, Scrapper takes the mug out of his desk, shoves it into Long Haul's hands, and shouts, "Fine! See for yourself."

<OOC> Scrapper says, "It's medical energon, the kind used for transfusions and whatnot. Scrapper was too lazy to make a new pot but he didn't want to take the last of it, either."

Long Haul picks up the mug and looks into it for a moment, sniffing at it with his lack-of-nose first before taking a sip with his lack-of-mouth. He cocks his head for curiously before handing the mug back to Scrapper. "Just why didn't you say so?!" he exclaims. "Sheesh! You didn't have t'go all shifty like that!" Long Haul shakes his head and tilts his opticband ceilingward for a moment before turning back from Scavenger. "So, anyway, what were you saying again?"

"I was just saying," Scavenger said, "that if none of us made the coffeee, then somebody /other/ than us"--by which he means a non-Constructicon--"musta gotten into our pantry and made it. Don't know /why/ somebody'd do that..."

Scrapper takes the mug back and takes a sip, finally relaxing. Other Constructicons might worry about sanitary precautions, but not Scrapper! Besides, computer viri aren't transmitted via energon, anyway. That would be silly. He finishes the mug and considers throwing it at Long Haul. Nah, better to brush this all under the desk and be done with it, but Scavenger just has to blather on about it. So Scrapper throws the mug at him instead and explains, growling, "It's medical energon, you doofus."

"An' are you sayin' that someone's breakin' into our pantry and making us coffee?" Long Haul turns to Scavenger and crosses his arms. He speaks very slowly, as though concerned that Scavenger might have some trouble with the words he was using.

The throw totally unexpected, the mug cracks Scavenger upside the head, spining it around and causing him to go "Ooof!" In an instant, his body posture changes, become a bit more threatening, a bit more combatitive. "Hey! Whatta'd you do that for!?"

Scrapper looks a little disgusted, throws his hands into the air, and says, "You should know medical energon tastes like. Even Long Haul does!" Granted, that says bad things about the Constructicons and the abuse of medical supplies, but c'mon, they're Decepticons.

Yes, even Long Haul knows! Not that he's /ever/ abused medical supplies or anything... eh. Scratch that. It's a universal fact of militaries /everywhere/ that supply officers abuse their status, and certainly a Decepticon supply officer is no different. But he usually drinks his own stuff when he's trying to work, because it's more effective. And NOT Mixmaster's. NEVER Mixmaster's if you're trying to actually get work done. Still, there was a mild, implied insult there, and far be it from Long Haul to let it passed. His head snaps towards Scrapper. "What do you mean, 'Even Long Haul'?!" he demands.

Exactly how Scavenger, or, for that matter, Long Haul or Scrapper taste anything when they don't have mouths is just one of the mysteries of the universe. Still, Scavenger shrugs amiably. "Well, sure," he says, "but you don't expect to find it in your coffee pot."

"Well, why should you know what medical energon tastes like? It's not like you fix people," Scrapper replies, shrugging. There's also maintenance energon, but that's just nasty. He retrieves his datapad and stalks out of the medbay, explaining, "I, for one, am going to try to get something done around here."

Oh, like Long Haul /hadn't/ been working when Scrapper walked in. The transporter glares after his brother and shakes his head. He walks to a different cabinet and opens it up, removing his own coffee mug. It's easy to tell his, a plain metal mug with his own name scrawled in clumsy Cybertronian script. "Well, I'm gonna go see if there /is/ any ener-coffee left, Scavenger. Then beat up the drone. Or something."