NCC Central Command

Located inside a huge dome, the Command Center has an atmosphere of readiness about it, like a predator poised to strike. Cunningly hidden lights flood the lower levels and central command deck with a red glow, indicating the center is set to battle mode. Three huge wall-mounted screens display exterior views of the city, now bristling with a fearsome array of weaponry. The already impressive interior walls and hexagonal basalt columns are now reinforced with additional support beams and the exits now sport solid blast doors, a final defensive layer should the complex be breached. The sophisticated computer terminals that line the room's perimeter flicker with combat data, sensors straining to find and analyze any potential threats, weapons systems charged and ready to fire.

Contents:

Hook

Extended Radio <NCC>

Decepticon Object <DO>

Obvious exits:

North <N> leads to NCC Medical Ward.

South <S> leads to NCC Spaceport.

East <E> leads to NCC Central Hub.

West <W> leads to Cyclonus' Office.

Hook is sitting on his aft (what a surprise!), with his feet up on one of the consoles, idling flipping through the multitude of security camera feeds from all over New Crystal City and its environs, a microphone casually held in one hand. Pausing for a moment on a view of a dimminutive figure - an insecticon gumbie of some kind by the looks of him - who's lesuirely mopping an otherwise empty corridoor, Hook raises the microphone to his faceplate. "You MISSED A SPOT!" booms his voice from hidden speakers, causing the figure on screen to jump noticeably. Nodding to himself at a job well done, Hook goes back to flicking through the cameras, humming quietly to himself as he does so.

Long Haul is not carrying anything! The shock! The horror! Well, okay, that's not entirely true, either. He's got a mug full of energon in his right hand, a plain metal mug with a Decepticon symbol and his name scrawled in Cybertronian script on it. But that's all he's carrying. He walks in and spots Hook, watching him curiously with his expressionless face for a bit. When Hook gives his 'helpful advice' over the PA system he shakes his head, says nothing else, and then plops down next to Hook, taking a sip from his mug, unimpeded by his lack of a mouth, before doing anything else.

Hook looks over at his brother as he makes his none-too-stealthy entry. "Oh, it's you Long Haul" he says, in the same tone humans use to say "Oh, it's raining". He doesn't bother to comment on Long Haul's seeming lack of things to do, possibly because he's goofing off, or possibly because he simply just doesn't care right now. "You know, I think this chair isn't swivelling correctly" he remarks, spinning slightly on the spot. "How quickly do you think we could have a skilled swivelist sent up?"

"Whut, forgettin' how to fix stuff yourself anymore?" Long Haul remarks absently as he leans forward and activates his terminal, calling up... requisition forms! Ah, so Long Haul is working! He is a supply officer, after all, and supply involves a /lot/ of paperwork. "Alla dem 'managerial skills' you've been developin' edging out the other stuff or somethin'?"

Hook swivels in his chair some more. "Oh no.. but it's a waste of my enormous talent to lower myself to fixing something so minor. Besides Long Haul, my managerial skills aren't developed - they're inbuilt. Instinctive. A gift, if you will."

Long Haul doesn't even look up from his paperwork, although he does take another mouthless sip of his drink. Is he being... dismissive? Of Hook?! "Which is why Scrapper's our boss, Arachnae's MSE CO and /Mixmaster/ is our XO? Maybe you needa think about exchangin' that gift."

Hook hmphs. "You know full well that's all due to politics" Hook replies, the matter obviously a particular sore point. "Were our ranks based on talent, I would be running the whole Empire. Not that I'd /want/ to waste my time and awesome engineering talents on such pursuits, of course.." He pauses, frowning at Long Haul as he continues to spin in his chair with a small squeaking sound. "Of course, if this were a true meritocracy, we'd have to invent a rant /below/ grunt for you. Sub-grunt, perhaps? Untermech?"

Long Haul actually does tilt his head towards Hook this time, just slightly. Then he looks forward again and takes another sip of his drink before putting his cup down, leaning back, and drumming the fingers of his right hand against the countertop. "Hook. I jus' spent the last ten cycles doin' nothin' but carrying stuff around... parts from Cybertron to here, resources from here to Cybertron, repeat. When I wasn't doin' that, I've been fillin' out form after form, and dealin' with folks who wouldn't know the proper codes to enter into a requisition chit if it shot 'em inna knee joint. Somma these folks I've hadda educate physically. Despite that occasional bright spot, I'm in a /really/ bad mood, so... y'wanna rethink what you jus' said?"

Squeaky squeaky squeaky goes Hooks chair. "Oh, fine" he finally replies. "Grunt will do."

Had Long Haul teeth, he'd grit them. As it is, he clenches his fist and tries to block out the annoying squeaking noise, particularly distracting when you're dealing with things as abstract as stock numbers and the like, a collection of digits no doubt assigned by random which have absolutely no baring on what an item's used for, what it's made of, how it would be stored, or anything else remotely useful. Then, with Hook's final insult, Long Haul stops clenching his fists and seems to suddenly calm. He moves his mug far, far to the side, well out of reach, well out of the way, and finally spins on Hook. "That's it!" he shouts, attempting to tackle his brother to the floor. Apparently he's decided that Hook needs a bit of physical re-education as well.

Long Haul succeeds in grasping Hook, throwing it off-balance.

Hook tumbles to the floor. "Hey!" he says, struggling to push Long Haul off him. "Get off me you crazy fool!" he says, managing to get one arm free and lashing out at his angry brother. "What's got YOUR diodes in a twist all of a sudden?"

Hook strikes you with Brotherly Love for 4 points of damage.

Long Haul is knocked off Hook, although it's not much of a hit. A little paint scarring, a minor dent, if that, but Hook is free, so his goal is accomplished. More than likely this is a case of bad timing on Hook's part... Long Haul's had an irritating week, in an even surlier mood than normal... not the best mindset to encounter Hook. "If you weren't so leakin' dense you'd be able to figger that out on yer own! Alla you! Buncha thrice-cursed /geniuses/ and not a scraping of sense between ya'!" To emphasize his point (because we all know that violence is the ultimate debate point), the supply officer attempts to slam a palm into Hook's shoulder. Sure, Hook's attack didn't do much, but Long Haul isn't about to let it stand!

Hook evades your Palmslam attack.

But Hook is already rolling to the side, Long Haul's Open Palm Technique smacking harmlessly into the floor. "What? /I/ have no sense?" Hook complains, getting to one knee, then rising to his feet, swinging one foot at Long Haul as he does so. "/I'm/ not the one who suddenly went crazy!"

Hook strikes you with Whatchutalkin'bout Long Haul? for 3 points of damage.

"Well, of COURSE not! That's 'cos you've been there all along!" Long Haul shouts back, attempting to punch the foot that just hit him. Hit or miss, Long Haul's next move is to stand up and, apparently once more calm, brush himself off. "Now, unlike /some/ folk, I've got work to do." Although he'd really rather continue hitting on his brother.

Hook evades your Nut House Punch attack.

Hook quickly moves his foot out of the way, then STARES at Long Haul. "Then why are you wasting time trying.. and failing.. to beat me up?" Hook shakes his head. "Really Long Haul, I just don't understand you sometimes."

Long Haul sits back down, muttering, "No, no... I s'pose /that's/ beneath ya'." He picks his mug back up, takes another sip, and then answers out loud, "I needed a break," as if /that/ should explain everything.

Hook dusts himself off. "Oh, and you thought you'd let me do the breaking? It's funny, Scrapper and Mixmaster seem to do the same thing every now and then. We'll be talking, everything will be normal, then for no reason at all, they attack me. Must be some sort of bug in your systems or something."

Long Haul mutters something about the bug being named, "Hook," as he gets back to entering in codes, ensuring that forms are properly filled out, and - he stops, slams his hands down the counter, then shakes his fist at the screen. "I told that idjit fifty times he doesn't have the authorization level to requisition that!" the supply officer shouts. "These damned half-clocks treat the supply system like some sorta leaking joke alla the time, makin' even more work for me!"

Hook makes a note to construct Long Haul some sort of stressball. It's obvious the strain of his work is overtaxing his simplistic processor. Poor stupid Long Haul. Hook shakes his head sadly.

Cyclonus arrives from Cyclonus' Office to the west.

Cyclonus has arrived.

Cyclonus stalks into the room and gazes about passively.

Long Haul doesn't reply to Hook... because Hook didn't actually say anything, and he didn't hear the rattle of Hook's head when he shook it. So instead he snarls under his breath and deletes the requisition. Then deletes a couple of others, just to be malicious. Finally he pushes himself back forcefully in his chair and tilts his head back slightly to look at his brother. "So, what sorta rank d'ya propose to folk who can't figger out how to fill out a simple requisition form?" Granted, these 'simple' requisitions forms call for about five different, unrelated, obscure numbers, often with supplemental information that has to be researched in documents that go back to the founding of the Empire, but still... if Long Haul can do it, how hard can it be?

Hook hmmmms, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Drone" he finally replies. "We could replace the combat drones with idiots tied to the floor. Or better yet, have them as WELL. Unarmed. As a sort of punching bag. After all, some of those training drones are quite well designed." Yeah, the ones built by the Constructicons.

It's just about this time that Cyclonus emerges from his office. He hears only the tail end of Long Haul's question, and then Hook's reply. "One rank higher than what you two will be given if I discover it was you causing all the ruckus I heard from my office......" His optics flash and he folds his arms across his chest. Still, it could easily be blamed on NPCs who staff the area, but Cyclonus knows the bickering of gestalt brothers well, and expects he knows the truth whether it is admitted or not.

Long Haul was... just about to make an off-handed remark to Hook about needing a strength upgrade when Cyclonus emerges and makes his statement. "Sir? Erm, sorry... din't know you were in. Din't realize I was raisin' my voice... s'just gettin' tired of idjits askin' for spaceships when they know damn well they're not allowed 'em," he says, gesturing to the forms on the screen in front of him. The possibility that Cyclonus may be talking about his scuffle with Hook doesn't seem to even occur to him... after all, that's just Standard Operating Procedure within the Constructicons!

Ruh roh! It's the angry purple bunny! Hook thinks fast as Long Haul explains. "Yes, he does get quite loud" Hook adds. "Though eariler I was scanning the security camera feeds. There was a bit of a racket coming from one of them. Next time I'll be sure to turn the audio levels down." Smoooooth.

Angry? No. Purple? Well sortof.... Bunny? Good thing that wasn't spoken, or we'd be building a new head module for Devastator. "I find that unlikely Hook, considering your interest in security measures within our city is about as high as Motormaster's interest in fine literature. Nevertheless, I will allow that explanation to suffice for the time being as Devastator will be needed during our occupation of Carbomya." The malice behind his optics is difficult to hide. He hates infighting, but his cool expression remains in place for the time being.

/Infighting?!/ No-no-no! It's just a rather extreme case of sibling rivalry! Sure, Cyclonus may never get into knock-down, drag-out fights with /his/ brothers, but they're Unicronians, which mark them automatically as 'weird'. "Actually, he was, sir," Long Haul points out, actually giving an honest answer (and just conveniently leaving out the fight that happened right in the middle of it). "He does it from time to time... s'like he can't come up with enough stuff to correct on people in person or somethin', so he uses the cameras to look around faster. S'pretty irritating."

Hook hmphs. "Are you /insinuating/ that I'm /lying/?" Hook asks, crossing his arms over his chestplate. "Frankly, I find that insulting. Check the access logs if you don't believe me, Cyclonus."

Cyclonus steps forward and glares down at Hook. "Idiot. I have all the security cameras for the base tied into my office's security monitors. You insult my intelligence with your feeble attempts at bravado, and insulting me could be considered treason." He inclines his chin. "While I do not doubt that your ego leads you to believe that you are perfection incarnate, I have spent my entire existence in a quest for perfection and you are /far/ from that mark. Now, need I replay the footage of your little shoving match, as well as this conversation for Galvatron's entertainment before I pound you into a pile of scrap metal, or will your ego allow you to admit your folly in a civilized manner?"

At Hook's response, Long Haul covers his featureless face with his hand and shakes his head, muttering something about sense. Then, with Cyclonus' answer, his head shoots up. Lightbulb! "Oh! S'that's what you were talkin' about!" His reaction seems genuine and, considering the fact that Long Haul is known neither for his subtlety nor his guile, it probably is.

Hook takes a step backwards. "Insult you? No.. I was just.. stating my point of view, and.. Ohhh, you mean THAT little disagreement?" Of course, since Cyclonus was watching the cameras, he will have seen that Hook WAS actually using the cameras.. right before Long Haul tackled him to the ground. "Why that was just.. high spirits. He looks decidedly nervous as he says that.

Cyclonus stands again to his full height. "If you two, or any of your other brothers have issues that need to be resolved, do so in the training room. Damage to equipment anywhere else in the city is unacceptible. I swear on all that is Decepticon that if one microchip is damaged in such a scuffle I will rip the replacement for the damaged component from your heads. Is that clear?"

But if Cyclonus rips the replacements /from/ the Constructicons, who's he gonna get to install them? "Er, yes, sir," answers Long Haul, still a trifle confused as to what, exactly, the deal is. After all, Long Haul had been very careful before knocking Hook to the floor! He even took the time to move his coffee cup out of the way first!

"Understood perfectly, Commander" Hook replies. Guess he'd better not tell Cyclonus that this happens ALL THE TIME.

Cyclonus turns on a heel and heads back toward his office. "See that your attention does not falter from our immediate goals for the invasion." Seems the matter is closed, for now.

Cyclonus moves west to Cyclonus' Office.

Cyclonus has left.

Long Haul , ""

<OOC> Long Haul says, "Woops!"

<OOC> Hook says, "Best pose EVAR"

Long Haul turns his chair back around, picks up his mug, takes another sip, and then shakes his head. "Ick. Doan' know what got him so spun up," he comments, putting down the mug and turning his attention back to requisition forms.

"It's a mystery" Hook sniffs. "Some mechs are just like that I guess. Although /you're/ one to talk."

"Mmms?" grunts Long Haul, obviously not really paying that much attention to Hook at this point, his processor filled with arcane codes and stock numbers. After a moment the meaning of what his brother had said seeps through. "Whaddaya talkin' about?"

Hook pinches the bridge of his nose. "You know.. the getting spun up about nothing thing?"

"Nothin'?! I even warned you and everything!" He leans back in his chair and tilts his head backwards just enough to get the top of Hook's head in viewing range. "Y'wanna settle this inna trainin' room?" The last /should/ have been snapped out, but instead it's spoken almost cheerfully. Long Haul's far too eager for an excuse to break from the drudgery that is his day-to-day role, and beating up his brother (or even getting beaten by him) would provide a nice distraction.

Hook sighs. "If we /must/" Hook replies. "Though I don't understand why you're so keen to be defeated."

Long Haul pushes himself out of his seat quickly. Why? You'd think by now Hook could have figured that out! The answer is because anything, including having nails driven under his fingertip armor, was preferable to his supply tasks, that inglorious but necessary work to which he would be returning. "Eh! Why don't you put your energon where your big mouth is! You just got lucky then!" With that he heads off in the direction of the arena itself.

<Constructicons> Long Haul paraphrases fanfic! Yay! Although he does change the spelling to American spelling... "Scrapper will probably get a kick out of that when she reads this log." :)

* Spinny! *

Holo Arena

Inside the Holo Arena are black, rubber-coated walls to protect the steel and also to reduce the noise, as these sparring matches can get very violent. A central control room is suspended from the ceiling, heavily reinforced to protect the advanced computer that controls the holo-imaging and stores thousands of simulation scenariors. If a desired scenario isn't already available, then the computer allows for additional programming.

Contents:

Training Drone <NCC/Trypticon>

Hook comes into the Holo Arena.

Hook strolls into the training room after Long Haul, rotating the joints on one of his arms. "Well, come on then.. let's get it over with."

"Right," answers Long Haul, and without further word or warning turns quickly (on him) on heal and swings green fist at his brother. Had he a mouth, he'd probably be grinning at the moment.

You strike Hook with Woo-hoo! I'm Not Hauling!.

Hook blinks, reeling backwards. "You.. HIT me!" he says, raising incredulous fingers to touch his lightly scuffed faceplate. "You.. ruffian!" Balling his fists in classic fisticufts style, he jabs back at Long Haul, returning the favour.

Hook strikes you with Put your dukes up! for 7 points of damage.

Long Haul is hit, and it's a better hit than the earlier ones, certainly, his own faceplate taking another minor denting. If he could, he'd be rolling his eyes. But he doesn't have eyes, so he can't. "Of /course/ I hit you! That was the point of coming in here!" With that he attempts a kick against Hook. He doesn't play 'fisticufts'! He just fights!

You strike Hook with Not A Fist.

Hook acks, lurching to one side as Long Haul kicks him in the side of the knee-joint. "And THAT'S not sporting either!" he proclaims, hopping backwards to give himself space to transform. As his tires hit the floor, he swings his boom around, large, heavy, and very SHARP hook swinging around at the end of his boom.

Hook falls backwards, torso twisting around and limbs folding in as he transforms into his lime-green Crane form.

Crane <Hook> strikes you with Hook to the FACE! for 12 points of damage.

*CLANG*

Long Haul is knocked backwards several steps as the sharp Hook swipes his head, tearing his little mohawk thing apart. He shakes his head to clear it, continuing to stumble backwards, and shouts, "Why do we gotta be sporting?! We're /Decepticons/!" With that he, too, transforms, throwing himself into high gear quickly and rumbling right at his brother.

Long Haul folds in on himself and transforms into a dump truck.

Crane <Hook> evades your Haul This! attack.

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep* is the sound of Hook reversing out of the way of Long Haul's suicidal ram. "Saw that one coming" the crane remarks, the smirk almost audible in his words as a hatch on the side of his cab pops open, revealing a purple missile that Freude might have something to say about. "Do try to be more creative"

Crane <Hook> strikes you with Purple Missile of Brotherly Love for 23 points of damage.

Dump Truck <Long Haul> is slammed sideways by Hook's missile, the projectile ripping through the sides of his truckbed. He shouts out in pain before recovering his senses. "But Hook..." he almost pants, "I thought you were the one in favor of practicin' stuff until you get it /just/ right!" With that he revs up and 'practices' his ram again.

You strike Crane <Hook> with Practice Makes Perfect.

Scrapper comes into the Holo Arena.

Crane <Hook> rolls across the training room with the sound of tearing metal, bits of green armor flying off in all directions. Somehow, he manages to transform during the crash, ending up rolling sideways across the arena before skidding to a halt. "....OW!" he says, staggering to his feet. "You HIT me!" Yes, he's repeating himself. Reaching behind him, he pulls out a non-trademarked energy saber, glowing bright Constructicon purple. Growling uncharacteristically, he runs back across the room, trailing smoke as he swings his sword in an overhand arc.

The crane flips up, cab splitting into feet, chassis rotating and parts unfolding as it configures itself into the robotic form of Hook.

Hook strikes you with Now /I/ am the master! for 15 points of damage.

Why is Long Haul the only Constructicon without a damned energy saber? It's no fair! The sword bites deep into Long Haul's cab, causing the Supply Officer to cry out once more. He transforms painfully and clasps his fists together, bringing them up in a rabbit punch. "THAT'S. THE. POINT!" he shouts.

The dump truck stretches out and unfolds into Long Haul.

Hook evades your Double-Fisted Smash attack.

Scrapper enters the holo arena and...there's Hook. Huh. Scrapper was looking for Hook. Doesn't this work out neatly? Scrapper stays neatly out of the way of the fight, as he is starting to learn that walking into the middle of a fight and trying to have a civil conversation usually leads to one getting beat up. He calls out, "Hook! A word with you?"

"What?" Hook says, staggering to the side to avoid Long Haul's fists. "Hey! You're doing it again! Stop trying to hit me you pile of scrap!" Okay, now Hook's just being obnoxious. "I should have just told Cyclonus you attacked me for no reason!" lunging forward, he stabs up with his lightsa...er...Beam saber, aiming to run it right through his brother. "I'm BUSY Scrapper!"

Hook strikes you with There can be only one! for 8 points of damage.

No, now Hook is just being moronic, doing a wonderful job of proving Long Haul's point about the rest of the Constructicons, despite their smarts, lacking sense. This attack completely takes off the Supply Officer's cab, but really, what does he need a place for a driver for, anyway? "Listen, y'stupi-" no, Hook's not stupid, even when he's acting like he is, "I asked ya in here so we could fight! Of course I'm gonna try an hitcha!" With that he swings one lime green arm at his brother in an attempt to backhand him.

Hook evades your Backhand attack.

Scrapper taps his foot impatiently, still staying a reasonably safe distance away from his fighting brothers. Busy? Doing what, slagging what microchips they have? He crosses his arms and says to Hook, "Well, could you hurry up?"

Hook ducks the backhand as he tries to tug his sword out of Long Haul's chassis, where it seems to have stuck. "Damn it all!" he says, giving up. "...Wait, did you say something, Long Haul?" Hook sneers as he pops back up, already swinging his own hand around. "Don't worry Scrapper, I'll be done in a moment."

Hook strikes you with Slap Mah Haul Up! for 4 points of damage.

Long Haul reaches forward in an attempt to grab Hook. Should he succeed, he'll be tossing his brother against the floor, hard. "You'll have to hit harder'n' that if you want this to go faster!" he says in response to Hook's comment to Scrapper.

Hook evades your The Floor attack.

"FINE" Hook states, irritation boiling over as he jumps backwards, Long Haul's fingers doing nothing but raise scratches on his already dented frame. Pulling his Constructirifle from his back, he aims it one handed at his brother. "No more Mr Nice Hook."

Hook strikes you with Wake up.. time to die for 13 points of damage.

Scrapper watches, arms still crossed. He doesn't particularly care who wins, just so long as they get done quickly, so he can have a 'chat' with Hook. About organization and just who is responsible for that. It's funny who Scrapper gets blamed for stuff that isn't technically his fault. One would think that he's actually expected to be responsible or something. Spooky.

Long Haul stumbles back as he's hit square in his already wounded chest, then falls to his knees. "No more? So where the hell was Mr. Nice Hook to begin with?" he grumbles, but the fight seems to have left him. He pulls himself upright and stumbles over to pick up his cab, idly wondering how the training room manages to simulate stuff like this before dismissing it as one of those techy things he'll never understand. <no attack>

Hook lowers his rifle. "WELL? Have you had enough? Scrapper is waiting to talk to me - no doubt to ask my advise on something - so if you're DONE with this crazy thing you have of wanting to scrap me for NO good reason..." Hook swivels on his heels, turning to face Scrapper.

Scrapper lowers his arms to places his hands on his hips and raises his shovel a bit. He doesn't look terribly pleased, and he doesn't look like he wants Hook's advice. Scrapper starts, sounding fairly cordial, despite his demeanour, "Hook, are you aware who is in charge of keeping the med bay organised?"

"Mixmaster" Hook replies promply. "Or Arachnane. Both of whom are ultimately under.." he grimaces, as if hating to admit it. "/Your/ control."

Long Haul wanders over to the control panel of the arena, still toting his cab with him. He stays more or less in the background, listening... okay, we're say it, eavesdropping... because it's still more interesting than work. While he listens he absently taps at the control panel, changing the setting about at random as the other two converse.

Now they appear to be in the middle of the desert.

Scrapper actually had to check that particular fact himself, but he's not going to admit that. He nods and continues, still sounding fairly polite in tone while his body language says something else, "Right. So if you've got an issue with the organization...why not ask Mixmaster about taking up his organizational duties? You'll see the job done how you want it, and Mixmaster will have more free time for...whatever it is he does." And they'll still never be able to find anything. Brilliant, no?

Hook actually smiles. "That would be excellent, Scrapper" he replies. "Though of course, Mixmaster WOULD still have the power to mess up my schedules. He IS XO." Another sore point. "And of course providing it doesn't interfere with my important engineering work for the Empire."

Long Haul mutters, "Like sitting around in the control room yelling at the clean-up crew?" as he adjusts the controls once more. This time the three are standing on top of a random power plant, much like any number that they raid.

Scrapper seems quite unparsed by the shifting scenarios. Either he isn't paying attention to the situation...okay, he's not paying attention to situation. He actually looks a little baffled that Hook's actually fine with his idea, and his shovel skews off-kilter just a bit. Scrapper swiftly recovers, though, and nods briskly. "Fine. You track Mixmaster down and negotiate that out."

"Excellent" Hook replies. Oh, this is totally going to be the most EFFICIENT schedule EVER. And completely perfect, of course.

Hook has disconnected.

What does Hook know about efficiency? He takes /forever/ at everything! The scene shifts to a random scrapyard on Cybertron.

Scrapper could collect art supplies here! Except this isn't a real scrap yard, and thus, he is foiled again. Only now that Hook has wandered off to be his nitpicky self elsewhere does Scrapper pay any real attention to Long Haul. He inclines his head to one side and inquires, "Why are you messing around with that?"

Long Haul looks up and shrugs. "Why not?" Of course, the real answer is, 'It's better than hauling,' but that's not what he says.

Scrapper folds his hands absently and notes, "It's a bit, ah, confusing, isn't it?" Good thing robots don't get epilepsy, huh?

Long Haul cocks his head at Scrapper, radiating the confusion that he can't express on his lack-of-face. "Why?" he asks before tapping another key, changing the scenery to an asteroid of some sort or another.

Scrapper gestures vaguely. "All these scenarios." He shrugs and comments, "I should be getting back to the medical ward now."

Long Haul hmmms? "Whyzzat? Got something goin' on?" He shuts down the system, returning the training room to default. Maybe this will be more interesting than supply paperwork!

Scrapper stares at Long Haul briefly before tilting his head upwards. He says slowly, "Fixing people is my job, yes?" If that isn't a self-explanatory reason to be at the medical ward, Scrapper may have to drag Long Haul off the medbay and check him out. He's certainly showing some symptoms of sluggish processors.

Long Haul just got beaten to within an inch of his life by Hook! Of /course/ he's showing symptoms of sluggish processors! "Well, yeah, but sometimes you got somethin' specific goin' on!"

Scrapper shrugs and comments absently, "Nothing in particular. Why would I be wasting time talking to Hook if there was?" He chuckles slightly and starts to head out.