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:

CPT

Trypticon <T>

Carbombyan Palace

Obvious exits:

 East <E> leads to Red Sea.

 West <W> leads to Nile River.

Fly <Up> 

 

Scrapper emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Scrapper has arrived.

 

Mixmaster has arrived.

 

Dump Truck <Long Haul> has had a good couple of weeks. He got in a fight with Jazz, he's been banned from hauling for a good while and instead has spent his time welding (which qualifies as Better Than Hauling), he got to menace a Stunticon with High Command's backing, he got in ANOTHER fight, and he was recently granted a double ration of energon. However, all good things must come to an end, and now he's close enough to full health that he's back to... HAULING. Specifically, removing rubble from the site of the refinery so that a new one can be built.

 

Mixmaster, meanwhile, is in his hiding place, the hole he had Scavenger dig for him, a cube at his side. When he hears his brother trundling by. Hmm. Mixy pokes his head out, sees his brother. "I thought you weren't doing that now?" He yells at Long Haul.

 

Scrapper is slightly baffled as to why there's a big, big, big hole out there, as he's been a bit... out of it lately. Note to self: when sorting out anaethetics, make sure the caps are on the bottles securely. It helps avoid unintendeded knock-outs.

 

Arachnae emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Arachnae has arrived.

Arachnae slips quietly into the area.

 

"Well, I can quit if that's whatcha want!" shouts back Long Haul as he passes Mixmaster (who's in a big, big hole. An important hole). "Hook ordered no hauling until I was back up to 90% functionality. I'm back up, so it's back to work." He doesn't sound particularly pleased with this development.

 

Mixmaster's head is all that's visible from the international-level hole that he had Scavenger dig for him - and dump the remains of which over the borderline. "Well, I don't see why not!" He snips at his brother. "After all, you've been replaced. And by someone who complains a lot less too!"

 

"Fine, then!" Long Haul snaps, transforming and leaving the rubble in his truck bed where it falls. "Works for me!" Then something strikes him and he gives Mixmaster an odd look. "Replaced? By who?"

 

Arachnae comes ut of Trypticon only to pause a brief moment before leaping into the air. Wings splay out as she hovers, looking down on the surrounding areas with a curious expression. With seeming languid ease, she remains there, staring down on this, the little kingdom, optics bright without her visor to colour her vision.

 

Scrapper is staring at the ludicrously big hole, looking rather puzzled. There was a refinery that he was going to get around to rebuilding and then... hole. It's a bit attention grabbing.

 

"Scavenger." Mixmaster’s head responds. "So we're out of work now. I check with Military, they have no free spaces yet. So I guess you'll just have to be the Constructicon who has nothing to do." When he sees Arachnae, he sticks his arm up and starts waving. "Hey, Arachnae! Wanna hop in my hole!?" Yes, the player knows how bad that sounds. Please don't post that.

 

"Scavenger?!" For a moment Long Haul sounds affronted, then he stops to consider this. He shrugs. "What, I guess this means I'm s'posed to start diggin' holes or something? Hey, do I get to be the arm now?" he asks sarcastically. He hops into Mixmaster's hole next to the cement mixer. After all, if Mixmaster says he's not supposed to be hauling, who is he to argue?

 

Arachnae's attention flicks across the ground, settling on the hole.. And then there's the offer of sharing the hole. How droll. Optics narrow as she reaches up to flip her visor back into place, drifting down like a feather in the breeze. "Now whyever would I want to get in yor hole?" quizzical tone.

 

"Because we have good company here!" Mixmaster's head calls out. "And energon!" Mixmaster retrieves a vial from subspace, holding something purple and.. not right in it. "And look! My latest stuff to put /in/ the energon!"

 

Long Haul turns his featureless face in Mixmaster's direction, eyeing the purple vial. "And just what the scrap is that stuff supposed to do?" he asks suspiciously. Drinking Mixy's spiked cubes is always a chancy proposition. Sometimes it's a blast, and other times... well, it's just best not to discuss those. On the other hand, he is officially the Constructicon without a job right now...

 

Arachnae narrows optics, drifting into the hole to land. "And what is that, Mixmaster?" curiousity playing across her face as wings mantle behind her neatly.

 

Scrapper just stares. He blurts thoughtlessly, "What is that hole?! That's what I want to know." Yeah, no sorting anaethestics again for a while. Maybe he should get the gumbies to do that. Hmm...

 

"Oh, haven't named it yet. You just put it in the cube." Mixmaster says in answer to Arachnae and Long Haul's questions, eyeing the liquid. "It sure is smooth, though!" Well, at least for the two seconds it takes for the good stuff to hit you. Mixy turns to his non-in-the-hole-brother. "It's a hole! Isn't it great! Now come overenergize with your brothers!"

 

Long Haul grabs a cube. Of course, he's been granted double energon rations recently, but why use them up when he can just drink Mixmaster's energon instead? He eyes the container warily for a few moments more and then shrugs, downing nearly half the cube in one long guzzle (quite a trick without a mouth!)

 

Arachnae hnns, pondering the logic of taking something from Mixmaster that has no name. She gives a shrug, "I'm willing to give it a try." As for answering Scrapper, she looks up to the outside of the hole and smirks, "redecorating?" amused tone.

 

Wait a minute! This is plain old energon! Long Haul was gypped! The dump truck looks at his chemist brother and holds out his cube expectantly. "Spike me."

 

Scrapper could spike Long Haul! Wait no, he could stick a carving knife in Long Haul. It'd even be art not infighting, too. However, he'd have to be in that hole to do it. Eh, everyone else has jumped in the hole, and Scrapper is a lime green sheep. Baa. He glances over at Arachnae and says skeptically, "If this is decorating, we're paying the decorator too much."

 

Mixmaster awws. The perfect comeback to this would be to run a large spike into Long Haul, but there just isn't anything around. So he'll just have to spike the energon cube instead. Mixmaster has measured it out perfectly in a ration for one vial to a cube. And since he isn't planning on spiking any half-cubes, he pours the entire contents into his brother's cube. The purple liquid blends with the regular energon, turning it a slightly deeper colour, and causing it to glow even brighter than usual. "Oh, I don't know.. a coat of paint would make all the difference." He says, spiking cubes and handing them out to Nae and Scrapper, both of which are also glowing, but a lot /less/ brightly than Long Haul's cube.

 

Long Haul swirls his cube for a moment, the energon sloshing about in its confines. "Hey, speakin' of that... Mixmaster, when you get around to it, I need some proper purple glass." He jerks a thumb towards his driver's cab, which is currently clear. "Didn't have any on-hand, and I hadda go with the clear stuff." He pauses, looking at the cube once more and, not bothering about any potential side-effects of having the additives at a much stronger concentration than they're meant to be at (he's no chemist, after all!) he once more tosses it back, almost emptying the cube this time around.

 

Arachnae takes her tinted (tainted?) cub"e with a smile and flick of wings, "You're the engineer, Scrapper. You tell me why there is a hole here.." small sip taken of her energon, optics glowing gilded green.

 

Mixmaster takes a swig from his own cube. "No problem." He says, peering at the glass. " Do you want me to stain that glass or forge proper purple glass?" And when Arachnae asks her question, Mixmaster proudly steps up. "I'll answer that!" He says, interrupting any answer his brother was going to make. "Scavenger didn't have anything to do.. so I gave him something to do."

 

"Was that before or after you conned him into doing my j- woah." Long Haul leans back, his visor flickering a bit unsteadily. "Erm. Wow. That stuff catches you off-guard." He probably shouldn't have drank it quite as quickly, but has habits based on drinking normal energon, and doesn't tend to get overenergized quickly.

 

Arachnae shakes her head and continues to take the most minute sips, or the lovely pantomined sips of one who is more interested in how this supplement is going to affect the others enjoying it. She gives flick of her wings, "Nice of you to join us, Scrapper." Wry smile given to her CO and oft times favorite arguement partner.

 

"Possibly by denotation, more likely by mechanically removing a large amount of topsoil..." Scrapper trails off as Mixmaster explains why there is a big old hole in the ground. He takes a cube from Mixmaster and stares at it dubiously. Let's see, he can drink it and risk life and sanity. He can not drink and do the safe thing but look like an utter stick at the same time. Choices, choices.

 

Argument partner? You mean married couple, right? At least, that is what Galvatron told Mixmaster that time. "Conned? He wanted stuff to do, there was stuff to move, and /you/ didn't like the job, brother dear." The alchemist snips in response. "I got him to start with the dirt from this hole. It's over a borderline somewhere."

 

Hey, if Scavenger wants to be the hauler, who is Long Haul to argue? The dump truck gri- wait. Can't grin. No mouth, dammit. But he does chuckle and shrug. Actually, more giggles, and Long Haul giggling sounds ODD. "Works by me! I'll jus' keep weldin', and he can keep haulin'!" Maybe if he practices enough, he'll stop welding his fingertips to structures!

 

Arachnae smiles crookedly over her cube at Scrapper. "Drink up..." amusement dancing across her features, "After all, Mixmaster wouldn't poisen any of us.. " She appears to take another miniscule sip, "On purpose..." Wicked grin

 

And, as Arachnae says that Mixmaster wouldn't poison them.. Mixmaster chokes on a large mouthful of energon. He drops his cube, sputtering. Hmm.

 

Long Haul turns his visor in the direction of his sputtering brother. "Hey, you okay?" he asks, actually sounding concerned. Yeah, he's gone. It doesn't occur to him that Mixmaster is now sputtering over the same substance he just finished off a whole cube of. In fact, he goes on to add, "S'good stuff, Mixy. Good job on that one. Heh."

 

Mixmaster clears his vocalizer. "That wen' down th' wrong pipe. Sorry." Already Mixy's optics are starting to glow a little brighter as he gets more and more overenergized. "Yeahfanks." he says to Long Haul. "Scrapper.. you haven't touched yours..!" Mixy says, looking at his brother. Come on now, drink up!" And with that, Mixy leans forward and pushes Scrapper's cube up, encouraging more energon to be imbibed.

 

Arachnae half spans wings out, looking around at the hole, "So.. now that we have a giant hole, what.. are we going to do with it?" Toying with her cube thoughtfuly. And then, with a shrug, she takes a sip, an actual one this time, of the energon. "Hmmm.. Interesting counterflavor, nice midrange, a bit too much on the topnotes.." savoring it like a connoisseur. "But a rather delicate aftertaste." She doesn't take another sip, just goes back to toying with the cube, smiling her odd little smile.

 

Scrapper glances at Mixmaster dubiously. Weeeell, he's can't let Arachnae's jibe stand, but Scrapper's too young to die! Or at the very least his pretty purple wing is too young to die. So he takes a wee tiny sip, despite the facemask. Aww, it was too little to see how he did it. Wussy, wussy Scrapper. Holding the cube with one hand, he puts his other hand on his hip and says, "See? I had some. Happy now?"

 

Arachnae glances at Scrapper, "You always make me happy.. in the end."

 

"Whaddaya mean, what're we gonna do with it? We're doin' it!" Long Haul answers Arachnae cheerfully. That's right. He looks over at his wussier brother and waves a hand absently. "Aw, c'mon, Scrapper! Jus' drink it. S'good!" His optic band is glowing considerably brighter than usual, and he gives the definite impression that, had he a mouth, he'd be grinning like a loon right now.

 

Mixmaster can't believe Arachnae's question.. but Long Haul answers it. "Yes. Verr' happy." He says to Scrapper, his speech slurring as he continues to drink his cube, now halfway done. "Now have some more!"

 

Arachnae flicks wings, smirking as she sips from the cube, "Come now, Scrapper. Drink a little bit more." She pauses, then grins wickedly, "Unless you don't think you can keep up with me.. I mean, its perfectly fine if you can't, I understand."

 

Long Haul reaches an arm out to point at Scrapper. "Doan' make me shove that stuff down yer throat, Scrapper! An' doan' think I can't, just 'cos you ain' got a mouth! I doan, either, so I know how it works!" He looks at Mixmaster. "He keeps this up, an' you hold 'im down an' I'll pour."

 

Mixmaster gives Arachnae what is supposed to be a fond pat on her shoulder, but with his overenergized state causing inefficiences and innaccuracies over his servomotors, it is a bit more of a rough grope of sorts. "Shcrapper.. 'reyou gonna put up with that?"

 

Arachnae hisses at the pat-grope of her shoulder, ever so 'absently' flicking her wing out on that side to bump-nudge Mixmaster. "Oh dear.. sometimes they seem to have a mind of their own." sweeter than honey tone, languid and smooth as ice.

 

Scourge emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Scourge has arrived.

Scourge stalks into the area.

 

Long Haul momentarily loses interest in forcing his brother to drink the tainted energon (although you can bet his interest will return once Scrapper's player returns!) and leans back against the side of the hole. Since he hadn't been paying attention to Mixmaster's attempt to feel Arachnae up, nor her wing's response, he doesn't really know what she's talking about. "Whadoes?" he slurs with a sort of half-interest, because it's something to focus on.

 

Scrapper is still just staring at his energon cube, wearing a look of doubt and despair usually reserved for those who have been reading too many philosophy treatises by dead Germans. Oh yes, that sip tasted good. Too good. No doubt, if he drinks the rest, he'll come down with some terminal illness, or worse, he'll start signing the Engineer's Hymn and someone like Soundwave will wander in to see him making a bootleg of himself. Speaking of Soundwave, Scrapper regards Long Haul with a narrowed optic band. Long Haul wants him to drink more, huh? Well, so does everyone else, unless Soundwave's gotten to them all... so he take another quick sip, and one more step towards certain doom. Scrapper says, flustered and defensive, "I don't see why you're all so keen on this. I can feed myself, after all, and it's not like I don't get enough fuel."

 

Arachnae chuckles softly, wings tucking back behind her as she sips from her cube. Are her optics brighter? Or is that golden tinge the more usual preceptor to a bout of sweepish behavior? "Call it a game, Scrapper. We all need a bit of fun now and again."

 

And thus Long Haul's attention is returned to Scrapper! "An' I doan' see why yer bein' such a drag about this. S'not like y'never had any of Mixy's special brews before!" And with that the dump-truck-former places a friendly arm around his now-AFK chemist-brother, leaning heavily against him for a moment before stumbling over to his stick-in-the-mud brother instead.

 

Mixmaster downs the rest of his cube.. "Humm. There'sh more there whenIshtarted.." He continues to slurr. "Better geh' a topup." With that, Mixmaster clambers out of his special hole, using Long Haul as a footstool as he does.

 

Though the others might not know it straight away, Mixy staggers about as far as the door to Trypticon, before he passes out from his own creation. Silly Mixy!

 

Mixmaster has disconnected.

 

Scrapper is just standing around in the big hole, holding a slightly dubious looking cube of energon. Scrapper has indeed had Mixmaster's brews before. That's why he's so cautious about this one. He sighs and takes another sip. A bit hazily, Scrapper comments to Arachnae, "A game? Like that one with the octagonal cards where you bet body parts?"

 

Arachnae is in the big hole as well, toying with a cube of dubious color, occasionaly seeming to take the tiniest of sips. Her optics flicker gilded green, a grin on her face. "Well, if you want to play that one. Granted, I have an advantage if we do play that game." Wings flick, talons schnickt out partway, "More body parts."

 

Long Haul is a foot-stool! A big, lime green foot-stool! "'Ay!" he grumbles after his brother, but it does him little good, as the cement mixer is gone. "Huh?" he seems vaguely confused. "Yer s'posed to bet your own?"

 

Emerging from Trypticon to see the most wonderful (insert dripping sarcasm here) view of Carbombya, Scourge stalks into view, shaking his head. Silly Mixmaster, getting over-energized and passing out like that just inside the main entrance. He glances around, evidently looking for someone from the looks of it.

 

Scrapper tilts his head slowly over to Long Haul and jibes, "Eh, turnabout's fair play. I get stepped on enough, so why not you? And you can play it with your own body parts... depends on who you're playing with, really." Players, game tokens, what's the difference? He looks at his cube again. Mmm, pretty colours. "Don't think playing that right now would be a very good idea."

 

Arachnae flicks wings, "Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Long Haul." A wry wink and a soft chuckle. "Anything in my possession is, by definition, my part." She gives the cube a look, mock-sips again and smiles crookedly.

 

"Well, yer a foot! S'whattaya s'pect? If I can deal with bein' the ass, you can deal with bein' the foot!" And really, being the ass is one of the few things Long Haul /doesn't/ complain about. Because he's too busy complaining about doing his job... which has been given to someone else! The dump-truck former brightens once more at the very concept, his optic band blazing feverishly from over-energization.

 

After several moments, Scourge finally sees the object of his hunt, and walks quietly towards Arachnae and the 'inebriated' Constructicons. "Why am I not surprised?" he muses as he approaches. "Scrapper, you may wish to retrieve Mixmaster at some point. He seems to have... lost consciousness... inside Trypticon's main entrance. Quite a disturbing sight." He glances at Arachnae and simply nods... though there's another meaning implicit in his gesture.

 

"Hmph! They could fall on Mixmaster." And they do, of course, but that's not going to stop Scrapper from whining about it. He takes another sip, decreasing the level in the container infinitesimally, and decides that he needs to sit down. That would, of course, be when Scourge shows up. Eeep! Scrapper scratches the back of his helmet and says slowly, "Well, I thought that hauling things out of the way was Long Haul's job, but..."

 

Arachnae's optics brighten, wingtips shifting forward of her shoulders a moment, head turning like a hound scenting for a fox. "Hnnn.." optics slit, ah yes.. And she replies to the voice of the hunter, "What is there to be surprised about?" wry tone as she seems to sip from the questionable cube again. The level hasn't changed for some time now.. She in turn inclines her head towards Scourge, optics glinting more gold than green - perhaps due to the way the sunlight reflected off of the lenses, no doubt. And a slow smile spreads its way across her face.

 

"Nope!" answers the dump truck cheerfully. "It's Scavenger's now! Mixmaster said so! I'm a welder!" The fact that he's currently trucking complete and utter nonsense doesn't seem to bother the Constructicon at all. What a great two weeks he's been having!

 

A slight hint of a smirk appears on Scourge's face as well as he sees Arachnae's reaction, then returns his attention to Scrapper... and giving Long Haul a sidelong glance, quirking an optic ridge. "Whichever, Scrapper... just retrieve your fallen 'brother' and get him out of sight," he replies with a slightly acid tone. "Unless you want Galvatron seeing him in his current condition and deciding to let me... make an example of him." The implications of that statement... well, this is the mech who's crucified several Decepticons in his time, after all.

 

But then they'd have to build a crutch for Devastator! "Eh," Long Haul rumbles, and then shrugs. "I guess I'll go get 'em... or find Scavenger an' have him haul 'im off. Or whatever." He stumbles over to the side of the hole and climbs out... stumbles-slides back down... tries to climb again... stumbles again. After a couple of minutes of this he finally manages to pull himself /out/ of the hole and goes stumbling off in the direction of Trypticon. One can only hope he actually manages to drag Mixmaster off rather than collapsing himself.

 

Anyone who goes to look later will find two drunk and unconscious Constructicons not too far from where Scourge spotted Mixmaster earlier.

 

Scrapper stares off the way that Long Haul went. Something nags at him. The bridge over troubled waters? The great big hole in the ground? The refinery he was supposed to rebuild? No, not that... that Long Haul didn't look like he was in such good condition to go lugging Mixmaster around. That was it. He starts, "I... I'm gonna go check on them. See Mixmaster gets hauled out of the way properly." Scrapper tries to climb out, but finds himself a bit too unsteady on his feet for the task.

 

 

Arachnae watches Long Haul and his less than graceful exit, and then Scrappers attempt. She gives a shrug of shoulders, reaches out to wrap an arm about the tipsy enginneer and leaps upwards, pulling him out of the hole before setting him back onto his own feet. "Good that you should check on your brothers, Scrapper." she offers him her rather untouched save for a sip now and there cube. "Take this with you, if you would." Wry smirk which fades as she peers over at Scourge, quizzically.

 

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) returns from a standard patrol (what with all the invasions lately, you can't be too sure anymore) and comes in low for a landing, transforming at the last instance to touch down in robot mode fairly near the whole hole business. He looks around... GHA! Constructicons! Wait, only one, so he should be safe... besides, he's not in Medical. Then he spots Arachnae and Scourge. GHA! Sweeps!

 

The yellow Cybertronian jet unfolds, revealing the robotic form of the seeker Fleet.

 

 

Payloader (Scrapper) stashes away Arachnae's cube and tips over into his payloader mode with a heavy thunk. Now having four point balance and the added bonus of tyres with good traction, he stands a fighting chance at getting out of this hole. If all else fails, Scrapper can always pull put that big purple wing of his and fly out. Despite being a payloader, he 'shrugs', tipping his shovel down and replies, "Eh... someone has to go check on them."

 

In a simple, utilitarian transformation, Scrapper becomes a payloader. His lower legs fold over his thighs. His arms tuck along his sides. His head retracts into his body, and his shovel folds down into place.

 

 

Scourge shakes his head, and if he had eyes to roll, he'd be rolling them. Instead, though, his gaze focuses on the approaching Seeker as Long Haul vanishes into Trypticon. He looks back at Arachnae, and another evil little smirk appears on his face.

 

 

Arachnae slides her attention to the payloader before she shakes her head, a little grin on her face. A soft snort before she resetles wings behind her, pacing towards Scourge, curiousity lending her features some level of impish delight. "Have you had your engines tended to properly, wingsib?"

 

 

Oh, good, the Sweep and semi-Sweep haven't spotted Fleet yet (well, yes, they have, but they haven't acknowledged him, so Fleet just thinks that he hasn't been spotted). He stands at attention briefly and then turns, intent on hurrying off before he's noticed.

 

 

Payloader (Scrapper) finally manages to wind his way out of the pit. Just about as he's about to track dirt over the other two passed out Constructicons and pass out himself, he hits upon a singularly brilliant idea. Scrapper radios into MSE and has a squadron of gumby Seekers dispatched to haul them back to medical. Then he passes out. Bet Hook won't be pleased about all the dirt on him and tracked onto his brothers.