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:

Scavenger

Sign

Gumby Medic

Obvious exits:

East <E> leads to Trypticon Laboratory.

West <W> leads to Trypticon Main Hallway.

Long Haul is slumped across one of the medical tables, at the moment passed out, his opticband dim. Wait... no, wait... he's stirring... he's stirring... he groans and slumps again.

Scavenger had, upon hearing that several of his comrades and fellow Constructicons had drunk themselves into a deep enough stupor that they'd had to be hauled into the medical bay, decided to come visit them when they woke up. After all, what better to cheer you up than the smiling (ok, so he couldn't actually smile, but it was the thought that counted) face of your teammate?

Long Haul stirs again and his opticband comes fully on-line. He groans again and grumbles about having drunk that /way/ too fast before turning on his side - and promptly falling off the med-bed. *Kathunk!*

"Oh dear!" Scavenger exclaims, sounding just a little bit like a certain pig that hangs out with a certain funny old bear, and rushing to the side of his comrade. Bending down, he inspects him to see if there's any permanent damage and finds none. "You OK, buddy?"

Long Haul lies face down on the floor for a moment, not even lifting his head to answer, "Will be as soonas that guy quits hittin' my head witha sledgehammer..." He pushes himself up slowly, then slides back down. "Bah."

"Just how drunk did you guys /get/?" Scavenger asks, lacking the mocking tone that just about anyone else would possess in his position. Instead, there is genuine concern. Of course, all the Constructicons have some amount of concern for each other, but it is Scavenger who cares the most, like a baby duckling following the first thing it saw upon hatching.

Long Haul finally pushes himself over so that he's watching the ceiling. "Dunno. You'll have to ask Mixmaster. He's the one who spiked the energon." He pauses. "Pretty wasted... I'm prolly lucky to be up even now, an' that's only 'cos I'm tougher'n those two."

" 'course you are," Scavenger says, trying to sound reassuring. He's in a dicey position, torn between his instincts and the way he knows Long Haul thinks. The part of him that insists on trying to be helpful is telling him to help Long Haul up, while that part of him that his common sense circuitry is connected to is telling him that's a good way to get a sock upside the head.

Long Haul isn't in a mood to sock Scavenger! That would require moving faster than he wants to move at the moment. Besides, Scavenger's now the hauler, which frees Long Haul to weld! So he's not going to complain... actually, speaking of that... "Arright. Now... what was that Mixmaster was talkin' 'bout you doing the hauling now?" He finally does push himself into a sitting position and just... takes a moment to rest.

"Oh yeah, that," Scavenger says cheerfully. "Well, I was out digging, and Mix mentioned how you were still pretty laid up from giving Jazz what fore, and how he has lots of stuff that still needed to get moved around, so I said I'd do it!" There's a certain amount of pride in Scavenger's voice, along with, perhaps, a hint of expectation. Scavenger doesn't try to help others for gratitude or anything after all, he just wants to see other people happy.

Long Haul actually chuckles fondly, then flinches as it rattles his head. He probably has more than a few circuitcards that need reseating at the moment. "Arright. Gotcha." So it was pretty much like Long Haul had expected - Mixmaster had conned Scavenger into doing something he could have done himself. "Apparently Mix thinks it's yer job, now, 'cause he actually told me to stop hauling the rubble I was haulin' around. 'Course, he might have just wanted a drinkin' buddy."

Scavenger thinks about this for just a moment, the notion working it's way through his brain. "Oh, I could never do that... That's your job," he says. "Unless you want me to do it from now on... I guess I could do that too..." And why not? Long Haul's always talking about how miserable his job is, and if you're miserable in one aspect of life, you're gonna be miserable elsewhere. Maybe he'd be happier with another job...

Long Haul would be happier with another job! Like being a warrior! But failing that, almost /anything/ is better than hauling, which is why these last two weeks have seen a Long Haul that's about as cheerful as he gets. He got to weld! But still, there's that whole common sense thing... "Scavenger, yer not built for it. Yer built for diggin'. You may be fine for the small stuff, but movin' heavy loads long distances is what I'm designed for. An' bein' as I'm part of Devastator, I doan' see anyone approvin' a rebuild for me anytime soon." He sighs. "Let's face, I'm stuck," he murmurs, a bit depressed. "Still... was nice to take a break for awhile."

"Well, I'm just glad I could help out, Haul," Scavenger replies happily. Well, no one could say he didn't offer and, well, Haul probably didn't /really/ mean everything he said when he complained. "You ever need a break again, you know where I am." Which was a rather stupid and pointless thing for a member of a combiner team such as himself to say, but he felt like saying it anyway.

Long Haul DOES mean everything he says when he complains, thanks. But we won't go into that. "Uhm, yeah. Gotcha. I'll keep that in mind." He starts to get up but then thinks better of it. "Think I'm gonna rest here for awhile..."

"Probably a good idea," Scavenger says. "Some pretty nasty rumors spreading already 'bout how drunk you guys got. And if even half of it's true, that was /drunk./" Which, of course, raises even Scavenger's fury. After all, he may be trying his best to get people to feel happy and recognize the value in everything, but he's a Constructicon first and foremost. You mess with one, you mess with them all. "Ah, anything I can get you?

Long Haul's opticband flickers as he tries to focus on Scavenger and what he just said. "What?!" he exclaims. "Rumors? But it only jus' happened!" He shakes his head. "An' is not like we did anythin' aside from stumble off an' pass out! Who's been sayin' stuff?" he demands, then lowers his voice and continues. "Was it Mosfet? I bet it was Mosfet..."

Scavenger thinks for a moment, then nods. Then he realizes that Long Haul may be having too much trouble focusing to pick up on that, so he says, "Yeah, him an' a couple of other guys I can't remember the names of were making fun of you guys. Said you were stumbling around like a couple of petro-rabbits in heat. I would of done something 'bout it, but I wanted to check on you guys first."

"Bah! Them idjits weren't even around before we passed out, an'..." he stops as something hits him. "Petro-rabbits in HEAT?!?" he roars, than flinches at the sound of his own voice and brings a hand up to cradle his head. "Idjits," he mutters.

"Yeah," Scavenger replies. "Of course, 'round here, who /isn't/?" He chuckles, obviously amused with something. "Except for us, that is."

RIIIIIIIGHT. The dump truck would object, but he doesn't really feel like arguing the case that his brothers, for all their genius, were often VERY moronic. And although he knows full well he's not as bright as they are, Long Haul remains quite convinced that he's got more sense than they do. The Constructicon just shrugs. "Point," he mutters.

"Still, Haul, you gotta admit, drinking 'round Mix is never smart," Scavenger adds. "You /know/ you shouldn't do that, unless you've got an eye on him at all times." Not that Mix usually had it /out/ for the others, he just had a unique and liberal definition of when it was appropriate to experiment.

Long Haul eyes Mixmaster warily. "Scavenger... I /tol/ him to spike it. He spiked his own drink. Tastes better that way... 'sides, if it doan' come spiked, it takes me too long to get drunk." His endurance is just THAT good. Or something.

Scavenger boggles at that for a moment, but decides not to press the issue. It's not worth getting Long Haul annoyed. Still, what on Cybertron could make Long Haul want to get that loaded? "Just what made you want to get that drunk?" he asks.

"Well, I din' exactly want to get /that/ drunk! I just wanted to get drunk!" Besides, when they're drunk is about the only time the rest of the Constructicons get along. "'Sides," the dump truck continues, "Mixy was providin' the energon. Why turn it down?"

Faced with the insurmountable logic of a stubborn dumb truck, Scavenger decides not to argue. It would only lead to yelling. "Can't argue with a free drink," he agreed amiably. Of course, he's pretty easy to fool or con, and even he knows this, but he's also smart enough to know one should never drink or consume anything prepared by Mixmaster. And, of course, he admitted the gang seemed to squabble less when they were drunk...

Long Haul wouldn't yell! At least, not more than a couple of words, anyway. His head hurts too much. "I wasn't gonna. 'Course, I'm payin' for it now... but I'll git over it." And make the same mistake again, no doubt.

"Of course you will," Scavenger reples, knowing full well that Long Haul /will/ make the same mistakes again. At least Bonecrusher hadn't been involved. The two likely would have started scuffling more than usual. Then again, it could be worse. Scavenger knows he'd feel even more terrible if they weren't around, so he'll take them, rust spots and all.

Long Haul grunts. "Yuh." Then he reaches his arm out almost blindly. "Help me up, willya? If I'm just gonna stay in here an' rest up, might as well get off the floor an' back onna bed." So Scavenger will get to haul something one last time, after all! He'll haul Long Haul!

The irony of hauling Long Haul lost on him, Scavenger simply seems to radiate cheerfulness as he helps Long Haul get up on his feet. Overenergizing is a great feeling while you're doing it, but sometimes, depending on the grade of energon, darn hard to recover from afterwards. He's still gets an occasional surge, when he remembers one of the army's larger benders.

Long Haul mutters something that could possibly be a thanks as he's pulled to his feet and stumbles back onto his medical table. "'Course... I think it's gonna be awhile before I pull that again..."

Then again, probably not.

"I hope so, Haul. I tell you," Scavenger says, still cheerful, but some concern echoing into his voice. "One of these days, you guys are gonna get /really/ drunk and do something rile up somebody you shouldn't and then..." He drew a hand across his throat. Like that freaky Soundwave. He had no more love for him than any of the Constructicons, but the fact that he had a bunch of freaky little midgets in his chest gave Scavenger the creeps.

Oh, please. The Constructicons do a fine job of riling up folks while sober! They don't need spiked energon for that! It's a SPECIALTY. "No way," answers Long Haul, obviously not worried. "You know what happens t'anyone who breaks the ban against infighting." Oddly, Long Haul never viewed duking it out with his brothers as 'in-fighting.' That was just... normal Constructicon interaction. "An' Galvs might cannon us, or do scrap like that one time when he had Scrapper programmed to short out every time he heard the word, 'retard,' or somethin', but we're too useful to just scrap."

Yeah, Scavenger knew. Galvatron... was terrifying, really. "Yeah," he says, "I know, Haul. Doesn't mean I can't worry about you."

Oh, enough of this brotherly worrying stuff! "Yeah, yeah... well quit it. S'gettin' annoying." And with that Long Haul drifts back out.