| abstract | - Summary: (February 2028) Decreasing stability in Catechism and Bandit gets further exacberated, putting two of Aerospace's finest in danger. Several jets are pulled in to lend their processors in more than one way to save them. Darkfix's cheek twitches. "No... Oh, no, no. Heheh. This is a simple procedure. We'll ah... just lie back." His face looks serious and somewhat annoyed. And for those just coming in, Darkfix, the poorly named gumbi-medic, has a Bradley AFV as an alternate mode. So, he's kind of blocky. Catechism is sitting on a table, looking rather worried. It's an odd look on her. It takes something... special to worry Catechism. She reminds, "This is my laser core, y'know. It's kind of important. I like having it working. I need it to live. I'm pretty sure it's not all that simple, even if I'm kind of simple. Arachnae said it was made out of crystals." Like jewellery! Darkfix scowls. "Now... I don't want to make this an order, see. Just lie back, and go offline. Nothing's going to happen, I'm just going to perform a more thorough scan. I'm hardly going to be carving the thing up." He points at an overhead security camera, which is looking at them. "See? If I did do that, Shockwave or Soundwave would rip me in half. So, you're good." He then waits for Catechism to comply. There's little activity in the medical ward this time of duty cycle. And so, the procedure going on behind the viewing plate-glass earns its fair share of suspicious glowers from Fusillade. Leaning to the side from time to time, her saffron optics watch the proceedings sharply, although the words from the two don't quite filter back to her. With fingertalons clicking on the keyboard, she nnns as the burly tech gestures to the camera. Seeming satisfied, she and returns to pulling up files to see just what has been going on with several MilOps units of interest. Lie back and think of the Empire. Right. Catechism looks up at the cameras suspiciously. She knows a camera. They're lying little gits. With a sigh, she lies back. Catechism doesn't mind the thought of death. She just hopes it doesn't happen *now*. Catechism would wave to Fusillade, but she needs to go offline now and let the quack see her laser core. Which she does. Darkfix cracks his knuckles in front of himself and actually smiles. Finally, a chance to show that he's just as competent as any other medic. Pulling a laser cutter from the nearby tray, he leans over the table, carefully slicing out a small panel from Catechism's forehead, which he pulls out. Ah, perfectly cut, and no damage to the underlying circuitry. Using a special forceps with rubber tipped prongs, he slowly pulls something out--a small glowing cube. Catechism's laser core. Darkfix smiles. So far, so good! Finally, he carefully holds the core with his left hand as he runs the scanner over it with his right. He frowns at the scanner's screen. "Hm... flickering a bit... well, still seems to be working." Catechism is inert on the table. Especially so, since Darkfix had the bright idea to remove her already damaged laser core from her nice, warm body and wave it around in the air. Girl's gonna have nightmares if she makes it through alive. The door to the Medical Ward is slammed open. Breakneck saunters on in, doing a little dance every once in awhile as he listens to something on his internal iPod Nanochip. (iPod's newest line of portable technology, no bigger than three atoms side by side!) He seems to be enjoying whatever he's listening to and is completely oblivious to other people being here. Scrapper strides into the medical ward in order to take his regularly scheduled turn of being the lead medic on duty. Unlike those punks over in DCI, MSE heads actually get their hands dirty doing the grunt work as well as the high and mighty administrative things. The Constructicon Commander takes a brief glance at what's going on as he heads to one of the supply cabinets to make sure they're fully stocked on everything he'll need for his shift. The apparent surgery going on catches his optic, and Scrapper finds himself glancing over at Darkfix and Catechism. Darkfix frowns at the display as he aims the scanner almost point blank at Catechism's laser core. "Come on, clear up already... Ah, here we go. Hmm... that's very odd.." He's pondering the readout when something rather unfortunate happens--the scanner shorts out, spraying sparks in every direction. Worse, an electrical current leaps from the device and into the laser core. And the gumbi-medic... gapes. He looks around panicked--he has to hide this! Oh, wait, security cameras! Slag! "Uh. Uh! Medical emergency! Medical emergency! Help!" he shouts. Fusillade has been pretty cognizant of what Catechism had been up to, and after the scare involving her... well, MULTIPLE scares, truth be told, it was good to know that the Seeker was still in decent shape. However, the others that had been involved with stabilizing her after the mishap with the xenomorphs... what came of them? It seems like it would fairly easy to find Fulcrum, but lately, it hasn't, and then there was the issue with Bandit... Her reverie is broken VERY quickly by the relatively silent tapdance from Breakneck's direction, and she stares openly for a good long moment. And then, she looks over at Scrapper... and follows his gaze to... see some STRANGER playing in Catechism's braincase. She starts visibly, and stands, her earlier blissful ignorance quite suddenly shattered! Fusillade bellows out in disbelief, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" However, she has the sense to not meddle in these kinds of medical affairs. Scrapper takes out several small glass canisters of some unidentified medical liquid from the cabinets and sets it down on the counter. He peers over again at the medic doing surgery on Catechism. It takes the Constructicon several astroseconds (everything is better with astroseconds) to place the mech. Darkfix? That punk? Who let him do /brain/ surgery on people? Scrapper's worries are confirmed when sparks suddenly shoot out and an electrical current zaps something up. "Slaggit!" Scrapper exclaims, dropping one of the canisters. It crashes against the floor and breaks. The Constructicon ignores it, however, and instead rushes over to Catechism and Darkfix, "What in the pit are you -doing-?" he exclaims, trying to ascertain the medical situation. He's ready to shove Darkfix aside if he has to. "OWWW!" Breakneck suddenly screams, though more in tune with the music playing on his internal network. Quite suddenly he falls to the ground in a wide split, hands up in the air, does a little wave with his hands, before jumping back to his feet. There's a crisis in here? Feh! Darkfix is... well, shocked. His mouth is hanging open in despair. "I... Oh Primus... it wasn't my fault, the thing just... it just shorted out on me! How was I supposed to know!" His left hand shakes as it holds the damaged laser core, which isn't glowing very brightly anymore. He just doesn't know what to do. Catechism always did enjoy storm tag. Maybe that'll be on her eulogy, if they bother with one: the electricity finally caught up with her. The doors open the reveal the helicopter bot form of Mesa reading a Data Pad. His head is bobbing to an unheard tune. Upon looking up from his Data Pad he goes to attention giving everyone a brief salute then moving to the side of the door to wait. He finds a near-by chair and proceeds to sit in it and go over the information in his Data Pad at length. Scrapper does finally just shove Darkfix aside. He looks down at Catechism's lasercore. "Oh... oh no... What were you doing?" he demands again of Darkfix. The Constructicon snaps his lime green fingers and motions to another, more competent medic, "Get a neural stabilizer over here!" he snaps. "And see if anyone can reach Soundwave or Hook." Hopefully they aren't both on Cybertron or something. Scrapper can probably do this, but he's modest enough to know that having a specialist on hand is never a bad thing. The data readouts on Catechism's lasercore is not good. "Nnnn, a lot of the central processing power has been shut off line... probably has some data corruption in the core registers, too." Breakneck finally notices all the commotion in the room as Darkfix is knocked aside by Scrapper. "Soundwave, eh?" he asks as he looms close to Scrapper. He begins to hover a few feet up in the air, behind Scrapper, so he can get a good look at what the Constructicon is doing. "Comin' right up." The customization expert, Tweak, leaps to the task. The platinum and seafoam Seeker flinches, motions nervous and overly solicitous of Scrapper, before breaking off into a harried rush to join Breakneck. As for herself, Fusillade frowns deeply, and backs off to the console, tapping fingertips on the counter, sharply reminding herself to avoid interrupting Scrapper... and speaking of which... Her citrine gaze latches onto the vibrant orange Seeker. "Oh, it's THAT slagheap. Mesa, you're with me." She stalks toward Breakneck to intercept him. Mesa briefly looks up at the commotion... Buuut decides its best to go back to reading his Data Pad. Darkfix staggers backwards from the push. "I... was just doing a scan! I had to open her up because there was a, a strange reading! It was the only way!" His hands clutch at his head. How did this happen? Everything was going smoothly... And meanwhile, in DCI headquarters, Soundwave hears the odd transmission from Blaster. Well, everything is going pretty much as he expected. Still. Blaster of all people? Unlikely. Probably some practical joker. He leaves his office in the facility, running out as fast as his legs can carry him. Have to look urgent, now. No one can quite get enough of Breakneck's fine orange and red highlight body. He's careful right now to use his internal radio instead of voicing the impression out loud. He continues to watch. Scrapper is sometimes a pretty useless Commander on the battlefield, but here in his own medical ward he's at the very least adequate. As a fellow medic hands him the neural stabilizer - it looks like an original Trek tricorder - in his hands, he runs it over Catechism's lasercore. "Just what I thought... corruption." He looks up towards the Decepticon assets all around him - namely, the Decepticons themselves, and dishes out some orders. "Fusillade, hop onto a medical slab. No time to explain, but you just might have become a doner for Catechism. Catechism, you lay there and don't die. Mesa, you go over and smack Breakneck one in the head for being a moron on the radio. Breakneck, you stand there and let Mesa smack you one in the head for being a moron on the radio. Darkfix, you just wait in the corner until I get around to turning you into a chair. We can save her if we all just work together on this!" Catechism lies there! Suddenly, music is heard around the room that sounds like a tune of impending doom... or death, but before anyone can get a bead on where it comes from it goes silent. Though you can probably guess....... A smack in the head is far better than a cannon to the face, Breakneck thinks. He continues to hover over Scrapper's shoulder though, so Mesa's going to have to hover up to him to smack him in the head. And better hope he doesn't hit too hard, otherwise Breakneck might fall into Scrapper. Oh noes. Fusillade is midway through leaping at Breakneck, but at Scrapper's summons, she tilts her head to the side. With heel thrusters clicking against the tile of the floor, she skids to the indicated table, and begins dumping out her weapons in an adjacent bin. "Yeah, what's that? You know there's been a fair bit to happen to both her and me... well you'd know about me. Given that... yeah." She trails off, and with an anxious squeeze on her wingblades, sets them aside as well. "Can't you two play dueling playlists or something?" she snipes diissively to Breakneck and Mesa. Darkfix dutifully goes to the corner, curling up into a ball as he quietly moans, "I don't want to be a chair..." And finally, the Decepticon that ever so carefully orchestrated these events, Soundwave himself, rushes into the medical ward. Quickly scanning around, he spots the group--Table 8? He thought for sure that Darkfix would use Table 7--and flies over to them, avoiding all the sundry obstacles in his way. Landing right beside Scrapper, he intones, "Status?" Breakneck gets an irritated glance from the tape commander. Ah, so that's who was impersonating Blaster. Mesa sets his Data Pad down, looks at Breakneck hovering above Scrappers shoulder. Mesa then quickly kicks in his Anti-Grav's, lunging toward Breakneck throwing a punch to his face in the process. Though.. if it misses... There is gonna be a mess. Mesa strikes Breakneck with Punch. Scrapper nods in agreement with Fusillade even as he works on stabilizing - if only temporarily - Catechism's brain. "Yes, well, I'd love to have a donor with a better record of sanity, but one thing I've learned after serving in the Decepticon Empire for millions of years it that it's remarkably hard to find!" Scrapper looks gratefully at Soundwave. "Chairatron here," Scrapper jabs a thumb in Darkfix's direction, "Accidentally zapped Catechism's brain and not only shut down part of her processing power, but also caused data corruption." He hands the stabilizer over to Soundwave. "You're our resident lasercore expert. Keep Catechism's brain from going completely offline. I'm going to see about doing something I haven't done in a million years." Before anyone can come up with a snappy retort to this, Scrapper elaborates, "Partially merge two brains together." Scrapper moves out from where he was standing and motions to the medics to move Fusillade's medical slab closer towards Catechism's. He all but ignores Mesa as he carries out his orders. Now remember, Breakneck was /right/ over Scrapper's shoulder. He was hovering in the air watching what the Constructicon commander was doing. So when Mesa punches him, instead of just smacking him in the back of his head, he goes smashing down toward the ground exactly where Scrapper was but a moment ago. Damn that order to stay where he was! "Nice punch, kid. First one is free, do it again and I expect dinner and flowers first," Breakneck says as he gets back to his feet and steps up right next to the table with Catechism on it. He's opposite the side as Scrapper is and right near one of the medical stations. Oh look, shiny buttons. Mesa says, "Kid? Soldier I am far older than I look." "That's not exactly dueling playlists," Fusillade remarks to Mesa's dutiful swing at Breakneck, before she glances over expectantly to the muzzles of the patient supression systems lining the walls. "And I'm glad that you've seen fit to once again experiment on... -HEY!-" She mock-pouts in his direction, although she does visibly cringe away from the direction of the table. "Wait, what? That's been done a few times on her already after the deal with Bandit and Fulcrum and the xenomorphs. I know there have to be tapes, Fulcrum put himself under -- like an idiot -- to stabilize them..." Soundwave nods. "Affirmative." He snatches the stabilizer, lowering it over the laser core. While Soundwave manipultes its controls, the device emits a faint blue beam at the core, apparently doing its magic. The core is somewhat more damaged than he expected it would be--but it's still quite possible to repair the damage. Playing the role of a Decepticon-Who-Did-Not-Expect-This-And-Is-As-Shocked-As-Anyone, Soundwave asks Scrapper, "You are going to merge their minds? Is that wise? If the procedure fails, it may deactivate two Decepticons, rather than one." As for Mesa and Breakneck, Soundwave keeps track of them with his audial sensors. While Breakneck seemed to call it even, he's going to be wary of the two for now. Mesa begrudgingly sets his feet on the ground again, and walks back to his Data Pad, fully expecting a physical or mental rebuttal from Breakneck. Scrapper for one is totally fooled by Soundwave's innocent play. Who the hell wouldn't trust Soundwave? He's got such an innocent look about him. Plus, Scrapper is far too enthralled in his work right now, and seemingly doesn't notice the close call he had with Breakneck. He looks up at Soundwave and says in his gruff voice, "I know, I know, it's a risky move, but I'm confident I can do it." Scrapper wishes he had another Constructicon here to help him with this, even if it's only for moral support. Looking down at Fusillade as the slab is pushed over to Catechism, he says, "Don't worry, you're going to be just fine, Fusillade. I promise this isn't going to hurt at all." He glances at a medic. "Alright, take her offline so we won't have to worry about her screams if she dies from this." Magma arrives from the steel-spun tunnel from the NCC Spinal Pathway to the south. Magma enters the medical bay, transponders having told him that Soundwave was present. He pauses briefly, surveying the surroundings but doesn't pay much attention to what's happening. Instead he makes his way towards the Tapecommander, a datapad held in hand and a furrowed brow the only signs of what he's up to. "If dying SHOULD be a regrettable side effect, Scrapper, I have no doubt you will be able to replicate your earlier miraculous work. Unless there's something that you're not quite letting on about..." Fusillade will likely stop existing before she stopped needling... but she always expected worse in return. Chaos envelopes the medical ward, with Scrapper and Soundwave laboring over a fading core botched by a tech too eager to prove himself. Breakneck's radio impersonation have impressed no one, although the trooper sent to curb his behavior is on stand by. Despite her glib words, Fusillade's grip on the edge tightens, and she quavers out as a few burly orderlies begin wrestling her down to the surface, "Well... you can at least look at the work that was documented so far? It's over there on the console where I was sitting." Soundwave continues to use the stabilizer on the core, not even looking up at Scrapper as he intones, "Very well. I shall assist you in whatever manner is required." A pause, then he states, "Perhaps I have delegated too much authority. A consequence of having so many responsibilities, and not enough time. I was unable to oversee this operation, as a result." Is he getting at something? Scrapper looks back down at Fusillade, "Catechism is going to die within a matter of minutes. As much as I'd love to read over all the records on her, I'm afraid I have to make a decision. -Trust- me, Fusillade." He looks up and nods at the medic, who will begin to shut down Fusillade's nervous system so she cannot move or feel anything. The Constructicon begins the delicate work of opening up Fusillade's torso, moving aside and removing the bomb rack in order to get to the laser core. As he digs deeper and deeper, he goes slower and slower, being more and more careful. All of this came out of no-where. Scrapper thought for sure this would be another lazy day putting in the standard medic duty shift. But now he's here doing critical surgery. What a day. Fusillade hyurks, and finger-twitches briefly, although there is little else. Long distance to Shrike: Fusillade is, yes. Magma frowns... he -was- hoping to catch Soundwave for a few moments, but seeing as he's busy killing a patient it'll have to wait. The mech turns on his heel and strides back towards the exit, preferring not to even watch... yes, that's right, he has a 'thing' about death... largely because he's flirted with it for so damned long. Soundwave states, "Core cannot be stabilized for much longer. Core death in one and a half minutes." It's kind of close, but Soundwave is betting that Scrapper will succeed. Catechism would make a really good zombie, if this goes wrong! Gnarr brainz. Magma cringes hearing that and bolts through the door in a fluster. Magma takes a steel-spun tunnel, as reflective and color-shifting as energon, to the NCC Spinal Pathway to the south. Fusillade, being put through the proper interlocks and protocols, presents a stable host for now. The quadruple redundancy systems are a tad bristly in places, making multiple queries in a manner reminiscent of the internet security features of Windows Vista. Scrapper is a good mech to bet on in this case, as Scrapper exposes Fusillade's core and, quickly but efficiently, runs a high bandwidth data link between Catechism's and Fusillade's lasercores. He hooks both ends up and looks at Soundwave. "There... that should do it. That may not have reconstructed any of it, but it at least should have stabilized it." Awkward pause. "But... if not? Fusillade will make a great table." He hasn't decided about Catechism yet. Scrapper just clicks 'yes, allow' over and over, like any good Windows user does after they first install the OS. Catechism always wanted to be a bar stool. Soundwave always wondered about Scrapper's obsession with turning people into art, or furniture. Yes, humiliating your enemies and making them suffer is all well and good, but... there's something not quite right about the way Scrapper likes to do it. Probably has something to do with why Devastator is so screwed up. "Excellent. Core is stabilized. Now we must attempt to repair the damage." Fusillade, if she were conscious, would glibly volunteer for bar flooring, where she would never want for a good sousing. Such as it is, there's not much of anything going on in her consciousness. Once the connection is made, however, there's a spike in systems. Not cognizant of her form or what she SHOULD be experiencing, Fusillade's mind instead races out, testing, querying, and inexorably flowing to the pinprick light that appears on the inky black slope ahead of her. A surge of anticipation, a touch too wreckless, courses and surges over and upon itself on the periphery of the other flier's missing tracks, a brilliant creamy and lilac flash against oblivion. Breakneck shifts away from the table and leans against the wall. After his little 'run-in' with Mesa he's been pretty somber. Besides, not like there's much for him to do here save get in the way, and he took Scrapper's little order seriously enough apparently. Scrapper may or may not have had a tragic accident involving a table when his lasercore was being built. As for Devastator, every Constructicon gets credit for that. Scrapper looks at both Fusillade and Catechism with a concerned look on his faceplate. "Good, good," he replies to Soundwave. He heads over to the end of the table to take a look at the readings himself. "Steady... more or less..." he considers for a moment. "Alright, lets hook up one more to this little network and we can consider it fully stabilized for the long term." He glances about the medical ward. Gee, WHO WILL HE PICK? "Congratulations, Breakneck!" He motions to Soundwave to get Breakneck ready. Soundwave turns to Breakneck and intones, "Lie down on the gurney." He points over to an unoccupied one by the wall. Then, he turns around begins to hook up an additional high-speed cable, in anticipation of Breakneck's 'assistance.' Breakneck raises a metallic brow when he's picked out for this. "What?" he asks indignantly. Breakneck's always thought any type of 'neural networking' along the lines of the Gestalts was crazy. Why the heck would he allow people into his mind or go into other people's? But then Soundwave reiterates the order, so Breakneck does what he must and lays down. Symphony slinks into the Medical Bay, not having much reason to visit but hey... it's the MEDICAL BAY! It's the next best thing to a bar, and since the 'rib is empty, well, here she is. Just in time it seems, to watch a highly complex maneuver being executed. She hrrms, trying to get a better look for a few moments before turning and moving over to the wall, placing her hands she starts to climb up, until she reaches the ceiling. She then straightens and walks across it, looking 'up' at what's happening from overhead, where her view is unobstructed. "Hold verrrrrry still, Breakneck..." Scrapper mutters. The Constructicon motions to his medic assistant to shut down Breakneck's pain receptors and movement capabilities. The process to access his lasercore is a long and dull one, and need not be recounted in much detail. When all is said and done, Scrapper delicately has connected Breakneck to Fusillade to Catechism to Breakneck. He heads back to the scanner. "This'll hold for a while until we can make the repairs," The Constructicon says, somewhat proud of himself for having turned a bad situation into a good one. "And you..." Scrapper turns to Darkfix. "You have a date with the dungeon, bucko!" Darkfix stands up and wails, "Nooo! Please! It wasn't my fault! I had faulty equipment! I swear! Everything was going fine until that thing shorted out! See? It... it... hurk!" He's cut off as Soundwave wraps his hand around the gumby's throat. "Fool," Soundwave intones. "Catechism is far more valuable cause than you. You should have followed your orders more closely, rather than 'interpret' them so creatively." Having had his say, Soundwave launches Darkfix back against the corner, where he falls down into a sobbing heap. Catechism would be touched to hear that, if she wsn't half-dead. Symphony ooohs softly, "A visit to the Dungeon? Something... *I* might help with?" she inquires, her voice with that wonderful quality of nails on a chalkboard that she does so well, "I'd -very- much like to have some fun. I've been -so- bored lately... what with Autobots being predictable, and the humans providing no real threat..." the femme grins 'up' at the others, giving the distinct impression that she'd like to lunge for someone's neck and rip it from their body with her teeth. Fusillade's torso is emptied, internal struts and weapons bays excised to allow proper connection to the cores of the other two aerial units. Her consciousness, in the meantime, is still getting acquainted with the new partitioning in which it finds itself. Coruscating upon itself, it glides over the placeholders where the fragmented data blocks rise up like blasted basalt fingers of the mindscape, sending out multiple queries. The breathless exuberance could easily be construed as invasive. And then, another... certainly not alone! There is one last lingering hover, a static buzz of mechanical humming bird wings, before it recedes from Catechism to investigate the impinging presence of the newcomer's mind, although it makes a point to keep itself from spilling over the confines -- too much -- of the mental common area that's been set up in her laser core. It probably feels like petro-ants crawling over Breakneck's temples. Scrapper may be very angry at Darkfix, but he isn't unreasonable enough to hurt a fellow Decepticon without reason. "Oh don't you worry. I'll be checking your equipment over very carefully. Expect to file a detailed report about exactly what you were doing to her. But for now, you stay in the medical ward." Scrapper glances over at Symphony, "Unless Soundwave has something else in mind, go ahead and take him there. No permanent damage until we know he really was at fault." The Constructicon peers at Soundwave. "'Orders'? What orders, Soundwave?" he asks as he looks over Fusillade's vitals. A soft hum emits as Symphony switches on her anti-gravs and without hesitation swoops down and grabs Darkfix by his neck, lifting him up, "Oh, unless I shatter his core, I doubt anything I'd do would be permanent." she replies in a soft cooing voice that betrays quite clearly how much she's going to enjoy mangling the wreck, "And here's to hoping I get to finish the job for once." she glances to Soundwave for a moment, as if waiting for his approval as well. Fusillade's readouts hiccup a few times, but they coincide with the introduction to the other minds. One could at least theorize about that, given how rare this process was. When the time comes for them to be pulled back out, a chanticleer crow rings out.=========================== Decepticon ===========================
Message: 2/34 Posted Author Catechism & Fusillade & Breakneck Wed Feb 28 Scrapper =========================== Scrapper appears on the screen. He looks tired. "I've just come out of a long surgery involving three of our aerial warriors. It seems during some kind of procedure on Catechism conducted by Darkfix-" people will know him as a NPC gumby medic who isn't terribly good "-something went horribly wrong. I haven't found out exactly what Darkfix was trying to do to her other than that it involved working directly on her lasercore." Scrapper grumbles, as anything involving direct contact with a lasercore is both rare and dangerous. "There was an electrical overload, and Catechism's processor took a hit in power. Worse than that, part of her core registers that carry fundamental data that keeps the lasercore running was corrupted." Scrapper shakes his head, still angry that there was such a horrible screw-up in -his- medical bay. He is clearly upset at this Darkfix fellow. "Acting fast, Soundwave and I managed to stabilize her functionality by linking her up with a pair of donors - first Fusillade, and then Breakneck. Not ideal donors by any means, perhaps, but I had to go with what I had." "The end result of it is that Catechism's lasercore is stable, though the damage is still present. It will need intense work on this. I'm recalling Hook from the field in order to assist Soundwave and I with this. Darkfix is currently in the dungeon. I'm going to look over his reports and find out if he screwed up or if it was unavoidable. If it turns out he screwed up... well, Lord Galvatron, we could always use more chairs around here." "All three patients are awake and have some limited mobility, though they're still connected to one another. If Catechism's brain ends up further destabilizing before we can carry out the repairs, we may need additional donors. But the good part of this is that we /will/ be able to fix this. I'm confident of it." The Constructicon Commander salutes, "Scrapper out." ============================================================================== Soundwave steps back over to Scrapper as he shares a glance at Fusillade's vital signs. "According to the schedule, which I watch closely, Darkfix had been assigned to perform a routine checkup on Catechism. Such a checkup most certainly did not require an invasive procedure. He would've been forbidden from doing such a thing, if his superiors knew." He glances up at Symphony as she grabs the wailing Darkfix. "Excellent. Make him suffer for his incompetence. But as Scrapper stated, we must wait until we know the full details of this incident before delivering a final punishment." Symphony bows, "Of course, Commander." she states before dragging the useless little NPC out of the room, sobbing the whole way. Even as she's moving you can hear the faintly disturbing giggles and cackles echoing in the halls of the city, the femme has a new toy and this makes her happy! Fusillade cracks up against the restraints as she comes to, teeth bared in her typical response. However, the crook of Scrapper's elbow is nowhere near her mouth this time. She squirms fitfully, and then purses hematite lips as she looks down accusingly at the leads that still connect the trio. "Did he just..." She glances quickly to verify Catechism's stability, and eventually glances at the reckless orange Seeker. It's only after she orients herself that the fading, maniacal laughter of Symphony reaches her, and she shudders. Scrapper ahs and nods back to Soundwave. "I always knew he was kind of incompetent, but I never knew he was -that- bad." The Constructicon shakes his head in annoyance. He watches as Symphony cheerfully drags Darkfix off. "Remember, nothing permanent! He's still innocent for now!" He felt the need to say that again just cause whenever a Decepticon is cheerful and taking someone to the dungeon, it isn't for happy reasons. Ah well. Scrapper doesn't really care what happens to Darkfix so long as there's enough left of him for his own projects. He looks down at Fusillade. "Did he just what now?" Soundwave begins to walk towards the MSE office, stating over his shoulder at Scrapper, "I must reassign Darkfix's remaining tasks to others. Some of the personnel will have to endure less personal time, but that will be necessary until we find a replacement." Yeah, he's already written the guy off as good as dead. "Fusillade, notify medical staff at once if there are any complications." He shakes his head as he steps inside the office. Oh, yes, what a horrible tragedy this was. Tilting her head to the side, Fusillade tugs lightly on the leads in order to spur Scrapper into announcing whether or not they were still needed. "HIM." She points to the radio impersonator. "You linked us to him? It was just the two of us to begin with," she remarks of Catechism and herself. She has no idea how the prior couplings would have impacted Catechism's experience. The memories that echo back worry her... the unresponsiveness from both. Was that normal? How would she even ask that? 'So uh Scrapper is my creamy exuberance incompatible with Catechism's circuitry?' didn't really sound appealing. Fusillade belatedly adds, "Yes sir," to Soundwave's edict before she flumps back onto the chilly surface, the restraints a bit more slack since she didn't thrash around too much. She reaches over the side of the slab, and then snaps out both wingblades to tent over her cranium to block out the overbearing glare of the lights above, and promptly cycles over into a recharge cycle. Scrapper nods to Soundwave, "Assign someone competent to watching these three at all times. You, I, and Hook are going to have to get together and work something out to repair Catechism." The Constructicon looks back down at Fusillade, "Yeah... we added Breakneck to the network. Not exactly the ideal choice, but we were sort of in a bind. It was either him or Darkfix, and I don't think you want him near you." Fusillade mumbles something about 'not really surprised with all the things that's happened to her', before clasping hands atop her still gaping chest, and slumbering. --End--
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