Jailbreak aftermath



Transformers 2005 - Tuesday, May 02, 2006, 6:58 PM

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Fleet has arrived.

Scrapper arrives from Mount R'lyeh via the heavy, creaking doors to the southeast.

Scrapper has arrived.

Maybe, just maybe, someone's moved Fleet into a pile in the corner with the other rubbish. Or maybe not. The once-pastel wonder is certainly laying about somewhere here, a hole still in his chest, most of his face still cracked off, his blades still out, now drained.

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=============== BB Post in Progress =============================

Group: Decepticon

Title: Jailbreak

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 * The Decepticon spinny disappears to reveal Razorclaw's upper body ***

"Last night I was discussing matters with my fellow predacons in the residential quarter when we heard a...cry for help over the Decepticon frequency hinting at trouble in the dungeon. Tantrum and I transformed and dashed for the dungeon. However someone inside the the dungeon sealed the tunnel off. It took me close to 2 minutes to cut through the thick steel with my sword. When Tantrum and I barged in the room was filled with smoke. I managed to chase down an Autobot with...superficial success. They escaped through the arena's tunnels, the prisonner was gone and the two seeker guards Catechism and Fleet were uncounsious on the prison floor. I believe any further explanation will have to come from both said seekers once they are re-animated."

"This concludes my part of the incident report. Razorclaw out."


 * Razorclaw disappears and is replaced by the Decepticon spinny. ***

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=================================================================

With the classic sound the Cyberlion's body unfolds into the stocky form of the Predacon Commander Razorclaw.

Razorclaw inspects the prison trying to get a mental picture of what transpired and how...A glance at the door he cut through and the tunnel through which the autobots escaped...Finally he moves closer to Fleet and inspects the seeker's damage.

Scrapper thumps into the medical ward. He looks back at the maimed door despairingly, real emotion showing despite his featureless frame. Then, he slips towards Fleet. Scrapper pauses and greets, "Razorclaw." He squats down to get a better look at the corpse. Oh, his poor zombie! He had better not have had his city damaged, one zombie escaped, *and* a zombie put to the final death!

Fleet certainly /looks/ dead, but he looked dead when he was up and walking, so it's really hard to be sure.

Razorclaw upon closer inspection of the chest wound...The cut is not perfect yet clean. The plating did not shred or cave in. "Close range energy weapon..." .oO(Hardly makes sense...It's almost as if they let themselves get shot up. Those Autobots had little to no damage. I could expect this sort of thing from certain Autobots but not those two. They are not that good.)Oo. The Predacon hears Scrapper yet continues his reflection a few moments. .oO(Somehow the Autobots stacked the deck in their favor...The prisonner? Maybe...)Oo. "Scrapper..."

Fleet has a burn/blast hole that goes clear through his chest, severing a major feed to his core. His energon daggers are detached and drained. Most of his face was shattered right off, and pieces can be found of it around the room.

Scrapper pries open much of Fleet's chest, hesitating to answer Razorclaw. He mumbles, "No, no... it can't be." Scrapper's physically shaking, and he draws away, trying to get a grip on himself. "I... there's a major feed to his core severed, and I've been worried about his fragility ever since I brought him back from the dead. Fleet, you know. Life is fleeting." Scrapper laughs nervously and covers his face with his hands, as if he does not want to be seen.

Razorclaw remains relatively insensitive to the seeker's condition. "Looks like he tried to put up a fight but did not quite have the time to. I have been meaning to ask you...Those things of yours...Just how fast are they? Reflex-wise?" The predacon walks inside the cell and looks outside trying to get a different glimpse of the situation.

Fleet gets his chest pried open. He does not react.

Scrapper doesn't care about Fleet's condition. He mourns that the most fun he has in a long time may be over. Desperately, Scrapper fiddles with the dead Seeker's internals, just trying to get him online, despite all the damage.

Fleet jerks suddenly. He jerks again. Then he groans and weakly tries to move. "Wha... what..." he mutters.

Scrapper looks about ready to hug Fleet when the Seeker comes back online. As it is, Scrapper maintains some level of decorum and just clasps his hands together and cries, "Oh, Fleet I was so worried!" Not about Fleet per se, but Scrapper was worried, that much is clear!

Razorclaw walks over to Fleet who is starting to be re-animated and ponders how to go about this... .oO(Let's skip the physical abuse and get right to the point)Oo. "What happened exactly. I need to know and I need to know fast."

Fleet certainly doesn't believe that Scrapper would be worried about him. He eyes the Constructicon distrustfully, his ruined face clearly displaying the movement of every muscle-analog, every cable, every gear as he brings his gaze towards Scrapper, his one good optic narrowing, his other one making an attempt. "Why were you worried?" he croaks out, and then he's being asked questions in another direction. He looks up.

"Sneak Peek," the Seeker began, "was throwing shards he tore from inside the cell at Catechism by reaching his hand through the field and throwing it. We were in the process of reacting to that when Motormaster and Fusillade arrived... at least, we thought they were Motormaster and Fusillade. They saw the problem, and demanded we let down the shield so they could deal with the prisoner. While Motormaster argued with Catechism, I noted that Fusillade was /not/ resorting to radio to speak. I was about to reveal 'her' when Motormaster declared 'her' to be a spy and hit 'her.' Then... several things happened at once. Sneak Peek reached through the energy field, grabbed Catechism's head, and slammed her into it. I rushed to pull her out of the field, thinking Motormaster had Fusillade- actually Mirage, his cloak went down just then- taken care of. The field went down before I got there, and before I react, Sneak Peek had punched me back with considerable force. I rose to attack him but someone... I think it was Motormaster, actually Smokescreen, had gotten him a weapon while I was still pulling myself off the ground, and he shot me. That's all I remember."

Swindle arrives from Mount R'lyeh via the heavy, creaking doors to the southeast.

Swindle has arrived.

Fleet certainly doesn't believe that Scrapper would be worried about him. He eyes the Constructicon distrustfully, his ruined face clearly displaying the movement of every muscle-analog, every cable, every gear as he brings his gaze towards Scrapper, his one good optic narrowing, his other one making an attempt. "Why were you worried?" he croaks out, and then he's being asked questions in another direction. He looks up.

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==================== Decepticon =================================

Message: 2/40                     Posted        Author

Jailbreak pt 2                    Tue May 02    Razorclaw

--


 * Decepticon spinny stops spinning but remains. AUDIO ONLY (Fleet's voice can be recognized) ***

"Sneak Peek," the Seeker began, "was throwing shards he tore from inside the cell at Catechism by reaching his hand through the field and throwing it. We were in the process of reacting to that when Motormaster and Fusillade arrived...at least, we thought they were Motormaster and Fusillade. They saw the problem, and demanded we let down the shield so they could deal with the prisoner. While Motormaster argued with Catechism, I noted that Fusillade was /not/ resorting to radio to speak. I was about to reveal 'her' when Motormaster declared 'her' to be a spy and hit 'her.' Then... several things happened at once. Sneak Peek reached through the energy field, grabbed Catechism's head, and slammed her into it. I rushed to pull her out of the field, thinking Motormaster had Fusillade- actually Mirage, his cloak went down just then- taken care of. The field went down before I got there, and before I react, Sneak Peek had punched me back with considerable force. I rose to attack him but someone... I think it was Motormaster, actually Smokescreen, had gotten him a weapon while I was still pulling myself off the ground, and he shot me. That's all I remember."


 * The voice switches to Razorclaw's **

"That is all I could get from Fleet. Scrapper is taking care of him. Razorclaw out."

*** AUDIO ONLY vanishes and the spinny carries on it's...well spinning. ***

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=================================================================

 Necromechanic Scrapper says, "...that was fast."

 Razorclaw says, "No need to mess around more than we have to. Now we know what happened."

 Galvatron says, "ANd what *did* happen, exactly?"

 Tantrum says, "Seekers failed."

 Wildrider says, "Heheheheee no surprise there!"

Fleet groans softly. "I wish my radio weren't working," he muttered. Then he frowns - well, half frowns, since he's missing part of his mouth - up at Scrapper. "And there's a... beyond revivable? I thought the only determining factor was age?"

Swindle slows in his pace as a veritable wealth of information reaches his audio receptors. He'd been wandering the city with no real destination, simply searching for someone with something interesting to say. Frowning slightly, he fixes his gaze on Fleet, looking the Seeker up and down critically. "I'd heard you were dead again?"

 Galvatron says, "As interesting it is to hear poetic waxings of the activities of my seekers, I expect a more in depth level of answer from y warriors."

 Strife says, "Might I also add, my Lord, that if either Wildrider or Tantrum needs a demonstration of the effectiveness of Seekers, I will gladly provide one."

 Sixshot says, "I've managed to salvage several derelict satellites in orbit, the raw material should prove useful, should our resident scientist choose to do something beside reanimate the dead."

 Necromechanic Scrapper says, "There was a break-in, sir."

 Galvatron says, "That much I have ascertained."

Razorclaw looks at Scrapper "He's all yours. I know what I wanted to know and that is enough for now." He ignores Swindle and turns his attention to the Decepticon frequency.

 Necromechanic Scrapper says, "And, Sixshot? Animating the dead is my hobby. I'm still out there, fixing broken elevators, mendign torn wings, and everything else that I normally do."

Strife arrives from Mount R'lyeh via the heavy, creaking doors to the southeast.

Strife has arrived.

 ZOMBIE Fleet rasps, his vocalizer obvliously even less functional than normal, "And a break out. Two of theirs had hologram devices, my Emperor. I called for assistance as soon as I realized we were out-numbered... but I wasn't conscious long after that."

 Sixshot says, "Excellent. I'll drop off my gatherings when I conclude my patrol. I've presently placed them into an orbit, coordinates available upon request."

 Galvatron says, "Sixshot, our resident mechanical genius built this city."

 Galvatron says, "However, your collection manuvers are not unnoticed."

<Decepticon> Comcast says, "On Rooock aaaaand rooo... No, wait. This says solid metal foundations. My bad."

<Decepticon> Galvatron growls.. "Comcast.... now is not the time."

<Decepticon> Razorclaw says, "Lord Galvatron,I awnsered the call for assistance. However by the time Tantrum and I reached the dungeon the Autobots hacked the security system and sealed themselves in long enough to escape via the arena tunnels."

<Decepticon> Galvatron says, "Hmm..."

Galvatron arrives from the south as the triangular doors, evoking the kraken's beak, open wide and clamp shut tightly behind him.

Galvatron has arrived.

<Decepticon> Comcast coughs. Apologies, my Lord.

<Decepticon> Comcast might even throw some quotation marks in there.

Scrapper is sitting on the floor next to Fleet. He nods slowly, gravely. Scrapper says softly, "Some cores are unsuitable - too many of necessary functions damaged. Thankfully, you were all right." He gives a wave to Swindle.

Strife has only just arrived in the room. Still hovering in his customary fashion, a few feet above the floor itself with his feet pointed almost straight down. He folds his arms across his chest and waits for the arrival of the Emperor, who commanded his presence here.

Galvatron strides in and rumbles quietly, "This is something I need see for myself.." as way of announcing his prescence.

Fleet is laying on the floor. Scrapper has pried his chest compartment open, and fiddled with the insides, but a look at the outsides shows that there was a good sized hole blasted into it, one that might have hit the core... (but as it turns out, only severed a major feed to it). Almost, but not quite, half his face is missing, showing the facial skeleton, wires, cables, and other things that make a Seeker's face work beneath. He's in the process of trying to push himself into a seated position.

The is a big round piece of the door on the floor and a gaping hole in the middle of the said door.

Oh there is also a mangled race car spoiler near the exit.

Scrapper offers a hand to help Fleet up into a sitting position. He salutes Galvatron, but Scrapper excuses his sitting position with, "Sir, I have a situation with the patient."

Strife bows his head slowly in reverence of Galvatron's arrival. He does not interrupt the Emperor's inspection of the room, secure in the fact that whatever reason he was ordered here will be made known shortly.

Okay, so looking the Seeker up and down won't take as long, big deal, Swindle'll just look from head to foot instead. Raising one hand in an idle wave to Scrapper, he continues, "Still, can't keep a good 'Con down, eh?" He doesn't notice Galvatron's entrance. Or, indeed, any who enter after him.

Razorclaw kneels down to inspect Catechism's body and notices very superficial wounds. "The field must have done most of the work..." He turns and salutes Galvatron. "My Lord."

Galvatron gives the area a decent lookover, noting things out of place, broken, burned and et cetera before focusing his stare on the constructicon on the floor and the dead but not really seeker. "Explain, Scrapper." flat tone, but not of the threatening variety. An absent nod to Strife before he walks closer to the downed mechanism.

As soon as Fleet's sitting position is stable, he offers Galvatron a salute, but little else. He's not in much condition for anything else. The bit of his face that's still there seems a bit worried at the sudden influx of very dangerous persons, but the open side only makes a mockery of the expression.

Strife just sortof....hovers toward one corner of the room, out of the way for now, yet still examining the scene. He pauses a moment near Catechism's....corpse, quirking an optic ridge before shaking his head slowly.

Swindle pauses, glancing over his shoulder as he sees Razorclaw salute. This is followed moments later by Galvatron's voice. Swindle himself raises one hand to his temple in a lack-lustre salute before returning is attention to Fleet and Scrapper. "So there is a definite 'dead for good' barrier, then?"

Razorclaw heads over towards the exit tunnel to see what happened to the gate at the other end. "Opened...Possibly when the security system was hacked everything opened on default...THEN they sealed themselves in...Yes that would make sense."

Fleet rubs his forehead with one hand. "I'm pretty sure I saw the doors come down before the hacking, but... I think M- Smokescreen was jabbing at buttons randomly." He looks around. "I'd suggest checking the settings, although, considering we've just been hacked..." he trails off and shrugs.

Galvatron hnns, optics narrowing, "Get Fleet to medical and patch him up.. as best as he can be." Optics focus on what the player assumes is Catechism sprawled on the floor not looking so good either, "And move her as well."

Scrapper holds out an arm and offers, "Let me help you up and back to the medical ward, Fleet." Then, he snaps the fingers of his other hand and dismisses, "I'll get someone in to clean up the rest of the mess." Scrapper's priorities are clear, and for better or worse, Fleet is one of them.

Probably worse. Poor Fleet. And the part of Fleet's face that is functional reflects this, a sort of resigned depression as he accepts Scrapper's help. He glances around the room and tries to chew on his bottom lip... to discover most of it missing. And hey, those wires taste funny! In a moment, Fleet is limping toward the door with Scrapper's help.

Strife remains where he is for the time being, but for a brief slide away from Catechism so that he will not impede the technicians when they do come to collect her. "My lord." He bows his head again as he spins to face Galvatron, his hover sagging slightly so that he is no longer optic to optic with the Emperor. "You commanded my presence?"

Galvatron watches Scrapper collect the seeker before studying Razorclaw a moment, "Determine how they got this far without detection, advise Comcast that he should do the same and aid in your search." Slowly turning to Strife, "That I did. Tell me," waving a hand as he moves to walk out, "What do you think of all of this?"

Swindle keeps his gaze averted from Catechism, instead following Scrapper and Fleet as they head towards the door. He's not going to end up hauling seekers around the place if he can possibly avoid it, friend or no. And he's certainly not going to volunteer to do so.

Razorclaw walks back into the dungeon and heads for the computer console. "Understood lord Galvatron. The Autobots hacked the dungeon's security systems from this console. There is no telling what short or long term manipulations they performed. We should have this console examined for tampering and have someone double-check the status of our network."

Strife considers the question for a long moment, his gaze impassively making its way across the entire room before returning to Galvatron. "What has happened cannot be reversed, however such gaul must not go unchallenged. Autobots in your city, a rather disgusting thought. I would not presume to advise the Emperor in matters of war, though as a soldier I can speak to my own motivations. Such an act is an affront to your position, and must not go unanswered. I would seek retribution, to teach the Autobots that they may not encroach upon Decepticon property, but it is not my army to command, and my life is not mine to risk, it is yours."

Wildrider arrives from Mount R'lyeh via the heavy, creaking doors to the southeast.

Wildrider has arrived.

Wildrider just looked at you!

Galvatron hnns, studying the breeched door. Optics narrow to slits, fingers creak before, "Find whoever was on security detail and have them flogged." Flogged? What? "And get a records reoprt of area scanners. This matter simply reinforces the fact that our isle of power is not without it's weaknessess and those must be fixed." Listening to Strife a moment before, "20 lashes." decided tone that flows into smoother ones, "It shan't go unanswered. As the simplistic beauty of Scrappers work seems to cause some decidedly marked psychological damage to our age old enemy, more of such things will come into play while the advantage is still ripe. I don't go into other peoples houses and rip their doors down." No, he's more likely to have the house shelled to the ground but in any case, he's in a mood, "Time to stir the pot and see what flotsam rises to the surface for skimming."

Strife bows his head slowly. "As you command, Lord Galvatron." Asymmetric reasoning, gotta love it. Strife doesn't have the faintest clue what Galvatron is planning, but, then again he's no leader.

Wildrider moves south and is disgorged into the NCC Arena by the jaw of the jaws of the kraken-door.

Wildrider has left.

Swindle's jaw drops slightly open as he listens to Strife's little speech. Not presuming to advise, right. He shakes his head, almost embarrassed at the servility in the mech's speech. He'd make some comment of his own, doubtless in support of Galvatron's houses and doors comment, but there's a treacherous memory of a bombing run at an assumed funeral lingering in his mind, so he simply refrains from commenting.

Galvatron focuses on the door before stepping through, "I expect reports." To noone and everyone within audio range before he dissapears to wherever he's heading.

Razorclaw looks at the very motivated and enthusiastic Strife and makes a mental note of the seeker's devotion for futur reference. He looks around the dungeon one more time making more mental notes then transforms into his Cyberlion mode. More comfy and more appropriate to the detective work.

With traditional noise Razorclaw's body folds into a massive Cyberlion.

Fleet sighs softly. "On the one hand, my lord, there are those who on our side... appear to expect me to behave as one of the... resurrected drone-types." Like Hook. "And on the other hand... those creatures are viewed as highly expendable. Perhaps rightly. Being as I am easily confused with them, I... well, I'm looking to avoid being on the receiving end of friendly fire from those who have problems with the project and want to use, 'Oh, I thought he was one of them, and I was aiming at the Autobots' or something similar as an excuse."

Hardshell emerges from the brains of the beast: the NCC Command Center to the southeast.

Hardshell has arrived.

Galvatron ahhs... "I can see where that could prove to be problematic." Mild tone, thoughtful, "Has Scrapper given any reason as to why your coloration can't be adjusted as a way of marking you from the other units?"

Fleet shakes his head. "Not yet. The only time I managed to catch up with him since my last set of improvements was during that business in the dungeons, though, and then we were concentrating on... other matters, my lord."

Cyberlion <Razorclaw> silently strolls into the area and spots Galvatron chatting with Fleet. He heads on over next to them. "Greetings Lord Galvatron." He turns to Fleet and gives him a little nod. "Fleet."

Galvatron rumbles, "Greetings, Razorclaw." giving the Predacon commander a slight nod. But his conversation remains focused on Fleet. "About that business inthe dungeons, do you remember who was operating security con at that time?

"

Fleet frowns and strokes his chin. "I..." he hesistates as he tries to think back. Finally, he shakes his head. "No, not really. I mean, standard watches are covered by Mil-Ops, but that post is covered by DCI. Out of my jurisdiction."

The Cyberlion sits to conserve power and listens to Fleet's details about who is guilty of sleeping at the helm. "On my part I have checked out the beach. It seems the Autobots used a hovercraft that was modified for noise reduction and made a landing on the beach. The beach sensor is not setup in the NCC monitoring grid. It is still configured into trypticon's console. That was the first thing that went wrong. Second thing, the NCC command center has very...cheap sensors which explains why it could not detect the Autobots through their holographic camouflage."

Hardshell slowly walks in from the spaceport. He just arrived from Cybertron where he got repaired after his brutal fight with an unknown dinobot. The Aquacon quickly notice the gathering around Galvatron. You can't miss the cannon anyway. He stops not too far from the others and leans on a wall, trying to look like someone who doesn't pay attention, but he listen carefully.

Catechism arrives on a steel-web bridge from the northwest, trading the stands of the NCC Arena for the spikes of the NCC Spinal Pathway.

Catechism has arrived.

Galvatron huhs, "Then I will be speaking to both Comcast and Fusillade about the security watches." Fleet is off the hook: Rejoice, Fleet, Rejoice!. "Ahh, holograms and a security system that seems to have it's peculiar leaks. Another thing to speak to Scrapper about."

Hardshell slowly walks in from the spaceport. He just arrived from Cybertron where he got repaired after his brutal fight with an unknown dinobot. The Aquacon quickly notice the gathering around Galvatron. You can't miss the cannon anyway. He stops not too far from the others and leans on a wall, trying to look like someone who doesn't pay attention, but he listen carefully. (repose)

The Cyberlion sits to conserve power and listens to Fleet's details about who is guilty of sleeping at the helm. "On my part I have checked out the beach. It seems the Autobots used a hovercraft that was modified for noise reduction and made a landing on the beach. The beach sensor is not setup in the NCC monitoring grid. It is still configured into trypticon's console. That was the first thing that went wrong. Second thing, the NCC command center has very...cheap sensors which explains why it could not detect the Autobots through their holographic camouflage." (repose)

Galvatron huhs, "Then I will be speaking to both Comcast and Fusillade about the security watches." Fleet is off the hook: Rejoice, Fleet, Rejoice!. "Ahh, holograms and a security system that seems to have it's peculiar leaks. Another thing to speak to Scrapper about."(repose)

You say, "Usually Scrapper does not botch his work. Maybe he tried to save a couple bucks and bought a console and sensor package from Swindle."

Galvatron hnns, "So many things to see too, so few Autobots to destroy..." He inclines his head to all present before turning to walk down the hallway. "Carry on as you were."

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