Broke your Toaster

Repair Bay 

Like most of the rest of the Ark, the Repair Bay is made of smooth, clean orange metal. The lighting is considerably brighter in here, though, and things are kept much, much cleaner -- there's not even a dust bunny to be found. The chamber is large, with open spaces sufficient for even the largest Autobots -- barring combiners -- to haul themselves, or be hauled. Around the edges of the room, various storage units and equipment cabinets holding specialized parts and tools, ranging from common lugnuts to special gear for specific Autobots. The center of the Repair Bay is an island consisting of several medical beds, with overhead scanners feeding information to a set of consoles. A drain at the center of the room is useful for cleaning up any messes that get made. In one corner of the room, a picture of Ratchet has been put up, depicting the famously party-hearty medic giving a thumbs-up while pouring energon into his mouth straight from the old repair bay's fuel injector.

"Aha!" A voice exclaims across from the medbay. "There you are." Raid makes his way over to Fairway's setup and flattens his hands on the medtable in front of him. "The only Doc I trust. Ready to tech it up? Shouldn't be TOO hard... whatcha' paintin'?"

Fairway looks up with a smile. Before him he is the easel he has set up with permission from Ultra Magnus. More art supplies are on the floor beside him. "Nothing yet," he replies, standing to help Raid to a table, "though I intend to paint YOU, as you recover from this upgrade operation. With your permission of course. Here, lie down."

Air Raid hops up on the berth and whips out a flask. "Me? Heh, if you want to." He pauses to take a swig of high grade. Fairway might have to confiscate that... "Lemme' see when you're done. You want me in my alt mode or...?"

Skydive has arrived.

"What I'd like first," Fairway says gently, "is for you to refrain from imbibing intoxicants during this procedure, as difficult as that may be for you, friend." He tries to take Raid's flask. "I shall be deactivating your sensor net; you won't feel the effects of this high grade once I do that anyway." He produces several tool kits and lays them out on the boom-mounted table swinging off the berth. "And then I'd like for you to tell me exactly what we'll be doing today. You were interested in bombs, yes?"

Air Raid almost pouts, but doesn't protest. "Alright alright, you're the doc." He sits indian-style and unspaces a datapad, "Yep, bombs. The ability to carry and drop them at least." He pulls a finger across the datapad and brings up Strike Eagle schematics. "I need wing pylons for them. Like these." He points out a wireframe image.

Skydive puts his hands on his hips like a mother as he enters. "Raid! Give the nice mech the flask." He makes his way over to check out the schematics, "Where'd you get those from?"

Fairway stashes Raid's flask and regards the datapad in silence. Finally, he nods. "Such weapon hardpoints shan't be too terribly difficult to affix; I've done the procedure several times before. You needn't be in your alt mode unless that is what you prefer. But I do have to ask," he begins preparations, setting up drip pans and filters and coaxing open a panel on Raid's chest to access his sensor hub, "with what kind of bombs are you intending to equip yourself? Nothing egregious I hope." He knows Raid well.

Air Raid looks up at Skydive. "The internet of course! ...What, don't look at me like that, I /paid/ for this installment," he assures, indignant. "Eg...egregious?" He doesn't even recognize the word. "Gator bombs. They pack a punch! Don't worry, I'll be careful, Doc." He stays stone still, grinning.

Skydive looks at the pad them at Air Raid then back at the pad, "Have you considered what this will do to your overall maneuverability?"

Air Raid shrugs absently, "Yeah, guess it'll slow me up a bit. Strike Eagles and regular Eagles are still capable of mach 2.5 plus speeds though. Maneuverability ain't my forte anyway. It's yours, right?"

Fairway looks askance at Skydive. "I shall certainly return his flask when the procedure is finished, friend Skydive," he intones. And then, to Air Raid: "Gator bombs? You refer to the CBU 78s, I presume...dumb bombs, as they are sometimes called, which deliver anti-tank or anti-personnel mines? Hmm." He switches off Raid's sensor hub and then begins the difficult task fast, setting up control systems for the deployment of said Gator bombs. He splices wires, solders, installs new circuitboards, wrist deep in Raid's innards."

Skydive frowns, "I guess we can come up with a way to make the evading of incoming fire comparable," he grins towards Fairway, "I was talking to Air Raid."

Air Raid links his hands behind his helm and gazes up at the ceiling. "Yep, those are the ones. Hmm? I said I'd be careful - ! Skydive here'll make sure if it, heh heh. Aw 'Dive, we don't need to worry about that, nothin' hardly ever touches us anyway." Except Boomslang, grrr. "Hey I think I broke your toaster. Well, /I/ didn't, Roadbuster must've sat on it, the idiot."

Fairway frowns. Raid's build is one he hasn't encountered very often. He's got to move the entire ventral accelerator cluster just to get to the control servos for his weapons systems. He's concerntrating, and as such he doesn't reply to Skydive. The only sounds he makes are occasional grunts. He doesn't want to have to climb up on the table and straddle Raid like some kind of hammer-handed medstudent in order to...Ah! "There," he says triumphantly. He holds a box with multicolored switch and wires coming attached to it in front of Air Raid. "Control cluster. Yours is a unique fraim, Air Raid." With this, he sets to work again. Energon drips liberally into the pan below the berth, replaced by a drip attached to Raid's left arm.

Skydive's optics get really big, "What? He sat on the toaster. Does he know what we went through to get you that thing?" Skydive is visibly upset. "But how? Where was it?"

Skydive the Toaster

It's a TOASTER. Named after Skydive. It actually has an escape velocity coolant system installed on it, so it can freeze AND toast! AWESOME. A gift of brotherhood.

But it's currently crumpled and flattened!

Air Raid stays veeeeery still, suddenly clinging to the edges of the medtable. "Yeeugh." He frowns at the control cluster, tanks going weak. "Mm, yes, that's lovely," he nigh groans, flopping his head back. He can handle gore, just not his own. At least Fairway looks to know what he's doing. "Sorry 'Dive," he unspaces said toaster and tosses it to his brother without moving to much, "Forgot I left it out."

Fairway casts a glance toward the toaster. "I suppose I can fix that, too," he says as he roots about in Raid's abdomen. He works fairly quickly once he has found his way around the Aerialbot's insides. He leaves Raid spread open, switchboxes and solenoids and strips of wires tumbling out of him, as he begins to rummage in a drawer for two pylons sufficient to carry GATOR bombs. "Maneuverability isn't what I'm concerned about," he says, "These bombs need to be deployed with precision; the capacity for collateral damage is great. Can you imagine what would happen if some hapless human stumbled onto an anti-tank mine left behind after a battle? Tragedy, not to mention a public relations nightmare. My worry, and please don't take this the wrong way, is that such a mistake might occur."

Skydive picks up the toaster sadly and glances at Fairway, "Can you? Fix it?" Skydive brightens slightly. "I will leave it here then," ultimately he nods in agreement. "yes, collateral damage is an important concern."

Air Raid vents a sigh, or tries to, it's a bit odd now that his innards are splayed out for the world to see. Thankfully he doesn't feel much. "I hear ya' Fairway. Trust me when I say I'll make sure the area's clear before deploying any." He huffs at Skydive, "I'm not Captain Collateral Damage, that would be Fireflight! ...So how's it lookin' Doc, am I gonna' live?"

"I'm sure I can," Fairway replies. He finds two suitable pylons and begins to weld them into place. "It's bifunctional, yes? Heating and freezing? Simply flash coolant system?" Sparks pour onto the floor. It's a good thing Raid can't feel this. "Just leave it here and I'll look at it." To Raid he says, "We shall have to sweep for mines well after every use."

Skydive nods and thanks Fairway, "OK, I have to go on patrol. Can't wait to see you fixed up Raid."

Air Raid isn't sure he wants Fairway talking about fixing a toaster when there's arc welder sparks showering from his chassis. "...Right. Mines. See ya 'Dive, don't have too much fun!"

"Illogical," Fairway says flatly as he finishes work on one pylon, waves to Skydive, and then circles the berth to begin work on the next, "'Too much fun' is a euphemism for any situation which isn't fun at all; as such, that wish is a conundrum and, ultimately, meaningless." More sparks spit forth from the arc welder. "It is only possible to have too little fun or just enough." He smiles up at Raid then. "Are you having fun?"

Skydive has left.

Air Raid can't help a laugh this time. Fairway is on a roll - he's shifted into his secret alt mode: Philosotron! "Like many, many 'bots in this military, 'Dive doesn't know how to have fun. I try to help, but he'd rather read. Ain't knockin' reading though, I like reading a bit myself, now. Am I having fun? Heh, getting gutted isn't my idea of fun, but at least it's not painful."

Fairway decides to smile. "In my opinion, there's no separation between reading and having fun, friend Raid." Welding finished, he goes to each pylon and pulls on it. "Sturdy work, if I do say so myself." He stands beside the berth and puts a comforting hand on a part of Raid's chest he hasn't pulled open. "Try and activate the pylons - just imagine that you're releasing GATOR bombs onto Onslaught."

Air Raid smirks, "Good target choice." He flexes his fingers and coils them into fists. The pylons promptly engage to detach the phantom bombs just as they were designed to do. Raid looks to either wing and grins. "Think it works!"

"It does indeed." Fairway smiles and begins carefully putting all of Air Raid's complex electrical guts back into his chest cavity. "You'll be the scourge of the skies now; I pity any Decepticon who happens to cross your path. Of course I have always done THAT." He tucks cables and switches back on top of each other, struggling just a bit with that troublesome accelerator cluster. "When we're done here I can give you a good buff if you like. For the portrait."

"Scourge of the skies," Raid repeats dreamily. He's far too excited to sit still now. "Hn? Buff? Oooh. Yeah mech, sign me up - but raincheck! I wanna' try these out in the holodeck first!" He tries to sit up before everything is closed, attempting to slide off the berth, "I'll be back in like ten astrominutes."

"All right all right," Fairway fusses, "but not with your insides falling out. Stay still for just a moment, and then you can go wreak virtual havoc." He replaces a blown bank of servomotors while he goes about reassembling Air Raid. When he's finally put everything back where it goes, he reaches up to grab the handle of the large lighted mirror suspended above the table. He looks into it to make sure that everything is in place. And when he's satisfied that he's done a thorough job, he seals Raid's chest panel with care and pats him on the shoulder. "There now," he says, "off to the holodeck with you, Air Raid. Take care, and good cycle."