Wheeljack and Scattershot build a hammer!

Every base needs a lab for its resident (mad) scientists, and the Ark Base is no exception. The orange alloy hues predominant throughout the base blend with sterile white panels, giving the entire area the ambience of a slick, metallic creamsicle. Rows of gleaming glass beakers, spectrographic analyzers, Jacob's Ladders, Tesla Coils, and Ratchet Rectifiers line the walls and aisles of this densely-packed laboratory. While not as expansive as the facilities at Metroplex, it has enough equipment for a serious scientist to get some serious research done. A giant art deco head of Wheeljack has been molded into the wall opposite the entrance, with a small plaque:

"Never do what your enemy expects you to do." RIP WHEELJACK, ?-2005

Contents: Scattershot Perceptor's Laboratory  Fairway's Quarters

Obvious exits: South  leads to Weapons Control Room . East  leads to Bridge .

It's hard to tell if Wheeljack's lab is filled with cigar smoke or smoke from an earlier explosion, but it's pretty smokey. Scattershot lounges in the mad scientist's desk chair, feet up, puffing away. "Ah hope we brought you enough data for this thing to be effective, Wheeljack. We hooked up all the sensors and recording devices for speed and impact testing. Well, Lightspeed set 'em up."

Despite how often some Autobots forget about it, the Ark was still here. And while there was no doubt that Autobot City was big, high tech and awesome... after all the time they spent here in the good old days on Earth fighting Decepticon evils the Ark felt more like -home- to Wheeljack. Especially when he had reopened up his and Ratchet's old lab.

Much to the relief to Metroplex and the other Autobots in general most likely.

Honestly, the smoke was probably a big chunk of both, considering Wheeljack had been working on a new compact detonation device earlier in the day.

"That boy deserves a drink or whatever you reward your team with," Wheeljack replied without looking up from the cluster of terminal monitors somewhat haphazardly wired together, said data and other information scrolling across them. "Because I don't think he missed a thing."

Scattershot nods. "He's solid, all right. Been thinkin' about pawnin' him off to you, as an apprentice or something. He's missing out on a lot of potential fartin' around with Afterburner and Strafe all the time." He looks around, and almost as if reading Wheeljack's mind: "At least one part of the Ark ain't being wasted. Such a solid piece of hardware, being used as storage." He makes a face, and then offers his flask to Wheeljack. "Another drink?"

Wheeljack chuckles a bit. "I dunno. Buncha jocks can use a smart guy or two to..." He pauses, looking up thoughtfully. "... Okay, not keep out of trouble, that never works. Make sure they can get through the trouble they start?" Then back to the screens and clacking a few keys. "Lemme finish the final math crunching first, figuring out how dense the head can be safely made to increase the impact power without becoming too cumbersome to weild properly. But when you hit someone with this baby they are going to -feel- it, no matter how armored they are."

Scattershot salutes Wheeljack with the bottle and takes a swig. "Now that's what Ah like to hear. You know, you make a good point, too. Lightspeed exploring his nerd side a bit would make the unit a hell of a lot stronger. No reason Nosecone shouldn't be checking in with the engineering department, either. With as much trouble as we get into on the field..." He takes another swig. "Be nice to have those skills under fire."

Wheeljack types in a few more commands then turns his chair to face the Technobot commander. Would probably be smirking if he had a mouth to smirk with. "If there's one thing I learned from Optimus, it's that you don't make a good team by changing the people in it. You change the team to fit what it's members are capable of. Being able to work together despite our differences is one advantage the Decepticons have never fully grasped." Then pushes himself out of the chair and walks over to pull the tarp off another piece of machinery that... looks like a big lump of machinery. Hard to tell what it does just by looking at it. Scattershot smirks. "Or the Technobots, apparently." Which reminds him. He taps something on a datapad. Somewhere in Autobot City, a buzzer goes off reminding Afterburner to take his meds. Scattershot stands, following Wheeljack to the massive piece of machinery. Which is probably a shade of orange. Autobots!

It is indeed. Probably because it was originally built out of salvage out of the Ark itself. With a creek of only recently reintergrated parts and age it opens like a large press as Wheeljack shoves the handle up. Millinea of gruellia warfare and military research and even the geeks start getting buff. "Originally put this together for reforging things that took a lot of stress and needed to be forged out of sterner stuff. Sideswipe's piledriver hardware, Ol' Ironhide's liquid piping, Dinobot armor, that sort of thing."

A kick to a side compartment opens a drawer and Wheeljack starts shuffling through a few different mold panels. "Not a lot of the guys back in the day used melee weapons, but I always liked to be ready just in case. Lessee... head, shaft, grip... use the hollow mold for the first so it can be filled with a denser material. Probably some sort of carbon-lead alloy." He puts the plates down in the press, then turns to glance over a shoulder. "Grab those metal sheets over there by the desk. This self-contained tool-and-die apparatus will mold them to shape and close the seams."

Scattershot nods, retrieving the sheets. "Mineral Reinforced..." He notices, some inner Computron spilling out of his murder brain. "Solarium phosphate." He passes the sheets off to Wheeljack. "The 'Cons have been gettin' scrappier, lately. Even Shockwave's been moving in close for a boxing match here and there. Ranged, Ah can deal with most of 'em, but Ah need an edge, especially with the new rank. Gotta be leading from the front, inspirin' some hardcore Con scrapping."

"It was one of the suggestions in the data compilation. Good choice. It'll stand up to punishment and punishing well." Haha. So witty. After locking the upper mold plates into the lid Wheeljack takes the reinforced sheets and arranges them inside. "You don't strike me as the command from behind sort." The machine gives another creak as he lowers the lid, followed by a hiss as it locks shut. Silent for a moment, and then some sort of readout on the top start flicking with those bars of leds that must mean something but don't look like anything as it clatters and rumbles, persumably working.

Scattershot shakes his head. "If Ah'm gonna ask an Autobot to die on my order, Ah had better be taking the bullets first." So crazy and old school. It's a shame that the Technobots hadn't been on the original Ark voyage. "They gave me some big shoes to fill. Hopefully this hammer helps me fill 'em a little better." Scattershot gets distance for a moment. He's getting emotional thinking about smashing Shockwave's one eyed head in. "Again, Ah appreciate you takin' the time, Wheeljack."

Wheeljack knows that look. Mostly because he could see it in a mirror if he ever looked in one while considering which Decepticon to test his newest design on. "Already taking pages from the Primes' book." And yeah, he said Primes', not Prime's. Leans on top of the machine while it churns away. And gives Scattershot's arm a slap with the other hand. "Don't get sappy on me now, big guy," he jokes. "This is what I do. Help you guys fight the good fight better."

Scattershot grins. "And you fight the fight better than most. Looking forward to getting you back on the front lines." He takes a swig, and offers the flask. "Nosecone said he saw you hit a Con with a moving train on Mars. That's damn brilliant."

Wheeljack accepts the flask now that he's not crunching numbers and elaborate engineering principles and takes a swig from it. Grating in the mouth plate and all. "Oh yeah, that! Hahaha. It was one of the wrecks from the Con attack. I was looking for salvage, but when the jerks showed up I managed to get enough juice back into it to do a little.. railroading, shall we say."

"Brilliant piece of work there." Scattershot folds his arms, gesturing for Wheeljack to finish the contents of the flask. "Encore's brew. Enjoy the kick to the system." He looks the machine over as it starts to growl. "How we doing?"

Wheeljack laughs and takes a few more chugs to finish it off. "It's got a nice spark to it. But you hang out with Ironhide and Ratchet long enough and you build up a tolerance after a few centuries." Once it's empty he tosses back the flask and turns the press. "It should be just about" *DING* "Done"

Followed by a *PFOOM* as a grating falls off and a belch of smoke plumes out that back. "Ah slag, burned out the shifting mechanism again. Good thing it finished first." With a huff Wheeljack opens the hatch, pulls out the shaft and hands it to Scattershot. "Size that up for grip while I finish the head."

Pulling out the top of the hammer Wheeljack sets it on the worktable with a heavy thump that shakes the whole thing, pulls a vat out from underneath and hefts it up to pour into an opening left in the formation. "The carbon-lead mix needs about half an hour to set, or you'll get unbalanced distribution."

Scattershot catches the flask and then takes a faceful of smoke. As it clears, he gives Wheeljack a soot covered 'well that figures' look as he takes the shaft of the hammer, taking a few slow motion swings and checking the weight and balance. "Practically weightless. We'll have to have the completed piece to know for sure, but Ah think Ah'll be able to strike faster than Ah thought..."

Wheeljack picks up the last few pieces out of the molds, shoving a tube into the head both to close the fill hole and provide the connector for the shaft. "Might want to get the grip properly coated in something to help hold onto it, though. Bare metal can slip easily." A spot welder extends from one wrist as he attatchs a plate to each side of the head, and steps back. "What do you think?"

It's upside down at the moment the way it's sitting on the table, but each side panel has an Autobot emblem molded in the middle of it, with stylized wings on each side. "It's a bit of an older design, from back in the days when the military could aford a bit of decoration to look good while clubbing an enemy's circuits out." Scattershot steps back, nodding. "Well hell." He can't help but smile like it's Christmas morning, looking the weapon over. "Ah might get emotional, Wheeljack. It's damn beautiful."

The glimmer in Wheeljack's optics at the appreciation makes up for the smile he can't actually show. "It'll look even more beautiful putting the hurt on the next creep to cross your path. Just stick the shaft into the center column there and give it a few twists and it'll lock into place. The two part design also makes it easier for repairs, or should you decide to alterate it farther in the future."

Scattershot nods, stepping forward. "Ah'll take care of it once everything's cooled down." He bwaps Wheeljack on the shoulder with the weapon's handle. "Time to get pre Golden Age on some Decepticon afts."

Wheeljack oofs and steps back a bit at the bap, but takes it like a bro otherwise, chuckling. "Glad it meets approval." Glances over at the tool-and-die machine, and sighs a bit, head-lamps glowing faintly until he finally lets it go. "I think it's time to just upgrade that old heap. But at least it sputtered out making something appropriately old-school skidplate kicking."