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Who: Blueshift, Fulcrum, Defcon |
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NCC Medical Ward
Like its previous incarnation, this medical ward was designed with the medic in mind, with all the modern advances to make the dirty work of repairs a world easier. It is well lit, the blue and violet metal of the walls and decor is a shade paler here, and the ubiquitous filigree is missing, all to assist in ease of cleaning. Still, the place veritably sparkles. In the furniture, there is a subtle motif of blades and sharp edges, as if to evoke the scalpel of a surgeon, although it is all quite safe. Around two dozen beds, more comfortable than their sharp looks would suggest, fill the medical ward, laid out in a tidy grid, and more can be flipped out of the walls should emergency demand it. A set of tracks on the ceiling mirror the grid of beds, allowing advanced scanning equipment and tolls to be swiveled around to the various beds. Computer terminals and cabinets are molded right into the walls at intervals, and while there are the normal medical security cameras, it appears as if someone has set some of the cameras specifically to watch the cabinets.
Fulcrum stands in the middle of medbay, his two assistants scurrying around him, fetching bits and pieces of equipment. They both look inexplicably happy, Repaint in particular almost ecstatic. "Are you SURE you don't want the baby blue?" the gumby seeker asks the scowling Blacksmith. "No? No. Okay then..."
Blueshift walks into the medbay with some large blue slats tucked under his arm. "Where!" he emits. "Where is some sort of slavish gumby technician, I require some fitting. This I command!"
Trailing along behind Blueshift, Fusillade seems quite content to keep her distance, lest he do something like randomly burst into flames, or not-so-randomly get cannoned by high command. Despite this, there's a morbidly gleeful glint in her optics, as if she's just WAITING for it to happen -- just don't let HER get involved with the fallout. She's midway to an energon refill station before she shakes her head at Blueshift's proclamation, and then tilts her head curiously to Fulcrum. "Hey there," she murmurs to the blacksmith. "Whatcha plannin'?"
"Pfff!" Blueshift mutters, waving his metal slats about. "You have them performing the most pathetic menial tasks. I can do your raid for you all on my own in payment for such a miserably easy attachment. Come now Fulcrum, I am the greatest Decepticon warrior, no job is too hard for me. What ARE you doing?"
"Are those verniers?" Fusillade queries of Blueshift, a faintly worried look on her features. Blueshift is, well, already blue, and has the curved wings... it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for his conversion to the Sweep Side to be complete.
Fulcrum looks around at Blueshift, idly wondering what the hell he's holding. "Thank you for volunteering to assist us" he says, before turning to Fusillade. "I have devised a cunning plan by which we will be able to steal energy from Protectorate holdings without them even being aware that we are responsible. Kitbash, measure Blueshift's face for the H.O.M.O device. My own H.O.M.O is nearly ready. Fusillade, will you be coming along as well? You will need your own H.O.M.O"
"This!" Blueshift snarls, as if it the most obvious thing in the world "is a pair of experimental racing stripes from Tokyo. A crack squad and I stole it from the puny humans, and I wish them installed upon me to increase my agility. They are the best racing stripes in the world." He stares at Fulcrum's little buddies. "A H.O.M.O? What is that? Will it interfere with my F.A.G.O.T device?"
"Well, considering they just took over half the planet while we were looking the other way, it's really become a glitch of a time getting energy from anywhere. We can only go after half the planet now. And those places are HARDER to get energy from now because they're always on alert. And... what does that stand for? No no no I don't think it'll interfere with MiG-15s, Blueshift." Fusillade hmms a bit, a bit worried at the fallout -- but this was her Decepticon buddy Fulcrum! He's a doctor, he knows what he's doing... "Okay!"
Repaint wheels a set of what appear to be watertanks into medical, a hose and spray-attachment set into each. "I have no idea what that is, Blueshift, but the Human Obfuscation, Manipulation and Obscuration device is only temporarly, and will not interfere with any of your systems." As Repaint happily tweaks the machinery he's just bought in, Kitbash scurries away (having finished scanning Blueshift's face), soon returning with what appears to be a giant metal 'W' that has been stretched horizontally."
"Watch as Kitbash installs the H.O.M.O" Fulcrum says, as his assistant places the piece of metal under the blacksmith's nose. "There. The H.O.M.O has completely changed my facial appearance in such a way that I am rendered unrecognisable."
Blueshift sighs at Fusillade for not being a clever scientist like him. "It is a Fixed Agrigated Geostationary Orbital Transmitter Fusillade, pretty /standard/ equipment for all elite warriors. And yes, I too hate the Protectorate. What, are there like, three or them or something? And now they own half the planet and stop our armies of /millions/ from swarming there. And we must kowchow to them like we are turboDOGS or something!" He shakes his hands, and then stares. "What... but... where has Fulcrum GONE?"
Fusillade flicks optics a bit, and urms... She takes a step back, frowns, and peers over Fulcrum. "Is... there a holoemitter or something attached to it, Fulcrum?"
"No, this is it" Fulcrum replies. "Yes, Blueshift, /I/ am Fulcrum. The device has been thus proved sucessful. And if it works on the advanced processing unit of a Decepticon warrior, it will surely work on the primative minds of the humans. We will also temporarily paint ourselves in different, more.. "Autobot" color schemes, and replace our faction symbols with those of our enemies. For a final precaution, we shall each assume a new codename, and refer to each other exclusively by that name during the mission. I have already chosen mine; I shall be Ultra Rod Heroimus."
"That... is incredible!" Blueshift states, stroking his chin. "I shall paint myself in a traditional Autobot colour of hot pink with yellow rabbits, and take the codename Hot Tailpipe Supreme. We shall be invincible! But I demand payment for my services Fulcrum. Hot Tailpipe Supreme does not do freebies!"
Kitbash quickly retrieves a similar piece of metal for Blueshift, offering it to the mighty warrior. "Hrm, pink and yellow, yes standard Autobot Femme colors." Fulcrum nods. "Repaint, is this feasable?"
"Not only is it feasale, I LOVE the idea!" the gumby seeker replies. "If you'll just step over to the sprayonator.."
Blueshift strides over to the sprayonator, thrusting his racing stripes at Kitbash. "I don't think you mean 'femme' you fool, those are the colours of mighty warriors! Pink for the blood of humans! Rabbits for their most feared predator!"
Kitbash stares blankly at Blueshift, then turns to look at Fulcrum, who shrugs. "Oookay" the medtech replies. Carefully applying Blueshift's amazing racing stripes, he then procedes to cover him with a horrible, poorly applied paintjob, hot pink with yellow detailing and aqua accents, crude stencils of happy bunnies covering his crescent-shaped wings.
Blueshift flexes his pink and yellow frame with his horrible blue racing stripes. "Now I am invincible!" he emits. "None shall know it is I, Blueshift under this cunning disguise!"
As the process begins, Fusillade hmms to herself. She feels the TINIEST bit better once she sees the paintjobs -- but marginally. "The sigils contain up to the date Autobot radio emitters?" She shrugs a bit, still mulling over those stinging words from Astrotrain during the last mission. No fun... "Sure, I'll come along, if nothing else to make sure this doesn't go to the slagheap. We may look like Autobots, but there's some /acting/ that you guys are gonna need to be able to do, too."
"Acting like an Autobot seems easy enough" Fulcrum says, approaching the sprayonator for his own scheme. "I shall just act as if my processor has been turned down a few levels, attempt not to kill any flesh creatures, and say "Roll out" a lot." Holding out his arms, Fulcrum allows Repaint to give him an AMAZING new color scheme, mainly red with bold white panels and black detailing. In fact, he pretty much looks like Jetfire. Except with an amazing moustache. "And no, the sigils only suppress our own Decepticon signals, I don't have access to the current Autobot codes. So if we run into any Decepticons, they may accidently attempt to terminate us - a necessary risk given how good our disguises are."
Blueshift nods, twirling his new gigantic handlebar moustache, and taking a huge gold medallion from a gumby and placing it over his neck. "Indeed Fusillade. And I too am awe-inspiring at acting - watch!" At that, he starts to wave his hand about, his wrist all limp. "Ooooh I'm a sissy Autobot, look at me my head is empty I love bears and crap... wait don't kill me, its just me Blueshift - ACTING!"
Fusillade folds hands against her belly, and mm-hmms, still watching. "It seems rather convincing." Her expression is inscrutible, although she does slide a dirty look in Fulcrum's direction at his color selection.
Fulcrum notices the look, turning to face Fusillade, his new color-scheme now complete. "Is something amiss?" he asks with a completely straight face, his gigantic new moustache spoiling the effect slightly. "And have you decided on a new colorscheme and name?"
Fusillade suddenly looks quite on the spot. "What's YOUR new name, Fulcrum?" And eh. I'll let the pipsqueaks decide," she says of Repaint and Kitbash. She steps over thoughtfully to the pan that holds the Autobot sigils, and takes six. Two to cover up the sigils on her tail, and horkin' big extras for both sides her wings.
Fulcrum says, "As I said, on this mission you shall refer to me as "Ultra Rod Heroimus", while we will call Blueshift "Hod Tailpipe Supreme""
Blueshift nods, folding his manly arms and showing off his awesome racing stripes. "Indeed. And what shall your name be, Fusillade. Remember it must be cunning and sneaky"
"Amazing. They completely slipped my mind! I think it might work," Fusillade remarks. "You pick."
Repaint practically EXPLODES at the chance to choose someone's color scheme. "I'm thinking.. Chartreuse for the main color, with vermillion swirls. Oh, and a nice navy trim!"
Fusillade sags a bit, but gets to the machine, and submits to whatever needs to be done to get this mission rolling. "I never could have come up with that combination."
Blueshift snerks. "What a poor and simple choice, I would expect that from a /gumby/. Fusillade should be PUCE"
"Well get up on it, robo-Casso!"
It is a little known fact that Blueshift got his Decepticon Diploma from Polyhex Art College
Repaint makes a rude gesture to Blueshift, the HEATHEN, then gets to work. A master craftsman could make this color scheme look good. Repaint, however, is not that craftsman. Meanwhile, Fulcrum is slapping Autobot sigils over his wings, not noticing that both of them are orientated completely differently.
Blueshift starts to plaster himself in Autobot sigils to make totally sure no-one mistakes him otherwise. Then he peels a sigil off his face so he can talk. "We should go kill some humans whilst we're at it"
Fulcrum seems happy with how things are going. "No no no, that would ruin the disguise. We must remember to act as if we were Autobots. Now, let us proceed to the Three Gorges Dam, where we will steal its energy. Remember; Autobots."
Blueshift nods. "But what if we are Autobots who crush humans, won't that be enough?"
Beijing
Bicycle horns echo through the air amidst the ebb and flow of people making their way around this megalopolis of some 20 million people. Neon lights flash from platforms atop skyscrapers in the financial district in a display of modernity curiously at odds with the heart of the city, centered and focused on the 95 acres of Tiananmen Square and the ancient glory of the Forbidden City, once home to the Chinese Emperors. Fantastically coiled dragons glare down from the palace wall, the many-tiered black roof of an imperial pagoda rising up behind it.
Fulcrum flies towards the dam in his AMAZING disguise. "Quickly, Hot Tailpipe Supreme" he says QUITE LOUDLY to his comrade. "Roll out and attack the dam for Lord Rodimus. Roll out!"
The Neon pink and yellow spacecraft flies alongside. "Yes of course Ultra Rod Heroimus. Hail the Autobot Empire! Let us steal energy so we may raise Optimus Prime from the dead and let him lead us as our zombie warlord!"
Ultra Rod Heroimus soars MANFULLY down to the dam itself, the few guards on duty sending paniced shots towards the two HEROIC AUTOBOTS. "Run, humans, who we love a lot! Run from the Autobots who are rolling out to take energy from you! We come in peace! Roll out!" Still bellowing slogans, Fulcrum rips apart a large door, disapearing into the dam and heading for the turbine room.
"One shall stand, one shall roll out!" Hot Tailpipe Supreme bellows, arms at his hips as he transforms as he stalks towards the humans. "We are here to collect our energy tax as we Autobots always do, for we are Autobots!" He twirls his moustache. "Also we need more power for our TORTURE CHAMBERS!"
Ultra Rod Heroimus stomps towards the turbines, a vision in red and white, paying no attention to the humans scurrying for freedom.. or the one making towards the radio. "Autobots require energy!" he yells, firing a random shot from his heat-rays, scorching the ceiling. "We love you all!" The manly, rugged Autobot quickly attaches a mysterious device to the damn's generators and begins to produce energon cubes! He also takes out an even MORE mysterious package, a squat t-shape wrapped in canvas.
<Earth> "Help help, this is Ming Yao at Three Gorges dam.. we are being attacked by Autobots!"
Hot Tailpipe Supreme flexes his muscles. "For the freedom of humanity!" he shouts, shooting at some people. "Humans, your heads crush easily like watermelons. But we Autobots shall help you, for via survival of the fittest, we shall ensure you evolve to be tougher! By the Matrix of Satan that we all worship, this I promise!"
<Earth> Michael Briar says, "This is General Briar of the EDC. As long as we are not shot down, we will respond. General Briar out."
<Earth> Ming Yao says, "Hah! We are loyal members of the Protectorship of Nations! They number thousands, they will surely help us!"
<Earth> Michael Briar says, "And I do not see them coming to save you. If you do not wish for help from a force specifically trained to deal with hostile transformers, then please, tell us so I won't have to spend the fuel to get there."
<Earth> Ming Yao says, "Very well, but be aware that you will be joined by the mighty forces of the Protectorate within seconds, their exo-suits blotting out the sun as they fly to our rescue from the Autobots."
Fulcrum does not look like Fulcrum. No. Not at all. He looks like what Fulcrum would look like if he had a giant metal moustache clamped just under his nose, was painted a striking red and white color, and had Autobot symbols on his wings. And currently, he's in one of the dam's massive turbine rooms, hooking up a device. "Quickly, Hod Tailpipe Supreme" he heroically commands. "Make sure I am not interrupted by anyone while I peacefully make Energon Cubes for the Autobot Empire!"
Blueshift does not look like Blueshift either. He would look like how Blueshift would look if he was neon pink with yellow bunnies stencilled over him. And lots and lots and lots of Autobot sigils. "True Ultra Rod Heroimus. We need more energy to power our dead baby crushing engines!"
<Earth> Michael Briar says, "Ah, well, if Protectorate forces are already on their way, then you'll have no need of the EDC forces. Best not to find myself deep in PN turf with no backup anyway."
<Earth> Zarf Chinky Winky says, "No General, please come alone deep into our territory with your weapons blazing, that sounds like a great idea!"
<Earth> Michael Briar says, "No thanks. I don't feel like killing any of you today. But the offer is appreciated."
<Earth> Ming Yao says, "I think what the general meant to say is that we are pleased that you are willing to help us destroy these alien invaders, but the Protectorate armed forces will be able to handle it. I'm sure they will turn up soon. Maybe.. maybe you could be an observer? Because they will be here soon."
<Earth> Zarf Chinky Winky says, "There's millions of us, we control half this world. We will not only blot out the sun, but we will blot out all the stars too! And then even more Exos will blot out THOSE exos!"
Fulcrum .. I mean, Ultra Rod Heroimus looks confused. Surely someone should be coming to stop them by now. But no, energon cubes slowly keep piling up beside his machine as he thoughtfully strokes his large moustache. "Soon we will have as much as we can carry back to Autobot Headquarters. We can store them in the dungeon, next to those puppies we are interrogating."
Blueshift, or rather Hod Tailpipe Supreme as he is now cleverly nods. "Of course. And we must build more gigantic guardian robots made from dead orphan kittens that we keep doing. For that is the source of our power." He stares at all the energon being built up.
Sometimes, bizarre things happen that bear investigating. A freakish explosion with no known origin, alien aircrafts crashlanding into earth... or 'Autobots' supposedly invading Protectorate territory in such a brazen and debatably -crazed- way. There are certain Autobots that could be accounted for to do something like this. But even so... it's a matter that's a cause for concern, and one that requires -looking into-. Especially when there had been no previous notice of any such mission going into effect.
So, how to investigate? The answer comes in a single blue ship of obvious alien origin blazing across the air at impossible speeds; its boosters flare with life as it rapidly approaches the dam. Converging in on the two 'Autobots' as they get to work, Defcon says little; it's only when he arrives, flying directly above the duo, that he speaks:
"... ...Autobots," the starfighter intones blandly, "Identify yourselves... and tell me what the hell you think you're doing?"
Uh oh, the jig is up. Or.. is it? "Ah, more Autobot help!" Fulcrum yells to no-one in particular as he hurridly stows his energon-cubulator in subspace, quickly gathering the cubes in two large energy-nets. "Come to help us take our rightful energy tithe! Come, Hot Tailpipe Supreme! Take these cubes, it is time to go!"
"Yes, brilliant!" Hot Tailpipe Surpreme shouts. "Hi fellow Autobot, I am Hot Tailpipe Supreme, and this is my colleague Ultra Rod Heroimus. We have proceeded to attack this dam as instructed by Lord Rodimus because he said that 'the Chinese are easy'. Say..." he leans closer, stroking his huge handlebar moustache. "Don't I know you? Did I sit next to you in Autobot Art College?"
"..."
Maybe they could have tricked Defcon. Maybe. Even if one is colored pastel pink and both have the most obnoxious names on Earth. Maybe. Defcon wouldn't put it past some of them.
But those mustaches are just completely out there.
"... Rodimus told you that, huh?" Defcon questions after a long moment. "'Lord' Rodimus asked you." As he speaks, Defcon hovers above, only to fall towards the ground towards them as his form shifts into that tall, blue frame of his robot mode. "Tell me what unit you're in. Also... why -Rodimus Prime- would send you out into the middle of Protectorate territory, alone, to get energon?" He's skeptical, it seems.
No Autobot could have mustaches that stylish.
Ultra Rod Heroimus emerges from the dam, handing one net full of cubes to Bluesh..to Hot Tailpipe Supreme. He momentarily seems startled by Defcon's appearance, but then recovers. Stay in character. "Greetings fellow Autobot! Bah weep granak..granag...Roll out!"
Hot Tailpipe Supreme holds the net tightly in his fist, the other hand fondling the huge golden medallion on his chest. "The Matrix told Prime to, we do not question the Matrix. If we do Prime puts us in The Room and no-one wants to go there. Where have you /been/ soldier..." He stops again. "Yes, you were the guy in my class who had that uh... embarressing problem"
Were he capable of such expressions, Defcon might have a case of a ticking brow right now. As it stands, his hands twitch irritably, blue eyes flaring as he looks between 'Ultra Rod Heroimus' and 'Hot Tailpipe Supreme.' He pauses. He frowns. "'Roll out.' You two are ridiculous. Do you even know who I am?" he doesn't really wait for a response. 'Hot Tailpipe' speaks up, talking about some class or another, and Defcon being a student there with an embarassing problem. Defcon's reaction? He lifts his right hand, plasma cannon pointed at the pastel pink monstrosity and thrumming with life. And then he fires.
"No, I'm not."
Cybertronian Starfighter <Defcon> strikes you with Laser Cannon ::Low Yield:: for 10 points of damage.
Fulcrum bites off a curse as Defcon shoots his Autobot pal. "Now you will.. ah. Haha. You jokester, er.." Fulcrum mubles something that sounds like a name, or maybe not. "Quit fooling around, we are going back to base" With that, Ultra Rod Heroimus transforms into a red MiG 29, a cable snaking out to grab the energy net.
Blueshift is blasted back, his medallion flying off as his head spins round and round. Quickly he puts his arms to his head and twists it the other way, screwing it back on. "Yes, I remember you! Ultra Rod Heroimus, that's the guy I told you about, the guy with that downy fluff on his tailpipe! And he is INSANE AND ATTACKS HIS FELLOW AUTOBOTS ALL THE TIME!" He strokes his gigantic moustache again. "As Autobots we do not fight, we just use love and cuddles, like so!" And with that, he throws a cute kitten at Defcon's head.
You strike Cybertronian Starfighter <Defcon> with Kitten!.
Defcon is a jerk. If this isn't some clever ploy, he might feel bad -- but then again, considering how much he already despises both of them -- especially the one in pink -- he very well may not. This potential is increased dramatically when Blueshift goes so far as to -throw a kitten- at his head. The feline strikes his head with a snap knocking his head back just a little and causing him to stagger sheerly out of -surprise- as the kitten rebounds and goes soaring through the air, to land somewhere likely unpleasant. What fiends!! "... This stupidity is stopping -now-." Now completely angry, Defcon steps -forward- to thrust his knee into 'Hot Tailpipe's' gut, before driving his right elbow straight into the 'Autobot's' chest with crushing force. "You two will stand down, NOW. And then we will all go to Autobot City -together- and have a talk with Rodimus. How does -that- sound?"
Defcon strikes you with ::Savage Combo:: for 13 points of damage.
"You are mad!" Ultra Rod Heroimus proclaims. "We will tell Rodimus Prime ourselves, and then you will be thrown in the robo snake pit!" Rising skywards, the red MiG seems quite happy to leave his pal Hot Tailpipe Supreme to his fate.. but maybe not, as he unleases a beam of intense heat at the only real Autobot around. "Quick, Hot Tailpipe Supreme! Run from the mad Autobot who is mad! Back to America!"
Fulcrum strikes Defcon with Heat Ray <Low>.
Hot Tailpipe Supreme waves a fist as he is shot again. "Yes. Perhaps the MIND PROBE back at Metroplex would fix his obviously malfunctioning brain. He has probably been injecting liquid energon into his fuel outlet pipe again. It will fall off if you do that! Come Ultra Rod Heroimus, back to America where we shall sit and sup from the skulls of our victims, and help the EDC choose a new country to poison with American Boy Bands!" With that, he takes to the sky!
Blueshift begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Defcon, MiG-29 <Fulcrum>.
"... Idiots. I am bringing you two into custody. Now." As Defcon speaks, though, Hot Tailpipe... begins to fly. Despite being an Autobot. Defcon squints, and frowns anew once more. "Can't even pull off a decent disguise right, can you?" Sadly though -- Defcon has other pressing matters. Namely, Ultra Rod trying to make off with their goods, towards whatever destination they were going. Ignoring the fleeing Tailpipe, Defcon lashes out, his palsma cannon releasing a focused -beam- of power towards the MiG the exact moment that laser strikes his shoulder with just enough force to send him stepping back once and leave a small, smoking hole. "Stand DOWN, immediately! You are -both- under arrest. I will not ask for your compliance again."
Defcon strikes MiG-29 <Fulcrum> with <Plasma Cannon> ::High Yield::.
Ultra Rod Heroimus wobbles in the sky as Defcon's beam punches directly through one wing, leaving a huge smoking speed hole. "No, YOU are under arrest!" he replies usefully as his afterburners fire, looking to make a quick getaway before anything else is punctured.
Fulcrum retreats from the area swiftly, outdistancing all pursuit and parting shots.
"... Hn," Defcon grunts out uselessly as Ultra Rod Heroimus makes a swift beeline through the air, quickly becoming naught more than a simple dot in the sky along with his partner before Defcon can give chase. Considering he doesn't know who they are, aside from the obvious assumptions, or where they're going... Defcon is left standing alone at the dam for several long moments. "... I'll find you. Both of you. Eventually." Somehow. He always finds a way. And, that said, Defcon transforms once more into that large starfighter, it's sleek form blazing into the sky and away from the damn at incredible speeds. Well.
NCC Medical Ward
Like its previous incarnation, this medical ward was designed with the medic in mind, with all the modern advances to make the dirty work of repairs a world easier. It is well lit, the blue and violet metal of the walls and decor is a shade paler here, and the ubiquitous filigree is missing, all to assist in ease of cleaning. Still, the place veritably sparkles. In the furniture, there is a subtle motif of blades and sharp edges, as if to evoke the scalpel of a surgeon, although it is all quite safe. Around two dozen beds, more comfortable than their sharp looks would suggest, fill the medical ward, laid out in a tidy grid, and more can be flipped out of the walls should emergency demand it. A set of tracks on the ceiling mirror the grid of beds, allowing advanced scanning equipment and tolls to be swiveled around to the various beds. Computer terminals and cabinets are molded right into the walls at intervals, and while there are the normal medical security cameras, it appears as if someone has set some of the cameras specifically to watch the cabinets.
MiG-29 <Fulcrum> strolls into medbay, having landed in the residential zone. He quickly makes for a cleansing unit, which begins to strip the temporary paint from his frame, detaching his moustache at the same time.
Blueshift strolls into medbay having cleansed his paint in the fires of space. His moustache is now stuck to his crotch
Fulcrum has carefully stashed the cubes.. um.. in some storage units. He'll just write it off as some bad bookwork later.
Blueshift rips off the moustache and sticks it to a passing gumby. "Well, that went rather well"
Fulcrum says, "Yes. I shall have to remember that technique in future. Although I think repeated uses would dull its effectiveness. Perhaps some sort of novelty hat?"
Blueshift strokes his chin. "Of course. But it must be under the radar. As long as CoC aren't scanning us 24/7 to find out where we are all the time!"
Fulcrum shrugs. "I don't think that's particularly likely."
Blueshift scowls at this. "You would be surprised. Scourge is always asking on radio where I am, like, every half hour"
<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Medical, prepare for a Class 3 evacuation of the facility in New Crystal City. Thank you."
<Decepticon> Mother Goose Fusillade says, "Just medical ward, or the entire city base?"
<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Simply medical, Ma'am."
<Decepticon> Earthscorch says, "What is going on?"
Report[]
Medical Code 3: Exclusion - Arachnae
As instructed, I am informing Unit's Fulcrum and Blueshift are to be placed on an exclusion order from the medical facilities. Commander Scrapper, when you have availability, I would like to speak with you. Thank you.
<Decepticon> Blueshift says, "I am being punished for patrolling this pathetic mudball?"