| abstract
| - Autobot City - Repair Bay This is the main repair bay for the Autobots. Several operating tables lie in a row here, and a long bench lines one wall. On the bench are assorted tools used in repairing damaged Transformers. Scattered throughout the room are various repair bots, awaiting the arrival of more wounded to repair. The room gives you the perception of being immaculately clean, not a tool out of place. On the left side of the operating arena are wide sliding doors that open into the recovery ward. Less frantic than the busy repair bay, it consists of two rows of immaculate beds on opposite walls for those needing peace and quiet to rest and recover from their repairs. The sounds of quiet conversations between medic and patient, or between visitor and patient, are about all that disturb the quiet. All of sudden, Tailgate along with Grapple (who is presumably carrying Blurr) burst into the medic bay, leaking energon fluids all over the floor. "H-help.. Blurr..." the minibot manages to stammer out. He looks like he's been to hell and back, with all his dents, scratches and open wounds. There are several spiky who know whatsits impaled into his bumper. "P-please...somebody.." Strangely, Blurr doesn't actually appear to have much in the way of physical injuries. Well, at least compared to Tailgate and Grapple, who look like they've been nearly ripped to shreds by some sort of monstrous thing (and that's probably because they have). Blurr, on the other hand, just has holes in various parts of his armor, and doesn't appear to have sustained any critical internal injuries. Sit-Com gets to stabilizing the bots that are injured. "I told you to hide in your Tauntaun!" he says to Blurr. 1986 Pontiac Trans-Am eyes Sit-Com curiously. He's never met a Junkion before. "...I'm not Jim, I'm Tailgate." He barely can understand what he's saying, a Tauntaun, what the slag is that? He's on the brink of passing out from fluid loss though. "Is.. Is he going to pull through alright?" he asks Sit-Com tiredly. Sit-Com works, and manages to stabilize the bots. "Should do," he says, "What, laddie? Hae ye no met a Junkion beforrrre? TV is our language." He doesn't watch TV. He believes that watching television is a type of enslavement to the aforementioned device. "....." This doesn't seem like a pressing issue right now though, so he changes the subject. "O-Okay, but how long until he wakes up?" Or will he? He can't help but be anxious. Sit-Com putters around the medbay, peeking around to see that his patients are not about to flatline. Of course he'll find that the minibot Tailgate is not on his mediberth, he hasn't been since yesterday. He's still sitting on Blurr's mediberth (well more like curled up now), waiting for the speedster to wake up. Sit-Com awwws and pats Tailgate's helm. He checks his watch to see whether his anticipated time for Blurr to wake up was accurate. Yeah, its been sixteen hours. About a minute past, too. At first it would seem that Tailgate was completely idle, he's curled up, his optics shut off and darkened. But all of sudden, he bolts up like a psychotic alarm clock. He looks around wildly, not yet aware Sit-Com is next to him. "SIT-COM! SIT-COM!!" IT'S BEEN SIXTEEN HOURS AND HE'S NOT AWAKE YET!!" Sit-Com hrms, checks his watch, looks at Blurr again, and looks at Tailgate. "Well, it was 16 hours, 15 minutes," he says, "Give him a bit longer. "Oooh..." he covers his faceplates with his hand servos. "You can't just keep extending the time frame, soon it's going to be TWENTY hours!" He clambers to his feet, climbing up Blurr's chassis (yes, he's quite small) and coming to stand on his chest plate. "Blurr!!" he yells, grabbing Blurr's helm and shaking him. "C'mon.. c'mon...! Wake up! Ugh... don't.. don't do this to me now.." He tries slapping his faceplates a little, but to no avail. "Whoa, take it easy," Sit-Com says, "I don't think that'll wake him up any faster." Sit-Com is right, Tailgate realizes, and his optics turn downward in a melancholy and gloomy fashion. He sighs, and sinks to his knees, looking devastated. Then he curls up again, optics dim and sad. Sit-Com pulls the blanket back up over Tailgate as well, patting his helm. "It's ok. He'll pull through, I know it. He's got spirit." Tailgate slides off of Blurr and back down onto the mediberth, poking just his helm out from under the blanket. "I don't know Sit-Com. What if he doesn't? What he never wakes up? It's my fault. I'll--I'll never forgive myself! What will I tell Repugnus? What will he say? I--I..." He trails off, looking distraught. "You're keeping him warm," Sit-Com says, "That should help. His automatic repair systems should be working now." That doesn't really seem to encourage Tailgate that much. "Yeah, but what if the damage is deeper than physical?" He looks at Sit-Com. "You said you knew about mnemosurgery, right? Those scientists told us, while we were trying to rescue Blurr, that if we killed the worm, that would destabilize Blurr mentally. I don't know what that device did to him. But I have a feeling that ordinary operating procedures aren't going to work on him." "I'm afraid that might be case," A gumby technician who is standing near Blurr and scrolling through test results on a datapad says in response to Tailgate's concerns. "The thing is, he hasn't actually sustained that much physical damage. Those holes he came in with were the bulk of it, and we patched those up just fine a long time ago." he shakes his head, venting a sigh. "There's just--no physical explanation to speak of as to why he's still comatose." From a couple of mediberths over, there's a sudden and quite audible groan. Grapple starts to move, frame twitching and optics cycling to life. Said optics flicker, rapidly blinking as the architect slowly gets back to the world. Grapple looks around, apparently not quite as quick as usual. "..Why am I here?" Sit-Com snaps to attention and rushes over to Grapple's side when the architect stirs. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Grapple stares at Sit-Com, still blinking. He somehow manages to look confused and insulted at the same time. "..You're holding up a datapad." "Good catch. Means your optics are working, your processor is working, and I probably don't need to use this sedative right now." Sit-Com says. Grapple just stares at Sit-Com for several long, uncomfortable minutes. "Sedatives? Is THAT why I feel so terrible?" "Grappy baby you were freaking out," Sit-Com says, "I pretty much *had* to." Grapple only looks MORE insulted. "'Baby'?" He then turns to look at the gumby medic. "How much did he GIVE me?" Tailgate stands up. "Grapple! How are you feeling? Please don't hate me because you lost an optic when that ice worm almost swallowed you whole..." The technician shakes his head. "It doesn't matter, you're awake now." he says dismissively. In response to Tailgate he just sighs again. "We were waiting on the results of a few of the more in-depth tests." he looks down at the datapad again. "But the results are clear. He doesn't have any internal injuries that would explain his condition." Grapple looks to Tailgate. He doesn't look angry; in fact, the most that seems visible is mild annoyance. "I'm not upset at you. You were in the same situation I was in." He glances to the comatose Blurr. "When he wakes up, though, there will be words." A dire promise, indeed! "..A great deal of words." "Hm, maybe I should try some wakey wakey juice?" Sit-Com says, looking over at Blurr. Tailgate just sighs. Grapple looks annoyed, and he just feels more guilty now. "Grapple, please. We don't even know if he's going to wake up at all. Look.. I'm sorry. I should have gone first over the bridge. If I had, maybe none of this would have happened...." Grapple stares at Tailgate. "Are you serious?" A look of incredulity. "You were smart NOT to go over the bridge. You were, at best, a bit headstrong and, well... Eager, but otherwise, I don't see that you did anything wrong." A pause. "And he'll wake up." Deadpan resignation. "I have no doubt of that." "Eyeball need fixing?" Sit-Com wonders, looking over Grapple carefully. Grapple glares at Sit-Com. "You, stay away from my head. No fixing." "Oh, okay, okay," Sit-Com says, "Can I get you anything? Eyepatch? Gauze? Vodka martini shaken not stirred?" Grapple stares at Sit-Com. "I... What?" He looks to the Gumby in confusion. "What is he going on about?" "No!" Tailgate says, sounding frustrated. "Grapple, don't you understand? The bridge wouldn't have collapsed if I had gone over it. Then, if Blurr had gone over and it had crumbled, I would have been on the other side to help him up. And even it had, then at least the both of you would be alright. I'd do anything to just go back in time and trade places with Blurr.... You say that, but physically, he's completely repaired. So there's no reason why he hasn't woken up yet. Grapple.. he really might not..." His faceplates crumple and he sits down, staring at the floor, Grapple looks back to Tailgate. A small, somewhat awkward frown crosses his face. "Actually... If you HAD gone over first, and then Blurr would have fallen, you wouldn't have been there to hold my rear bumper and keep ME from falling down with him. And who have no way to know if there would have been enough ice on the other side to get hold of Blurr even if you HAD made it over." "Not if we'd all crossed over one by one. And if I had crossed over, at least you would have been on the other side. Grapple, you saw how it happened," Tailgate replies, "he was hanging on to the ledge on the other side. If I had been there, I could have pulled him up..." Grapple stares at Tailgate. "You aren't going to stop blaming yourself no matter what I say, are you?" More resignation. "Oh if only I had been with you," Sit-Com says. "... but you weren't. And why would I? It is my fault. If it isn't my fault, then whose is it? Yours? Blurr's?" Tailgate sighs again. "I know what you're going to say. 'It's nobody's fault.' But that's just everybody's excuse so that the blame won't land on them. And the truth is, everyone has a choice and a will. Anyone could have chosen or acted differently in most circumstances. And that situation was definitely one that could gone much better and differently if.. if I had..." He stammers sadly. "Actually." Grapple brings a hand up to get Tailgate's attention. "Actually, it is someone's fault. Those.. whoever they were, with the machine that they had? It's primarily their fault." The gumby technician has had enough. "Would you two just stop it!" he exclaims, sounding quite a bit like Ratchet. Perhaps he had studied under the mech. "It doesn't slagging matter whose fault it was!" he groans, turning to the Junkion. "Sit-Com, this...'wakey wakey juice' you mentioned. Why don't you give it a try? Because we're at a loss, here." Sit-Com nods, and reaches into a compartment. He pulls out a bottle of Mountain Dew Code Red. "Here, let's put this in his tank," he says, "If this doesn't wake him up, nothing will." The technician facepalms, sighing. Junkions... "Right...never mind." "Should've known..." he mutters. Grapple doesn't look the least bit surprised by Sit-com's cure reveal. Nope. No surprise. None. His expression is deadpan. "Perhaps Blurr just needs rest. We don't actually know WHAT that machine did to him." "Grapple, I'm not talking about it in that kind of way...I mean, they're the bad guys! They intended to do that to him. I didn't." Tailgate facepalms. "Sit-Com, I don't think that's going to do anything....." Sit-Com ohs, and goes to the cabinet. He gets out proper robo stimulant in a hypospray this time. "How about this?" "That's.. That's actually my point." Grapple rubs his face at Tailgate's self-incriminations. "You didn't INTEND to do anything badly. You are not at fault." "Now that's better." The technician says when Sit-Com finally gets out the appropriate stimulant. "Please tell me you actually know how to inject ir properly." "Of course," Sit-Com says, taking the hypospray and pressing it to Blurr's neck. "Grapple... I messed up.. I should have.." Tailgate's faceplates are still in his hand servos. Grapple lets out a deep sigh. He pats Tailgate's shoulder. "Calm down. You did fine. We all SURVIVED, didn't we?" Tailgate doesn't respond. He just stares at Blurr, watching Sit-Com inject him with stimulant. His optics scrunch nervously. Sit-Com steps back to observe the stimulant take effect. Oh, the stimulant takes effect, all right. Perhaps one might have questioned the idea of giving Blurr a stimulant. This is Blurr we're talking about, now. He was already speedy enough without it... Almost immediately after the injection is made, Blurr jolts straight up off of the berth, and before anyone could even so much as shout his name, a fist flies at Sit-Com's face! Combat: Blurr sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Blurr strikes Sit-Com with his Punch! (Grab) attack! Combat: Gained 4 energon. Grapple jumps up in alarm as Blurr shoots off like a rocket. Well, he DID say Blurr would most certainly wake up, and he most certainly did! "Blurr!" He moves to get out of the mediberth and.. Falls off the side. Looks like he's still under some of the sedatives effects. "..Ow. Blurr, it's all right!" Remedy comes in, blinks, "What the flame!" She goes over to the bay, "What did you give him?" Tailgate starts. "Blurr!!" he breathes a sigh of utter relief. He did wake up after all. But he doesn't appear to be completely sane for the moment. "Blurr! Stop! It's okay, it's just us!" He climbs off the mediberth and goes over to help Grapple up. Sit-Com oofs as the suddenly-animated Blurr accidentally punches him in the face. "Whoa, Nelly!" After he recovers, he shows Remedy the robo-stimulant hypospray he gave to Blurr. "Well, at least he's awake now," he deadpans. Remedy looks at the other medic, "WHAT DID YOU GIVE HIM?!" Grapple stands up only with Tailgate's aid. Now that he isn't laying down, he DOES look a bit tired. "Sedatives.." He grumbles to himself. Then, back to the matter at hand! "Blurr, calm down..!" He reaches a hand to set it on Blurr's shoulder. "Mach 1 Robo stimulant for Comas," Sit-Com says. Remedy ughs, "Right." She looks at Blurr, "Soldier, stand down!" Tailgate cringes. "Grapple... I'm not sure that's.. I'm not sure that's a good idea.. B-Blurr.. c-calm down.." He sounds worried and scared. "Do I need some mild robo sedative number 31 now?" Sit-Com wonders. When Grapple attempts to put a hand on Blurr's shoulder, the mech just stares at it as if it were some kind of hideous claw or something else horrific, and frantically backs away, stumbling off of the berth and into a pile of supply crates. They topple, crashing to the floor. Calm? Oh no, calm is about the last thing Blurr is. There is a wild look in his optics, and while he isn't usually the definition of cool and collected like Jazz is--he is certainly not acting himself. "Hey wait, wasn't Grapple just as freaked when he was awake before?" Grapple blinks. "I.. I was awake before?" A frown. "I don't remember anything, if I was." He looks at Blurr. "Blurr, it's.. It's all right." A low, soothing tone. "It's all right." He has no idea what he's doing. Remedy moves to straddle Blurr, "Blurr, it's me, Remedy! You recognize me?" She can't really hold him down, "Sit-Com, get me a sedative! Something mild." Tailgate's faceplates crumple. "Blurr..." He watches as the speedster knocks over a pile of supply crates. "Blurr.. talk to us... you're alright.. a-at least I think you are.." he sighs heavily. Sit-Com nods and hands Remedy a hypospray of mild sedative rated "Codeine level for robots' Oh no, Blurr doesn't let Remedy hold him down. He scrambles away from her, dashing to the other side of the room, mumbling things so fast that no one can even begin to comprehend what he might be trying to say, only that there's a lot of 'no' and 'stop'. Remedy calls out to have the med bay locked down so no one can escape. "Tch, am I going to have to get out my net?" Sit-Com wonders. Grapple stumbles back to sit at the very edge of the mediberth; he seems much more comfortable now that he's not trying to move around while still somewhat sedated. "Blurr is incredibly fast. I don't think we can force him to stay still.. Does whatever he was given wear off?" Guys, I don't think that giving him more sedatives is going to help him. I... I think there's something wrong with his cerebral circuitry.. and unless either of you know anything about that... I don't know.." he stares at the ground sadly. "Maybe it'll wear off, like it did with Grapple," Sit-Com says helpfully. Grapple looks to Sit-Com, glancing to Blurr with some worry. Back and forth. "What DID happen with that? I wasn't aware I was awake at all. How did it wear off?" "I had to give you a sedative and I guess you slept it off," Sit-Com says. "You were scared of needles," Sit-Com adds, "Does that ring a bell?" Remedy ughs, "Teletraan, lock down the medbay." She gets up, Well, we don't want him to get hurt. And, I'm not qualified to fix a neural net hiccup." Grapple 's frown grows deeper at that. "So it just.. Wore off?" He then blinks. "...Needles?" A twitch. "I've had uncomfortable experiences with needles." Unfortunately, Blurr's condition is nothing at all like Grapple's had been. Far worse. When he sees the doors to the sealing up, he frantically attempts to get through before they close but doesn't get there in time. And then... ...Oh, no. He's drawing his weapons. This can't be good. "Oh slaggit, slaggit, slaggit," Sit-Com says, transforming to Junkcycle mode. Time to deploy the net! Sit-Com folds down into his Junkcycle Mode. Vroom, vroom! Combat: Junk-Cycle misses Blurr with his This Is Not The Inter-NET! attack! Combat: Junk-Cycle (Sit-Com) used "This Is Not The Inter-NET!": A Level 0 MELEE attack. Grapple's optics widen. Well, so much for staying on the berth. With a quick jump, he dives UNDER the mediberth, taking cover. Tailgate's concern just keeps growing. "Oh no....Blurr! Stop! Please, we're not trying to hurt you.. c-calm down.." He quickly moves in front of Grapple to make sure that he doesn't get struck by Blurr's blast if he does in fact decide to shoot. Remedy goes to the pharmacy to find something. A paralytic or something... "Is there a particular bot he would recognize?" That net wasn't a good idea. Blurr is much too fast and evades it easily (especially since he's under the influence of that stimulant), but it sends him into a full-fledged panic. The speedster goes completely berserk, rushing around the room with his guns blazing in an attempt to shoot at everyone all at once! All hell breaks loose as he plows over anything and everything in his way, including other patients! Someone had better get him under control, and fast! Combat: Junk-Cycle misses Blurr with his This Is Not The Inter-NET! attack! Combat: Junk-Cycle (Sit-Com) used "This Is Not The Inter-NET!": A Level 0 MELEE attack. "There's only one chance! Inhibitorize the entire room! Tailgate's optics widen, and he tries to lunge forward and grab his arm to stop him from shooting everything in sight. "Blurr...!" he begs and pleads. "Please...." he sinks to his knees. Grapple is still hiding underneath the mediberth. It might be the only reason he isn't getting shot. Though, that doesn't mean he's a complete coward; a hook -- his crane hook -- shoots out from underneath the berth, intending on.. Tripping Blurr. Yup, just tripping him Combat: Grapple strikes Blurr with his Grab attack! Combat: Grapple (Grapple) used "Grab": A Level 0 MELEE attack. Remedy goes over to a panel she had hoped to not get into. She opens a hatch, pulling out wrist modules, "Put these on! These will prevent what I'm about to do from affecting you." The motorcycle splits apart and re-forms into the jovial form of Sit-Com. Let the laugh track begin! Despite Grapple's cowardly behavior, his attempt is successful, and Blurr trips over his crane hook. The speedster tumbles to the floor, buying the rest of them a few precious astroseconds to slap on the wrist modules Remedy is handing out. Remedy slaps a module on herself, before going to give modules to Grapple and Tailgate, then hurries back to the panel. "Room will be in stasis... That should stop Blurr." Grapple wraps a set of wrist modules on from under the mediberth. Yup, he's still under there. "..We can DO that? Put a room in stasis?" He takes the module sadly, putting on quickly. Now look what a mess you've made of Blurr. And everyone else too. Tailgate stares around gloomily, watching as Remedy prepares to put the room into stasis. Remedy sighs, "It's not done lightly... generally if there is a scraplet infestation..." She taps a command into the panel, and the room takes on a blue glow. Anyone not wearing the module stops moving (Though Blurr might be fast enough to still be moving at a 'normal' speed) And Blurr is immobilized on the floor where he had just been getting back to his feet from being tripped by Grapple. Now's their chance! "QUICK! DOGPILE ONNA BLURR!" Sit-Com shouts, going to leap and secure the speedy bot while he's still immobilized, so that someone can administer the sedative. Grapple finally crawls out from underneath the mediberth. Though, instead of heading for the sedative or anything of the sort, he instead moves to help Sit-Com hold Blurr down. Despite the fact that he's still a bit weak from his own sedatives. Maybe he wanted to leave the medication up to the medical professionals? Tailgate hurries over to the mediberth where the sedative was lying and picks it up. "Here!" he quickly offers the sedative to Remedy. Remedy takes the sedative, "We need him 'aware'. I got something else that should work fine." SHe grabs a paralytic, and sets it against Blurr's neck. The energies interfere with the voluntary command system, rendering him immobile. She checks to be sure it's not going anywhere, before returning to the panel, "I'm gonna turn off the stasis field. If it doesn't work, keep a tight grip on him." Blurr looks utterly terrified as he attempts to get away but can't move a single servo. When the stasis field goes down, he struggles against Grapple and Sit-Com, but the paralysis drug has rendered his efforts too weak to wrench himself from their grasp. Sadly enough, he is going to have to be clamped down to a berth. It takes a second for the horrid reality to settle in. Seeing Blurr like he is.. it kills him. Tailgate feels awful, and the sting of hasty steps he can't retrace feels like a fresh and open wound. "I-I'm sorry," he says hoarsely, "I'm s-so s-sorry..." he chokes out, barely composed, on the brink of metaphorical tears. He turns around and covers his faceplates, not wanting anyone in the medbay to see that he's losing it. Transforming, he races out of the medbay, without so much as an alert to anyone else that he's leaving. He figures he won't be missed anyway... Sit-Com aws as Tailgate breaks down and flees. "Wait!" he calls after him, a little too late. Remedy sighs, "Whatever has messed up Blurr, and Grapple... Right, we need a neural scan of at least those two, and possibly Tailgate." Grapple looks up from Blurr's prone position. "Neural scan?" He didn't like the sound of that. He glances from the paralyzed Blurr to Remedy and back a couple of times. "That's not invasive, is it?" He looks worried. Sit-Com works to get Blurr onto the berth and clamped down so that he can't run off. Sit-Com says, "Cmon Blurr, this is for your own good." Remedy narrows her optics, "You have to be slagging teasing me. No. I remove the cranial armor, then run a scan." Grapple gulps as he realizes he actually has to help CARRY Blurr. He's still a bit weak, himself; heck, he had to sit down earlier. So, it's more than a struggle just to lift Blurr, let alone keep him still. Then, he hears what Remedy says. "REMOVE the cranial armor?!" If someone would check his chart, it would show that he often skips out on mandatory medical checkups. Autobot City - Repair Bay This is the main repair bay for the Autobots. Several operating tables lie in a row here, and a long bench lines one wall. On the bench are assorted tools used in repairing damaged Transformers. Scattered throughout the room are various repair bots, awaiting the arrival of more wounded to repair. The room gives you the perception of being immaculately clean, not a tool out of place. On the left side of the operating arena are wide sliding doors that open into the recovery ward. Less frantic than the busy repair bay, it consists of two rows of immaculate beds on opposite walls for those needing peace and quiet to rest and recover from their repairs. The sounds of quiet conversations between medic and patient, or between visitor and patient, are about all that disturb the quiet. For what seems like mega-cycles on end, the medics at Autobot City have been baffled by Blurr's situation. By this time nearly all of his physical injuries have been repaired; however his psychological condition had not improved. They've done their best, running scan after scan of his brain module, but with little luck. Finally, it was decided that an expert of higher caliber would need to be called. Someone like First Aid, or Torque. And so he is hailed on his frequency. <> Upon returning to Iacon after another stint in Crystal City, First Aid received a message via Metroplex's long range communications array asking for his medical expertise. << I'm not familiar with the work that's been done so far, but send me your findings so far and I'll see what I can do.>> Without taking the time to dispense with his Crystal City markings, the Protectobot arrived on the next spacebridge transport and reported to the Repair Bay. It must be serious if they called him over all the way from Cybertron. Now, First Aid enters the repair bay, colours still a touch off from his disguise. He scanned the medical records while waiting for the bridge to open, but a lot of it didn't make any sense. Approaching the bay where Blurr is being held, the doctor picks up his chart. "Any changes since you called me?" he asks Dr. Autobot. The information that has been obtained thus far doesn't really help much--it just shows that he had taken some minor physical damage from the encounter, but those had been repaired quickly. There had been some anomalous readings during Tailgate's brush with nearly being devoured by the monster, especially when it had appeared to change its mind about annihilating him. One of the lead medics looks up at First Aid, appearing relieved. "Thank Primus you're here, Aid." he shakes his head at the question. "No...not that we can see, but I don't think we've been monitoring the right processes--Oh, I don't know!" he looks distraught, sighing. "It just doesn't make any sense, according to these readings he should be fine! The only thing we've noticed is that he appears to have a few active nerual circuits even when we've got him heavily sedated..." A machine beeps and he quickly rushes over to refill the anesthetic chamber. The speedster's arms and legs are already cut and bruised badly from all that struggling against the restraints. First Aid puts his hand on the lead medic--Dr. Autobot, no doubt--'s shoulder. "Hey, you've done a great job keeping him alive and stable despite him undergoing something that seems pretty horrible. A few active neural circuits means there's still life, and where there's life, there's hope." The Protectobot lets him go refill the anesthetic chamber as he approaches the patient. "Ah, Blurr," First Aid says, shaking his head sadly. "Silverbolt's report was worrying enough, but now...?" He pats Blurr on the arm. He skips the initial scans since the other medics have already done that and sent him the results. Instead he begins a level one diagnostic of Blurr's laser core chamber and neural circuit pathways. The readings on these are always impossible to decipher... unless you're First Aid or a handful of other Cybertronian specialists. The other medic smiles as he finishes replenishing the supply of sedatives, reassured by First Aid's words. "Thanks, Aid. I really needed that." As First Aid begins running the diagnostic, he watches anxiously. "Anything new?" And speaking of the diagnostic, they'd been right about the lack of physical damage. Other than the damage from the restraints, the lasercore and circuit pathways are pristine. The signals in the pathways, though--that was the weird part. He was heavily sedated, having been placed under the maximum dose possible without effectively stasis locking him for good. The signals should have been barely detectable, but there they were, coming in strong as if he were awake. First Aid mmms as he looks to the side monitor. "Everything looks normal, actually. A little too normal given how much anesthetic he's been given over the past week." First Aid taps his faceplate a few times, thinking. "It's possible the sedatives just aren't affecting whatever the scientists put in him to keep him controlled. I know the standard issue cerebro-shell scan didn't pick up anything, but I'm going to try setting the frequency a little lower. His neural activity is all fine so it shouldn't be a problem." First Aid taps several commands into the computer next to Blurr, and a huge scanner transforms out of the ceiling, running back and forth high over Blurr's body like a photocopier light. The other medic looks disappointed. "Normal? But it isn't supposed to be normal...so that makes it not normal after all, I guess?" He watches as the scan proceeds, and new information floods the display. The data would show that the neural pathways were not so normal after all. There are segments of foreign code that appear to be the source of most of the neural activity, if not nearly all. "You guess right," First Aid replies in an absentminded fashion. His attention has been diverted to the monitor, where massive strings of characters whirl by at a blinding pace. It's all neural code, and gibberish to a laymech. But to First Aid it is something different. "There!" he suddenly says, pausing the scrolling. He points at a line, highlighting it red. "Do you see?" "Errr.." The less-experienced medic stares blankly at the display, and rubs his head. "Heh--not really, but I guess that's why we called you down here. So um...what about it?" he asks. "Can we fix it?" "And is that what's causing the anomalies?" The line of code slowly flashes between red and green. "That, Dr. Autobot-" poor guy had his fate decided upon construction, "-is not part of the standard laser core framework." Aid hrms. "I don't know of anything that can /insert/ code like that post-construction, but I can definitely see why it would prevent Blurr from booting up properly. What do you think?" "Foreign code?" Dr. Autobot's optic's widen. "Primus! No wonder we couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Do you think it's some sort of virus?" he asks, regarding First Aid before turning back to the display. He examines the various segments highlighed in red. "Huh...It looks like they're all clumped up in isolated areas for the most part." "Normally I'd say 'no' because neural code can't be transmitted from one person to another, but if these alien scientists were able to hit him with it in the first place then anything should be possible," First Aid replies. "Listen, we're going to have to completely shut Blurr down and extract the code manually. I cannot emphasize enough just how dangerous this is, though. One bit switched the wrong way and Blurr... well, one bit switched the wrong way and Blurr may end up wishing he doesn't survive the procedure. Maybe we should try to find another way." Dr. Autobot listens to First Aid, his optics widening further at the notion of shutting him down completely. "There has to be another way!" But what? "...The virus must be responsible for the abnormal neural activity, right? And...and in that report Tailgate wrote up from Pluto, he mentioned something about a strange reading during his encounter with that monster thing. Maybe we should dig up that report--see if we can come up with any more clues." First Aid nods. "I read it while waiting for the spacebridge." He taps several buttons, and the image of Blurr's neural code vanishes, replaced with Tailgate's report. "A signal between the ice worm and Blurr, eh? Well that /could/ be what this code is refering to. If it's still active then it's remarkable that it's still able to reach him all the way from Pluto. Maybe we could put Blurr in a room with a comm blackout to see if that blocks the signal... or even better, maybe we can trace the signal back to find the worm." Dr. Autobot nods. "The signal must be coming through subspace, then..." he muses. "Maybe if we sent a strike team to take out the other end--that creature, whatever it is--maybe that'll do the trick. I just...hope it won't kill him. Or cause permanent processor damage." "So do I, Dr. Autobot," First Aid agrees. "But first things first: we don't even know where this worm could be. Personally I'm not detecting any subspace frequencies, but then neither of us are exactly comm experts. Fortunataely for us..." First Aid looks up to the ceiling. "Metroplex?" "Well...presumably it's got to be on Pluto, still. Unless someone else has made off with it." The other medic answers. "I'm glad we were able to find the source of the problem, at least, though." First Aid doesn't reply to Dr. Autobot just yet. Instead he waits for... "METROPLEX, ONLINE." First Aid reaches out and pats the medical slab Blurr is resting on. Technically he's just patting Metroplex. "I need you to run a level 1 subspace scan of the area. Monitor any incoming and outgoing transmissions. Expand beyond the standard frequencies if you can." Then, to Dr. Autobot he says, "We won't have the real source until we have the worm." The scan begins immediately, with the results scrolling across another holo-display nearby. Sure enough, there is a faint subspace signal originating from the rim of the Sol system. Dr. Autobot watches and points out the results. "There it is, Aid! I knew it. Now we're getting somewhere." he looks somewhat relieved. Sit-Com looks relieved as well. "Oh good, now we've got a lead," he says to First Aid and Dr. Autobot. "So now they can send out to find the Worm, and unlink it?" First Aid doesn't immediately hear Sit-Com's out loud wonderings, but he nods with Dr. Autobot. "Yes, but now we still need to see just *where* this *somewhere* is. Metroplex, please put up a map of Sol. Are there any planetoids or ships in that area?" He figures that will also answer Sit-Com's question. "I heard they met the worm on Pluto," Sit-Com volunteers. The display obeys, and a holographic map of the Sol system appears. The signal blinks in red, and the map zooms in on its source, triangulating upon the frigid Pluto and its moon, Triton. "Just as we thought, it's still on Pluto somewhere." Dr. Autobot comments. "Maybe if we sent a comm specialist with the strike team, or a subspace tracking device of some sort, they could get a more specific reading once they got close." "Y-es, actually, we knew that part," First Aid says, glancing over his shoulder at Sit-Com. "We were discussing that part earlier. Now then, lets see if... ah ha! There!" He points at the monitor. "Triton! I mean Charon! I should have known!" No he shouldn't have. "Metroplex, narrow down the search as close as you can so we can send a team there immediately." He nods enthusiastically with Dr. Autobot. Sit-Com beams. He pats the still-out-of-it Blurr. "Don't worry, little buddy, we'll get ya fixed up!" he says, imitating the Skipper on Gilligan's Island. "THE TARGET AREA HAS BEEN REDUCED AS FAR AS IS POSSIBLE FROM THIS DISTANCE." Metroplex answers. Still, one small planet and one small moon was pretty good for tracking signals through space, even within the same star system. "Well," Dr. Autobot begins. "I guess we'll have to find out when the strike team gets there. We'd probably have better luck searching the area where it was last encountered first--from the data we managed to glean from that device Tailgate found on-site, it didn't seem to be capable of covering vast distances within a short amount of time. Doubt it's capable of space travel on its own, so I'd wager it's still on the planet somewhere. Unless someone else found it first." he frowns. "You don't suppose the Decepticons could...find a way of controlling it, do you?" "Who knows," Sit-Com says, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "Mabye it'll get inside a Con's head and give them a headache." "I understand. Thank you, Metroplex," First Aid says, giving the medical bay another friendly pat. Turning away from Blurr towards Dr. Autobot, "I wouldn't put anything past the Decepticons. I think our course is set, then. Go... uh, well I guess go right back to where the original team was and start tracking down the signal." "We get signal," Sit-Com says, "All your base are belong to us." He checks over Blurr some more, seeing for any change whatsoever in the speedy bot's condition. "Blurr should be ok for now, right?" he asks First Aid. ================================== Autobot =================================== Message: 3/121 Posted Author Success! Blurr's Worm Affliction Tue Apr 02 First Aid ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ First Aid appears on the screen from the Autobot City medbay. He's still wearing the markings he uses when undercover in Crystal City as Safety. Behind him, Sit-Com and Dr. Autobot are monitoring Blurr's life signs. The speedster is laid out on a medical table with tubes connected to him. "First Aid here, I have some bad news and some good news. The bad news is that Blurr's condition is unchanged. He's still in a coma and his life signs are minimal. Dr. Autobot and I have investigated and we've found new lines of malicious code added to his neural circuitry. Now I'm sure I don't have to tell anyone else that it's impossible to add code to a mech that's already active without killing them, but seeing the impossible /is/ our standard trade, I find. I might be able to remove it, but it's never been done before and to be honest I don't much rate my chances of success, even with Perceptor and Torque's help. I think we're going to need to find the worm that did this to him and learn what we can from it. Preferably without killing it." "That brings me to the good news. Tailgate mentioned in his report that there was a faint signal between Blurr and the worm that briefly spiked up, and sure enough when I had Metroplex run a full scan of all subspace signals entering or leaving the medbay, he was able to find it and gauge its approximate location. Whatever this thing is, it's still on either Pluto or its moon--Charon. Metroplex isn't able to get a better fix on it from here, but if a team returns to Pluto with the data he's provided, they should be able to narrow down the scan's focus and find the worm." "Until then, we will do our best to ensure Blurr is resting comfortably. First Aid out." ============================================================================== Pluto You finally land on the planet only to discover the darkness grows worse as you near the surface. The dim light of the system's sun barely reaches this far and offers little light. As your optics adjust, you notice what looks to be a small settlement off in the distance centered around a towering mound of rock and 'ice' crystals. Small lights can be seen and finally, the odd smell of something melting or burning--something metal--comes to your olfactory senses and if you strain your hearing, you may make out the screams, or what you think is a scream. With all that has happened within the last few astrocycles concerning Blurr and a failed attempt to discover what mentally ailed him, Tailgate's been feeling pretty down in the dumps. After all, he's blamed himself for the series of unfortunate events that have transpired since his first visit to this Primus forsaken place called Pluto. Wanting nothing other than to amend the wrongs he feels he's committed and to make sure no one else is harmed because of him, he heads out to Pluto alone, thinking he's sneaked out there by himself! Little does he know he's hardly alone. After arriving at the aforementioned planet, he surveys the area with a small sigh. Pluto wasn't a big place, but he felt so small and alone. "It's best this way," he mutters to himself, trying not to feel frightened and intimdated by the dark, cold unknown ahead of him. "Not really the swingin' of 'hoods is it now?" Comes a familiar voice from just behind Tailgate, belonging to none other than the meister of style himself. Geez, how long has Jazz been pulling the secret agent tailing thing. Probably since the minibot first left to come out here again, and just keeping to himself. Immeadiately he holds up his hands to keep Tailgate from panicing. "Don't worry m'man, I'm here to help find some answers. Don't dig this dirty business that's been goin' down, yo." Jazz may be a pretty cool and laidback fellow, but he doesn't take well to people screwing with his Intel agents. Especially ones that are his friends as well. Sit-Com clambers out of the shuttle, looks around, and shivers. "Not fit for beast nor men," he murmurs, "It is fit, however, for the cremation of Sam MacGee." He follows Jazz over to where Tailgate is. "What are you doing out of bed?" "Look at them over there," Needlenose says from behind the ridge he and Scorn are spying from. "I bet they're talking about all sorts of fun stuff like the ending of the Sopranos or which James Bond is the best James Bond." He glances over at the Insecticon. "Maybe we should go down there and see what's what." Needlenose and Scorn are about a half mile away, peering at Tailgate, Jazz, and Sit-Com. It's these last two that has Needlenose all riled up. A Junkion AND Jazz? They're probably talking about all sorts of wicked cool stuff! Bell UH-1V Iroquois transforms into his Blades mode. Why was Scorn even out here again? She can hardly remember, aside from having to keep Needlenose and his pint sized cronies company. Something she's clearly not too happy about, especially since they're in a horridly frigid place. The twiggy Insecticon huddles in on herself and shivers with a nasty scowl on her face. Enough to rival Buzzkill's in fact. "I highly doubt it." She snaps at Needlenose in a soft hiss, optics narrowing at the Bots in the distance. Damn her for not having better insulation. "Remind me again why we even bothered following these fools out to the middle of nowhere. And why you even dragged me along?" Scorn grumbles softly, keeping an eye on the Bots. Hm. Maybe they could kill them and set them on fire. Do Autobots make good firewood? Blades kind of feels like he was maybe the wrong person dragged along on this mission. He doesn't fix heads (or anything). He does put holes in heads, but he sort of doubts that talent will be useful here. Also, Pluto's so cold that he swears he's freezing his rotors off already. Didn't they have any trapped hikers on Kilimanjaro that needed rescusing? No? Any Decepticon patrols of the Highroad that needed shanking? No? Blades just grumpily exits the shuttle and says, "You know, an icepick to the lasercore isn't instantly fatal. You feel like it should be, but it isn't, and you always feel cheated... and that's why ice planets like this always let me down. Because you get all excited that icepicks are a themed weapon for ice planets, but they're really not that great." The barren, frigid wasteland of Pluto once again awaits its visitors; the cold, uninviting darkness threatening to swallow them whole. It's freezing, even for mechanoids like Autobots and Decepticons. Of course an unprotected human would die instantly. Fortunately, though--this time the 'Bots have a bit more direction. First Aid had found a way to track the monster (with Dr. Autobot's help), and once the team had reached Plutonian orbit, the tracking array began to narrow down the target area. It would appear that the signal had left the abandoned mine, and was coming from the opposite side of the planet from where it was last seen. The nearer they would get, the better the signal. The target area's radius decreases, until it would finally encompass a group of dilapidated bunkers built into towering walls of icy rock formations. Upon discovering that he has quite a bit of company, Tailgate becomes frantic. He deadpans at all the other mechs arriving. "Oh no.." he mutters. "You.. you guys aren't supposed to be here!" he says anxiously. Then he sees Jazz and gives a small yelp, becoming panicky. The Intelligence director has followed him here?! He's never met Jazz before, and from his experience with higher up intelligence officers like Repugnus and Blurr, the only kind of person he's ever imagined Jazz to be is a terrible one. Oh no. He's come here to punish me for being insubordinate and maiming Blurr. He frets inwardly, wringing his hand servos, barely paying any attention to the words coming out of Jazz's lip components. "I-I'm sorry!" he gushes. "I shouldn't have come out here alone without telling anyone. Ooh.. ! I'm a bad Autobot aren't I?" He stares at the ground. "It's ok, we understand, I just wanted to make sure you're OK," Sit-Com says, "If you need me, I'll be in the shuttle, it's fragging cold out here. Happy worm hunting." He retreats, nodding a greeting to Jazz, and turning on the heat in the shuttle once he gets inside. "Ahhhh. That's better. Now for some Hogan's Heroes." "Whoa, dude. Chill, chill." Pause. "Okay, bad choice of words. But you get my drif--" And then Jazz stops, making a bit of a face. "Ugh, this iceball is harshin' my lingo already." He shakes his head a bit. "But seriously, if we threw every Bot that went off on his own to try and do the right thing in the brig, we wouldn't have nobody 'round to do the right thing. And that ain't as important as figurin' out what to do 'bout Blurr before he's completely outta his coconut. So let's get this show on the road." Fortunately Jazz thought to bring along a scanner attuned with FA and Doc-Bot's findings, and after making sure it's set, transforms. He also thought ahead to switch to snow-tires and chains. "Autobots, rock-n-roll out!" Jazz drops down into a breakdancing kick and spin, ending the moves in vehicle mode. Porsche Turbo kicks up a small plume of snow with is back tires and takes off for those ice wall bunkers the tracker is pinging at. "Well, sugar pie, Autobots keep making trips out to this planet... YES, I said PLANET. F--- you IAU resolution of 2006!" Needlenose exclaims. Luckily they're still a half mile away and so the Autobots probably didn't overhear that. "Ahem, yes, Autobots keep coming out here and frankly it's getting a bit disturbing. We're gonna have to find out what in case it's, y'know, like a giant space station that will tear apart any Decepticon cruisers in the system. Or... or, maybe they're going to use Pluto's cold energy to power a cold cannon to snipe Trypticon all the way on Earth." "So far, though..." he peers thrtough the binocs, "They're just standing around... they seem to be hassling Tailgate for some reason. Whoa, Jazz is heading out into the cold! We better follow." The Targetmaster looks over at Scorn. "Speaking of cold, you look a bit chilly. Want to borrow Sunbeam? I've been using him as a portable heater for the past eight hours." Scorn sends a minor death glare Needlenose's way at the term 'sugar pie'. Usually she'd go along with it, but today is just not one of those days. "It's hard to believe they'd dig up anything here. I'm sure our troops have already scoured this place and picked it clean... right?" A bit of doubt lingers at the back of her mind. Why else would they be here...? When told to move out she grunts and stands from her spot in the snow, snapping wings open with a burst of frost that formed over them quite a while ago. "Fine. But if this cold makes me stall out, then you're carrying me." Scorn scoffs, but arches a brow at the offer of Sunbeam, taking a moment to decide and ulitmately grumbling, "..Yes." She'd pretty much be clutching the Neb against her while fluttering off on the Bots' tail. Steeljaw is here? He's always been here...just to himself, though his atention seems to have been elsewhere. Looking about the icy planet (mini-planet?) he found himself swiftly lost in simple observation, checking the ice (no melty) and finally letting his attention drift further out as receptors and sensors begin pooling data... Oh, wait, conversation? He looks back and blinks. That's right...there were others here. He mutters, tromping over to join First Aid and, by proxy, the group. The bunkers aren't far. Perhaps an old outpost someone had abandoned long ago--but it's so run down that it'd be hard to tell who without running more in-depth scans. At first glance it appears to be completely deserted...but wait! Is that a faint light coming from a window near one of the top floors? Blades just walks along grumpily with the other Autobots, blissfully unaware that Steeljaw is unable to tell First Aid and Blades apart. The minibot watches Jazz very suspciously and tenatively. Was he really that sincerely nice? It seemed hard to believe, he's met so few at the Autobot base who were sympathetic and understanding of his unfortunate circumstances and the guilt he's been experiencing lately. Tailgate transforms and follows, not exactly sure what to think of the little party this shenanigan has turned into. He notices Steeljaw tagging along, and greets him warmly. "Steeljaw!" he says fondly. "It's always nice to see a familiar face!" he exclaims. He then becomes aware of Blades' presence. "Oh, hi.." he says meekly and quietly, "I don't think I've met you before.." Needlenose casually draws out Sunbeam in pistol mode and hands him to Scorn, handle first. "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz," says Sunbeam. He's emitting a surprisingly powerful amount of warmth given his size. He had to spend, like, eighteen hours in a tanning salon to build up enough energy to pull this off, but all the hard work was worth it in order to bring glory to the Decepticon Empire. Needlenose considers Scorn's words and finds himself nodding. "Yeah, it doesn't make a lot of sense to me either. I mean we've scouted this ice ball before and never turned up anything, yet here we are and the Autobots are scouring it. Why? Wish I could tell ya." Needlenose hops up over the ridge, creeping along at the same speed that the Autobots are walking. "Any idea what's in that direction?" he asks Scorn. Ohh sweet, sweet warmth. Good, or bad, thing Sunbeam is sleeping lest he wake up to a face/barrel full of chassis. "How should I know? This is my first time on this useless rock." Scorn rolls her shoulders in a shrug, fluttering along beside the Targetmaster, not wanting to trudge through snow. "But I can tell you this. If these idiots actually find something useful here? We're taking it. And killing a few if we can." Mouth skews a moment in thought, a hand rubbing her chin. "..And I get that minibot, by the way. We looks like he'd make a promising snack. Also Blades." She hasn't forgotten about the humiliation he put her through, oh no. Steeljaw flicks his tail as he again starts to lose himself in the details around him, only when he hears his name is he brought back to the present. He snaps out of his apparent 'daze' and looks over to Tailgate. "Good to see you out and about." He looks back out at the icy (mini)planet and frowns, sniffing the air. "I don't like being on frozen water, just between us, Blades." He gives the ground beneath him a quick scratch, just to check the ice's consistency. The slick sports car pulls up near the bunkers and transforms back into Jazz, only to take a step back as he cranes his head up to peer at them. "Hmmm." One hand puts two fingers to the side of his helm, and a flicker of light flashes across his visor as he zooms in on the higher floors. "Dude, I think there's a light on up there. Might be worth checkin' out." He lowers his hand from the side of his head, allowing it to retract into his arm and slide the launcher for his grappler out in its place. Then turns partially to offer his other arm to the smaller Tailgate. "Goin' up?" Blades looks down at Tailgate, though not that far down. - as a combiner piece, Blades is a little shorter than the average Autobot. He shrugs when Tailgate introduces himself and says gruffly, "Blades. Protectobot. Air support. Defensor's right arm." He's lagging somewhat behind due to being walking instead of driving. "Thanks! Glad you came along. You're the only I know who came out here.." He seems a bit taken aback by Blades callous gruffness. "Oh.. e-er, hi," he says softly. After a moment, "You're a combiner? That's nice," Tailgate offers mildly, trying to be conversational. The minibot keeps plowing forward, arriving at the bunker shortly after Jazz does. He looks up and sees the faint light as well. He tilts his helm to one side, studying it curiously. When Jazz offers his hand to him, he jumps, a little startled. "Yes sir, of course, sir!" he says hastily. eager to please his superior in any way possible. And so Needlenose and Scorn, whether flying or walking depending on how fast/slow the the Autobots are going, continue to stay at a safe distance behind. "I'm all for killing them, but there's A LOT of them... 'Razor' might end up being the least of our worries with that bunch." Needlenose's optics narrow as he spies Blade walking along. "S-so... about that cold..." Needlenose gives a mechanical shudder as he lands on the ground again. "It's been like th-this the /whole/ time?" Needlenose looks longingly at Sunbeam all of a sudden. Once the Autobots have reached the upper levels, they find themselves in a dusty corridor littered with mostly unrecognizable junk. Though some of it looks like it was only recently dumped there. The light is coming from a room at the end of the hallway, from which muffled voices can be heard. They don't sound happy. "She...she's dead, sir...she went off on her own...but! Ah, we managed to recapture the creature, at least!" "Yes.. that seems to be the only problem right now. Have you tried calling backup?" Scorn glances over her shoulder to Needlenose, but pauses at the way he's looking at the gun in her grasp, so which she reacts by clutching it tighter. "/Yes/, Mr. Leave the femme in the cold for eight hours and not offer anything. You'll get him back in another eight." So harsh, her spark as icy as the planet they stand on. Landing softly beside him she draws in close enough to share just a bit of radiating heat before ducking away again with binoculars torn from his hand, bringing them up to look over the bunkers. "Hm.. So there's something out in this wasteland afterall..." Scorn stops only a second to glance sidelong at him, optics narrowed. "Well? Are you going to call in that backup or what?" Steeljaw pauses mid-step as he watches Jazz and Tailgate make mention of liberal use of that grapple... Hmm, well, maybe there will be a return trip? He turns to look back at fellow-walker Blades, turning to rejoin the other Autobot. "Blades...are you up for a climb? I know I am." He takes a seat, waiting for the other Autobot to catch up. Blades shrugs again and admits, "Suplexing Bruticus is pretty great." Then he looks over at Steeljaw and deadpans, "Oh yeah, you know me, I am all about climbing around in ice wastelands." Jazz wraps his arm under Tailgate's arms and around his torso to get a good hold, then shoots the grappler up towards the level that light could be seen from. Once they're up there he sets the minibot down again and takes a look around. Or more like a listen. Hmm. "Better keep this on the down low, dude," he lowers his voice to a whisper. Retracting the device and reactivating his hand, he then pulls out his photon rifle and moves to press up against the corridor wall, creeping closer towards that room at the end, keeping himself positioned so if anyone came to the doorway he wouldn't be the first thing in their field of vision. He wants to hear more of what they're talking about, it could be important... Needlenose wraps his arms around himself as Scorn hogs Sunbeam to herself. "But... it's really windy up here. It wasn't nearly as windy behind the ridge..." he whines. About the backup, he shrugs, "I called Trypticon an hour ago but the comm officer on duty just put my on hold. C-c'mon, Scorn, lets get this assignment over with so we can get back to warmth and civilization. I vote we bomb the bunkers from above, collapsing them on the Autobots, and then bail." The minibot steadies himself on his feet after Jazz sets him down. Tailgate watches with amazement at Jazz's smooth skillfulness. He supposes Jazz wasn't intel director for nothing. But those voices! They sounded pretty familiar. It must have been those aliens he'd ran into before, when he and Grapple had run into that awful worm thing the first time around. He shudders, disliking to be reminded of that bad memory. "Right.." he whispers. Looking around, he finds a vent in the wall that leads up into the pipes in the ceiling. It's just barely big enough to fit him, so he quietly detaches the cover and crawls up the ventilation shaft, creeping quietly towards the sound of the voices. Scorn can't help a sharp, cheeky grin at Needlenose's distress and whining. Too bad, so sad. Unfortunately he makes an interesting point on bombing the place and hightailing it back to the shuttle. "Hm.. Fine. We'll take down the building, if only to ruin their day hopefully kill at least one of them, and return to base. Some other team can come dig through the wreckage if something useful is actually here." To shut him up she tosses Sunbeam back and draws her plasma pistols in case cover fire is needed, and takes wing while comming back, <> "Sir? Wh-what is it?" The voices are a bit clearer to Jazz now that he's right by the door. Something else is said by the one who had been doing the berating earlier, but whoever it is has lowered his voice enough that his words are indistinguishable from outside the room. But Tailgate is able to get a glimpse of the aliens from the ventilation system, fortunately for him. A technician can be seen looking terrified at his commanding officer. "But sir, the tests--something wasn't right, we couldn't--" Silence! Release the worm now! It's the only chance we have against these intruders anyway, since you and your pathetic excuse for a research division have destroyed what resources and equipment we had! "Right on, Scorn. Lets go and- Wait, wait," Needlenose catches Sunbeam. "Hold on, we need to do this right." He checks his footing to make sure he's stable, drawing out Zigzag as well so he can get in the awesome dual wielding look. "Are you ready? Alright, here we go. Ahem..." Needlenose suddenly amplifies his voice as if it were from a loud speaker. "DECEPTICONS, transform and RISE UP!" The Targetmaster shifts into F-16 mode, afterburner blazing as he soars high into the sky towards the bunker. Zigzag fires jagged lightning bolts and proton missiles slam into the bunker as Needlenose completes his fly-by, just as the voices are becoming clearer. There's explosions, muffled by the lack of oxygen in the atmosphere, as each missile hits home. Glancing behind him, Needlenose first checks to see if any Autobots have recovered enough to shoot back at him, and second to see if Scorn actually did end up coming with him. Robots in disguise! Needlenose transforms into his F-16XL Jet Fighter mode! Steeljaw scoffs at Blurr. "It's hardly a problem to sit out here... It's cold, I can smell things better if this blasted crosswind would die down." He accentuates this with a nice, deep breath... "Mmmm, smell that wonderful-" He pauses. "There's...something else there. Slag it all...Blades, do you see anything out of the-" He doesn't quite finish as the explosion takes place, rolling forward into the ice as the bunker is struck by the missiles, plowing face-first into a drift thanks to his own proximity to the blast. "Oh no," the minibot says to himself quietly, " The minibot starts when the missiles strike the bunker, the ventilation shafts rattle and he covers his helm with his hand servos. "W-What's happening?" Tailgate mutters. "Oh no," the minibot says to himself quietly, " the minibot privately comms the director, "" Then he starts when the missiles strike the bunker, and the ventilation shafts rattle as he covers his helm with his hand servos. "W-What's happening?" Tailgate mutters. Blades is flung through the air and into a dirty ice drift. He remarks dryly, "I see that missile just blew us the slag up. ...ow." The Protectobot starts to get himself collected, and he reaches for one of his blades, looking up to see if he can figur eout where said missile just came from. And this is why Scorn flew on ahead, to give herself a head start in the direction of the shuttle while he does all the dirty work. The mantis isn't as fast as a jet, sadly, so she'd be left behind if she didn't soar up sharply as he passed over, intercepting and grabbing a wing to swing herself up onto his back to steal a free ride. The nastiest grin fills her face from non-existant ear to non-existant ear when she looks back to see the aftermath of the explosions, the manic femme cackling. "Ha ha! Take that, Autobots! Hope you like freezing to death!" And with that said she spins back around, stradles the jet, and digs a heel into Needlenose to spurr him on. "Faster! Before they come after us!" Jazz leans a bit closer to the door, straining his audios as much as he can to listen, but the guy went and lowered his voice. Bummer. Whatever these guys had been experimenting on, it was definate bad mojo. He's half considering throwing a bomb in there to just dispose of them, but they need information on what they did to Blurr, so blowing them up might not be a good idea. He's just about to respond to over the comm, but that's when the explosions start! And then a chunk of the corridor's ceiling starts to fall in from the vibrations. "Oh man, they're rockin' the kasbah, literally." He presses back up into the corner even farther, trying to avoid getting directly crushed. The technician looks even more terrified, while the officer cusses loudly as the walls tremble. The bunker was already old and deteriorated, so it doesn't take much to bring it down! In fact, the shaft that Tailgate is hiding in falls through the ceiling when it crumbles. And the floor, too, as soon as he hits it. And the floor below that. The alien technician can be heard yelping in fear as the entire building begins to collapse. And as if that isn't bad enough, the creature the alien had been talking about bursts up from below once most of the bunker has been reduced to rubble. Yep--it's the same one that had nearly devoured Tailgate last time. Howling and rearing back, it prepres to attack the first thing that moves! Steeljaw pushes himself to his feet shakily, optics dimming as they start to refocus and compensate for the blast's shockwave. Auditory sensors are...well...he curses something fierce about a mild ringing. "Blades...did you see who that was? I missed it." F-16XL Jet Fighter keeps looking around for Scorn. She was gonna take off, but then SURELY WAITED FOR NEEDLENOSE TO GIVE HIS SPEECH (cuz, obviously?) but he finally spots her just ahead. "Woo hoo! Did you see that?" Needlenose crows. "Ha ha, I think 'Razor' nearly crapped himself. Alright Scorn, ho- eek!" Suddenly he finds himself being used as a taxi by Scorn, but he realizes full well that this is just because he's way faster. "Suck it, Autobots!" the Targetmaster shouts. Zigzag fires some more lightning bolts, but soon they're out of range. Sunbeam continues to do nothing other than emit: "Zzzzzzzzz." Tailgate yelps as the ventilator shaft plummets downward through several floors. All he can is look around for something to hold onto for dear life, as the building collapses all around him, the aliens, and his fellow Autobots. Finally, the ventilator shaft comes to a violent and sudden halt when it finally hits the ground. He heaves a sigh of relief. Jazz watchs through the doorway as the minibot's hiding spot falls into the room, and then down into the floor. Oh that's gonna suck. Hopefully the little guy can tough it out. At least it sounds like Tailgate's okay over the radio. With a grunt he picks his way back through what's left of the cracked and crumbled corridor, until he gets up to the edge. He jumps down to a lower level and ducks behind a pile of collapsed bunker there, keeping out of sight for the moment as he sizes up the emergy worm-beast. Combat: Jazz slips into the shadows and out of sight... Tailgate looks around, peering through the gaps between his fingers, optics adjusting to the dimness he was surrounded by. Oh no, he thinks Blades watches Needlenose and Scorn cowardly fly away to watch Project Runway. At least, Blades *thinks* that is what they are going to do. He feels pretty cruddy. He has ice in parts he doesn't want to think about. He approaches back to the site he was thinking about climbing down, which is in considerably rougher shape now than it was before. Stowing his blade, he looks down and gets to climbing. And the first thing that moves is...Steeljaw! Well, technically Needlenose, but he's flying away and this monster can't fly--so it lashes out at the smaller Autobot, a bladed tentacle shooting toward him in an attempt to grab him! Combat: Blurr strikes Steeljaw with Ice Worm's Bladed Tentacles attack! [Pulled -1] Tailgate looks around, peering through the gaps between his fingers, optics adjusting to the dimness he was surrounded by. Oh no, he thinks the worm! I have to help Jazz and the others. He'd find a way out, soon enough! He has to help find the cure for Blurr's mental malady, he just has to! Inching forward, he wiggles his way out of the ventilator shaft. Unfortunately, right at that moment, the bunker decides it isn't done collasping yet and several more unstable chunks come crashing down, right on top of Tailgate! He just happens to have the poor luck of having a steel girder land right on his helm. As he fades into the dizzying blackness of temporary stasis lock, he comms the others. Steeljaw shakes himself out as he lets a diagnostic run itself, turning to follow Blades. "Any idea where the worm-" He doesn't get a chance to finish, yet again, as he's assaulted by the worm, the blades digging into his armored plating. He lets out a very leonine roar in response as he turns to bite at one of those tentacles. Quite a few to pick from, in truth...but the nearest one is what he's going for. "Blades! Down here!" Combat: Steeljaw strikes Ice Worm with his Steel Jaws attack! Combat: That attack has temporarily impaired Ice Worm's Agility. (Crippled) Jazz has faith his Autobros can handle themselves for a few minutes while he puts together something special for that big lug of a worm. Holstering his blaster for the moment as he hunkers down, Jazz pulls out one of his demo-kits, and wires up the activator for one of the detonators and a thermanite core. This thing lives in the middle of frozen hell, so hopefully a bit of super intense heat will help heat things up. When it beeps and flashes at him that it's ready, Jazz smirks a bit. It's show time. The meister of style glances out from his spot. Just as he expected, the others are holding out. Steeljaw's got the thing's tendril in his jawesome grip, and that's perfect. Jazz vaults over his hiding spot, running behind the ice worm while it's playing tug-o-war with the golden lion, and throws the explosive at the thing's backside. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" He then dives for cover in the other direction. Combat: Jazz has created a bomb: "Thermanite Bugbomb"! Combat: Jazz appears from the shadows... Combat: Sneak Attack!! Combat: Jazz strikes Ice Worm with Thermanite Bugbomb's Huge Explosion #11145 attack! Combat: Jazz's Thermanite Bugbomb is destroyed! Combat: That attack has temporarily impaired Ice Worm's Agility. (Crippled) Blades finally gets to the action. So there's a huge... ice worm thing with bladed tentacles that they're supposed to... capture? Or something? Ugh. Blades pinches the bridge of his nose briefly. Then he draws his blade and gets to work. Combat: Blades strikes Ice Worm with his Rotor Blade attack! The tentacle wraps itself around the lion-bot, holding him in the air for a few astroseconds. That is, until he locks his jaws onto the nearest appendage. Shrieking, it drops him, and is just about to renew its hostilities against him when Jazz springs from the shadows and drops the most potent pest killer to date! The Thermanite Bug-B-Gone Explosion Extreme! That's probably something Swindle might name it or something... At any rate, it's SUPER EFFECTIVE! The bomb melts right through the creature's outer armor, leaving a gaping hole that is then struck by Blades' rotors! Techno-organic body fluids spew everywhere as the thing howls in pain. Turning, it lunges at Jazz with what little strength it has left! Combat: Blurr misses Jazz with Ice Worm's Charge! attack! Steeljaw is dropped, thankfully. He alters his solar panels to catch what little sunlight they can to charge his weapon systems as he fires a burst at the lunging Worm. "Jazz! Watch your back!" He digs his nails into the ice before letting out a burst from his pellet guns... yeah, following that bug-bomb? They're truly not that impressive. Combat: Steeljaw strikes Ice Worm with his Solar-Powered Pellet Guns attack! Jazz fist-pumps briefly as the explosive does its job of burning into the hard exterior of the beast... is that actually part technorganic in there? Eeew. Suddenly things are making a bit more sense though, at least on how it was able to affect a transformer with whatever it did. But there will be more time for that later. Because it looks like he got the thing's attention but good. The worm lunges at him, all angry and melting and... Misses as at just the right moment Jazz jumps, diving clear of the fiendish thing and rolling out of the way. He stops and turns, pulling out a larger, more squarish weapon than his usual photon gun. "Fortunately I've got just the thing for dealin' with big bullies like you." He points the sonic blaster at the worm and pulls the trigger, pumping up the volume in a concentrated blast of sonic waves. "This bass beatdown is for Blurr!" Combat: Jazz strikes Ice Worm with his Ghetto Blaster attack! [Pulled -2] Blades goes to dig and find Tailgate, because at the end of the day, rescuing people is his job description. Also because he has this shovel with him. In case he needed to dig any graves? We are all going to die. The worm howls in agony as another round of attacks bores into its body. This fight is just about over--that bomb had really done the trick. The fiendish creature rears back again, all of its tentacles flaring out (well the ones it had left, anyway, a few them had been shot off). The blades on its appendages suddenly shoot out, flying in all directions in one final attack before it collapses upon the ground--effectively down for the count. It's not quite dead yet, though, a few of its tentacle are still twitching... Combat: Blurr strikes Jazz with Ice Worm's Flying Tentacle Blades! Area attack! Combat: Blurr misses Steeljaw with Ice Worm's Flying Tentacle Blades! Area attack! Steeljaw ducks under the flying tentacles, wincing at the proximity they have...but, no harm, no foul. He takes the opportunity they provide to dive into the fray and clamps his jaws down on the nearest piece of worm that he can manage to get ahold of. No mercy, right? Ugh...this thing's gonna taste bad, too. He's sure of it... Combat: Steeljaw strikes Ice Worm with his Steel Jaws attack! Combat: That attack has temporarily impaired Ice Worm's Agility. (Crippled) Blades went to help Tailgate. Good, good. Protectobot doing his job. Jazz and Steeljaw can finish dealing with this... thing. Jazz switchs weapons to bring out his photon rifle, and with the sort of sharpshooting skill one would expect from him picks off several of the blades out of mid-air. Except for one that manages to slice into his shoulder. But that's because he switched focus when Steeljaw made his move, snapping off a shot to cover the lion-bot going in. They bring this thing down and hopefully the medics will be able to find something to help Blurr from it. Or at the very least make sure the same thing can be prevented in anyone else. Combat: Jazz strikes Ice Worm with his Solar-Powered Photon Rifle attack! The monstrosity is quite obviously helpless, now. It just lies there and takes even more punishment as it nears death. Suddenly, a voice calls out from the rubble-- "Wait! S-stop!" It's that technician from earlier. "Please! Don't kill it!" he shouts as loudly as he can, scrambling out of a pile of debris and running toward them, waving his many arms. "I can explain! I promise, I can help you, just please...don't kill it like that..." Steeljaw brings his weapons to bear almost reflexively on the technician before realizing it's a non-combatant and staying his weapons. He looks over at Jazz, then to the severely beaten worm, before making his way over to the Technician and nodding slowly. "Alright... we're listening." He sniffs the air faintly. Jazz levels his rifle, all ready to finish this for once and for all... but pulls back when one of the guys he saw in the room earlier shouts to wait. There's a pause, and then he lifts the gun to his shoulder, though keeping it in hand just in case as he turns towards the arrival. Fixes his gaze on the alien, though it's hard to tell because of that stylish visor of his. "Can you help undo what this thing did to our comrade?" The technician nods vigorously, looking relieved. "Yes, of course!" he hurries over to the creature and draws a small laser scalpel. Quickly and deftly, he makes a few precise incisions on the thing's head, just above its massive jaws. Before long he has expertly removed a strange disc-shaped device from within. He gazes spitefully at it and throws it onto the ground, then promptly crushes it underfoot with zeal. With a crack, it is crushed to pieces. "There. That should do the trick." he says, looking satisfied. "Your friend should be back to normal now. Well--relatively so, anyway." Steeljaw watches, tensing as he goes to intervene...though, there's not much he can do as the disc is crushed. He eyes it warily before giving the technician a dubious look. There's still a very wary sense of unease as he moves to join Jazz. "And what was that disc? Or, more importantly, what did it do to begin with?" Jazz nods a bit. "That's better." He looks at the worm for a moment, then back to the technician, mouth forming a thin line that's not quite a grimace. But it's a pretty serious look for a typically rather jovial fellow like Jazz. "Make sure nothing like this happens again. Or I swear, we will be back to finish this, and it will not be pretty. For you. I suggest you get somewhere -very- far away, and.. I don't know..." He gives a vage wave of one hand. ".. get an honest job as tech support or something." With that he turns and begins walking back towards the shuttle. "Com'n Steeljaw, let's go warm the ride home up for when Blades get Tailgate outta there." The alien rubs the back of his neck with one of his many segmented tentacles. "Ah...well--it was meant to be a receiver, of sorts. We uh...we infected your friend's peripheral neural circuits with a kind of digital virus that would be capable of communicating with it." he sighs, really not wanting to explain everything right now. It wouldn't really help his situation, at all. Especially the way Jazz is looking right now. He stares at the ground. "Okay, how about I surrender myself into your custody, and I'll explain everything later--maybe when we're all feeling a bit better?" he asks, noting how most of those present were at least a bit banged up from having a building fall down on top of them, including himself. He sighs. "Look, I know what we--what I did--wasn't right. I just--if my superiors find me out here alone, they'll slaughter me for helping you. So please...I-I need you to arrest me." Steeljaw nods slowly, listening to the Technician. Not quite satisfied, but...well, as long as things are better. He turns slowly to follow Jazz. "Come along, then... If you are coming willingly, then...no need for me to restrain you /yet/ right? Follow Jazz, I'll pull up the rear." Sit-Com has the shuttle warming up, just like the Jazz-man asks! It's good news to his audios that Blurr will be fine, though he does worry about Tailgate. "Tailgate ol' buddy, you'll get the best hot oil bath and repairs when we get you back home," he says to himself. "... Then it's probably for your own good to come with us, yeah," Jazz agrees over his shoulder. "You can help First Aid make sure the thing is entirely out of our compadre's systems." The alien again looks relieved. "Oh...thank you!" he says, actually happy about being arrested, and follows the Autobots to the ship. Nope, no need for restraints. This one comes willingly. ================================== Autobot =================================== Message: 3/123 Posted Author AAR: Pluto & Blurr Sun Apr 07 Jazz ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Your favorite spy guy here, with the 4-1-1 on what's been goin' down at the fringe of the solar system. It all started with Tailgate heading back out to Pluto to try and fix things right again. Not the usual scene we hang out at but no mech should have to do such things alone so Steeljaw, Blades, and yours truely followed him to lend some backup. Sit-Com came too, but stayed with the shuttle in case we needed a quick fixin' later. First Aid and Doc-Bot's tracking program worked like a charm and we found this old bunker complex within a wall of ice. Tailgate and I headed up to take a look and spotted the scoundrels behind all this nogoodnicking. But before we could do anything a couple of Cons (Needlenose and Scorn) made a hit and run bombing trying to bring the bunker down around our audials, yow! Poor Tailgate kinda got stuck inside, and the fiends turned loose their pet worm, so I had to hussle out to lend a hand with that. Don't worry, after showin' that thing why you don't hassle with dudes that have friends with big sharp objects to stab with Blades went to do the Protectobot thang and pull Tailgate out. Good thing I came prepped to have to blow up an evil lab or such, cuz the thermanite detonator did a job of cuttin' through that thing's hide while Steeljaw trapped it in a tug-o-war with his jawsome namesake. It was wham blam thank you m'man and that overgrown nightcrawler was down for the count. One of the alien techies managed to make it out of the bunker, Fezzik I think it was, and in a show of not wanting to be left there alone pulled out some bit from the worm and crushed it. Supposedly it was some sort of transmitter-receiver that trashing should help alleviate Blurr's situation. All the same, we brought the egghead back with us, so hit him up if you need farther help docs. He's not really a bad fellow, was being forced to do something jerkish by the guys over his head. There will be a victory/welcome back for Blurr party later, once ol' speedy is cleared to be up and about again. Courtesy of yours truely and the master Blastah of course. Peace out homies. ==============================================================================
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