| abstract
| - The purpose of this structure is obvious to anyone who knows one end of a wrench from the other. It's a broad table, pushed up against a wall- and on said wall, there are rows upon rows of drawers, each holding the typical bits and bobs needed forwhatever it is the bench's owner works on. There are racks of tools next to the little drawers, arranged in a semi-haphazard manner; wrenches, pliers, razors, industrial lasers, drillsall and all, a familiar sight to any engineer or technician. Save for one thing: This workbench is about the size of a football field. There's an upturned, clear bowl of some super-hard ceramite substance in the center of the workbench, forming an impromptu dome- perfect for holding tiny little creatures (like, say, kidnapped Cybertonians!) in place. Contents: Fairway Nitro Strike Eagle Bonecrusher Redshift After a commercial break and the sigil spinny, we return to THE TRANSFORMERS. The abductees, after being snatched up by a Guardian robot and whisked away in its shag carpetted interior, will awaken to find themselves trapped under a large, clear bowl, on a massive workbench. Down the workbench, the Guardian robot sits placidly, still damaged. There is a knockout gas of some sort in the bowl, which keeps some of the abductees from awakening, even as others manage to shake it. Something heavy is probably on top of Scrapper's head. There is a creak, and a slit of light can be seen from the far door. Bonecrusher is something heavy. Coincidence? Or something more? Bonecrusher boots up and rolls ungainfully to his feet. Without hesitation he heads right for the side of the bowl and tries to smash it open with his fists. That's the kind of problem solving technique Bonecrusher uses. Fairway isn't quite sure what he was hit with or who hit him with it, but a very large chunk of time is missing from his processor logs. He sits up and looks about, seriously disoriented and close to panicking. "What...in Primus's name..." He's almost sure that what he sees around him is a hallucination. "Are you...what?" He looks at Bonecrusher as if he's never seen a Decepticon before. "What is going ON?" Air Raid folds and compacts, transforming into his robot mode. Air Raid is zonked out hard, not so much as twitching. It's Bonecrusher's slamming that seems to rouse him a bit. He's sprawled on his front, and tries to look around without moving. "Wh'uh?" Scrapper should be used to Bonecrusher falling on his head by now, really. The Constructicons only collapse in an ungainly pile every time they demerge. He groans and rolls onto his back, staring up and around. Too groggy to panic yet, Scrapper observes, "Huh. This place is poorly organised. Hook would freak. Heh." And Bonecrusher is making noise already, which does nothing for that pounding headache of Scrapper's. Typical Bonecrusher. "We got captured," grunts Bonecrusher, inbetween pounding away at the same, apparently random, point in the glass-like dome with his fist in a piston-like motion. "Duh." Fairway shakes his head. Everything's coming back to him, albeit it slowly. "Duh, you say," he groans, "as you bang on that surface like a mech glitched..." He makes goes to his fellows. He doesn't have tools, but he can still give the prisoners a good once over. "You're a builder, right? Why don't you analyze that barrier and try and tell us what it's made of?" Combat: Fairway runs a diagnostic check on Air Raid The blows from the demolitionist don't do much to the bowl, for all that they can knock out small buildings single-handedly. Seems a very tough material. Eventuallly, one of hits scratches the bowl. At this rate, given the thickness of the material, they could be out in a few days, if Bonecrusher doesn't run out of energon first. The door screeches open wide, and the alien from the hologram yesterday appears. He's a green biped. He's big. He's big enough to hold any of the Transformers in the bowl in his hand like a toy. The Guardian robot wasn't exagerating the Collector's size with the hologram! He seems to have changed his shirt, to something that says 'Let them eat lie,' but looks mostly the same. In a whiny, nasal voice, the Collector complains to himself, "My poor, poor Guardian unit. I should kitbash the lot of them for that they did to my little bitty war machine, hmnahaha." "I'm a breaker," replies Bonecrusher, inbetween impacts of his fist against the glass. "Building is more the other guys' thing. Whynchu ask Scrapper about that whiles I work on gettin' outta here." Air Raid eventually pushes himself upright, optics widening. "...Oh wow... It's like we're miniature," he murmurs unhelpfully. Slowly getting his feet under him, he stalks towards the Decepticons, balling fists. "C'mon Fairway, let's get rid of these jokes 'fore anything worse... happens..." He trails off when the huge alien walks in. "Oh sweet Primus." Fairway frowns. He doesn't relish the thought of attempting to collaborate with these amoral -and possibly crazy - individuals. But he likes even less the thought of starting a fight in here. "Bleed off some heat, friend," he says to Air Raid, "the situation is...oh my!" He sees the Collector and stops short, gaping. Americon has connected. Redshift is laying on the 'floor', really the surface of the work bench. Smoke slowly drifts out of the gaping wound in his chest, courtesy of Rodimus Prime. He isn't moving, and the wound seems serious. Scrapper doesn't really want to get up right now, but he does turn his head over to look at the source of the nasally voice. There is a pause. Then the architect leaps to his feet. Scrapper shouts, "Holy motherboard of transistors! Did he just say 'kitbash'?" Scrapper twitches and wrings his hands nervously. "Uh... materials... materials... Mixmaster does materials." All the Constructicons have interesting specialties. "...I dunno. Some kind of ultra dense Ceramite?" He walks over and taps at it speculatively. Bonecrusher pauses in hitting the spot on the dome and peers at it shrewdly. "Feels like ultra dense ceramite. I don't think I's gettin' anywhere." Air Raid's anger is replaced with awe. He only gazes up, fists going slack, until Scrapper appears to panic. He lifts his fingers and pokes them together, the gears in his head turning. "Maybe I can missile it?" he offers. "I would advise against that," Fairway says, still staring off a bit and trying to get his bearings, "The subsequent explosion would likely do more damage to us than to the ceramite...though I can't say I'd weep if any harm came to our Decepticon friends." SOMETHING rattles around inside Scrapper. Oh, no, does he have a bomb inside him? A rabid animal? Or... worse? Scrapper listens to the bowl ring when he taps it. One can almost see him think. Finally, he comes to a conclusion, "It's single crystal. So there's no cleavage planes, no faults. It's... perfect. Growing a crystal of this size, let alone a perfect one, would be insanely expensive." Scrapper waves his hands above his head! "I would know! Do you know what the original Crystal City cost leaving to build? With inflation?" Then, Scrapper pauses, and he says in a small voice, "If this is a chestburster, I'm leaving my purple flight wing to /Scavenger/." The Collector takes steps that seem oddly light, given how massive he is, and he grabs a drill off the shelf, revving it up, letting the whine fill the air. It suits him. He wipes his nose, and he peers down at his captives, "Ugh. They're all unboxed. What a mess. Maybe I can get a diorama out of them, if the paint isn't too chipped..." "Fat lot of good Scavenger's doin' us right now, back on Earth. If the other guys was here we could form Devastator an' bust this thing open like Crystal City," grumbles Bonecrusher, sitting down against the side of the wall to have a sulk. Breaking things is most of what he has to contribute. Bonecrusher has disconnected. And then... "RRRAAWWWKKKK!" A bald eagle head pops out of Scrapper's back, where the human driver might sit in Scrapper's alternate mode! "Hi, Scrapper!" Americon says. "Hey, I just woke up in, like, your tape player and I'm kind of stuHOLY CRAP!!!" He doesn't finish his sentence, as he is flabbergasted by the size of the Collector! Americon's robot legs pop out metallic feather-like objects as they and his lower torso split apart, also revealing an eagle head. The arms and robot head join the main body, and his guns convert into tail feathers and rocket launchers. Americon is now a bald eagle! Fairway watches the Collector carefully, disconcerted by the sight of the drill in that big, green hand. "I-" Whatever he was going is lost in surprise as American makes his appearance. He frowns again and takes Raid's arm. "Let's keep a few paces back," he says, "Perhaps that enormous individual will see fit to use his drill on those two first." Combat: Fairway runs a diagnostic check on Nitro Combat: Fairway expertly repairs Nitro's injuries. Combat: Fairway is able to repair some of Nitro's internal systems damage. Scrapper's shovel kind of skews off to the side, as if he just ate a bug. Then, he holds up his hands and immediately clarifies, "I was overcharged." More loudly. "Americon, get out of me! We're captives of a massive green alien, and he has a drill!" Air Raid is backing up anyway, and nearly trips over Redshift's head. "Uhh, right." Robotic Bald Eagle 's head pops up and down, and he struggles and thrashes, wings flapping out of Scrapper's back. "Urk... gah... trying to... no room... hm, I dunno, I think you just might be SCREWED! Hahaha, get it? Drill? Screw... nevermind." He shuts up for a moment. "Ohhh. I just realized." He lunges forward, then transforms into his much smaller tape, and so easily hurls himself out of Scrapper's cabin. Americon collapses and shrinks down into a very tiny cassette labeled, "America's Most Patriotic Hits!" Nitro slowly reactivates from the time he was knocked out (by bashing his head against the table) as he reactivates... he pauses, peering about. Not in jail... but... in a glass bowl?! He glances over at Fairway (Thanks Fairway!) and Air Raid. "...what's the slag is going on?" he wonders. Then... he glances up. And up. And up at the Collector. Pause. "...I'm still off-line and dreaming, yes? Please say yes." "Sorry Nitro, this is pretty real, as far as I'm concerned," Raid answers, reaching to help him up. "But hey, at least some 'cons are here to suffer too!" Fairway kneels to tend to Nitro's wounds, though he has to wonder whether a repaired captive might be more attractive than aseverly damaged one... "Sadly, no," he says to Nitro as he bends to look Redshift over next. "This is entirely real and every bit as dangerous a situation as it seems." He looks the red Decepticon spaceship over, his mouth a hard line, unsure whether he wants to fix this one or not. Combat: Fairway runs a diagnostic check on Redshift The Collector brings the drill down... and just removes some screws holding the Guardian unit together. He brings out a magnification device, using it to look at the damages in more detail. The Collector moans, "I bet it would be cheaper just to buy Omega Supreme. I'm never buying from Galvatron again, though. Hmm. I wonder if that junker Aerialbot has some of the parts I need..." He brings his head down, staring at the bowl and the Transformers trapped inside. Nitro says some bad words... words that are worse than Slag. He stands up before remembering something, and offering a brief GLARE at Scrapper, he asks Fairway, "Can take a look at my systems? Scrapper did some rewiring and I'm not sure if it was undone or not." Another GLARE at Scrapper, "Particularly, my pain sensors being rewired into, well, my pleasure sensory output." Redshift lets out a low groan and stirs a little, as he finally seems to be coming too. He coughs harshly, as more smoke puffs out of the wound in his chest. One eye cracks open hesitantly, dreading to see what's happened and why he hasn't been fixed yet, but also very, very curious as to what kind of crazy situation he's gotten himself into this time. "Slag." Air Raid is simply through with being called worthless! "HEY JERK! I'm not a /junker/, I'm a sleek fighter jet!" He strides right up to the edge of the glass, thumps his chest, and pokes his finger against the crystal. "You ain't gettin' nothin' outta' ME!" Fairway decides that Redshift can wait. There are Constructicon's present, after all. Let the dead bury their own dead, as someone once said. He steps to Nitro's side. "Well, sadly, I haven't got any of my diagnostic tools," he says, "but, if you like, I can deactivate both systems. As for now, the gravity and urgency of our situation preclude me from performing a proper checkup on your systemes." He then approaches Raid again. "Let's not draw attention to ourselves, if possible. Stick close, latch arms, and if he takes one of us we can all try and escape." Scrapper quietly kneels down beside Redshift, and he works on jury-rigging Redshift back to fighting prime after fighting Prime, though perhaps not so handsome as Redshift usually is, given that Scrapper's working out of the toolkit he carries and not a well-stocked medical ward. "Deactivate it," Nitro muttered to Fairway, "As I really don't want to ram my head against the wall, like Bonecrusher, because that's the only way I feel anything good." He glances up at the Collector, and frowns when he mentioned Omega Supreme, but says nothing for now. Redshift waits patiently as Scrapper does his job, a pity the Constructicon can't finish the task completly, but at least Red can stop smoldering. Redshift quickly looks around to see who else is present in this fishbowl as Scrapper works... Bonecrusher. Air Raid. Nitro. Fairway. Americon. Not much to work with. Scrapper's too modest... Nobody else to step up and take charge, aside from himself. He leans in close to Scrapper, speaking in a low voice to avoid being overheard by the Collector. "Status report, Scrapper. Any attempts to get out of this dome? What is Mr tall and green doin' over there?" Patriotic Cassette either didn't hear Fairway or didn't care. Or maybe what Fairway said wasn't even directed at him anyway. Probably not. "HEY! HEY! ALIEN GUY!" he yells, banging on the bowl. "Leddus go, and I might do tricks... in AMERICA!" Americon undergoes a patriotic transformation into his All-American robot mode! In robot mode, that is. Air Raid hunches and backs away, for Fairway's sake. Well, Fairway orders, too, he's the high ranking Autobot here. "Hnn. Wonder if a cassette can be kitbashed into anything." Fairway nods to Nitro. He steps around behind his fellow Autobot and coaxes open the panel under his left audial that will allow him access to the sensory net. It's a back door, and the procedure is not nearly as precise as he'd like it to be. It's actually quite risky. Through some engineering acrobatics which, he believes, are rather clever, he manages to hardcode Nitro's limbic net into a slow and benign overload and shutdown. "That should impair your sensory network," he says, "though much more thorough attention is needed here to correct the damage Scrapper has done. Try not to do anything too egregiously heroic until we're out of this." He replies to Air Raid. "Any suitably inventive engineer could probably find any number of uses for Americon's parts. If we have any luck we shall see for ourselves in the near future." And then, loud enough to be heard by all the captives, "I suggest we huge the walls. If that being lifts the dome, we may have a chance to escape." Scrapper reports, "Eh. Bonecrusher couldn't punch out of it. Ultra dense single crystal. I would.... actually..." He stares down at the floor meaningfully, and he tries to nudge Redshift. The Collector peers over at Americon, and he scoffs, "I bet you don't even have spring-loaded missiles! Those just look like little finger-flick missiles. But I bet I could take the wings off the red one and use them as fins for my Guardian! It'd get a Move Bonus, too, if I repainted it red to match!" Air Raid brightens at this idea. "Yes! Take the red one. He doesn't need his wings anyway." Raid crouches a bit and readies to bolt out under the bowl, should it ever be lifted. Redshift pauses as he tries to grasp Scrapper's drift. "Yeah, a trip south might work..." He replies in a conspiratorial whisper, tryin to obscure his mouth with his hand. "BUT I have found the best way to deal with aliens who think they have all the cards is to /cooperate/. If you an' Fairway were to offer to help fix his Guardian..." Redshift then looks up to the Collector, and his gargantuan moon-like eyes. "Painting it red is a GREAT idea! Red things always look like they go faster. Trust me, I'm an expert in things going /very fast/." Americon pouts. "They are not. They're REAL missiles! Allow me to show you of the thing that I speak of! OBSERVE!" He transforms into eagle mode, and begins to flap around the bowl, spraying little rockets in every direction. However, they sound exactly like fireworks, so they authenticity may still be in doubt. Americon's robot legs pop out metallic feather-like objects as they and his lower torso split apart, also revealing an eagle head. The arms and robot head join the main body, and his guns convert into tail feathers and rocket launchers. Americon is now a bald eagle! Grimlock has arrived. Fairway props himself against the glass next to Air Raid. "You wouldn't want me," he asserts, trying to get into the swing of things, "I'm constructed entirely of very soft PVC, my gold plastic is prone to rotting, and my wheels don't actually roll." Air Raid ducks under the barrage of bitty rockets, flattening against glass as well. He frowns at Fairway, "Slag, you're not THAT cheap, Doc!" ... "Oh... uh, yeah, my stickers are peeling, and my ailerons are way loose!" Scrapper is sometimes willing to do contract work for aliens, but this is ridiculous. Still, he offers loudly, "I used to be best friends with a Guardian robot! I know the design inside and out," for what good that does. "I can help you repair it. Unlike Fairway, there, who would make a nice chaise lounge for one of your dollhouses, since he has no display value, being made of cheap gold plastic." The Collector takes in a deep, deep breath, and taps his suckered fingertips against the surface of his workbench- hard enough to send little tremors reverbeating beneath the feet of his collected cybertonians. "I dunno..." he says, "Paying someone else to do your modeling...that's CHEATING, y'know? It's part of the Hobby." he shakes his head. "Grognard would never let me live it down..." Robotic Bald Eagle , however, is flying, and so is unaffected by the tremors. Indeed, he is so unaffected that he fires his eyebeams at the dome, which refract the light into a harmless light show. "Lasers are fun, and good for you!" he says, and it may be that he has forgotten what he was doing. Redshift has disconnected. Air Raid braces at the quaking, then tosses Americon an annoyed look, "Would you quit spazzing and stay still for five nanos!?" Fairway frowns. The engineer in him says that Scrapper's assessment is probably correct. He can't rightly argue, so he simply waits for his chance to bolt. "My weapons were deactivated when I was captured," he whispers to Air Raid, "I assume the same happened to you. But the Decepticons appear to be armed, still. We may have to cooperate with them." He thinks a bit, still a bit at a loss here. "If...if something has been broken," he says, "perhaps I can help repair it. I am an engineer." Scrapper grumbles, "No. Americon won't." Well, he gave Redshift's plan of playing nice a try. This guy doesn't want help? Scrapper kneels and checks the workbench surface for any splinters or flaws he maybe able to tear up with his shovel. "I didn't grab you to WORK! I grabbed you 'cause I didn't have any Cybertonians!" the Collector explains, and gives a nasal sigh. "Maybe I should have had that purple guy scoop your brains out- you guys talk too much!" This done, The Collector hmms- and he slooowly pries up the lip of the bowl- at which point he slides his gi-normous hand in, fingers curling around Redshift! "Well, at least he should make a good display..." he says, and he drops the bowl back in place once his hand is clear. Scrapper transforms and rolls for it, as soon as the lid is lifted. He doesn't want to be stuck under this dome! However, he isn't very fast, though he is fast for payloader. Scrapper would win all the payloader races. Just not any other races. Scrapper cleverly disguises himself as a bright green payloader. No one will ever suspect! Combat: Payloader compares his Velocity to 70: Failure :(Payloader is unable to make it before the lid slams back down, and he curses, "Slaggit! This is no place for a Constructicon!" Air Raid stumbles as the glass slides away, and doesn't quite think to transform, only attempting to bolt for it on foot. "C'mon Fairway!" Combat: Air Raid compares his Velocity to 70: Failure :(Air Raid goes ka-plink! Robotic Bald Eagle was having a grand old time flying around and firing his lazer until he noticed the bowl had been lifted up! "Oh, boy! A way out!" he cries, and burns hard for the opening! If he can't make it, no one can! Combat: Fairway compares his Velocity to 70: Failure :(Combat: Robotic Bald Eagle compares his Velocity to 70: Success! Fairway tries to get his hands under the bowl to keep it from falling before he has a chance to get out, but he is simply too slow. The bowl falls and his arms are caught under it! "Raid," he calls, trying to remain calm, "This is most uncomfortable." The Collector doesn't even notice the super-tiny form of Americon slipping beneath the rim...mainly because he's more distracted by the little chorus of transformers smacking into the inside of the bowl. "Heeeeeh!" he giggle-titters, "Now -THAT'S- entertaining!" he sniggers some more- and then lifts up the opposite end of the bowl- only to drop it down suddenly again. "Do it again!" Like the Millenium Falcon barely escaping the maw of some weird asteroid monster, Americon tilts his body just so, narrowly escaping the lid of the bowl as he rockets off to freedom. "FREEEEEDOOOOOMMMM!" he cries just before flying off into a ventilation shaft. Briefly, he sticks his head out long enough to say, "And now, to chew on all of your wires! Muahahaha!" and then disappears back into the shaft. "Gah! Uh, stay still," Raid grabs Fairway's jumpjets and tries to yank him free, hopefully without pulling the DeLorean's arms from their sockets. Then the bowl goes up again... and Raid transforms this time, rocketing for the opposite side of the glass prison. Air Raid shifts and twists, pieces sliding into place to form his F-15E Strike Eagle mode. Combat: Strike Eagle compares his Velocity to 60: Failure :(Strike Eagle gets his nose cone a bit flattened as he slides back down to the workbench. "Oww..." Payloader doesn't find clonking into a wall very funny. However, then the Collector teases them, he still guns it. He mutters, "Americon did it. But Americon is freakishly competent, especially when you don't want him to be." Will he smack into the bowl again? Combat: Payloader compares his Velocity to 60: Success! ...by some miracle, Scrapper succeeds where jets have failed, and he just barely manages to slip out under the bowl. He shouts, "Take that, red! Lime green goes faster!" Combat: Fairway compares his Velocity to 60: Success! Fairway is not liberated from his arms, thankfully; he is, however, liberated from the bowl! As Raid goes rocketing into the glass with a nice, hollow clonk, he rushes back to look in on his comrade. "Worry not," he says, "I shall have you out soon!" But how? He doesn't know just yet... "Whoa, heyheyhey now!" And again, the dome comes clattering down to the ground- trapping Air Raid- but allowing Scrapper and Fairway to escape! The Collector glares at the escaping transformers- at which point he roughly stuffs Redshift's comatose body into a transparent case, and then set about clumsily grabbing at Fairway and Scrapper! Strike Eagle zooms around the top of the bowl in irritated circles like an enraged hornet. "Grrrr! Let me OUT!" He drops to the ground and transforms, rushing towards Fairway, "Don't bother Doc, just run!" Air Raid folds and compacts, transforming into his robot mode. Combat: Fairway compares his Agility to 30: Success! Combat: Payloader compares his Agility to 30: Success! Payloader does not corner very well. He does, however, fly. A giant purple wing mysteriously appears, and the payloader takes to the air, flying over the Collector's grabby fingers when the alien grabs for the Constructicon. Fairway has never been quite so grateful for his jumpjets. He boosts away from the Collector's grasping hand and, coming to rest a good way away, dodges behind some as-yet undefined objects on the workbench. "Argh!" The Collector shakes his clumsy hand at the escaping pair, and huffs! "You know what? The heck with this- I'm taking my toys and going home!" and with that, he grabs the Omega Sentinel up as easily as a child with a teddy bear, and strides off, his gargantuan stride soon carrying him far out of reach. "This whole chamber is double-hermetically sealed anyway- there's no way you're getting out!" he taunts one last time- and then there's a cavernous *THOOOM!* of some far-off massive door sliding shut! ...at least he left the lights on. Air Raid presses against the glass and peers out from his cage within a cage. "Home...?" He gives the glass a defeated punch and slumps. "Well frag. Where'd that cassette go?" Payloader looks for a place to hole up and hide, to get some rest and then plot to free Bonecrusher. Redshift and Americon will just have to wait. Fairway considers transforming and trying to blend in with this alien's respectable toy collection, but he figures a DeLorean would probably stand out. Are the BttF posters tacked up about? For now, like Scrapper, he finds a place to hide and think on how to spring Air Raid.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)