| abstract
| - Cinderblock emerges from the city that is Trypticon. Cinderblock has arrived. Scrapper suddenly shifts his demeanour completely. No longer is he angry at Long Haul for his affronting yellow paint job. Now, he looks far more pitying. Scrapper holds out his hands, as if to show that they are empty and hold no weapons, and says, a bit of tragedy in his voice, "Well, why didn't you just say so? Come on, we'll find Mixmaster, or track down a secret stash, or something. There's no need for you to go about looking like that." Just so Cinderblock knows, 'like that,' in this case, happens to be the new paint job that Long Haul's sporting, for he's yellow where he should be lime green. The two are not far from the entrance to Trypticon, and there are tools strewn about at their feet. "Why?" he asks, a note of belligerence entering into his tone. "S'Mixmaster's fault I hadda get repainted, anyway!" Being of primarily yellow coloration himself, Cinder would likely not see what the big deal is as he walks outside. He does notice the Constructicons milling about and glances behind him, debating going back inside. The gestalts tend to be rather...unique and he's certain they all out rank him. Scrapper looks aghast and looks like he wants to take a medical scan of Long Haul or something. He stammers, "I... Long Haul... I don't think you're feeling all right." Scrapper takes a few nervous steps closer to his brother and continues, "Surely, you understand the necessity of getting you green again and soon? And... Mixmaster did this to you? Well, did you sock him at least?" Shockwave emerges from the city that is Trypticon. Shockwave has arrived. "Well, I /tried/ to, Scrapper, but I slipped on alla the paint!" Long Haul explains, palms up to further emphasize that the whole situation /isn't/ his fault. "I think I managed to whack him a coupla times, anyway." Granted, it wasn't really Mixmaster's idea for him to go yellow, but as long as he can continue to shift the blame, that's fine. After all, if the tactic works for Mixmaster... Long Haul stands near the entrance, talking with his brother about something. It seems to be his paint job, which is now yellow where it would normally be lime. Cinderblock sidesteps from the door, and leans against the metal of Trypticon's exterior, just watching the Constructicons for the moment. He pats his legs, and then smiles as he produces an energon rationing device with the name of one 'Shadownight' on it, he takes a few energon goodies from it, and munches while he observes the gestalts' exchange. "Oh. Good, then, I guess." Scrapper sighs and glances back at Trypticon's entrance. Ack! Random flier Decepticon! And he's seen Long Haul! Unthinkingly stepping over the pile of spilled tools, Scrapper lunges, aiming to grab Long Haul by the smokestack and haul him off. He can't afford to let so many random outsiders see his brother done up in that hideous yellow. Mixmaster has disconnected. "Hey! Wha- whaddaydoin'!" Long Haul stumbles back, but is still grabbed. Still, if Scrapper thinks he's going to just drag Long Haul /anywhere/ like that, he's got another think thinking! (Even if the idea of Scrapper hauling Long Haul /is/ somewhat amusing) "Leggo!" growls the transporter, once more balling his hands into fists. Cinderblock watches the struggle, quietly munching. He can't help but add, "...he looks better in yellow." Of course, he's yellow himself. Scrapper tightens his grip on Long Haul and yanks at him, inadvertently stepping on a wrench. He hisses, "Long Haul, this is a public place where anyone can see you. We need to get you to somewhere more private until we can find some better paint for you." Then, he slips on the wrench and falls with a cry of, "Gah!" at Cinderblock's comment. Cinderblock watches the Constructicon fall over and hrms, nodding, "Most human construction equipment -is- yellow isn't it? It'd help you disguise yourself better..." He continues munching quietly, and makes no moves to help Scrapper. Long Haul's optic band flickers in surprise as Scrapper clumsily falls in front of him. The whole action throws Long Haul off balance, but let's face it: we're talking one rather strong robot here. Hence Scrapper fails to actually bring the transporter down with him. "Now, SEE? I /told/ you it wasn't that bad!" he exclaims as Cinderblock voices his support. Granted, yellow still doesn't feel right in the least, but here is yet another vote in its favor... and Swindle did try to hire him earlier. So maybe there's something to it, after all. Scrapper lands on the pile of tools with a crunching noise. Ack, that's not good. Pointy scalpels do not make for soft landings. He looks up at Long Haul with sheer, utter disbelief. After a long moment, he says slowly, "I'm scheduling you for a processor exam." Yeah, just as soon as he finishes picking bits of scalpel out of his armour and tilts his head over at Cinderblock. "And you stay out of this!" Cinderblock raises his hands up, "I'm just complimenting the mech on his choice of color is all!" He looks at Long Haul, "...although, I'd suggest trying to convince your other brothers to follow you if you make a color change. A two-tone Devastator just wouldn't do." "What?!" exclaims the transporter, shocked. "My processors are workin' just fine!" he complains. At least, no worse than normal. And then Cinderblock speaks up. Long Haul turns on the outsider. "You stay out of this!" he shouts, right hand balled into a fix, index finger jabbing in Cinderblock's direction as he echos Scrapper's sentiment for once. Besides, Devastator already HAS two-tones! Green and purple! Soon enough, the entrance into Trypticon slides open to reveal Shockwave. He takes a heavy step out and promptly catches an entire dispute unfolding with his single eye. Without even turning his head, he spies Cinderblock, yellow Long Haul, and Scrapper.. and says nothing. Could it be a bad omen? Cinderblock blinks and rapidly puts away his purloined energon dispenser as 'big purple' makes his appearance, and tries to look like just another Decepticon grunt. In fact he begins to fuss uselessly over a defense gun. Scrapper stares at Long Haul for a long moment, finding him completely incomprehensible, and tries to collect the remains of his tool set. Long Haul clearly doesn't know that he has a problem, and they'll just have to have an intervention... eeek. When Shockwave isn't staring at them. "Report nature of disturbance." Shockwave commands. Given that all are within his visual grasp, he manages to narrow this statement to neither Transformer. Who will make the first explanation. Who will have possess the lugnuts to speak up. Whose cuisine reigns supr.. wrong theme. Because he had turned to yell at Cinderblock anyway, Long Haul spots Shockwave easily enough. "Erm... Scrapper just dropped his tool kit an tripped over somma the tools, is all. The, uhm, new paint job took him by surprise." The Constructicon absently scratches the back of his metal dome, then shrugs. Really, he's not sure /what/ exactly is going on, either. I mean, sure, he's yellow, but it's hardly the first time a Constructicon has spent some time discolored. Scrapper looks up at Shockwave and thinks, 'Um, my brother has gotten himself painted hideous yellow," and also, 'Um. I've managed to dump my tool box on the ground and trip over it," and even, 'Um. There's this outsider trying to give us fashion advice, the bolthead!' He thinks all this, and even as he thinks, he finds himself more and more worried by how dumb those things are going to sound if he says them. Instead Scrapper says lamely, not answering the question at all, "I was going to check on the defense grid." Mixmaster has disconnected. Cinderblock fusses over the auto-defense gun, reply to Shockwave or making comments regarding what the constructicons would say is bad mojo. He continues poking and prodding the defense gun, looking -deeply- involved... Shockwave states flatly, "I see." Even though he has made no motion, he manages to pinpoint his attention onto Long Haul. "You fall now within the limits of cleanliness and uniform regulations. A commendment in adhering to protocol in a timely fashion will be noted on your personnel file." Again, Shockwave motionlessly shifts his eye, this time directly upon Scrapper. "Then I will expect a report of your findings shortly. Continue, Commander." With that, Shockwave leans his hexagonal head forward, nodding to the foremost Constructicon before turning around and entering the depths of Trypticon again. Long Haul is getting commended! For... getting repainted? The transporter turns to look down at his brother, then shrugs and kneels to help him pick up all those nifty little tools. "See!" he hisses, "I /told/ you it wasn't so bad!" So, he gets a new job, a complement, and a commendation. Must be the yellow! Even if it really does feel rather strange. Every time Long Haul catches a glimpse of his yellowed portions he feels like trying to wipe it off, but it won't go anywhere! Scrapper mutters dourly, "The world has gone mad," and of course neglects to thank Long Haul for the help in collecting the tools. See? Not even yellow will make Scrapper aware of how helpful Long Haul is. And yeah, yeah, he was going to make a report of his findings, just as soon as he got some findings to report. Cinderblock phews, "...that was a close one..." He then looks back over at the constructicons and chuckles slightly. Shockwave has left. Shockwave passes through the gates to enter Trypticon. "Eh. Always seemed pretty nuts," observes Long Haul, font of wisdom. He finishes assisting his brother and dusts his hands off. He wasn't really expecting thanks, anyway, because, well, the Constructicons don't thank each other. Except Scavenger, but he's kinda funny that way. Scrapper sighs and looks at his toolbox unhappily. Normally, he'd get Long Haul to hold stuff while he examines the defenses, but the way Long Haul looks now just depresses Scrapper so badly that he doesn't even want to look at him right now. It doesn't occur to him that Long Haul will probably be happy to get out of work. "Hrmph. I hope I have what I need to check over those defenses." Cinderblock looks at the gun, "...you know. We had a guy back in my unit once on Taurus Proxima. He was out checking the defense turrets, when all of a sudden, one of the turrets up and grew wings and flew away with him... Which just goes to show you! You shouldn't drink bad energon!" "Well, if you hadn't gotten all, uhm, excited over a dumb ol' paint job, you wouldn't'have maybe lost 'em!" The Constructicon responds to his brother before looking up towards Cinderblock and shrugs. "S'you say so." Long Haul NEVER drinks bad energon. Sure, he drinks energon spiked by Mixmaster on a regular basis, but that's very very good energon. Scrapper glares at Long Haul. Oh no, no way is Scrapper going to take the blame for something that is actually his fault. Not when Long Haul is around and yellow. "If you weren't that sulphur yellow monstrosity, I wouldn't have been so startled!" Cinderblock looks at Scrapper, "Now, Sir...ain't nothing wrong with being yellow." "This ain't /sulpher/!" Long Haul protests. "S'just... plain old yellow. And 'least /I've/ never appeared in front of an /audience/ PINK!" The Constructicon takes a moment to glare at Cinderblock as best he can without a face before looking back down at Scrapper and crossing his arms. Ha! Scrapper sputters, "There were long and complex reasons behind that, and you know it!" Aww, sure, sucker-punch your brother, Long Haul. Miffed, Scrapper starts to examine a nearby defense turret, first checking it for wings, just in case. Well, yeah. Because wings on a defense turret would be /almost/ as silly as wings on a payloader. Cinderblock looks at Scrapper, "Still, best be careful. I've seen these turrets do awful things... Why I was near Agorahex one day back when Megs was napping on earth. My pal, he went up to one, went to go about repairing it. He figured, he's safe and all, and then, some shmuck of a seeker walks up behind him and starts pounding on the turret, just like this!" He begins to wallop the turret, dangerously close to the targeting computer, "...and it up and -blew- him away! Was downright amazing. I mean his parts were going all over. Now we all picked up his parts, as you know, it was customary to do, and brought his ass back for repairs. We get him back and what happens?! The bosses decide he's too incompetent for reconstruction, so they up and make him INTO a turret..." He grins, "...wanna guess who he shot first?" "Well, there are reasons for /this/, too!" Mostly Mixmaster. Granted, there are other reasons as well, but most of them are Mixmaster. Long Haul shrugs and grumbles and is about to wander off when Cinderblock wanders /up/ and starts banging on the turret. And here folks think Long Haul needs a few circuit cards reseated! But the idea of turning people into things is hardly foreign to the transporter, given his brother's hobby. "Eh. Scrapper coulda done it better," he remarks off-hand, referencing that particular transformation, although he's not being particularly clear. Sure, he was just yelling at Scrapper, but this is an outsider, so Constructicon pride definitely applies. "Of course I could," Scrapper says automatically, mind already distracted into just how to do that. Hmm, hmm. Shouldn't he disable this turret first? Poke, poke. There seems to be a bit of sand abrasion going on. Ah, that's not good. Cinderblock looks at Long Haul, "I don't doubt that." He looks at the turret, "I have a lot of respect for you constructicons, old campaigners, lot of experience. Not like these flash in the pan vent-headed punks we've got crawling all over the place lately..." Long Haul nods proudly. That's right! A lot of experience! How nice of Cinderblock to notice! Must be the yellow. "Yeah, thanks! 'Bout time somebody noticed!" No one need fear the momentary swelling of Long Haul's ego. For one, we all know it will contract soon enough (probably once he's back on the job), and besides, even if he did have a big head, he's still strong enough to hold it upright. Scrapper continues to poke and prod the defense turret and inadvertently sets off a countdown. Scrap! He fiddles frantically and ends up yanking the power cable on it. There, that's much safer now. It's also a design flaw - anyone could do that the turret! To Cinderblock, he answers curtly, "Good." Perhaps Scrapper will remember to use the anesthetics if he ever has to fix Cinderblock. Cinderblock chuckles and nods at Long Haul. Scrapper seems to be matching his expectations. "I wish there were more of us experienced folks around. I mean hell, you seen all the new mechs? It looks like a Primus damned showroom in the barracks these days instead of a good honest to goodness....well...barracks!" He hrmphs, "Its not like the good old days... All these new-fangled tricks and stuff..." New-fangled tricks? Like what? Combining six robots into one giant one or something? *cough cough* Long Haul shrugs at Cinderblock's rambling, not really sure what 'new-fangled tricks' the other might be talking about, anyway. "Erm..." he raises a hand and scratches his helm absently. If he had a face, he'd be putting on his 'thinking face' right now. "Was those days really any /better/? Seems t'me they're jus' different. A little. I mean, really, same old war goes like always anyway. Not like anything's really changed that." Scrapper is now getting rather worried by the sand damage this turret had taken. It's gotten into the gearing, which may explain its slowness to respond. Looks like it needs better seals. Wasn't that what he was telling Fleet? He comments absently, "We've got New Crystal City now." Cinderblock frowns, "Yeah but in the old days it was more... You know! Strength against strength! Now its all speed, and running around, and we weren't swimming in seekers. Back in our day, you had your own altmode and you liked it! Ruddy production models..." "I don't like my alt mode," grumbles Long Haul, crossing his arms and positively sulking. "Long Haul move this, Long Haul carry that, load and unload. Bah." And here goes the predicted fall! Right after the pride and right on schedule! Cinderblock hrms, "Could be worse, Long Haul. They could've made you a garbage truck..." He chuckles and walks over, patting the Constructicon on the back, "...and hey, you're an important part of Devastator! Where would he be without you!" He shakes his head, "Bah...I remember the days when you guys were the only gestalt on the block, no we've got all these knockoffs... Combaticons?! Bah." Scavenger emerges from the city that is Trypticon. Scavenger has arrived. Long Haul steps forward and balls his hand into a fist when Cinderblock pats him on the back. Oh, wait. He's being /friendly/. And if he /had/ been rebuilt as a dump truck, he would have made more of an effort to track down and HURT the person who came up with that idea. A dump truck is bad enough. It was probably Soundwave's idea, anyway. Stupid Soundwave. But the Constructicon shrugs in response to Cinderblock's observation. "Well, we're not the only one runnin' around, but we're still the best." Ah, modesty! He stands near a weapons turret that Scrapper is talking on, with old man Cinderblock a might closer than he'd like. Oh, and he's yellow where he should be lime green. "What the heck happened to you, Haul?" Scavenger asks as he exits Trypticon. An unsupervised Scavenger is a dangerous thing, and even he knows it, so, unwilling to locate Hook, Mix, or 'crusher, he decided to find Long Haul and, surprise, surprise, he's also found Scrapper and some jet he doesn't know! Shockwave emerges from the city that is Trypticon. Shockwave has arrived. Cinderblock glances over and nods at Scavenger. He then looks back to Long Haul, "And you should try to get some wings in your altmode, then you could fly like your boss over there." And now he's getting bombarded with questions and observations! Argh! Long Haul's slow processors aren't made to keep up with all of this! "Mixmaster, happened, Scav. You saw that. But we're outta lime green," which is true enough, but not the real reason he went yellow. Then he turns to Cinderblock and tilts his head. Truth is, he always did want a purple wing of his own, but... the Constructicon slumps. "Won't give me one." He doesn't specify WHO won't give him one. Scrapper finishes examining the turret, idly humming to himself, he closes it back up and reconnects the power. He does remember order of operations from time to time. Then, he ducks, just in case. It's safe? It's safe. Scrapper announces, "I'm going to go check out some of the turrets on the other sides before compiling my report," and walks briskly away to do just that. "Ah, right," Scavenger says. He'd almost forgotten than, preferring to keep Mix as far away from his thoughts as possible unless he has to. Not matching seems to be almost as much a Construction thing these days as matching used to. Cinderblock hrms, "..."
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