| abstract
| - This is an L-shaped room, stocked with plenty of repair supplies. Several repair tables line the front portion of the room, shining antiseptically clean. Every shining tool and piece of equipment is stored neatly in place...including several unusual and complex monitor machines which seem to have been built by hand. The medic in charge here must be a meticulous neat-freak who is very serious about his job. A dark, charred spot marks the floor in the rear of the room. Cyclonus Carjack Stalker Southwest "You're just lucky Cyclonus was feeling gracious." Yes, the femme slumped down on an operating table was still partially in pieces and likely not yet conscious to actually hear him, but Carjack muttered about it as he worked all the same. Mostly because there was no one else in the DHQ medbay to talk to. "Counterpunch wanted to scrap you on the spot for screwing up!" Paused a moment to check the IV slowly trickling energon back into her systems, snorted and went back about the process of at least putting back together enough of her to be stable. "Would of too.. but there's still a chance you can be made into an appropriate soldier... salvage always takes a little work to.. make fit..." It's mostly just grumpy doctor muttering as he works. Catechism blew herself up. She wasn't really meaning to do that. She was more intending to collapse the tunnel on the Autobots who were trying to stesl the datastick and thereby Save The Day for Team Evil. In any case, between the fact that she blew herself up and that a bunch of Autobots beat her up, she is an absolute mess and blissfully unaware. After all, they were talking about scrapping her before she went out. When she went out, Catechism wasn't really expecting to wake up again. Unknown to the med-tech specialist in the room, a large framed Decepticon moves with enough guile and silence as to not give his presence away. Swiftly thrusting out a hand, Cyclonus places it firmly on Carjack's shoulder.. giving it a stern gripping and slight push forward. "Is she?" Releasing the kung-fu action grip, the acting Decepticon leader strides around the other side of the table with hands folded behind his back. "Lucky that I was.. gracious, that is." Fleet is temporarily stationed on Charr. Actually, he normally volunteers for this duty because dude. Charr. Nobody comes out here! But with the Autobots attacking them in their own tunnels, he may have to reconsider the mindset. The pastel Seeker pushes a cart in. "Here are the parts you requested, Carjack." He glances out over at the remains of Catechism, one brow-ridge raised, but doesn't comment on her. Carjack jerks up as the larger hand clamps down on his shoulder.. but then settles again when he realizes the cold voice is Cyclonus'... relaxing, relatively speaking. "Well, she's lucky she's not yet dead, at least." A laser scalpel flares to life, and with a flick he slices a hose in half to make it appropriate sized. "... Luck she may live to regret if you decide on a -worse- punishment, of course." He may of hissed and snarled at other Decepticons wanting to scrap Catechism on the spot, but he wasn't about to argue with Galvatron's numero duo. Fleet pushing the car in gives him a nice distraction though and he scurries over to it. "Ah, good," he thanks the Seeker as he rummages through the assembled parts. "These scrap parts will be enough to keep her functional for now, without farther wasting our good resources." Gathering up a few circuits and other electronic bits (that look like, and knowing him, could very well just be ripped out of various household appliances) and returns to Catechism's table to start using them to replace some more missing internal subsystems. "Once her systems restore enough energy she should walk up... no garuntee if she will or will not be in pain though." ... the way he smiles a bit at that makes one wonder, though. Slowly nodding, Cyclonus continues to stare and pace around the table. He's reminded why Carjack is kept around and given the.. leniency so often denied to even higher ranking members of their faction. Just enough bootlicking to be pleasant, but smart enough to 'distract' himself from cleaning the -entire- heel. Finally speaking again, the cold voice sounds.. emotionless, void of the burning hatred or contempt they might be used to. "Her punishment? That, Carjack, shall be shared between the TWO of you. Her success or failure.." Cyclonus pauses, to take a gander at a medical readout. "Is dependent on -your- capable work. Win, lose, or draw.. you do so, together." When Catechism stirs, the Decepticon Overlord's attention is brought to the 'willing' patient. "No, not Straxus." he smiles, then continues to walk the distance of the room. Fleet raises a brow ridge as he listens. To Fleet, there is no punishment worse than death, so he views Carjack's words about 'regret' with a bit of doubt. Dramatic talk, that's all. He frowns, however, as Cyclonus speaks of shared punishments. "Let me know if there's anything else needed, Carjack," he says quietly before stepping back. He's not eager to draw attention to himself when punishments are being shared about, after all! Most of the other arm was still gone, anyways. Because that's where Carjack had hooked the energon transfusion and other devices into her systems. The things are usually inserted through access points in the arm -anyways-... Carjack bites back a gulp at Cyclonus' decree, and keeps his focus diverted by putting it on work instead. "Of course, sir. The product is a reflection of the worker who made it, after all." Sometimes being more assertive was as much knowing who to agree with as it was who to stand up to... and Cyclonus was definately on the list for the former! When Catechism finally stirs he allows her to make the salute, and then grabs her by the shoulder and prehaps more forcefully than necessary shoves her down before she can try to move any farther than that. Not the strongest of Cons, but he's got some weight to throw around, and she's in pretty weak shape anyways. "You're still mostly in pieces, don't overdo it. Don't make me have to strap you down!... someone might mistake you for dissection instead." Catechism glances sidelong at Fleet for just a moment, her expression unreadable. Serve the Decepticon cause faithfully for millions of years, do plenty of fine service, and then lose one stupid datastick and it comes to this? As Carjack wrestles her down, she manages, sounding rather tired, "Lord Cyclonus, Carjack wasn't even there. I know pointing that out is pretty much the pinnacle of stupidity, at this point, but I'm just saying, I'll own up that my mistake is mine." Great, now a torqued off Decepticon medical professional is going to be mad at her for getting him in trouble. Maybe those words will defray it a bit, but she doubts that. "Good." Cyclonus replies to Carjack, arms still neatly tucked behind his back as he paces back into view. Upon full conciousness, Catechism's plea reaches his audio receptors.. and it's not exactly the music he had expected. Many a fool would be happy to be kept alive, let alone letting a tech take a share of the blame. "Oh, I apologize Catechism.." the Decepticon Overlord states, sauntering over into her field of vision.. albeit Carjack wrestling her down. "If you were under the impression this was up for debate, it -is- not. Proper calibrations should have been performed meta-cycles ago." The last bit brings another glare towards the technician putting his weight on her. "However, you're both being given another chance. Do no disappoint.. again." Fleet, standard background Seeker. He does return Catechism's look but with nothing more than a faint shrug. Carjack stops in holding Catechism down, though he doesn't let go of her. He does sort of give her a looked mixed of glaring and confusion, like he's not entirely sure just how to take the fact that she's trying to admit to her own mistake instead of actually letting him still take part of the blame... Not that it sounds like Cyclonus is going to take it back either way. Catechism's optics narrow. Why does Cyclonus keep blaming Carjack? None of this is Carjack's fault! Is he just trying to make sure that Carjack is as angry as possible at Catechism, as a part of her punishment? Cyclonus is, after all, a master of psychological warfare. She looks back at Carjack's glare and shrugs. Catechism just /said/ this is all her fault. Cyclonus isn't accepting that. What more can she do? Catechism settles on a flat, "As you command, Lord Cyclonus," lacking her usual enthusiasm and vim. "Yes." Cyclonus barks back, as if he was beyond reproach because Galvatron is gone. There have been more than one Decepticon civil war, and it's no stretch of the imagination to say there's civil unrest among the ranks. "Now, I shall leave the.. specifics up to you." he informs Carjack, moving in front of him now. Arms fold across his chest this time, his gaze falling down on the much smaller mech. Carjack abruptly shoves himself back to his feet as he lets go of Catechism's shoulders. "-Clearly- the patient is still suffering from minor computational discrepencies from the concussive blow to her cone, or she would surely -never- of vagely sounded like she was conflicting intentions." Its up to you if he's actually trying to cover a bit for her, or just his own skidplate. "Have to look into that..." he mutters half under his breath as he returns to the parts cart Fleet brought in. ".. Prehaps an earlier damage was left unrepaired which caused this sudden departure from her usual sensibilities... Seriously, a jet-former taking an underground tunnel mission..." He busies himself rummaging through the scrap parts. Partially to do his job, and partially to not have to look to Cyclonus directly. "I'll just have to make her better than she was! ... or shell out her remaining parts to the more capable." He holds up a random component and eyes it. "Either way, she'll be of some use in the end..." Though he doesn't sound as ethusiastic about potentially scrapping someone for spare materials as usual. Fleet tilts his head. He mouths, 'Catechism has sensibilities?' but doesn't speak out loud, because dude. Cyclonus is scary. Catechism lays there sullenly on the table. Unrepaired damage? That's actually accurate. Catechism has a bad lasercore. It's been a bit cracked for years. Acid damage. Long story. But it's the kind of thing that can't really be fixed. Straxus know, they tried. Oh, they tried. If she says what's on her mind, she's sure it'll only make things worse. So Catechism instead focuses on this nebulous 'improvement' that Carjack is supposed to be doing. "Well. I already know more about melee combat than most aerial units do. I'm not /afraid/ of tunnels." Maybe he should teach her better decision-making skills! Fleet offers, "Though we're not exactly optimized for underground combat, it's sometimes a necessity. It's where the Autobots like to spend a lot of time, after all." He rubs the back of his head. "It usually forces us either to stick with robot mode or break off persuit, though." Carjack stops and turns his head -just- enough to glare at Catechism over his shoulder. "Who said anything about afraid? You put yourself in a hindering crutial position, regardless of capability. And the Autobots were all over it like a... a... augh you've got me so flustered I can't think of an appropriate referal imagery!" An exasperated sigh vents from his cooling system as he turns back to work. "Gonna have my work cut out for me on this project...." But if he CAN make her better, all the better for the Empire, of course.... Either grown bored with the topic in general, or the back and forth.. Cyclonus makes his way to the exit. Before leaving the room entirely, he pauses and speaks over his shoulder. "The details matter.. little, to us. However you quantify this improvment, just get it done." And right before exiting stage left, Cyclonus turns and thumps a closed fist against his chest. "All Hail Galvatron!" Fleet straightens and returns the salute. "Hail!" he shouts. Catechism manages a quiet, "Hail," but just that. Catechism has always served the Decepticon cause, never any one Decepticon in particular, and /Catechism/ always will. She grunts to Carjack, "Okay, next time we need to pick up a datastick, I won't volunteer, and the mission can just not get done. That's great, too." "Oh now you're just being antagonising to get on my crossed wires," Carjack retorts as he returns to the worktable with a few more components. "Trust me, not a smart thing to do to the medic that's been put in charge of your potential fate." He jabs a finger in her general direction. "Don't tempt me to borrow Scrapper's schematics for turning someone into an ottoman, because I just might if you keep being a pain in the muffler while I'm stabilizing you..." Catechism snorts and replies, "I am /not/. I can understand you're not happy with this situation. You don't deserve it. I would speculate that Cyclonus kept blaming you for it, despite your innocence in the matter, in order to make you upset with me, so as to make your work on me more of a punishment." See? Catechism /has/ formally studied tactics and strategy. When she takes time to think and doesn't just think with her fists, she's not entirely hopeless. Carjack snorts. And seems to calm down a little. It's hard to tell, considering he's often a creepy jerk to patients in general. It's the fact that despite it he's really darn good at being a medic that he's still here, usually. "Regardless of the reasons, keeping my head lies on putting you in better shape, so don't make this any harder on either of us than it needs to be. And lay still so I can finish working!" Catechism is laying still! She is being still so hard; it's ridiculous. She mutters, "I'll be interested to see what you come up with to fix this perceived weakness of mine - I can fly underwater and in space. My aim's better than most, and I hit decently hard. I'm trained in aerobatic maneuvers. I won't say I'm a peerless warrior, but I'm good at what I do."
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)