| abstract
| - Intelligence Offices - Very neat, organized, and conservative to say the least. That's the first thing that comes to mind as you take a look around at the Intelligence office area. Nothing can be seen on any of the desks here. In fact, there doesn't seem to be anything out in the open that hints at what the personnel here are currently working on. Computer terminals in the office have all been protected with the latest security encryption protocols. An expertly hidden security camera has been installed to monitor the area. To the northwest is the door to the Director of Intelligence's office, and to the southwest is the doors to the CO of Intelligence's office. A corridor on the western end of the room leads back to the Office Lobby Room. The dimly lit Intelligence Offices is quite abandoned, as it usually is. The room, devoid of any real identifiers as to what is done here, is plain-jane. Everything is tucked out of sight, out of mind.. no clutter like a child's toybox or playroom. The narrow corridor leads west.. to a flickering light, giving a ghostly effect bouncing down the hall. Have the ghosts of Iacon's past come back to haunt you.. or is someone putting in overtime? Crosscheck walks into the room, trying to look at everything at the same time. The scientist spent the last year on the Orion Pax for his research and he missed all the recent events on his homeworld. The new Iacon is, well new to him. He was a bit surprised to receive an invitation to an intel meeting but he supposes those guys need a technical point of view. "Y'know, I'm still pretty sure I got the invitation by accident.. but hey, who am I to complain?" As usual Grotusque was downplaying that he actually had some considerable tactical processing power in that brutish mug as he sauntered into the ominously lit room. "Oh, gree-eee-eeat." He turns his head to look one way, then looks the other way. "Did Intel go goth on us and not say anything? Maybe I shoulda come in ugly mode after all..." Marissa Faireborn, in a sleek white-and-blue armor, enters curiously with her helmet tucked under her arm, accompanying Crosscheck. "It never ceases to amaze me how. inDUStrious you people can be when you devote yourselves to building instead of fighting. All this in less than a year? On Earth this sort of architecture would be the labor of decades." Mirage walks in with a slighted expression on his face as he looks around the office room. It's hard to tell what this elitist snob is being annoyed about this time around, what with him being tight lipped on these matters and his off putting attitude being the primary reasons for that. The Autobot spymaster eventually makes his way over to the gathering of Autobots, "Cybertronians don't need to rest nearly as often as humans do." Did Mirage mean that as a snide remark? Can he be that much of a douche?! "It's a shame so much of your time is taken up with endlessly trying to kill eachother, then," Marissa replies archly. Crosscheck nods at Miss Faireborn, "The fact that we does not sleep and that our body can often be used as a tool helps... not to mention that Cybertron's new sun help us to gather more energy. But still it is an impressive feat." Sit-Com is here! He's holding a flashlight under his chin, giving his Junkion visage a spooky, shadowed, gaunt appearance. "Want to hear something reaaaaaaaal scary?" Mirage archs a brow at Marissa. Youch. Woman's got bite, and it looks like she's got a point there. The social elite can only fold his arms across his chest and let out a slight snort. Sore loser.
* SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH* Down the corridor, the sound of metal scraping against metal resounds.. the flickering kept in the same way. The scatching sound repeats, with only minor pauses inbetween. Sit-Com says, "Sounds like someone forgot their 3-in-1 oil." Crosscheck looks around and asks "What is that sound?" Marissa Faireborn glances around warily. This is not her world and almost every sound is unfamiliar. ".. Oooh, -burn-. Score one for the little lady from outta town!" Grotusque chortles as Marissa puts Mirage in his place. Then reachs over to pat the spy on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad dude. She's a femme. They're just naturally good at that." He's probably ticking Mirage off by touching him... which is all the more reason to do it! Seriously, guy has gotta learn to loosen up." The flickering light, cast down the dark corridor, is suddenly cut off.. as if a figure were moving in front of the illumination. Then another loud scratching sound, as if something were being repositioned in that mysterious room. Crosscheck frowns, "Seriously what's that?" The scientist looks around, searching the room but not seeing anything that could produce that sound. Mirage gives thinly veiled smirk at Grotusque in response to the Monsterbot's pat on his shoulder, "I'm mech enough to tolerate these primitive jabbings. We're all friends here anyways." He then flashes the most insincere smile on his metallic face that he's ever made to the two. Yep. He's butt hurt alright. The sound of the screeching causes Mirage to look over in the noise's originating direction, "What the heck's going on?" The Autobot spymaster looks around with a pair of narrow optics and a look of suspicion replacing the false smile on his face, "Someone want to go take a look? Someone that's not me?" Sit-Com STARES at Mirage. "If you go, they wouldn't see you," he points out. Sit-Com says, "But I'm not the Invisible Mech!" "Not my planet," Commander Faireborn points out, raising her palms. "I'm just a guest here." Grotusque slaps his hands together and cackles, unpurturbed by Mirage's freaky smirk-sneer. Seriously, the guy hangs out with Repugnus and Doublecross. "Oh, I know! This whole thing was really a trap to lure the best Autobots into trouble!" He pauses to look at Mirage, then Crosscheck, then the Junkion, then himself. ".. Someone's got low expectations, I guess." Oi. "Oh, fine, if you're all gonna be protoforms about it, *I'll* go look." Rolling his eyes a bit, the Monsterbot... strolls -way- too casually towards the other room and pokes his head inside. "Helllooooooooooo"
* SCREEEEEEECH* Another desk is slid into place, Cybertronian sized of course, by Specter. Behind him, a projector is stalled on the same flickering clip of 'START'.. paused for their arrival. "Grotusque, I assume? I don't believe we've been properly.. introduced." the Autobot grins, his usual faceplate removed. "Take a seat, are there others? I imagine staff forgot I was working late, all lights in the lobby were turned off." he muses, snatching another desk from the corner. Crosscheck shakes his head, "So it was you. Still setting up the place?". The scientist takes a seat behind one of the desk. "So... what is this meeting about?" "... That would explain the dim lights freaking everyone else out." Grotusque looks back over his shoulder. "Oh comin' guys, stop pussy footing around and come in. Some janitor just tried to rickroll us with mood lighting!" He strolls in, folding his hands behind his back. "Yeah, that'd be me. Ain't meet me yet?" Pause, and then he grins a little too wide. Enough to show he's actually got some weird looking fangs despite having no reason to bite things in robot mode. "Aren't you lucky for that!" Mirage shrugs slyly at Grotusque as the Monsterbot comments about their courage, "Hey, better me than you. I've had my fill of being point mech after my run in last year in that house over at Six Lasers." When it becomes obvious that nothing bad has happened to Grotusque after the Monsterbot had poked his head in, Mirage too also follows him in, "Huh. So what'd you call us up here for anyways?" "Greetings, you are?" Specter rambles, sliding the final desk out. All meticulously lined up in perfect rank and file, the perfectionist even goes as far to walk over to Crosscheck's desk and adjust it a bit. There, perfect! "The invitations should have contained a brief synopsis, but we'll get to it soon enough." After Grotusque makes his entrance, Specter sides up to the projector and gets out a datapad containing his notes. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand, I'm lucky as to not have met a fellow Autobot? This must be some new concept." Shuffling in front of the viewscreen, the sneak-thief tucks the pad behind his back. "Please, please.. let's take our seats so the briefing can begin." he calls loud enough to be heard down the hall. Mirage brushes pass Grotusque as slides through the door, replying to Specter in place of the Monsterbot, "Iiiiiinteresting," Sit-Com says, "So where are Moose and Sqvirrel?" He leans against the wall, looking all cloak-and-daggery. Marissa Faireborn vaults up onto a desktop, sets down her helmet and folds her arms over her chest to listen to Specter's presentation. "Crosscheck. From operations. I've been aways on the Pax for a while. but I would expect someone from intelligence to know that." Mirage brushes pass Grotusque as slides through the door, replying to Specter in place of the Monsterbot, "Well for starters, he ain't exactly easy on the optics." What a jerk, karma's going to catch up to him one day. You'll see. The Autobot spymaster heads for the nearest chair and drops in down on it, "I didn't really look over the invitation." Grotusque grabs a chair, turns it around, and sits on it straddling the seat so he can fold his arms and lean on the back of it, which is now in front of him. "aaaw, you're too kind," he mock giggles at Mirage. "I apologize, I was.." Specter mutters, small flashes of Coludarr in his processor. "Away for a bit as well. Once again, my condolences." "As you all know.." Specter begins, bringing out the data-pad and clicking a button that's interfaced into the projector controls, allowing the film to start. "We drove the Decepticons from Mexican soil, their amphibious assault base.. NCC, was severly crippled in the assault led by a joint Wrecker/Dinobot offensive." Meanwhile, the film displays aerial thermal images of Decepticon controlled Mexico.. flipping through on the ground photos. "We were able to track them to an island.." the film switches up to Decepticon Island, mostly aerial and some shaky/blurry images of construction. "Metroplex tackled Typticon, not literally of course. In any event, some.. interesting developments have transpired recently." The film switches to another blurry image, of Galvatron rising from the waters.. with what looks like a Seeker in hand. "Galvatron is back." Crosscheck grunts, "Unfortunate. But not unexpected." Marissa Faireborn speaks up. "I'm Faireborn... I suppose you'd call me Earth's Prime," Faireborn says by way of introduction, groping for an analogy. "Leader of its united defensive force, inasmuch as we have one to lead. How do you know he's really Galvatron? There have been imitations before. This might be some power play by someone else in his organization. We haven't detected any large-scale Decepticon movements recently." Grotusque raises his arms a bit. "They're probably still picking up the pieces.... They're stuck there. But they're stuck there with two half bases." He laces his fingers together. "I wouldn't put it past 'em to be workin' on putting the two of them together." "As we've done in the past, Faireborn.. we have no other recourse -but- to treat him as the genuine article. To do otherwise, would welcome destruction." Specter replies to Marissa, pausing the film. "What little information we do have, was collected by Wheelie and an assault led by Rodimus Prime." Specter deliberates, the images clicking through rough construction work.. foundations being poured by Constructicons, jungle being trampled by Predacons, Seekers and Sweeps alike making aerial passes over the island. "Last of which, was collected personally by myself. Do not be fooled, they are very resouceful and I wouldn't put it past them to have a majority of the facility completed as we speak now." Mirage narrows his optics as the projector cycles the slides, and he adds in his own commentary following Marissa Faireborn's question, "Well, did you find out if any particularly ambitious Decepticon got dusted by this 'Galvatron'?" He smirks ever so slightly as he continues, "Someone's bound to have made a power play for the throne, and you know what usually happens if the real deal returns to reclaim it." "My boyfriend's back and there's going to be trouble, hey laaa hey laaaa, my boyfriend's back," Sit-Com sings. Crosscheck nods at Specter's last comment, "If we could build Iacon that fast, they can turn this island into a nasty fortress in no time... we must not underestimate their capacities. I also expect them to repair Trypticon in no time. It must be their priority." Grotusque taps fingertips together. "See? They're taking the trash and building a new base. Scrap the sunk one in the process for parts for both those jobs. It'd be the most sensible way to go about it -- even for Decepticons." He bobs his head a bit, then sits up. "The big question is, what are we gonna do about making it tough going for 'em all?" Marissa Faireborn admits, "If they're hunkering down and building defenses, that would explain why they haven't been moving around much. If they already have all those materials there from their wrecked base, they wouldn't need to look far." Mirage slides his chair back ever so slightly as Grotusque asks the million dollar question, and he quickly adds, "A conveniently placed bomb probably won't cut it anymore either, I'm pretty sure the Decepticons would've already caught up to -that- little trick by now." "Furthermore, we do know they either A- Have the energon to waste on starting fires in front of our new City-State." Specter announces, the film behind him clicking to security footage of Redshift, Carnivac, and Motomaster combatting Autobot forces. "Or B- Foolish enough to waste precious resources and troops on a simple jest. As we have done, so will we do.. we have no other choice -but- to assume the former." The footage switches this time to images of an oil rig, a big 'United Care' logo slapped on the side. "Units Encore, Clutch, and Junkion ally Dee-Kal did infact locate and engage a Decepticon energon facility in the Northwest Pacific ocean." "So, the big question is voiced. While I do not have the proper authority to order a full investigation and/or strike on Decepticon activities in any sector, I can.. suggest locales for others. As is my role." The screen behind him flashes to white, paused momentarily. Grotusque grins way, way too cheerfully at the prospect, once again showing those big metal fangs one would -assume- are just for show... maybe. "Yes, thay would be a wonderful place to start. If they've got one resource dump, they've probably got more. If we can't go for the heart right away, we can start choking off the supply lines." Crosscheck shrugs, "If Galvatron is in charge, he may just have order them to attack us everywhere they can... let's not forget they control most of Cybertron..." He remains silent for a moment, pondering his next comment, "As for what we should do... It's a bit out of my expertise field." Marissa Faireborn points out, "It might also be a diversion. Trying to draw your attention away from Earth to defend your smaller territory way out here." Grotusque says, "Gal's got a point there, too" "He may be Galvatron, but I'm Hannibal Smith. And we're the A-Team," Sit-Com says. He pulls out a cigar that Encore gave him awhile back and chomps it like George Peppard. Crosscheck says, "It's a possibility but it IS our homeworld. We cannot take the chance to lose our only remaining city." Crosscheck glances towards Sit-Com but do not say anything...Junkions always confuse him. Mirage taps an index finger against the tip of his chair as he listens to the suggestions from the group before adding in his own, "I'm more in line with Grotusque on this one. We just might find be able to siphon off some intelligence data from their computer networks while we're at their supply depots." "Our analysts have concluded that while they do have most of Cybertron in their possession, their efforts have been entirely focused on Earth." Specter states, turning to Marissa. "You humans never cease to amaze. Faireborn is of course, correct. A diversion." The screen flickers to life again, a big image of Cybertron from space. Zooming in, it pans around the globe at a decent length.. only further intensfying focus on important areas. "My contacts in Crystal City inform me that Decepticon presence is almost zero inside their gates, besides the usual watering hole or resort. This is.. most unbefitting Decepticon behaivor." "Work is still underway on that, but we've found that they've.. wisend up to our methods. Only the most basic, rudimentary equipment is being elicted in such mundane operations. No, to gain the real advantage.. I daresay we must prepare for the worst." The screen behind him flips to another image, a large dark looming construction. Darkmount. "Is that their production center?" asks Faireborn, frowning. "Where the materials stolen from Earth go? It doesn't look very... vulnerable." Crosscheck stares at the image for a moment, "That's Darkmount...? Aren't you a bit ambitious?" Grotusque ooooOOOOOOooooos. "I like this guy, he's willing to bite off the BIG stuff." Mirage pauses visibly as Specter brings up Darkmount, "Well ok, I'll bite. What's the plan for this operation?" "Sneak in like the prey on Mantracker," Sit-Com says, "Bogart their stuff that they bogarted from us. Nice." "Ambition, no. I do not suggest this location without grave warning, it would be an ardorous undertaking. But, I surmise that through the years.. the belief in the impenetrable fortress, might have done as much harm as it's helped. If not more." Specter replies, the screen behind him going through as much detailed information on Darkmount as they have. It's not a very long database to pull from. "What we do know, is mostly dated. Used as a seat of power during Straxus' era.." Specter continues, another painful flashback. Utilizing a calming technique recently learned, the Covert Ops Captain picks up where he left off. "Megatron, and now Galvatron have more or less.. inherited it." Some particular shots are displayed, interior, with the font SCRNG on the bottom right. They also look very old. "The short of it?" Specter finishes, the projector shutting off. Strutting to the wall, he clicks on a light to illuminate the room. "We build craft suited with comprehensible heat shielding, deploy them from Debris, and fight against the current.. up the canyon and into the center of the fortress." Taking a seat on an empty desk, he shrugs. "The smelting pools." Crosscheck blinks, "The smelting pool. No the kind of place where I would like to spend my vacantion..." Grotusque puts his hands on the back of his chair (which is in front of him remember) and pushes himself upright. "Coming in from below. That's the bastardliest plan I've heard in a long time around here. I -like- it." He then pffffts at Crosscheck. "Oh, that's nothing. You should see soem of the planets Repugnus and I get sent to." Usually to get -rid- of them for a while, but that's besides the point. "Smelting pools? Where we can bronze Daniel's baby booties?" Sit-Com wonders. "So, we're backdooring. Hope we don't get banned..." Mirage places a hand across the back of his helmeted head, perhaps he's impressed by the idea, "Well the smelting pool is usually where most rational mechs would expect things to go out, on an one way trip no less. Nevermind the risk of getting in, but what happens after we get in?" Marissa Faireborn covers her mouth with her hand and listens thoughtfully, unfamiliar with the place and its dire history. Grotusque then breaks out in more mad cackling at Sit-Com's remark. Internet humor, now THAT he can understand. "Yes, yes! We're gonna troll em and troll em hard!" "That.." Specter somewhat grumbles, but pleasantly. "Is more of a gambit. An unknown. Unless crucial intel is delivered, all we have to work with is dated floor plans and imagery." Standing, the operative begins to pace. "I apologize, Miss Faireborn. Such was not my intent to reveal this facet to you, but the Decepticon threat is one we all face." he bows before her, "You had a right to know." "I understand it's a very dangerous undertaking, and I would only take able and willing volunteers.. if approved by high command, that is." "I can see why your home is important to you, of course," Marissa allows. "It makes perfect sense for you to focus attentions here while the bulk of the Decepticon elite is on Earth. I just can't offer any help. My mandate is the protection of Earth and it must always be my priority. I feel as if the Decepticons' hold on Earth is very tenuous at the moment and I would love to see them fleeing back into space... but from your perspective, I suppose that would mean fleeing back to dominate your homeworld." Crosscheck is a bit out of place when it's time to talk about something like infiltrating the most dangerous Decepticons' fortress on cybertron, "I can only wish you luck... or do my best to give you the best equipment you require. I cannot help you to get that plan approved by the high command though... but that sounds like the kind of things Prime would do..." "Thank you, Faireborn. I am sure you are one of Earth's most talented Primes." Specter replies, pacing back to his seat. "It would consist of more than just the intelligence division, Crosscheck. Once inside, we must have the quickest means to access and store the data we seek." Specter playfully winks at the Autobot, a smile growing wide. "I'd envision technicians along for the mission." Crosscheck glances towards his chrono, "Hum this is interesting and all but I'm expected at the medical center. I'm on duty in about a hour. Hope you guys can come up with a good plan and all. Let me know if you need me." The scientist gets up and make his way towards the exit. Mirage rubs the bottom of his chin in thought, "Sounds crazy enough to work, but I'm not exactly fond of the idea of working with outdated floor plans." He pauses for a moment as he thinks for a bit before continuing, "Maybe I can help you out with the floor plans. I'm still not so sure about the idea of potentially smelting myself on the way into Darkmount though." Clearly Mirage isn't the most gung-ho of Autobots, nor the most courageous. Although this might be one of the reasons why he has survived for so long while other hasn't though. Marissa Faireborn was just thinking that, as it happened. She's looking at Mirage pensively and wondering how many other invisible Autobots there used to be. Now there's just one. Grotusque merely laughs a bit, then smirks at Mirage. "Don't worry 'bout it, pal. When it comes to being gunho into crazy ass places on a thin string of hope, that's what they keep the freaks like us Monsterbots around for. We love crashing parties with low survival chances!... and no one would ever really miss us if we bought it in the line of duty, anyways, instead of some big important doods. We're all crazy for a reason." Letting out a laugh, which is exceedingly rare for the reserved Autobot, Specter hefts himself off the table and starts putting away the projector. "That was all I had to present, folks. You're of course, welcome to debate the matter further." Bowing before them, he goes back to the projector. Grotusque licks his lips with a metallic tongue thoughtfully for a moment. The more tactical parts of his processors are churning over the idea in general, but there's still a few holes in the layout due to missing or outdated information. "I think we do need to get some slightly more update information to go off on, so we're not running entirely blind. But hitting them where they're not going to be expecting it easily is certainly a good idea." He holds up a hand before anyone objects about the whole sneaking into Darkmount ordeal. "Doesn't necessarily even need to be the floor plans. Or even here on Cybertron! If we can get some info on their troop movements, we're they've got their jerks on the move or stationed elsewhere, we can strike at a time when they're on a low point of mech-power in the big spooky spire itself." Mirage narrows one optic at Marissa as he notices her gaze, but says nothing. Yep. He's still butthurt, damn snob sure can hold a grudge. He then gets up from his chair and nudges Grotusque with the tip of his arm, "You two will owe me one if I do get my hands on their floor plans and troop movements for you lots. I intend to collect with interest too." Even when Mirage is trying to joke he ends up sounding like a lame ass. Is there no hope of him ever being a tolerable mech to be around with at all? "Send him back to Silver Spoons," Sit-Com says, pointing at Mirage. Mirage points a finger at Sit-Com, "I have no idea what you mean there, but I resent that comment!" With that said the Autobot spymaster begins walking out the room. "I'll be in the ship, gentlemen," Faireborn says, settling her helmet into its seals and sliding down from the desk to the floor with a light clicking sound. "I wish you luck on your mission. If there's anything the EDC can do for you, don't hesitate to contact my office." "Of course, I am pleased you could attend.. Earth Prime." Specter calls out from putting away the projector. Sit-Com nods. "This message will self-destruct." Marissa Faireborn nods, turning back at the door. "An attack on one or more Decepticon hiding places on Earth, simultaneous with commencement of your exercise here, might serve both our needs. I'll have my people look into it." "Yeh, keep in touch miss. Your people and my people, talk and all that. Coordination is good for everyone." Then Grotusque just rocks back on his chair with laughter at the exchange between Mirage and Sit-Com, amused to the point that he rocks too far back and falls over, hitting the floor with a thump and the chair on top of him. ".. Ow, I think I hit my funny servo..."
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