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| - Mess Hall The elevator deposits you in the second floor of Debris, the Mess Hall. While not needing to consume food, Cybertronians do require refueling and recharging ... as well as relaxation and recuperation from active duty. The Mess Hall is that place in Debris, the catchall room for lounge, bar, and social gathering. It's a long rectangular shaped abode, tables lining the far wall with a random assortment of table top games, magazines, and energon dispensers. Hung from the ceiling is a four sides LCD screened television set, constantly switching over the news reports from the universe, unless someone actually affixes the channel to something specific. Across the bottom is a tiny scrolling text box, which makes up-to-the-hour announcements about Autobot activities. Sprawled out in the Mess Hall, the Wrecker leader ... who was under enemy influence only twenty five cycles ago, allows Second Aid to slowly repair his missing arm. Not his first choice for getting surgical, Second Aid does fulfill his duties and goes about reconstructing the arm from the inside out. But apparently even missing limbs doesn't keep the Pacman down for long, as he's radioed all his available soldiers into an impromptu meeting. And of course, the soldiers are all members of the WRECKing Crew!! Roadbuster sports a few nicks and scratches, but that's nothing new for the big gunner. While his imposing figure makes for heavy footfalls as he enters the mess hall, he is otherwise silent as he approaches the impropmtu meeting. Whirl hurries into the Mess Hall at the summons. He was just in his quarters (meditating no doubt) so it doesn't take him long to arrive. With the hooplah over with in China, even Sandstorm wandered his way back to Cybertron, even if he finds the battered metallic landscape kind of boring. He kicks a chair to spin it around backwards and sits down on it, leaning against the back, which is now in front. "Just like a big ol' family reunion." Broadside tromps in with even heavier footfalls and stands at attention beside Roadbuster, eventually folding his arms. He tries not to look too amused as he stares down at Impactor, not that his mask shows anything. He shouldn't be smirking anyway, what with a big ole' robotic neckbrace on for having been strangled by a giant scorpion. Less than 24 hours ago, Springer had Impactor's harpoon completely buried in his shoulder. Even now, the handsome Wrecker wasn't completely healed up, but orders were orders and there was a meeting to get to. Strolling into the Debris Mess Hall, Springer takes a look around at the assembled group of Autobot bad-dudes. "Looks like I'm right on time for the Wreckers' Anonymous meeting. I'll start first. I've got a problem with wanting to deactivate every Decepticon in the galaxy." Tossing Impactor a small grin, the Wrecker takes a seat at one of the chairs. "Looks like you're getting fixed up pretty good boss." Impactor props himself up on the functioning elbow, peering at his troops one at a time as they enter. Roadbuster and Broadside, the one mechs Wrecking crew. Whirl, their resident off the wall psycho. Sandstorm, their daredevil who'd rather lose looking good ... than win looking bad. And finally Springer, his second in command and competent leading soldier. Not a bad lineup for a bunch of second stringers on the nobody squad. Singling Springer out with a glare, "Hold tha idle chatter fer post meetin', Springer." Clearing his vocal processors, the Pacman resumes his meeting opener. "Good, you all got here in fashionable time. It goes without sayin' gang, that we're in dire straits." the Wrecker leader grumbles, hitting a remote control to flick on the four sided vidscreen. Slowly coming to life, the screens display the mayhem caused in China ... most reels focusing on Impactor's role in the insane plot from Dr. Arkeville. "While ah don't recall any of tha shenanigans from that blasted Dominator disc, I uhh ... I dropped tha ball bots. Shouldn't have fallen so easily to a blasted machinery trick, rest assured ... over my dead zombified body will it ever happen again."
* wink* Whirl says, "Aww, no worries Chief. It all worked out in the end." He nudges the recuperating Broadside and then adjusts a knee-brace like contraption on his own leg. "Nothin' we haven't gone through before." "It's good to have you back." Roadbuster says queitly, his optic band staring down at the bolted steel floor. After a pause, he adds, "And if you ever need someone to put you down for you own good, just lemme know." He says, completly serious. "I know you wouldn't want to turn bad like that again and stay that way." Broadside starts to nod in agreement with Whirl, then winces and just lifts a thumbs-up. "Yeah Boss... We're just glad yer back. Springer was runnin' this team into the slaggin' pits, heh heh," he jokes with a rumble. Sandstorm, rather lose looking good than win looking bad? ... actually that pretty much fits. Not that he don't enjoy busting heads as much as the next Wrecker, but if he goes down getting the goods for the others to do it better, that's all well and fine too. "Hey, it was a good reminder for the rest of us what -not- to do," he replies with a cock-eyed smirk. "So, what'd you really call us for? Cuz I know mopin' over a guffah ain't it." Springer knows all too well how tough it was for Impactor to be a Chinabot. Afterall, he's the one that had to chase the Wrecker Leader down to perform lightsaber surgery on his dominator disc. Swinging his still battered shoulder around in hopes of keeping the joint from sticking, the Wrecker QB sends a solid hand at Broadside's chest with a *CLANK*. "Hey wise-guy, you're lucky you didn't become a Chinabot or you'd be in the repair bay right now too. Let's see what Impactor's got to say." Turning his attention to the Pacman, Springer focuses his blue optics and listens intently. "That's all I'm gonna say about that, so if you intended fer this meetin' ta turn into a pity party ... yer in tha wrong place." Impactor gruffs, hitting a button on the remote to switch the feed on the vid screens. Now it displays in ninety four inch glory, an overhead view of Mexico. The screens cycle through some still images, some zoomed in to show slaves working on contraptions. Others are panned out and in thermal view, showing the rate of movement to and fro from the area ... complete with popular hot spots. "I know, I know. Yer all itchin' ta hear what our next priority is, and Bots ... it don't look pretty." the Wrecker leader sighs, resting back as Second Aid lays some of the wire work for his arm. "General comments are welcomed Wreckers, I want ta know what ya think of crashin' Galvatron's little Mexican party." Running his optics over the flurry of power-point mastery, Springer nods as he takes as much information as he can from the presentation. "I think that's something we should definitely work on. The more Galvatron gets those humans working, the more trouble they're going to cause down there. Would be good to show those Deceptipunks a few lessons or two in the process." Sandstorm rests his elbows on the reversed chair he's sitting in, folding his hands and resting his chin on top of them. Surely watching the vids with the scrutinizing detail he's known for. "Not much good starting off, boss. They've had time to trench in good, with all the other shinnanigans they keep thrown at us for distraction." Broadside only grins, shuffling back a little as Springer palms him. His gaze shifts to the screens and his visor darkens to a deep red. "M'all for crashin' parties," he growls, rolling his shoulders. "Ain't no thing, Sandy," he adds simply. "Then maybe it's time something starts 'distracting' the Decepticons." Whirl pans his monoptic gaze across the other Wreckers. "Something like us." He gestures at the images with one of his pincers. "We're not exactly the experts at hostage rescue, but if we keep the Decepticons busy enough (or keep their repair bay busy enough), it might make things easier for the other Bots to do their thing." "Two can play at that game, we can start distractin' them right back." Roadbuster adds carefully. "They may be trenched in pretty deep at thier city, but they've got outlying structures and facilities that /aren't/ so well protected. I say we harrass thier flanks until they spread themselves out to defnd a broader territory, then BLAM, we go for the heart." "Exactly Whirl, what's been proposed ta me is ah hand in hand operation with the Intelligence division. Now I'm not sayin' we'll be takin' tha risk and gettin' none of that reward, but you all know how it is ... we're not exactly the first crew approached bout delcate rescue operations." Impactor replies, wincing as Second Aid finishes up the preliminary work on the arm's innards. The step brother and poor man's First Aid offers a shrug, then starts clamping down restraints to keep the arm in place while it's rebuilt. "Ah understand if anyone present wants ta step down on this one, we'll be facing the combined might of the Decepticon presence on Earth ... not to mention Galvatron's personal interest in free labor." Sandstorm pfffts. "Is that a threat or a promise?" Whirl sounds confused. "Step down?" Broadside just chuckles. Springer looks around, "I don't think anyone's going to back down from a fight Impactor. Especially after what those Cons are doing to the defenseless humans. I'm up for a challenge and I think it'll be fun too!" "Wherever you go," Roadbuster replies, "WE go." Impactor laughs long and hard, much to the detriment of Second Aid's need for stability. "Ahhh, it's good ta be back among ya guys ... it's been too long! Fer now, I'll get in touch with Jazz on coordination of strikes. But that don't mean y'all get it easy, nah ... other way around. Before 'Operation: Border Jump' gets under way, I want each of ya ta bring me a chunk from some Decepticreep." Looking straight at Broadside, "And not any no-names, I want ya ta take on the pride of the Cons ... comin' away victorious!!" Broadside looks somewhat offended, and punches his fist, barnacles crunching off, "No-names? Pahh! I call Galvatron's HEAD." Whirl clacks his pincers thoughtfully. "Pride of the Cons, huh?" He rubs his chin. "With all the new Decepticons showing up lately, sometimes the big-name guys seem kind of scarce...but I'll do what I can." Sandstorm rocks back with a bit of a laugh as Broadside just goes to the top of the heap off the bat. "Just make sure you leave some for the rest of us to wreck on the way to him, Broadie boy." "Now that's something I think us Wrecker can really sink our teeth into." Springer punches his hand thinking about some payback concerning a certain Seeker. "I'd also like to throw out there that I've still got a score to settle with Windshear and all of you are invited to join in on that piece of scrap metal." The Wrecker then offers a smile, "Of course that's separate from the other Decepticon chunk I'll bring back. Wonder if Astrotrain would like missing a leg...or two." Roadbuster hmms thoughtfully before proceeding. "I'm not ussually one ot take trophies, but yeah, that shouldn't be a problem. Maybe whoever brings the /best/ peice from the /tougest/ 'con can win a prize, some nice high-grade maybe. Shouldn't be too hard to rouse up some Decepticons to volunteer thier heads." "I'm glad y'all took to it with as much gusto as ya can manage, current situation excluded. I can round up some high grade, not ah problem." Impactor grins, then continues. "Not gonna lie to ya Wreckers, it's not going to be easy ... fighting against their combined forces, specially since they're dug in, familiar with the terrain..." the Wrecker leader trails, overlooking each and every Wrecker present and accounted for. "But you all know as well as me, we Wreckers wouldn't have it any way. Wreckers dismissed!!"
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