<KNUJ> Radio DJ Broadcast says, "This toy company begins selling My Little Pony series nationwide

<KNUJ> Radio DJ Broadcast says, "This toy company begins selling My Little Pony series nationwide."

IHQ Med Bay

The new Med Bay is large enough to house all the wounded that could result from battles against the Autobots. Near the entrance, there are a series of benches for patients awaiting treatment. Advanced medtables line the sides of the room in symetrical rows while surgery is located within the central area. In the ceiling are several crane mechanisms to assist medics in moving larger Decepticons, each one highly articulated and built to withstand the strain of lifting even Devastator. The room's floor, walls, and ceiling are fitted with forceshield generators to contain those that are too injured to return to duty, possible contaminants, and also are set to automatically engage to protect the room from combat damage. The room is immaculately clean, carries a glossy shine, and always smells of disinfectants, giving off the air of a proper medical bay. To the rear are the airlock doors that lead to the Laboratory.

Contents:

Gumby Medic <IHQ>

Med-Comm

Medical Rules

Obvious exits:

East <E> leads to IHQ Laboratory.

West <W> leads to IHQ Central Chamber.

<KNUJ> Johnny Oxengrudd says, "Hasbro."

<KNUJ> Radio DJ Broadcast says, "Correct! The check will be in the mail! Thank you, Johnny!"

<KNUJ> Johnny Oxengrudd says, "Thanks, Broadcast! Woohee!"

Bonecrusher arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Bonecrusher walks into the Med Bay, still looking like a heap of slag. Makeshift plating covers most of his wounds from the fight with Scorch. /Most/ of them. The odd crater is still visible between the temporary repairs, though all of the leaking seems to have stopped, with only stains remaining to indicate just how much mechfluid he lost. "Hey, is that you Scrapper?" He asks instantly upon seeing him, wondering why his brother would have chosen to be painted grey after losing his nice green finish. "What in the name of Primus is up with the grey?"

Scrapper is sitting upright, all hunched over with his legs dangling over the medical bay, casting a dark and gloomy aura in the otherwise bright and sterile. A non-green Constructicon is never ever a pretty sight. In his hands is a datapad which he is glumly reading. Scrapper looks up at hearing Bonecrusher's voice. "Bonecrusher? What? Oh... -this-" Scrapper gestures to himself. "Apparently Mixmaster didn't mix up enough green again! Doesn't he realize how fast we go through this stuff?" Scrapper grumbles. But then turning to a brighter topic, he tosses the datapad with the "Laser's" schematics on it. "Three days, Bonecrusher. Three days until we go a snipin'."

Bonecrusher catches the datapad and looks at it blankly, flicking through the pages of information with a clear lack of interest. Holding it up for Scrapper, he asks, "So this means it's nearly ready then? Three days is a long time to sit on somethin' like this. My servos are achin' to get to work on 'the list'." Looking Scrapper up and down again, Bonecrusher shakes his head. "you better make sure Mixmater gets on this right away. I ain't bein' part of Devastator if he's gonna be all uncoordinated. Green and grey? No thanks." Yeah, 'cos green and purple, /that/ is cool.

Scrapper snickers softly and retorts, "I think you'd best be resting up rather than itching for -another- fight. I know *I'm* not going to be much good in the military department for the next, oh I don't know, three or four days at the least." Scrapper peers at his own primer gray arm and tsks at himself. "Of course, once Mars starts movin', and we start snipin', it won't be long until the Autobots come up to blow up the "Death Star 2". And you know what -that- means!"

Bonecrusher rubs his hands, "I sure do! We get to do more smashing! Oh man, this has to be the best idea we've ever had... well, since the last time we done this, at least. But hey, even if I was still messed up like this, it wouldn't stop me from slaggin' a few Autobrats, and as long as Elita One doesn't show up to beat the oil out of you," He snickers, "Devastator will be there to put them all in their places." Bonecrusher then picks up a rag of fabric that's lying around and starts to scrub off some of the dried fluids that are clinging to him, revealing his nice green paint job. Almost as if to taunt Scrapper.

Scrapper snorts, "Elita One did -not- beat the oil out of me. She had her flunkies and twerps around to help her out. That infernal Dinobot and the other one... Rangy or whatever the slag it is." Scrapper waves his hand dismissively. "Still, failing to retake the Warrens is nothing compared to what we have in store for them." Scrapper awkwardly, and successfully, manages to climb down from his medical bed. He peers at Bonecrusher and his shiny spankin' new green coat of paint. "Say... I can't help but notice that someone managed to find some paint for -you-..." he peers, suspiciously.

Bonecrusher scratches the back of his cranium, looking down towards the floor. "Uh, this? Uhh, nah, it's just.. err.. the lighting in here. Yeah! You can't say that I'm lying, 'cos I don't have any paint stored away for my self! None. At. All" Bonecrusher throws the rag over his shoulder and motiongs to one of the gumbies to get rid of it with a wave of his hand. "Why does that dull-witted Terrorcon want the Warrens so much anyway? And who the hell is this Angel-licks he's always on about?"

Scrapper's optical visor narrows, "Don't you try and change the subject to the Terrorcon angel's licks!" Despite Bonecrusher's flawless defence of his honesty and not-having-green-stashed-away-ness, Scrapper isn't so sure if he can trust the demolitions expert. The Constructicon steps forward towards his brother, "I'm gray for cryin' out loud, Bonecrusher! Look at me!" Scrapper gestures to himself, trying to look like he's really adorable and in need of pitying, but it comes across as someone who's trying to swindle his brother out of paint. "Surely you have... some paint stored around for your bestest fellow Constructicon." Slight pause. "Did I ever mention that I consider /you/ second in command of the Constructicons?"

Bonecrusher rubs his chin thoughtfully, but carefully, as it is still pretty sore. "Well, when you put it like that... I /might/ know where to find just a drop or two, but I'm not too sure I can spare it. I mean, I only dip into the supply in emergancies." Sudden horror strikes Bonecrusher at the realisation that the Constructicons might have to merge in just three days to protect the "Death Star 2", and knowing how stubborn Mixmater can be, he might be Scrapper's only hope. The image of the fearsome gestalt standing there, waiting to crush his opponents all decked out in the glorius green and purple... with one grey leg, flashes through his mind. Uhg, this is an emergancy. "Oh all right, but only one coat, and no more. I guess you'll need some purple too? Before you get it though, am I really second in command?"

Flashback to several months ago. "Mixmaster, if I ever die, you're in command of the Constructicons." Flashback to about a year ago. "See Hook, this is why you're second in command of the Constructicons." Flash back to the present. Scrapper nods and struggles to keep a straight face, "Yeah, of course you are. Now gimmie my green! And yes, of course I need purple. I can't go around with green and not have the obvious choice of purple to even it all out, now can I?" Scrapper shakes his head. C'mon, how can someone be green without also wanting purple in their colour scheme? I ask you that.

If Bonecrusher was smart, or at least semi-intelligent, he would have got that in writing, but Scrappers word is good enough for him. "Ok then, but remember what I said. I've only got about 10 astroliters left, so one coat, and that's your lot. There's no chance of /me/ walking around looking like you do right now. Like a Combaticon or somethin'. I hid the stuff in Emergancy Trumpet Hatch #27, so you'll have to go back to Earth before you are fit to be seen with." Bonecrusher makes a note of going with Scrapper to make sure he doesn't swipe the stuff he doesn't use, as if he'd dare. "Anyway, I asked you a question. What's up with Hun-Grrs's Angel Lips?"

Scrapper's word ain't worth crap, as we all know. "But... but... what if we need to use Emergency Trumpet #27..." he stammers, shocked and dismayed at what would happen if they were unable to get a trumpet at a moment's notice. "I hope that it's still there as well..." This amount of stress can't be good for someone who was so badly wounded. And yes, he'd steal it all. Alllll of it. Then he'd claim Hook took it. "And as for Hun-Grrr... I don't really know. I try not to ask too many questions about him. Sometimes I think he ain't all that right in the CPU... but still, he's a good one to have along when hunting for Autobots."

Long Haul arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Long Haul has arrived.

Long Haul asks Gumby Medic <IHQ> to fix him.

Gumby Medic <IHQ> begins work on Long Haul's injuries.

Long Haul, from the other side of the room, where he's being worked on, groans. "Don't say 'Hunting'. Seriously. Hun Grr keeps going On, and on, and on about it...why can't he just call it 'Fighting' like any normal 'con? It's rubbin' off on Hook, too."

Bonecrusher shrugs, "I guess so. It would be nicer if he wasn't always running his vocalizer all day." He nods at Long Haul. If he's been here all the time, then he must know that Bonecrusher is now second in command, can't go back on your word now Scrapper! But Noooo! He also knows about the paint stach, this could get ugly. "Anyway, don't fry your diodes Scrapper, the trumpet is still there. It's just a little... flat."

Scrapper manages to crane his neck around and look over his shoulder at his other still battered brother. "Oh, that's just because Hook thinks it makes him all 'superior' and 'cool'." Scrapper shakes his head, "And Hook is just a follower!" He's tempted to say that that's why Hook isn't second in command, but figures that'd just be bringing up a few white lies too quickly. Relieved at hearing about the trumpet, Scrapper now plans to go to Earth to fix his gray problem.