Fleet is, as always, a good little Seeker. And what do good little Seekers do when they're off duty? Sometimes they train. Right now, this pastel one is sitting at a terminal reviewing the watch bill, checking upcoming patrols and the like. Later on he'll probably go on a quick joy-flight. So maybe he's not really all THAT good, after all.

Catechism,on the other hand, is an evil little Seeker. She's occupied at a different terminal, checking the status of a requisition form she filed quite a while ago. Catechism stands there, fingers tapping at the keyboard and face twisted into a frown. Still no news. Perhaps she should bribe someone? The thought is a bit of an odd one and comes to her in a sideways fashion. Catechism is unused to wanting anything major enough that she'd need to expedite the red tape, but if it comes to that...

But wasn't Swindle going to give you a free bucket, Catechism?

Fleet logs off his terminal and turns it off, glancing around. Ah. He knows that blue conehead. The seeker inclines his head. "Catechism," he starts. "I didn't see when you arrived." And with that he stands up and stretches out his joints a little.

One of the most recent irritants most noticable to the Sweeps is that they no longer have the opportunity to simply separate themselves entirely from the inferior models of Decepticon. With the Sanctum destroyed, Singe has taken up residence here i nthe barracks--such dwelling is as inappropriate for a Sweep as a bowl of water is for a bird. At least, in Singe's opinion. Grumplily, uncertain whether he hates the Autobots more for destroying his sacntuary or his fellow Decepticons for being so..non_sweep, he emerges into the more general area of the Barracks. The terminals are there, but he has no interest in accessing them. It doesn't take him long to noice the one familiar face to him: Fleet, the quick, acrobatic Seeker. He nods slightly his approval. A more critical eye is given to Catechism, however, as he recalls that while he doesn't know the Decepticon personally, the appearance is vaguely familiar. "How pleasent,' says the Sweep, "To have such greatness gathered so closely together in one area. The Autobots would do well to tremble before us. Wouldn't you agree, Fleet?"

Catechism glances over her shoulder at Fleet. "Oh, hello there, Fleet. Just... checking things." She taps the screen with a clumsy finger. Tink-tink-tink. Then, she regards the Sweep. Is this the one that tried to get Fleet angry? It's blasted hard to tell them all apart, and Catechism is particularly bad at telling apart similarly-coloured Transformers.

My, but wouldn't Singe be surprised to learn that before its destruction, a certain Seeker was actually added to the access list of the Sweep Sanctum itself? In fact, it would be the very same pastel yellow Seeker that stands before Singe at this moment!

The yellow Seeker tilts his head as he considers Singe's comment, examining tone of voice and context for hints of sarcasm, irony, and other things of that nature. 'Greatness' is not a word often applied to him, and certainly not by a Sweep. And this one... has to be Singe. It's certainly not Geist, or Sunder, or Scourge, and none of the others would have any reason to address him so familiarly. Finally giving up on trying to interpret meanings, the Seeker just shrugs one shoulder. "I'm afraid the Autobots aren't given to listening to /me/ recommendations as to whether they should tremble or what, Singe."

"Mmm," comments Singe mysteriously, though the lack of indignation, violence or growling seems to confirm that Fleet ha sdevised--not guessed, correctly. He's still not sure about Catechism, however, and so turns his attention to that one. Femme, judging by the voice, and yet he is relatively certain that Dirge isn't. In fact he';s sure of it. Still, a chance to pass on a jab, especially since he's moody about having to live in the city, can't be passed up. "Perhaps, Fleet, that shortcoming is not your own but rather the fault of poor leadership on the field." this comment is given while he looks at Catechism, however. "Clearly, your desire to improve yourself suggests initiative, which I'm sure decent leaders will detect if they haven't already."

Fleet has never been easily insulted to begin with, although /something/ about the current conversation actually seems to amuse him. Maybe it's the fact that, as often as not, /he's/ also the mission leader when he goes out on a raid, anyway. Maybe it has something to do with others /have/ picked up on Fleet's desire to improve himself, but no matter. For his part, he just shrugs. "Or maybe not many find pastel yellow to be a very frightening color," he observes, very slight, amused smile for some reason still playing on his lips.

Catechism stares at the Sweep a little longer, and shrugs. Nope, still don't know which one that is, and he's probably more interested in Fleet, anyway. She checks through her personal messages once more. No, nothing. Perhaps if she could check the medical rosters? No, don't have the clearance for that. How frustrating.

"Perhaps." Really, he should continue on his way...But Singe, momentarily distracted from how miserable he is, has found some toys to amuse and interest him for the time being. "This wingmate of yours, then, Fleet...Who is she? She seems familiar, and yet all you Jets look alike to me sometimes."

Fleet gestures to Catechism. "Singe, Catechism. Catechism, Singe." Not that he really expects /either/ of them to remember the other's name later on or be able to tell them apart, if his past experience with the attention Sweeps and Seekers typically pay to each other is any indication. His smile becomes more amused at Catechism's response. "We do often fly together, but she's right. She's not officially my wingmate."

Singe invites himself to come see what Catechism is doing, strolling on over as Fleet takes the opportunity to properly introduce them. "Charmed, Catechism," he says afterward. There is a brief pause just then and he adds in a curious tone, "Whatever happened with that asteroid, I wonder. Have we any word, yet? Is it anything worth my time?"

Catechism seems unafraid of the Sweep - Singe, Fleet said? Ooh, big scary Unicronian. Whatever. So what if Sweeps like killing people in grotesque fashion? That's fine behaviour for Decepticons. She shrugs and says, "Thought I heard that our Emperor Galvatron ordered the place evacced and set to self destruct."

"Nothing happened worth telling someone like me, anyway," Fleet answers, watching Singe and Catechism both a bit carefully. The Seeker is still a bit fuzzy as to why he managed to get along with Sweeps as well as he does, but he never expects it to extend to others of his kind. And Catechism can be... obtuse at times. Although this Singe, overall, certainly seems a lot more... sociable than the rest of his kind.

Singe half-sighs as Catechism explains the end of the Asteroid incident. Oh darn, he didn't get to shoot anyone! It's too far away anyhow, but still...He's getting cabin fever. "That will have been taken care of, then. How unfortunate. Perhaps soon we'll receive orders to deal with the Autobots sighted within our territory as well. Anything is preferable to this."

Fleet perches on the back of the terminal's chair, almost birdlike. "I imagine they're making some sort of plans in the make for the situation for the Warrens, but I still haven't heard anything." The seeker shrugs his shoulders. "I just fly my patrols and make my reports, you know. Let someone else worry about the big decisions." This is something of a falsehood, as Fleet is always thinking, always worrying about something, but it's told very convincingly.

"That'd be nice," Catechism notes, with much of her usual cheer. She closes out her windows, logs off the terminal, and takes a step back. Quitely, she notes, "We owe those Autobots a thrashing for what they've done." They crashed a city on her bucket, those glitches! Her hands ball into fists thoughtlessly.

Singe's arms fold over his chest. "They're getting bolder, to take the steps they have taken. I have faith that a massive blow is in the planning, Galvatron will see to it that they suffer. I am simply impatient in the meantime. This...is not where I would prefer to have to spend my time."

"Who does?" Fleet asks, pushing himself again off the chair. "For my part, I was thinking about going for a fly. Even if I don't manage to spot any Autobot activity, it's still always good to stretch my wings." Seekers are, after all, creatures of the sky.

Catechism glances back at the terminal and murmurs quietly, "Wonder if there are any good storms now..." Been a while since she's had a good game of storm tag, and since she doesn't have any medical appointments to worry about, it's not like she needs to keep herself undamaged. The coneheaded Seeker smiles to herself, thinking about the last game she played. Heehee, Verdant got knocked put.

"Storm tag, or just storm flying?" Fleet asks, looking over at the conehead curiously. Both are dangerous, and both have their own unique challenges, but... "Last time we played, Catechism, Verdant got knocked out cold. I mean, that's not so bad. He's just MSE. But we might get in trouble for unnecessarily reducing readiness, or some such."

Singe glances curiously between the two of them. Certain that there's no sekrit military manouver called Storm Tag, he listens carefully. He'd look silly asking questions, at least right now...So he'll just gather the info by evesdropping.

Catechism shrugs and gestures vaguely, holding her arms out as if as wings. She answers, "Whichever one I can get." Then, Catechism chuckles, "Yeah, Verdant did! Ah remember the days when... oh, nevermind. We could be more careful this time. Pull out sooner."

Fleet nods very solemnly. "Damned fool never let us know he was that badly injured," he grumbles. "He should have pulled out before then. Hell, I'm surprised he didn't crash instead!" The seeker crosses his arms, but shrugs. Really, why couldn't everyone else be a sensible coward, like he is?

Because the Decepticons only have a limited amount of common sense to go around, silly Fleet!

Injuries? Near-death? Crashing? Although Singe's attention is caught, and that might be obvious, he turns and begins to stride back toward the area he came from. He stops, as if suddenly remembering something, and then chooses to explain, "As much as I would love to observe this Seeker game of yours, I am required elsewhere. I'm sure we'll meet again."

Oh, goody. A Sweep wants to play Storm Tag with them. Well, /that/ should certainly spice the game up... although Fleet had been meaning to teach Chimera the game, anyway. The pastel yellow Seeker looks after Singe and nods his head fractionally. "Good cycle, Singe, and I'm certain you're right." He does have a way of running into Sweeps, after all.

"I could have let him crash. Figured someone up top might get upset about that, though," Catechism says with casual callousness. That was what she was going to say: 'Remember the days when there were enough of us that no one cared if you crashed one and didn't bring him back?' She still doesn't say it, though. Can't be wasting the Empire's resources now. Catechism watches the Sweep exit and waves cheerily. Well, that one seemed a lot more pleasant than... Ghast? Ghost? ...*Geist*, that was it.

Singe has disconnected.

Fleet nods his head very slightly, and takes several steps towards the door. "He may be a... botanist, and there's even less call for them up here than there was on Earth, but he's also a seeker, and that weird rotting attack of his can hurt pretty badly." Then a thought seems to strike Fleet on the top of his head. His optics widen, then narrow, and a slow smile creeps over his expression. He turns towards Catechism. "Actually, Catechism, would you mind a 'bout in the training room? If you have time, that is?" After all, while his new upgrade seems to work /wonderfully/ against the drone, he hasn't put it to the test against a live opponent thus far.

Catechism brightens, flashing a 1.21 gigawatt grin. She clasps her hands together and nods vigourously. "Sure thing. Just one condition: we log it." She's got her reasons, mostly because she'd like to have a combat run on tape, in case the medic needs it. Y'know, where she falls apart the most to know what to strengthen when she finally does get that upgrade done.

Fleet immediately heads to the console to set logging, but doesn't bother about any special scenarios. Then he looks up at Catechism as she follows him in. His body is tense, ready to spring, but he doesn't attack just yet. "Ready?" he asks.

Catechism follows after Fleet and explains a little, "Well, I'd like a copy for my own records. That sort of deal." She strides over to the control panel and fiddles with it, turning her back to the room. Catechism looks like such an inviting target, doesn't she?

Why yes, yes she does.

When Catechism walks over to verify that the session is being properly logged, Fleet takes a step or two back and... fires once or twice at it before leaping into the air. Oh, that dirty, evil Decepticon!

Fleet strikes you with Shoulder-Mounted Laser Rifle <Pulse Mode> for 4 points of damage.

Catechism finishes up with the control panels just a smidgen too late to be ready for Fleet. However, his blast barely smarts. She turns around and laughs cockily. "Good one, Fleet. Once more with feeling, if you will?" Then, she sends a blast Fleet's way and jumps up into the air herself.

Fleet evades your taser attack.

Fleet leans backwards to avoid the taser attack, then flips over entirely, going from his normal, subdued behavior once more over to his flashy, dancy battle-mode. When he comes upright again he's smirking. "If you insist, Catechism!" With that he reaches an arm in her direction and fires again, this time using a higher power level.

You evade Fleet's Shoulder-Mounted Laser Rifle attack.

Catechism automatically dodges the blast. She doesn't even think about, a useful habit in true battle. It's not such a great habit when she's trying to log what happens when she gets damaged. Sighing, she requests, "Ah, forget the feeling. Try it with aim!" Then, Catechism tries to follow her own advice and aims at Fleet with one of her own arm guns, going for an upper thigh shot, something that won't disable him too badly.

You hit the pathetic pastel pyramid with your mighty Zap!. Hurray for picking on the weak!

Fleet is hit, and is indeed hit in the upper thigh, but takes little enough damage. He zips up higher, curving above Catechism, and fires down, although he still has a puzzled expression on his face. "What's your game, Catechism?" he asks, since it's rather obvious that she is, indeed, just playing.

Fleet strikes you with Death By A Thousand Papercuts for 2 points of damage.

Catechism just hovers in the air and takes the hit complacently. She looks... disappointed. If Fleet's first hit was weak, she can barely feel this one. She waves a hand and excuses, "Oh, just gathering a bit of data. Disruptor?" She clicks her arm guns over to just that and aims to peg Fleet in the hip, instead of going for an arm gun or a wing or the head or a boot jet.

Fleet evades your disruptor attack.

Fleet dives under Catechism's attack. It's easy enough, since she WARNED him of it. "D'you mind at least /pretending/ you're putting /some/ sort of effort into this, Catechism?" he growls as he keeps flying down and directly towards the conehead, arms coming up in front of his face to help absorb the impact. Is he really going to...? Yes. Yes he is.

You evade Fleet's ram attack.

Catechism obliges Fleet, by dodging out of the way with a frown. "Happy now?" And then, she clicks her arm guns over to gauss, lines up for a shot, and unleashes a blast. Fleet wants her to pretend to put up a real fight? Oh, she'll pretend all right. Pretend him right down a crash, just so long as he damages her a bit in the meantime.

You hit the pathetic pastel pyramid with your mighty gauss. Hurray for picking on the weak!

The projectiles rake across Fleet's back, putting several nasty holes in his armor and wings, and yet not doing anywhere near the total amount of damage that they normally would. Once, such a hit would come rather close to putting him at 'run-away' level, but no longer. The seeker turns around and snarls, "Yes! Very!" The tone of his shout, however, is at odds with what he's actually saying. He reaches his arms towards Catechism and there is an audible 'click' as he switches attack modes.

You evade Fleet's Rail Gun attack.

Catechism gets out of the way of the projectiles to humour Fleet. Eh, if this doesn't do it, she can log the drone taking chunks out of her. It does so efficiently enough, after all. Catechism looks a little perplexed that Fleet doesn't seem as out of sorts as he might. She's been trying to pay more attention to her fights; trying to get a more tactical perspective on things. Catechism hasn't really been doing it with this fight, given her goals, but there's no harm in practicing, is there? She doesn't have the power for another gauss blast, but she does fire off a slightly higher powered arm gun blast than usual.

Fleet evades your laser attack.

This time Fleet seems to be recovering his own senses, doing a little less of the angry ballistic charges that have never done him much good, instead twisting to the side to avoid the laser, returning to his normal, calm, combative dance. The seeker fires again at Catechism, this time using his low-power beams, before diving underneath her.

Fleet strikes you with Disruptor for 5 points of damage.

Catechism grins. This hit hurt a little bit more! She claps and flips over into jet mode, to log a bit of that more fragile form, too. She zips along through the air for a strafing run. At a reasonable distance, she opens up on Fleet, aiming to pepper him with her taser.

Catechism transforms into her alternate mode: a F-35, Marine Corps variant. Her feet flip up against her shins, her nosecone rotates through her body and out in front where it belongs, her arms tuck into her torso, and her wings rotate into position.

You hit the pathetic pastel pyramid with your mighty Taser. Hurray for picking on the weak!

Fleet takes another hit, once more on his back, but where he would normally be about 50% damaged, he's still not even close to that. And Catechism has moved into F-35 mode? Hmph. The seeker curls his knees to his chest and then tumbles before straightening them so that he can once more fly up, right towards Catechism, but this time, rather than attempting a ram, he again curls into a ball and then straightens again so that he's upside down. He turns his thrusters on high, trying to get the F-35 in the heat that results, before diving down again.

Fleet strikes you with Thruster Fire for 9 points of damage.

F-35 <Catechism> is now rattling a bit from the cumulative damage. She's still not scared in the least, and it's pretty clear she can take quite a few more hits. She flips over lazily and lines up for another run. Hrm, perhaps a ram now, as they didn't get to take that Sweep out for storm tag? Bracing herself, the F-35 charges at Fleet, cone first!

Fleet evades your ram attack.

Fleet leaps over Catechism, one hand reached forward to touch her on the nose-cone, and flips, twisting and twirling in the air before separating his legs and actually making a grab for the F-35, trying to ride her as she flies. Silly Fleet! Seekers aren't supposed to try to use jet judo on other seekers!

You evade Fleet's grasp attack.

F-35 <Catechism> manages to get out of the way of Fleet's grab by kicking on her afterburners hard. However, she's not badly overshot the yellow Seeker and won't have another chance for a ram unless she gets in closer. So the F-35 settles on reversing her course and sending a disruptor blast back at Fleet.

You hit the pathetic pastel pyramid with your mighty Disruptor. Hurray for picking on the weak!

Fleet falls past Catechism a little ways, but he's got antigravs, so it's not like missing the grasp is more dangerous to him than it would be to, say, an Autobot. And he's still in more agile robot mode, which he decides to take advantage of, twisting enough to start flying right after the maneuvering F-35, taking the disruptor shot on his left shoulder as he again attempts to run right into her. Very strange fight, this.

Fleet strikes you with ram for 15 points of damage.

"Finally, a decent hit!" the F-35 crows as her nosecone crumples from the direct hit. Still, with a broken nosecone like that, a ram is probably going to do her more damage than it will do Fleet. So instead, she disengages the locks holding her rockets to her wings and sends the weapons after the pastel wonder. Hopefully, this hit that she intends to give will be at least as decent as the one she received.

You hit the pathetic pastel pyramid with your mighty rocket. Hurray for picking on the weak!

Fleet is hit pretty badly by the rocket, which slams him into the ground and destroys his cockpit. Truth be told, not too long ago this much damage would have him very close to KO, but now it seems that he still has quite a bit of fight left in him. Well, actually, we're talking about Fleet, so it's closer to say that he's still got a bit of flight left in him. And, although he knows that no damage here is permanent, it is time to fly, for very literal reasons. "Scrap! Patrol! I've got to go, Catechism!" And with that he darts off to the door.

Training Drone comes alive with glittering lights as various weapons arm themselves. "Skill Level set to challenging," the drone emits. "Prepare for combat."

F-35 <Catechism> watches Fleet go. Aww, just when she was starting to have fun! The F-35 wishes him, "Have a safe patrol, Fleet." Then, with the aerial equivalent of a shrug, she turns her attention to the drone. How does Mr. Drone like her wing mounted lasers?

You strike Training Drone with laser.

Training Drone emits, "9 points of damage done."

You evade Training Drone's crush attack.