Bonecrusher arrives from the blast doors to the southeast.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Bonecrusher instinctively half-hides behind a defunct terminal as he enters the room. Scrapper has told him he wants to have a talk with him, and Bonecrusher suspects it can't mean anything good. Shockwave has let him off unscathed after the recent events, but Scrapper might be less lenient - after all, any nonsense a Constructicon reflects badly on the entire group. Maybe Bonecrusher should have stayed far away from Beta Wing. Even though he still thinks that Catechism is very amusing when she's drunk, and the same can be said of Fusillade. Bonecrusher steps out of the shadows, saluting and awaiting his fate. Not having cleaned himself up yet, he still looks a bit messy, with spatters of paint all over him - a bit of grey from Catechism's wings, a bit of magenta from Fusillade's "art", and a few bits of paint from Ultra Magnus' front grill...

Scrapper has spent his time while waiting for Bonecrusher by doing a bit of cleaning. He'd like to maybe set up a Sekrit Mad Scientist Lab in here or something. Hearing Bonecrusher's approach, he straightens and looks around for what he presumes to be his brother. Scrapper calls out, "Bonecrusher? That you? You can tell me the whole story now or I can hear it elsewhere."

Bonecrusher realises that it probably will be best to tell the whole story. He's never been one to not be straightforward, anyhow, so he starts to explain, "Well, it was like this... I went to the Steel Balloon to have a drink - everyone needs a bit of recreation, right? While I was there, I met Catechism and Fusillade of Beta Wing. I think you've never seen Catechism, coming to think of it... anyway, she's new to Beta Wing, so Fusi was getting her drunk, and I was..." - Bonecrusher evades optic-contact - "...helping her with it. Mean to say, I was keeping an optic on them in case there would be any Autobots or they would get too drunk to fly..."

Scrapper hmm-hmms and waves a hand, "Continue. Drunken fraternization with silly jetgirls doesn't explain that truck grill dented into you. And couldn't you at least chose decent drinking buddies? Maybe a Combaticon or something? Also, what's with the paint sullying your righteous lime green?"

Bonecrusher looks at the wall as if there was something very interesting there, trying to figure which question to answer first. "I haven't had the time to fix my paint job yet... And the Combaticons weren't there! Besides, Vortex is creepy and Swindle only wants to talk about business... and Onslaught is too "high class" to talk to someone like me. And I got that truck grill dent while bravely fighting the Autobots, which is my duty, is it not?!" As the last words leave his vocaliser - sounding rather belligerently defensive - Bonecrusher looks directly into Scrapper's optic band.

Scrapper wishes he wasn't stuck out in the middle of nowhere with Bonecrusher, where no one can find Scrapper's corpse... erm. But he needed a private place, and this is as private as it gets. Steeling himself, Scrapper replies, "No. Your job is to detonate structures, especially to make way for new structures. Fighting Autobots is just a side-bonus. So which Autobot got you? Who all saw you looking like such a mess?"

Bonecrusher glares at Scrapper and starts explaining. "Ultra Magnus again! See, when the girls were all good and drunk, Fusillade had to idea to do things with paint. So I..." Bonecrusher looks at the wall again. Here comes the part where he has to admit his guilt in it... "...got them some paint and went with them. I couldn't just let them go alone, could I? They were so drunk they could hardly fly straight, they could have gotten captured by Autobots, and then what? So we all went to Retoris tunnel, Cinderblock joined us, and we - that is, mostly Fusillade - gave the place some creative redecorating. As an artist, you should appreciate that. And then suddenly, the whole place was crawling with Autobots... Ultra Magnus and Jazz and Cliffjumper... That slagwad Ultra Magnus shot Catechism, even though she was way too drunk to fight - you know how cowardly those Autobots are! So I tried to repay him for that and he just ran right into me."

Scrapper tilts his head when Scrapper mentions that Fusillade is an artist. "I don't expect that she impaled any Autobots to the walls, did she? The bomber. Now, have any other Decepticons seen you like this? If it's just a bunch of jets, maybe we can get away with just getting you a fresh coat of paint."

Bonecrusher looks uncomfortable. "Well... Shockwave has seen me. He heard of the whole thing and showed up to punish the jets..."

Scrapper has been doing a bit of pacing. Bosses tend to do that with their subordinates act up. However, when Bonecrusher drops that bombshell, Scrapper walks right into the bin where's he's been gathering the assorted debris. He topples into it and the whole affair tips over, ruining all of Scrapper's cleaning work. Sputtering, the Cosntructicon pulls himself out, glaring balefully at his brother.

Bonecrusher stares, his optic band brightening, as Scrapper walks into the bin. Even though it's probably entirely the wrong thing to do in this situation, he's unable to keep from laughing.

Scrapper shakes himself clean, still glaring balefully at Bonecrusher. He snaps, "This is no laughing matter! I'm going to have to publicly punish you now. In fact, I bet the only reason Shockwave didn't smelt you himself is because he's waiting to see what justice I mete out." Actually, Scrapper has no idea what Shockwave thinks. It's just a good excuse.

Scrapper ticks off on his fingers, "You were drunk with jetgirls, you aided and abetted them with paint, and you didn't haul them off before they did anything stupid. Bonecrusher, what *didn't* you do? Do you want me to call Shockwave and ask him why he didn't punish you?"

Bonecrusher looks at one of the defunct terminals and keeps silent. He may not be the most intelligent of the Constructicons by far, but even he is bright enough to realise that anything he could think of saying would only make matters worse.

Scrapper pauses. Maybe Bonecrusher has something there. Maybe Shockwave didn't punish Bonecrusher on purpose and punishing Bonecrusher would be walking right into a trap. Maybe Scrapper's thinking too much and should just smack his brother upside the head and call it done. He says quietly, "Um. I'll ask Shockwave then."

<Decepticon> Scrapper says, "Commander Shockwave, I hear that Bonecrusher has been in a spate of trouble and that you were there for the tail end. Your recommendation?"

<Decepticon> Commander Shockwave says, "None required."

<Decepticon> Scrapper pauses. Did he hear that correctly? "Very well. Thank you."

<Decepticon> Commander Shockwave says, "Acknowledged."

Bonecrusher's optics brighten with relief. He straightens up and his face breaks into a bold, not to say obnoxious grin (ah, the perks of having a mouth!). "See?! I told you so! After all, all I did was being there to bravely protect the jetgirls from the Autobots. Which, I must add, outgunned, if not outnumbered, us." Bonecrusher enjoys boldly putting a spin on his recent deeds.

Scrapper lunges forward to give Bonecrusher a smack. So there'll be no public punishment, but he deserves having that smile wiped off his face! A moment later, Scrapper acts as if nothing had happened and removes his medical scanner. "So you'll be needing repairs again? I thought I told you..."

Bonecrusher evades your Take that, you faced Constructicon, you! attack.

Bonecrusher ducks as Scrapper tries to smack him. Then he mumbles something that sounds like, "Yes, yes, you did, but I couldn't slaggin' well tell that car carrier to kindly go ram someone else, could I?"

"You could have," Scrapper insists, just to be perverse. He glances around Skymount disdainfully and then down at the medical scanner. "At least you heal up quickly. Here, stand there. I'll just beat those dents out of you." Scrapper withdraws a metal-working hammer.

Bonecrusher stands as told and holds still and braces himself, fully expecting that Scrapper will work that hammer harder than necessary just to be mean.

Scrapper isn't known for his bedside manner, lack of beds not withstanding. He comments lightly, "I'd offer you your choice of sensor-dullers, but I get the feeling you wouldn't want them anyway. Say, what do you think about fixing this place up? Do a bit of cleaning, maybe set up a workshop in here..." Scrapper continues to chat as he beats out Bonecrusher's dents.

Bonecrusher replies somewhat grumpily, "That's right, I wouldn't want them." Even if he would, he would never admit it, and especially not in this situation. "Let me guess - I won't get out of the cleaning no matter what I say...?"

"That, of course, depends on what you're going to say. 'Scrapper, I got you this lovely piece of Metroplex,' would be suitably distracting, if you get my drift," the engineer says slyly, making short work of the dents. He could really use some more pieces for his collection. Long Haul's cabin and a piece of Pile-Up are not enough.

Bonecrusher tries his best not to wince as his brother hammers out the dents. "I would love to, but I'm afraid cleaning would be easier..." he says sullenly.

Scrapper finishes up with the dents and puts the hammer away. He sighs wistfully and says, "Well, give it some thought? I'd be quite willing to settle for less than Metroplex. I'm a flexible fellow, you know." Scrapper's shovel flicks up cheerily, and one suspects that if he had a mouth, he'd be smiling winningly.

Bonecrusher says, "I will do what I can. Now, what needs cleaning first? This?" He points to the debris that's fallen all over the place when Scrapper tipped over the bin, feeling that if he makes an attempt to get back on his brother's good side now, he might be let off easily again and only have to do a little bit of cleaning.

Scrapper waves a hand dismissively. Bonecrusher's obviously not feeling well if he's offering to clean. "Forget it. Let's just sneak you back to base and get you some paint before anyone else catches you looking like this. Eesh, but you're a mess."

Bonecrusher gives Scrapper a somewhat surprised look, not having expected to not be made to clean, and says, "I kinda am, aren't I?" He adds with a half-smile, "I better not touch you 'till I'm clean and dry, hey? At least one of us should remain properly lime green. Let's go."

Pressing a button on the access pad by the doors, you step through to the southeast.

<travel spam>

You move east to the IHQ Med Bay.

Bonecrusher arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Bonecrusher enters the Med Bay, trying his best to keep hidden behind Scrapper as he makes a beeline for where the paint is kept. After all, the objective is to not be seen until his body is restored to its proper, immaculately lime green state. He looks around, checking the place for anyone who isn't a fellow Constructicon.

Scrapper storms into the repair bay, on the lookout for any aware occupants. He knows his brother is close behind, and he doesn't want anyone to see Bonecrusher while he looks like this. It was just back in Carbombya what Long Haul was yellow! Why can't his brothers just stay green?

--      Compile is looking at a hologram of a base as he makes notes, and looks at everything. He looks up and sees Scrapper. He sighs to himself as he goes back to what he is doing. He does not see Bonecrusher...yet.

Bonecrusher notices Compile and is now even more careful to remain hidden behind Scrapper, even though treading carefully doesn't come natural for the demolitionist. After all, the last thing he wants is to be seen by one of Soundwave's nosy tapes! He can imagine that Soundwave would be only too happy to collect some information - any information - that would be embarassing for the Constructicons.

Scrapper hisses quietly, "Bonecrusher, stay behind me. We'll just walk over slowly, get the paint, and then hide you behind a table." To the end of not letting his brother been seen, Scrapper draws on his Green Neenja skills and walks mainly behind tables.

--      Compile looks at Scrapper and blinks as he looks. "Scrapper, are you ok?" he asks as he follows the Constructicon with his optics. He looks back at the hologram and then back at Scrapper as he makes adjustments.

Bonecrusher was going to do just that. He ducks and skulks and hides behind Scrapper who, in turn, is hiding behind various tables. He's a sneaky Ninja Demolitionist!

"Oh, I'm fine," Scrapper excuses to Compile, taking a passing glance at the cassette's work. An eeeevil idea hits Scrapper, and putting on his best Hook impression, he suggests, "I think that one bit is a little bit off there, Compile. You might want to take a really good look at it." They're almost to the paint cabinet now. Scrapper can almost taste it! Blech. Paint tastes horrible.

--      Compile looks at the Hologram. "Actually, that is set already. Based upon the area where it is to be built." an dhe looks at Scrapper and a optic raises as he peers at Scrapper. "You know, it is easier to walk normally, then side to side? Did you get mauled by Sky Lynx?" he asks as he stands there and watches. Or did you guys mess up, and do something to the base that I will have to fix most likely?" and then he thinks. "Did you go to the Balloon and get drunk?"

Bonecrusher allows himself a smile, being proud of his smart brother. Of course, it's not likely that anyone will actually /see/ him smile, as he's still skulking sneakily, hiding behind sneaky Scrapper. Then he hears Compile's remark, and cringes. The cassette didn't notice him, did he? Bonecrusher can't think of anyone else in the room who's been to the Steel Balloon lately...

Scrapper strikes something vaguely resembling a superhero pose and whispers to Bonecrusher, "Duck." He does a few really phony looking kung-fu chops to make sure that Compile's attention is firmly on Scrapper and not on any bulldozers that might be crawling towards the supply closet. Hen then realises that lame martial arts moves having absolutely nothing to do with the topic at hand and quickly excuses, "As you can see, my sense of balance is perfectly fine. I haven't been near the Steel Balloon, anyway. I have no idea where you'd get that idea. And what the Constructicons mess up, we fix!"

Bonecrusher ducks quickly, almost squeezing himself into the floor as he edges towards the supply closet inch by precious inch. Of course, that means he more or less completely misses out on Scrapper's poses. For shame!

--      Compile nods as he thinks and watches. . o 0 (Yea, he is tapping into the high grade stuff alright.) he thinks as he watches Scrapper and he does something just to see. He looks away at the hologram and thinks. "Scrapper, I hear that the COnstructs are goignt o be relocating to Magatron area for construction work. If you do not mind, could you come here and tell me how the new base for the warrens look? Hun-Grrr was really hoping to get you guys to build it." he says as he switches to scanners in his optics to look around. . o 0 (Scrapper got his butt kicked, and I missed it.) he thinks some more as he turns to look at Scrapper and he blinks as he sees something else. He looks at Scrapper and then around the area with his optics. He just blinks as he hears something and then moves closer. "I hear a rat scrapper." he says as he pulls out a blaster. "Probably a turbo rat." he states as he approaches Scrapper.

Uh-oh! Bonecrusher dives behind a crate and throws himself flat onto the floor.

Scrapper laughs and waves frantically. Fibbing on the spot, he lies, "Oh, that's not a rat! That's the self-mobile luggage I invented. It's got a hundred little feet, so it sort of sounds like a scurrying rat. Look here, I've got the plans." Scrapper pulls out a datapad, pulls up what are... plans for self-mobile luggage? Looks like he wasn't fibbing as much it sounded like, and tosses the datapad on a medical table, far away from Bonecrusher.

Cinderblock arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Cinderblock has arrived.

--      Compile blinks and looks at the plans....."Neat." he says a she replaces the blaster and listens some more. "Are you sure," he states as he moves around the table and looks and sees...the luggege....He scratches his head as he looks around. "I could have sworn...." he mutters to himself as he walks back to the terminal and goes back to work. "So, can I help ya get anything then?" he asks the Construct as he waits for a reply, looking around the area with his eyes.

*Clank* *SCREE* *Clank!!* *SCREE* The uneven sound of a heavy footstep, and a loud scraping noise, fill the air for a moment until their source arrives. Cinderblock makes his entrance. He looks worse then usual, sort of like his chest has been melted and his wings blown off. He grumbles, "...damn medical bay...who put it so far inside the city.."

Thank Primus, a distraction! Never in his life has Bonecrusher been so glad to hear Cinderblock. The demolitionist is still lying flat on the floor, though it's starting to get uncomfortable.

Recoil has arrived.

Scrapper takes a few steps back and kicks Bonecrusher softly, as if to tell him to get crawling towards that paint cabinet. Then, he looks to Cinderblock and exclaims, "My, you look worse for the ware! Take a table. The medical staff will see to you shortly."

Cinderblock nods at Scrapper, "'ppreciated, Sir." He stumbles over and collapses on the table with a tremendous -thud-. "...last damn time I give Shockwave a suggestion. Oughta known better."

--      Compile turns to look. "I have two questions for ya Cinder. Who shot you up, and did you deserve it?" he asks as he looks. He hears the word and he blinks. "Shockwave did this?" he asks as he looks. "Was it over that little event last night at the Tunnel?" he asks as he looks form his terminal which has a hologram of a base on it...

Bonecrusher is kicked. Oh, the indignity! But what does one not do to avoid embarrassing oneself and, by extension, ones gestalt mates. Bonecrusher crawls towards the paint cabinet as fast as he can which admittedly is not very fast. It's been a while since he had to crawl and hide - on the battlefield, he usually just charges openly at the enemy.

Then he hears what Compile says. So their little tunnel adventure is already public knowledge? No good.

Cinderblock nods at Compile, "Yep. Glad I told you not to come now? He shot all of us. Fortunately we Betas are built sturdy. I ate his purple raybeam o'doom and I was still able to limp back home." He taps a compartment and produces a small energon containment cylinder marked 'Rotorbolt' and begins to drink from it. "...always had a weak spot for the frails, gotta work on that."

Scrapper hasn't seen any reports saying, 'Don't fix Cinderblock,' and the A-10 actually remembers that Scrapper a High Commander, so as far as Scrapper's concerned, he might as well fix Cinderblock. He paces over to a table on the other side of the medical ward, far away from Bonecrusher, and gestures to it, "This table will do."

Sound the trumpets, for Recoil has arrived! Erm... no pun intended for the present trumpet players from the movie. Alas, His Seekerness saunters through the Med Bay doors just in time to hear Scrapper tell someone that they will be attended to shortly. In response, Recoil snorts. "That would be a first."

--      Compile nods, "So, what did you guys do anyway to the tunnel?" he asks Cinderblock as he knows that it is Fusi and Castecish that cannot be fixed or helped. "Well, you knowScrapper, has to be all dramatic." he says to Recoil as he nods and looks aroudn the rooma gain. . o 0 (Somethignis a miss here.)

Bonecrusher does not at all enjoy having to lie on the floor for longer. Couldn't Scrapper get on with fixing his paint before doing anything else? But then of course, it's a fact that Decepticons that need medical attention have priority. And he couldn't protest anyhow, as his current objective is to be neither seen nor heard. So he remains on the floor and wishes said floor was lime green.

Cinderblock glances at Compile, "I got the others out before the pit barfed up a load of slag all over us. Unfortu..." *RRRHIGGLEBUP* He peers at his chest, "...am I supposed to make that sound?"

Scrapper snaps back at Recoil, "Oh, we just fix things so fast you never knew they were broken in the place." Then, he attends to Cinderblock, saying, "Um. No. You shouldn't. Let me get a scan of your injuries." All the while he's hoping that Bonecrusher can get to the paint cabinet and rectify the problem on his own.

You take several moments to run a medical scan on Cinderblock...

Cinderblock slams his chest with his fist, getting the noise to stop. He then leans his head back, looking at the ceiling. "...damn femmes, they cause so bloody much trouble..."

Bonecrusher finally reaches the safe shore - or rather, the paint cabinet. Now for the hard part - to open that thing and get out the lime green paint, all without being seen. For once, Bonecrusher wishes he could turn invisible like that snooty Autobot Mirage. He also gains the ability to deeply relate to Catechism's fear of supply cabinets. And wasn't relating to Catechism what brought him into this situation to begin with? He carefully, oh so carefully raises one hand - still remaining as closely to the floor as possible - and tries to open the supply cabinet's door without making a noise that would give away his position.

Recoil's optics form an official glower at Scrapper's tone. "Fix?" He looks pointedly at Cinderblock. "You call this, 'fixed'?" The seeker makes a 'psssh' sound, as if such a thought were incomprehensible. "Anyway, enough with the usual reparte. I got bored and started wondering where we stood with medical supplies, Scrapper."

Cinderblock looks at Recoil and shakes his head. He leans back, "...not a rush, Sir, but Shockwave wants me on patrols up in Polyhex as soon as I'm back together."

--      Compile looks at this and then around again. He seems to have forgotten about the hologram of the base he is working on,a nd is actually looking aroudn the entire medical bay. "Now where was it?" he says to himself.

Scrapper gets out a set of tools. Idly considers accidentally tossing a scalpel right at Recoil's face. Wonders if Bonecrusher has got to the supply cabinet yet. He starts fixing Cinderblock and says, "I haven't fixed him yet. Obviously. And the cabinets you want are over there." Scrapper points at the cabinets in the exact opposite of where Bonecrusher is. Hey, there are supplies in there. All the cabinets have supplies in them, except for the cabinets which are dark portals that eat your soul. Did he just think that last bit?

Scrapper begins work on Cinderblock's injuries.

Your repair attempt is successful, and Cinderblock's self-repair systems can handle the remaining damage.

Bonecrusher hopes that the cabinet he's just at will not eat his soul or draw him into a dark dimension where chaos reigns. He tries to hide behind the supply cabinet's door as he opens it and starts looking for the lime green paint.

Recoil arches an optic rim at Cinderblock. "I guess so, given that we're short a couple mechs on the patrol rotation thanks to... whatever got those two goofs grounded." He turns his attention to Scrapper's mental-scalpel chucking and ducks... mentally. "Scrapper." Ooooooh, not only said ominously, but also with a DEEP VOICE! "I am many things. Perfect, great, outstanding, and brilliant, for example. One of the items on the short list of things that I am not is 'Medic'. If I look in those cabinets, I won't have the *slightest* clue what I'm seeing." The question is thusly begged, with minimal grovelling involved.

Scrapper sees an opportunity to distract Compile and rid himself of Recoil's annoying yet manly questions. "Well, I'm a little busy here with Cinderblock. Compile! Why don't you explain to Recoil what those cabinets contain?" Again, he points at the cabinets that are as far away as possible from Bonecrusher, this time gesturing while holding a scalpel.

Bonecrusher spots what he /thinks/ is the right can of paint. He wishes that Long Haul was here. Long Haul always knows where everything is. Long Haul would also helo him hide. But as it is, Bonecrusher is completely on his own, given that Scrapper is now busy doing his duty as a medic. The demolitionist carefully, carefully, /carefully/ takes hold of the can of paint and... *CLANK!

Cinderblock just lays back and lets Scrapper work. He frowns, "...I seriously need to explain my displeasure to Fusillade and Catechism when I get repaired..."

*WHUM* *CLANK* ...a whole stack of paint cans falls right out! Bonecrusher dives behind the supply cabinet's door, frantically hoping that Scrapper will come up with some distracting explanation, such as "It was a turbo mouse!"

Recoil looks down at Cinderblock's prone form. "Would you like me to punch each of them in the face, as proxy?" It is then that a *CLANK!* is heard by this particular Decepticon. His optics dart immediately to Scrapper, demanding silently an explanation for this *CLANK!* that just *CLANKED!* Recoil's *CLANK!*. *CLANK!* you.

--      Compile nods and turns to look with Recoil. "Yea," and he starts to walk ove.r "Yea, ove rhere we have...." and he turns to look, pulling out his blaster. "I think we have a ghost in here....." he says as he moves for the cabinet that is now open... "Recoil, lets have some fun." and he points for Recoil to go left while Compile starts to head right. "Alright, lets see who is hidden in here." and he moves forward and approaches the table that Scrapper was standing behind....

Scrapper pauses when he hears the *CLANK*. And more. Oh slag. Can't his brothers do *anything* on their own. In an authoritative voice, he announces, "Just the foundations settling. Nothing to worry about." He returns to patching up Cinderblock as if nothing was awry and says, "My brother said Fusillade's an artist. What's her medium, do you know?"

Cinderblock looks at Recoil, "Its a beta matter, Recoil. I or Earthscorch'll handle it."

Recoil's optics never move from Scrapper's BS explanation. And of course, 'never' means 'immediately when Cinderblock addresses him directly'. "It's a what, now? Are you all in your trial version or something?" Compile's request for fun-having goes unresponded, for the moment.

Cinderblock frowns, "Beta wing, Recoil. Beta handles Beta matters. I'll take care of...heh...disciplining...heh...the young femmes."

Meanwhile, with the courage borne from true desparation, Bonecrusher dares to stick out one foot and use it to nudge one can of paint to where he is. He carefully, carefully, bends to pick it up and checks. Is it lime-green? No, it's orange! Slag! Bonecrusher again carefully, carefully, carefully, angles for a paint of can with one sneaky green foot, and this time... it's lime green! Thank Primus! Bonecrusher carefully, carefully opens the can, trying to avoid even the slightest noise, and starts applying the paint to all the spots of himself that need it.

--      Compile walks forward and listens silently. He smiles as something and picking up a lever, he gets onto the other side of said cabinet and after pushing the bar under the base steps back a few. He runs and then jumps into the air. He comes down hard on the bar, causign the cabinet to start yo tip over.....Onto Bonecrusher. "Timber..." is all COmpile says as he flips back and pulls the blastr out and points to see what happens to the cabinet and if anyone is ont he other side....

Bonecrusher makes a split-second decision to not roll aside as the supply cabinet falls onto him. After all, he's used to having whole building collapse onto him - a little supply cabinet won't hurt him. And if it falls onto him, it will hide him, right? Maybe a foot or a finger will stick out, but that can't be helped. He, of course, also makes a mental note to rip off Compile's head.

Despite the chaos erupting in re: scampering Constructicons and the Compiles who try to expose them, Recoil remains fixed on Cinderblock. "That seems highly inefficient. You are incapacited and Earthscorch is never around. I would be pleased to punch them both in the face in your stead. And perhaps inflict considerable other damages, as necessary."

Recoil snorts. "You're welcome to try, if you like. As, I believe, will I."

Cinderblock blinks, "..." He looks at Scrapper and nods, "Thanks, Sir. Excellent work as always... Now can you do something for me. Can you tell me what the hell that sentance Recoil just spoke -meant-?"

Scrapper finishes up with patching ups Cinderblock. Scrapper is fast! Scrapper's going to take a long, long time and make a great show out of putting away his tools. Dum dee dee dum dee dee shiny scalpel! He then raises a hand to his chin and says in his best 'bored anthropologist' voice, 'Well, it appears to be an archaic dialect buuuuut... it think he just said, 'Bring it.'"

Recoil continues to ignore the chaos surrounding the cabinet, Bonecrusher, Compile, and wow... even Scrapper, to an extent. "It means, fool, that your thinly veiled threats mean nothing, to me. I will do as I please and if you have a problem with that, you're welcome to try to change my attitude." He leans down, bringing his face perilously close to Cinderblock's. "When you're ready, of course."

Cinderblock looks at Recoil, and smirks, "Son. I've lived for vorns. If I want to do something to you by my lonesome. It ain't gonna happen when you're all up and about."

Bonecrusher does nothing. He has a supply cabinet lying on top of him, after all. All he can do is lie underneath and endure the pain.

--      Compile looks at the cabinet as it falls and bumps off of.... "What the...." he says as he looks around. He moves aroudn the cabinet and thinks for amoment as he sits on it. "Now this is odd," he says. "Someone was over here, and now they are gone. Must be an Autobot." he says. "Lets see, who can turn invisible...Mirage. Yea that's it." he states and he looks. "I guess, I could start cutting the cabinet open." he says as his hand retracts and a cutting tourch. "Alright. Were to start. Maybe at the top...or perhaps the bottom." and he walks around the cabinet. "Ah what the hell." an dhe starts to cut in the middle of the cabinet.

Being a Constructicon, Bonecrusher knows the sound of a cutting torch all too well. What the slag is that tricursed tape doing now? 'Scrapper, think of something!' he silently pleads.

Scrapper paces over to the cabinet and waves Compile away. "No need to get destructive here. It'll be no matter for me to set this cabinet upright. Just go back to your little holograms." He kneels to lift the cabinet, silently cursing Bonecrusher's name.

Recoil, face still mere inches (fine, centimeters if you like) from Cinderblock's, faintly smiles at the aforementioned fiesty geezer. "We shall see." He straightens his bulk to his full height and stares in abject disbelievement as Compile begins to cleave open a cabinet, that for some reason is now lying facedown. He missed all that, somehow. "Something tells me that I have profited from not partaking of 'fun', tonight." And finally, to lime-green arch-nemesis. "I will return at another time for medical supply stock-taking. It seems a bit, ah... overactive in here, at the moment."

Cinderblock watches Recoil walk off, and mutters to himself.

Cinderblock mutters to himself, "I... I... of... aft... was..."

Recoil remarks flatly, "I heard that."

Bonecrusher silently thanks Scrapper, readying himself to roll aside - hopefully without being seen - as soon as the cabinet is lifted. Somehow, he even manages to grope for his can of paint in the process.

--      Compile looks up and nods. "Alright, I'll clean the mess up. But I still think we have an Invisible Bot in here." he says as he goes back to his work on the new base.

Bonecrusher goes back to hiding behind the nearest object, and frantically but as quietly as possible cleans himself off as well as he can in preparation for applying the lime green paint.

Recoil vanishes out of reality.

Recoil has left.

Scrapper lifts up the cabinet and sets it where it is supposed to go. Eh, he slings around girders as part of his job. A cabinet is no strain. "An invisible 'bot? Oh, really. Our valiant troopers would have caught him before he got in here."

--      Compile looks at him, "Your probably right." he says to him as he goes back to work. "Any bot would be stupid to try sneakign in here. i mean, they cannot be like Ravage."

Bonecrusher feels like a big weight is being taken off him - literally. Firmly holding on to his can of paint, he quickly as a turbofox scurries out, firmly holding onto his can of lime green paint, and hides behind a crate that's next to the cabinet. He manages to snatch a rag that's lying on top of said crate - maybe it is his day after all! - and frantically, but as quickly as possible cleans himself off in preparation for applying the paint.

Someone who handles explosives as part of his profession needs a steady hand and nerves of steel, and thus Bonecrusher's hands don't shake as he starts applying the lime green paint to his body. Due to him having been on the floor, under a supply cabinet that was full of cans of paint, there are now more places on his exostructure that need it than there were before, but so far, he's managing.

Cinderblock rises from his berth, creaking slowly. He hrms, "...going to take a few days to get used to the new parts..." He sighs and then growls, "...bloody femmes."

Scrapper shakes his head and comments idly, "Wenches. Hah, some of them would be better if they got melted down into wrenches. Just imagine that, a whole tool set made out of those annoying female Autobots! That'd be the thing." He just pretends that Bonecrusher doesn't exist now.

Bonecrusher keeps applying the paint to himself, working as fast as he can. Good thing he isn't Hook - his crane-y brother would have freaked out at the prospect of having to do something fast and - Primus forbid! - less than 100 perfect. Of course, Hook wouldn't have gotten himself into this situation to begin with. Hook doesn't engage himself in dubious activities such as drinking with - how did Scrapper just call them? - wenches.

Cinderblock snickers, "Thats clever..." He picks himself up, "They're not bad in a fight, but the frails ain't got the processor that Primus gave a grease widget."

Compile looks up, "I would rather have a set of tools made out of blaster and his horde." he states. "And a nice table made out of Jazz."

Cinderblock glances at Compile, "A table? Naw. He's got sofa or buera written all over him."

--      Compile thinks. "Nah, a door mat."

Scrapper is just sort of generically in the medical bay. He had been trying to attract attention so that Bonecrusher can go unnoticed, but it didn't work too terribly well. So now he's talking about making powertools out of female Transformers. There's probably some irony in there somewhere. Cheerily, he comments, "Hey, you get me the parts, and I'll make you the furniture."

--      Compile looks at Scrapper. "Your on." he says. "Ok, whoever gets to bring in Jazz, Scrapper gets to have fun with em, after scourge does."

having finished applying the paint in record time, Bonecrusher crouches and crawls from behind the crate to behind the supply closet, then cheerfully emerges from there as if he'd been in that back part of the Med Bay where the supply closets are all along. "Hey, who made that mess?" he says. "I was only just cleaning back here. And I think you should craft Jazz into a bin for used oil."

Scrapper clasps his hands together, optics narrowed as evil artistry unfolds in his mind. "Oh, I'd love to get a chance to sculpt Jazz," and by that he means using Jazz as the sculpting block. "Long Haul got me his door, but it's so much better when one has the whole thing right there. Why, I've even got the perfect scalpel." He withdraws a rusted out old wreck out a blade. It's chipped and jagged, and the tip has had to have been replaced.

--      Compile nods and smiles. "Yes. Maybe we can make it into some furniture for Scourge to have. I mean the Lounge would be nice to some new items in there. Maybe JAzz's head as a lamp for a table. Or get baby turbo fish and use the head as a fish bowl."

Bonecrusher likes that thought. "And that visor of his could make - a visor. Seeing through the optics of the enemy - wouldn't that be poetic?" Not that Bonecrusher understands much of poetry. "And a piece of his hood could become a box for me to store explosives in. And someone could cut out that number 4 and make it into the seat of a stool for Scourge..."

Cinderblock looks at Bone, "Thats not poetic, its just stupid."

--      Compile :nods. "I know, we all can go out and find Jazz and then beat him up and present him to Scourge. Then we would all be on Scourge's good side and who knows, might get another medal or something."

Bonecrusher pouts. "You just say it's stupid because you didn't think of it first!"

Cinderblock shakes his head, "...as much as I'd like to continue this. I want to head to Polyhex before Big Purple comes around again... I think he wants me out of his sight for a while."

Scrapper notes airily, "Or you could leave the art to the artist." Of course, Scrapper's idea of art is making a medical kit out of Jazz's door and giving it to Arachnae, so the blind may be leading the blind here. And chairs. Lots of chairs.

Bonecrusher doesn't contradict him. First of all, Scrapper /is/ the artist among them. Second of all and more importantly, he currently owes Scrapper for so skillfully helping him to preserve his dignity (well, sort of) and the reputation of the Constructicons. Third of all, he's busy putting away cans of paint and generally acting as if he was just doing some routine work and had been doing so all along.