Bonecrusher arrives from the blast doors to the southeast.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Scrapper is here for pie! Wait, that can't be right. He's here because the animators said so. Maybe he's upset that the medical ward is full of silly jets. That's as good enough a reason as any. Scrapper sighs and glances around the place. It still needs a cleaning.

While Hook, on the other hand, is here for a completely different reason. Grinning smugly, he's tapping at the controls of a projector unit he's brought in, making sure everything is JUST RIGHT for his presentation. With slides! And bullet points! And hand-outs!

Bonecrusher is hiding from the silly jets. Or something. He looks around, mentally sizing up the clutter and debris. His thoughts start running along similar lines as Scrapper's, maybe because they're gestalt mates, but probably just because it's obvious that - "This place needs to be cleared!"

No, Bonecrusher is paying no attention to Hook's brillant preparations just yet.

Scrapper notes Hook's brilliant presentation preparations and wonders why in the heck Hook has set all that up *here*. It... needs a cleaning. Yes. That fact has been established. Scrapper asks aloud, "Expecting a large crowd? And yeah, this place does. I know."

Hook looks up. "No, just us" Hook repliess absent-mindedly to Scrapper, still mostly focussed on his plans. "Hn? Oh, yes.. this place is in desperate need of cleaning. Good of you to volunteer." Hook looks around pointedly. "And /where/ are the others, hmm?"

Bonecrusher speaks, more loudly than Hook - "Actually, we wanted to suggest that /you/ volunteer. Didn't we, Scrapper?" He looks over Hook's shoulder to see what the engineer is preparing. "What is it you want to show us?"

Scrapper tried to clean up Skymount. He even had a bin. Then Bonecrusher made Scrapper walk into the bin and tip it over. That was the end of that. Clearly, simple clutter-clearing methods will not work. They need a complex cleaning plot device with a lot of numbers in its name. Scrapper winces and glances over at Bonecrusher. He says quickly before Bonecrusher can say more, "Because we thought you'd do such an exact job of it, of course."

Hook ehs? "Me, clean?" He snorts. "Surely, you jest. Get Bonecrusher to do it. He likes removing things. Just make sure you CAREFULLY point out the load-bearing walls and supports to him. My genius would be wasted on such trivial matters." He makes a final adjustment to the projector. "Is everyone ready?" Not waiting for a response, he activates the projector. Flickering blue words appear in mid air...

WARRENS REVITALISATION PLAN

by HOOK

Bonecrusher feels insulted. "You aren't suggesting I cannot distinguish a load bearing wall from...?!" His rant is interrupted by Hook's switching on of the projector. Bonecrusher looks on with interest. Yes, the plans for the Warrens do intererest him, if only because they'll probably involve removing lots of stuff.

Scrapper looks startled. Hook's actually started on all this? Granted, it seema like he's only got a cover page, but it's a start. Scrapper notes slyly, "You know that brat of Soundwave's, Compile? He had some kind of plans he wanted to enact in the Warrens."

"Bonecrusher, I'm sure you /could/... but whether or not you /bother to/ is another matter." Hook replies. "You do get.. enthusiastic about these things." As for Scrapper's comment, Hook grunts. "Compile? He couldn't find his aft with both hands and a global positioning system. And he /certainly/ couldn't compete with my genius.. for behold!" Hook clicks his remote, the words morphing into a holographic image of a sinister, circular structure. "The Terror-Drome!"

Bonecrusher agrees. "No, that silly tape certainly couldn't come up with this!" He may have felt insulted by Hook just a moment ago, but when it comes to stating that the ideas of a Constructicon will always be infinitely better than that of a Cassette, they can't not see eye-to-eye. Of course, Bonecrusher wouldn't be Bonecrusher if he wouldn't immediately start mentally calculating what needs to be torn down before Hook's grand project can be built.

Scrapper agrees, "Of course Compile couldn't. That's why you're in charge of this." Then he beholds. And... this is not naff. Scrapper's not entirely sure what it is, but Hook must have put a good deal of thought and effort into it. He tilts his head, thinking, and asks at last, "Well... what is it?"

Hook grins. "It occured to me that the Empire has faltered somewhat in regards to research and development, a lamentable situation, especially given how many members of High Command have an interest in such things. And after talking to Hun-Grr, it is obvious that the Terrorcons are lacking a ..ah.. "Den" from which to hunt from. So I have combined the two functions into one elegant design."

*click*

The image changes to a POV, moving through a series of dark tunnels. "There are numerous tunnels and small sub-levels in the area. This shall be the Terrorcon's main "lair", and also the most secure part of the complex. From here they can launch their "hunts" into the surrounding areas - hunts which should benefit our work as well. But more on that in a moment."

Scrapper's shovel twitches. Combining research and Terrorcon living quarters? That sounds like a swift path to broken Bunsen burners. Tone dubious, Scrapper says, "Continue."

Bonecrusher throws a brief glance in Scrapper's direction - he knows him well enough to know that the shovel twitch signifies some sort of concern or another. "Go on," he says to Hook.

"Now," Hook continues, "The tunnels will also hold the storage pens... a place we can secure the results of the Terrorcon's hunts - assuming they leave some of them alive. You see, it is perfect. The Terrorcons sweep the area for empties, or stray Autobots. They take a portion for themselves - eating an individual or two, perhaps in some cases just taking their limbs. Then the Empire gets the rest as raw material for experiments."

*CLICK* The image changes again, this time to.. a med bay? No, it's something else. Like a med bay through a glass darkly, a twisted version of the healing centers designed to repair the empire's finest. Sluices dot the floor, designed to dispose of energon and fluid run-off from whoever is unforuntate enough to occupy the tables. Each table comes complete with heavy restraints and an overhead array of... well, it's best to call them implements. The room is brightly lit and clinical... and unmistakeably evil.

Scrapper gawks at what Hook has designed. At first, it's hard to tell if this is a good sort of gawk or not. The visor and mask make it hard to read him, after all. Then his optic band flickers a pleased, cruel red. Definitely a good gawk. Scrapper raises a hand to his chin and says slowly, "I like it. You know, I think this may be just what we need. Certainly, it would have been useful when I helped out Arachnae with that experiment of hers... never did get to find out the results of that."

Despite being the - how shall we say? - rough person that he is himself, Bonecrusher doesn't want to think too closely about the Terrorcons' eating habits. He does, however enjoy imagining what the research - or whatever one should call it - will be used for. After all, empties and Autobots that let themselves get captured deserve no better. Their fault for being weak! Bonecrusher's face erupts into a pleased grin. "Arachnae will love us for building this," he pronounces his verdict.

Hook nods. Of course his brothers like the idea! It's one of his! "The practical research area will be above ground, but in the very center of the complex. The second most secure position. The rest of the Terror-Drome is fortifications and defenses - it will have to be a fortified outpost, since it is in a vunerable location at this present time. But I forsee it acting as a strong-point, an anchor for further development. The dome at the top conceals and protects the landing pad - no doubt the primary entry point for all but the Terrorcons."

*CLICK*

The image changes again, panning up external gun turrets and defense-positions to the domed roof, which splits in two and slides open to show a small landing pad. "And there we have it. Thoughts? Suggestions?"

"It needs some numbers," Scrapper says at long last. Then he pauses. Did he just say that? He static-coughs and clarifies, "I mean, we'll need some logistical numbers. How much is this going to cost? What kind of supplies will be needed? Yeah, it looks great, but we'll need more than just plans to make it real."

Hook waves his hand. "Cost, Scrapper? Who do I look like, Ratbat? You can't put a price on perfection. I designed it. The bean-counters can work out the details."

Bonecrusher bursts out with his questions. "How expansive are the structures that we need to remove? Would we need to use explosives, and what amount?" Of course, those are the things he'd think of first...

Scrapper something occurs to Scrapper, and it's not about the costs. His enthusiasm dims and he stares down at the floor for a bit before looking back up at Hook. In a quiet voice he asks, "How well can this stand up to Metroplex?"

Hook just... STARES at Scrapper. "You HAVE to be kidding me." he finally says. "But if you're serious... well, the tunnels would survive, unless he went digging for them." Hook shakes his head and looks at Bonecrusher. "The area is in quite a state of disrepair, but the buildings in the area are for the most part derelict."

Bonecrusher optic band dims slightly at the mention of the Cityformer. He looks at Hook, listening to his answer. Then he says, "So it is just a matter of ripping out all those buildings."

"And levelling the ground, and some excavation and shoring-up of the tunnels, but essentially, yes." Hook replies.

Scrapper was serious! He's sick of building wreckable things. He says dourly, "Just thought I'd ask. The Autobots aren't likely to be too fond of this thing, you know. No appreciation of scientific progress. And Trypticon's still stuck in the ocean. Again."

Hook says, "Must I remind you, Scrapper, that it takes a LOT of Energon to move a city-sized Transformer between planets. The Autobots are unlikely to bother with something like that just to destroy an outpost."

Bonecrusher nods, mentally going over what would be needed to do said levelling and excavation. "Don't remind us, Scrapper," he grumbles dimly. Then he looks at Hook, his optic band brightening in surprise. He didn't even think of the possibility of the Autobots abusing Trypticon for their own purposes before.

Bonecrusher is, after all, not the smartest.

Scrapper raises a hand to his chin and waves his other hand in an 'all right, all right' gesture. He points out, "Surely perfection accounts for all possibilities, no matter how unlikely? Given that we have no presence on Earth, it may be more useful for them to transfer Metroplex to Cybertron. Now, what about gestalts?"

Bonecrusher agrees. "We are a gestalt too," he says proudly. "As are the Combaticons." And the Stunticons, but they don't have players and thus aren't worthy of mention.

"And the Terrorcons will at least have a good impetus to protect this place," Scrapper adds. Abominus is nothing to laugh at. Ah, all these new-fangled gestalts... it was here that Scrapper mentioned to Long Haul that maybe they could upgrade Devastator, but that's a silly idea, and he's not going to mention it.

Hook knew they'd come around. "There, see? Perfection."

Bonecrusher folds his arms, looking proudly at Hook. Of course everything a Constructicon comes up with is perfect! "So, we all agree that this project is viable?" he asks his brothers."

Scrapper eeehhhs. He likes this. He doesn't want to see it stepped on by Metroplex. Now back to cost estimates. "Well, this certainly has promise. If you don't have the cost and materials estimates on hand, get someone to do them for you. You'll need those when you present it formally."

Hook hmphs. "I still maintain that is something for someone else to work out. Long Haul is the supplies master isn't he? Get him to do it."

Bonecrusher says, "I agree. Long Haul is the one who knows how to do this sort of thing."

Scrapper tilts his head upward derisively and then back down. "Hook! You're the CO of MSE. You think Long Haul's the machine for the job? Just order him to do it, then." Ah, Scrapper's sterling wisdom on leadership. He's going to regret telling Hook even this much later, mostly likely.

Hook throws his hands up. "Alright alright! Fine! I'll begin work on the final presentation, and get Long Haul to do the supply estimates."

"Very good," Scrapper says shortly. Booyah, he doesn't have to spend his time ordering Long Haul around; he can just get Hook to do it! "And now, I have other business to attend to. Keep up the work on this and..." The engineer trips on some debris on the way out. "...we really need to clean this place."