Bonecrusher arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Scrapper is checking over the work that the gumby medics did on him, sitting back in a chair behind a desk. He looks reasonably happy. After all, he didn't get blown up, and he did get a bit of Ranger's hull. Scrapper may well have to work that over to Galvatron, as Galvatron told him to bring back a trophy, but Scrapper's got the hull-bit for now.

Bonecrusher is walking over to Scrapper. He is not quite as happy, since Scattershot did quite a number on him and he, for his part, didn't get a trophy for his troubles, or even did any significant damage to that slaggin' Autobot.

Scrapper glances over to his brother, who is broken, again. He'd almost swear Bonecrusher does it just to make more work for Scrapper. Yes, Scrapper got broken himself, but Scrapper was able to fob the repair work off on the gumbies, who have done a decent enough job. He stands, sighs, and says, toneless, "Take a table. Maybe we should label it 'Bonecrusher's Table'?"

"You are making it sound like I keep getting hurt on purpose..." Bonecrusher grumbles, though his tone is a nuance milder than usual - from a tactical point of view, it's wiser to leave bickering with Scrapper until /after/ he's fixed him, and Bonecrusher knows it. He sits down, then lies down on his familiar med table. Maybe it should be named "Bonecrusher's table" after all...

"You knock buildings down on your head," Scrapper notes, leaning over Bonecrusher to get a better look at what Scattershot, that gestalt upstart, did to his brother. he withdraws his medical scanner to get a quantitative analysis and says lazily, "Are you going to hold still?"

"Of course!" Bonecrusher replies in a 'you wound me!' type of tone, and lies still as bidden, doing his best to look for all intents and purposes like a big macho Constructicon who doesn't mind being examined and fixed without anaesthesia. His vocaliser doesn't remain still, though. "And the last time a building fell on my head, it was only because /someone/ failed to give me correct data on the statics of it."

Arachnae has connected.

Scrapper is standing next to the table where his brother Bonecrusher is. He withdraws his toolkit, obviously intending to fix the other Constructicon, and his optic band radiates a scowl, "Sure, sure blame it on me. Blame the guy who's going to fix you. Blame the guy who got stuck doing your job on Charr."

Bonecrusher opens his mouth (because he has one, don't you know) for a retort, but closes it just in time when he remembers that Scrapper /is/ the guy who's going to fix him, and giving him backtalk could result in him breaking out the rusty scalpel, if not worse. Instead, he settles for a scowl.

Scrapper has worse than the rusty scalpel? Well, to tell the truth, he probably does. He ought to ask to Mixmaster about that glass-needle acid-cutter; it seems like quite the interesting idea, but Scrapper doesn't have the chemistry knowledge to properly construct one. Scrapper flicks his shovel up, pleased, and says, tone just a little smug, "That's a good bulldozer." Speaking of acid, looks like Bonecrusher has a fair amount of acid damage, but that nasty centre plasma shot is what Scrapper attends to first.

Scrapper begins work on Bonecrusher's injuries.

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

Bonecrusher lies still, trying not to wince, much as it goes against his nature to lie still and shut up when Scrapper is talking to him in that tone.

Symphony has arrived.

Scrapper is patching up his brother, fixing up a nasty plasma mark that Scattershot left. He radiates a pleased glow over something and tsks whenever Bonecrusher flinches. Gumbies fetch him the parts that he requires, careful to stay out of his way. Scrapper may be happy, but it's not the sort of happy they'd like to experience first-hand. "You're flinching a little. Sure you don't want something?"

Bonecrusher replies, "I'm fine," though a barely suppressed wince belies his words. Leave it to the bulldozer to be all hung up about his macho image. He tries to distract himself by mentally going through things he will do once he's back on his treads.

         The doors of the Medical Bay slide open, and a few moments later slide closed though no-one appeared to enter - on the floor at any rate. Up on the ceiling Symphony is seen walking as if it were perfectly normal over towards a wall and down to a seat in the corner where she settles in crosslegged, watching what's going on silently.

Scrapper stares at the door, hearing it swish open. There's no one there, though. "What the...? Who's there?" That's when they die, in the horror movies. *Splut!* Just like that. Scrapper suppresses the urge to hide under the medical table and moves onto the acid scoring pock-marking his brother's frame.

Bonecrusher feels uncomfortable - even more so since he, as opposed to Scrapper, can't just look who's there and what upset his brother so, given that he's still lying flat on the table. Since jumping up is not an option - and he would embarass himself if he did it, at any rate - he keeps lying still the best he can, though his optic band flickers, betraying his unease.

Arachnae has disconnected.

Scrapper is still rather unnerved and mutters to himself, "Maybe there's a glitch in the door. I should check it out when I'm done with you, and... yes! We can test these repairs by having you check the door. Let me just finish up with acid damage." Scrapper works to fill in the acid-marks with new titanium-steel and paint over the bare metal.

'Yeah, send me to check the door and get eaten by the zombie,' Bonecrusher thinks, though he doesn't say it out loud.

Symphony states as she makes her way down the wall to a seat, "No glitch in the system, dear Scrapper. Not everyone prefers a conventional mode of transportation." she finally settles down crosslegged, "It appears I missed something recently. Must have been fun..."

"Could have been..." - Bonecrusher winces again - "...better." He's glad there's no zombie, though.

Symphony chuckles faintly, "I got the impression we didn't really want the base in the first place. Was that an erroneous assessment on my part?"

Scrapper was planning exactly that! Well, the bit about letting Bonecrusher get eaten by the zombie, at least. He glances over to the seat, startled. Good thing he wasn't holding a scalpel at the time, huh? He confirms, "Indeed."

Bonecrusher turns his head, straining to look in Symphony's direction. He doesn't exactly understand what she thinks is so funny...

Symphony smiles at Scrappers reaction, she does enjoy having that effect on others. She doesn't elaborate on her comments, merely settling back to meditate for the moment. She also doesn't expound upon her reasons for being present in medical bay.

Scrapper returns to patching ups his brother and explains, "Our Emperor had planned from the start to detonate the station once the Autobots and their pets drew too near. I just hoped to lure them within blast radius, but that dratted Jetfire was too fast. I did, however, bring back a trophy. A bit of that Autobot Ranger's hull."

Symphony chuckles faintly, "I'm sure it will be turned into something quite useful, or bizarre, or both." she replies evenly, optics dimmed and looking like the white noise on a TV set.

Bonecrusher pouts unconsciously, still bitter that Scrapper got to take a trophy when he didn't. "Yeah. Those slaggin' 'bots were fast. But we gave them a good fight."

Scrapper muses, "All things considered, we could have just left the outpost alone and let the fools blow themselves up. That would have worked, too." And then Scrapper and Bonecrusher wouldn't be injured, but Scrapper also wouldn't have that trophy. He notes regretfully, "I may have to hand over my winnings. Our Lord requested that I bring a trophy."

Symphony's optics clear for a moment as she regards Scrapper, "Not the most elegant trophy one might have hoped for, eh?"

Bonecrusher tries to make a helpful suggestion. "Couldn't you just cut the trophy in half and give Lord Galvatron one part of it? Nobody has to tell him that you are keeping a part for yourself..." He looks over at Symphony, trying to gauge whether she would keep her silence in case they decide to go through with that little "conspiracy".

Symphony chuckles a bit more, "Half of an in-elegant trophy. Quite a humorous concept really." but with that comment she falls silent again, optics turning to static as she droops her head slightly.

Scrapper grunts, "It's something." He cuffs Bonecrusher lightly. "And don't talk like that. If noble Galvatron wants it, he can have it, and that's that." Yeah, and Scrapper doesn't want to get cannoned or worse - made into a garden gnome! Or have the retard thing done to him again... eeek. Speaking of which, did Mixmaster ever get that fixed?

Symphony chuckles faintly at Scrappers response, though with her body position and behavior it's not unlike a corpse laughing. Rather disconcerting.

Bonecrusher hmphs in protest. "I was in no way suggesting any disrespect to Mighty Galvatron. Just know how attached you are to art supplies and all..."

Scrapper doesn't mind laughing corpses. He probably considers them a nice decorative element. He just minds invisible zombies that want to eat his microchips. Those really ruin his day. "One does not stint the Emperor. One might as well leap in a smelter. It's a more sensible idea. I can get art supplies another time."

Symphony rubs her chin, "Art Supplies hmm? You have a facination with body parts, I've always known that... but art supplies?"

"Body parts /are/ art supplies to him, silly!" Bonecrusher explains.

Symphony's left optic ridge raises, "Interesting..." she falls silent again, something percolating in her brain.

Scrapper finishes up with Bonecrusher and says, "You're good to go." He then glances over at Symphony and explains, always glad to blabber on about art, "I find that once-living or still-living components make for some delightful 3-D collages and sculptures. It's as much about the remaking, putting something to a new use, as it is about actually making. Not too long ago, I made Arachnae a new medical kit out of Jazz's door. Given that he rather badly injured her, there's a certain pleasing irony in that composition, I think."

Symphony nods, her optics fizzing and popping strangely as she thinks, "I see, most interesting..." her mouth twists into a faint grin, a faint orange glow coming from deep inside her mouth, "And what are these pieces worth to you?"

Bonecrusher sits up and gets up, observing Symphony's reactions as Scrapper explains his art to her. Always interesting to see how others feel about the Constructicons.

Scrapper admits, "I have been known to pay for pieces now and then, especially if they've got special sentimental or aesthetic value to me." Also, it is worthwhile to note that Scrapper currently has more energon that he knows what to do with. He's a member of High Command, which pays well as it is, and he's recently come into some extra bonuses just for doing his job. "I wouldn't mind some Metroplex bits, for one thing."

Symphony's face twists as her optics change from static to a bright angry red, "I am moderately curious... do you collect pieces from other sources besides Autobots? I have a certain collection of my own, you see."

"...and I would love to see what you would do with Metroplex bits," Bonecrusher comments and means it. After all, he feels the same towards Metroplex as his brothers do, and for the same reason.

Then the demolitionist looks curiously at Symphony. Collection of her own?

Scrapper looks a little alarmed at that angry red. Sheesh, some people can be such art critics. He does admit, though, "I've got a bit of Decepticon and Junkion in my collection. However, I need to file this bit of Autobot away for storage until I learn of its final fate. And you and me both, Bonecrusher." It's a pity Metroplex isn't, like, a cassette or something. It would make life easier.