Training Drone strikes Long Haul with punch.

Hook hms. He's more inclined to believe Long Haul than Mixmaster on this one. Mixmaster's always "borrowing" things and not returning them, or not putting them back where they should be. "In any case Scavenger, Mixmaster's suggestion is an excellent one. Do find it for me would you?"

Scavenger nods amiably. "I could do that, Hook, sure," he replies cheerily. Ah to have a purpose in life, no matter how silly and mundane it might be. It does take so little to make the little steam shovel that could happy.

Long Haul's fist lands firm against the drone, and then it returns strike, hitting him right in the chest and doing... absolutely nothing. The Constructicon's optic-band flickers in surprise at the weakness of the attack, and tilts his head sideways as he rubs the back of it in confusion. "What the... what is this damn thing set on?" He plods over to the console before looking up at Scavenger. "You don't have to run off an' fetch it now. He'll survive another few astrominutes without his damned wrenches, and he wouldn't be in this fix if he'd jus' keep track of 'em himself, anyway."

Hook waves his hand dismissively, happy that at least he'll get his tools. It might take a while, but Scavenger would probably take the whole base apart if need be. "Maybe the Seekers were in here before you, Long Haul" he sniffs. "That would explain the low setting.

At that, Scavenger laughs. Actually, he giggles and continues to do so for several, possibly uncomfortably long seconds. "Good one, Hook," he says after a moment.

Mixmaster huhs. "Stupid seekers. Always hanging out together. They think they're so slag-hot in their little gang." He looks to the optics of all of his assembled brothers to find their agreement on this one.

Scrapper enters, looking a bit twitchy. See, the space bridge is a bit freaky. Scrapper recently went through a few other freaky things, like blacking out under a pile of rubble. These freaky feelings combine to add up to the sensation that he's got tiny little things crawling around on his insides. Scrapper checked himself out in the medical bay, and so he must be fine... or the sensors just can't pick up the leeches. He's going to assume that he's okay, but still... solidarity is comforting. So Scrapper tracks down his brothers, and after much looking, he finds them here.

"Oh sure" Hook replies to Mixmaster after giving Scavenger a blank look. He wasn't joking.

Long Haul shakes his head and tilts his optic band ceilingward. Oh, brother. The transporter may have the worse damned job in the Empire, but at least he can always say that he is not the goober Scavenger is. He looks back down at the console and jabs a button to reactivate the drone on a higher level before glancing up at Mixmaster and grunting slightly before nodding. "Yuh," he allows. And then Scrapper arrives and at first he dismisses his brother before he remembers something. The transporter sighs, stands at attention, and offers Scrapper a proper Decepticon salute. "Greetings, Commander," he grumbles before going about his business.

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

Scrapper just guhs, stopping dead in his tracks, shovel tilted with disbelief. Did Long Haul just salute him and call him 'Commander'? Or have the leeches eaten into his visual processors and caused him to experience oddly realistic hallucinations? Optic band narrowed, Scrapper static-coughs and inquires, "Long Haul... are you feeling all right there?"

<Guests> Earthscorch says, "I think I know who G1 is!"

+gtalk Yes.

<Constructicons> Scrapper says, "Yes."

<Public> Lord of the Geeks Foxfire hides from Jazz.

Mixmaster gives Long Haul something of a funny look at the salute. "And what about the CAPTAIN in the room, hm?" He mutters. Obviously he's going to have to remind them all about how he's a Executi.. I mean Captain. "I AM a captain, you know." There, he just did.

<Guests> Guest hugs Foxfire.

<Guests> Jungle Empress Foxfire fwees!

<Guests> Bleached Heatherbeast, Guest1 has not played here, Soundwave.  I don't know if there's any real point of reference that I can give you.

<Guests> Earthscorch says, "Such nice friendly guests."

"Commander?" Hook says, looking around. That's odd. No Shockwave or Cyclonus or whatever. There's only... Scrapper? Hook gives a little chuckle, the kind he uses when he thinks something is funny even though it's quite blatantly not. "Careful Long Haul, I think you've got a little exhaust dust on your nose there."

<Guests> Bleached Heatherbeast, Guest1 does intend to eventually play here.  Eventually.

<Guests> Guest says, "Why, thank you, Earthscorch."

"Tell y'what, Mix," Long Haul answers before plodding back over to the drone and pulling his fist back, ready to deliver another punch. "You get Shockwave to insult you in fronta the entire fragging Decepticon military, an' I'll start salutin' you, too." He punches, then adds, "An' I doan' HAVE a nose, Hook."

Long Haul strikes Training Drone with Take That, Drone!.

Training Drone emits, "8 points of damage done."

Training Drone strikes Long Haul with cannon.

OMG TWINKY DRONE

Scrapper stares at Long Haul for a while and then glares at Mixmaster and Hook in turn. His salute! They don't get a piece of that! He mumbles, "Um, well... that's a nice gesture, Long Haul."

Mixmaster hmfs. "Well maybe I WILL do that!" he says, indignantly. He can't help but chuckle at Hook's comment, as atomically inaccurate as it is. "Perhaps we should build you one, brother. You would start realising why the rest of us don't like hanging around Blot so much."

Long Haul is blasted hard in the chestplate by the drone's cannon, sim-cracking armor and sim-frying circuitry as he's sent flying backwards. The transporter stays in his spot against the wall for a moment, not stirring, before he looks up at the drone and says cheerfully, "Tha's more like it!" Then he turns and looks at Mixmaster. "I can not like hangin' out with Blot withouta nose jus' fine, thanks."

"Actually, Long Haul does possess nasal sensors" Hook says, idly correcting Mixmaster. "The units are built into his faceplate. I believe his particular design was an attempt to add more durability to what is traditionally a weak point in Cybertronian armor, though of course it is hard to verify this without access to.. say...Vector Sigma." Hook idly watches Long Haul get blasted across the room.

"So Long Haul has a superior design in his facial structure?" Mixmaster huffs indignantly. Then he smirks and makes his way towards Hook. He levels an index finger directly at Hook's own 'nose'. "Superior than YOURS?"

"Z'not as sensitve, but you doan' see my face cracking open, either." Long Haul pulls himself up and heads back to the drone. "I'm heavy transport. I needa be tough and durable, doan' needa be able to stop an' smell the morphabots or whatever." He cocks his head for a moment as he considers his 'opponent,' shrugs, and pulls out his peashooter instead.

Hook raises one optic ridge. "Not at all" he replies, unruffled. "While his minimalist faceplate design is more resistant to damage, it is less emotive than our own, more traditional designs. You must have noticed his frustration and surliness in social situations. No doubt this is in part to the fact that he has trouble making himself understood without the benefit of visible expressions. Also, while he does indeed have nasal sensors, ours are more efficient due to the streamlined intake valves. Also, our voices will carry further in atmosphere with less effort, and make it easier to injest energon."

Long Haul misses Training Drone with his Pathetic Laser attack.

Training Drone strikes Long Haul with plasma.

Scrapper snorts at the topic shifts to noses, the benefit of, and the lack thereof. He himself looks like he has a nose, but most of what would be his nose vanishes under his mask. Worst of two worlds! Scrapper muses, "One wonders what our designer was thinking..." Then he pauses. Ooh. Origin. Not a good topic, Scrapper!

Mixmaster's optics narrow. "I thought it was because he was fed up with you always telling him what t-- I mean sure, his smooth face, yeah." Nice save. He raises his hand up and pokes his thumb in the direction of his other mouth-less brothers, even Scavenger, who never really left. "So you're saying that we can consume energon better than these guys?" He honestly never really considered that. "So why am I always giving them the good stuff from my batch if they can't appreciate it?"

Hook glances sideways at Scrapper. Dangerous line of inquiry that. "They /can/ appreciate it, Mixmaster" Hook replies. "However, we can consume more energon in a quicker time, should we choose to. In effect, we can "guzzle" with ease, while they have more difficulty. But since good energon should be savoured, this is hardly a drawback."

Mixmaster smirks. "And pink paint and road cones? Do they get savoured too?"

"Because it takes ferever for the normal stuff to do much to me, an' you like seein' your brothers drunk?" Long Haul asks, glancing back at his brother, the distraction enough to allow the drone to hit him square on the shoulder, the plasma searing off the pain that's there. "Hey! He shouts before turning around and firing again, weapon on a lower setting this time."

Long Haul strikes Training Drone with Pathetic Laser <Low>.

Training Drone emits, "7 points of damage done."

Scrapper puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head up a bit. "Are you saying that you mouthies could outdrink us masked ones?" He glances over at Long Haul for back up. Origin crisis averted!

Hook siiiighs. Not /this/ again. He always ends up embarrasing himself when the Constructicons go on a bender. "In terms of volume, Scrapper, both myself and Mixmaster could injest more in a smaller period of time. However, each of us has different energon circulation systems, so the amount of energon our frames are able to take before overcharging and damage occurs is an entirely different matter."

"Not all the platies." Mixmaster says. "Just you. But I was talking about APPRECIATING the flavour and texture. Any swill can get you hammered, after all." SUre, they can get REALLY hammered on Mixy's stuff, but he's avoiding that point.

Long Haul is hit AGAIN by the drone, this time scorching his driver's cab. "Dammit, Scrapper!" he complains, blaming his brother for his own lack of ability to dodge. "I thought you fixed that!" He grumbles and steps back before deciding, well, if he's going to keep getting hit anyway, what the hell. Might as deliver a bit more damage while he's at it. The transporter transforms into dump-truck mode and goes roaring at the drone. "Eat this, fragger!"

Dump Truck <Long Haul> strikes Training Drone with Rigid Grill Structure.

Training Drone emits, "19 points of damage done."

Training Drone strikes Dump Truck <Long Haul> with cannon.

Scrapper crosses his arms and taps his fingers of one hand against one upper arm. Then, he's distracted by Long Haul whining, which is so common that he shouldn't be distracted by it anymore. That's life. "I did fix it! Perhaps you broke it when I wasn't looking? The cave-in and leech did a number on you, after all."

Mixmaster mutters quietly to Hook. "He's talking to the drone again..."

Hook asides back. "I know. But to be fair, it doesn't have a face either."

"I DOAN' WANNA TALK ABOUT THE CAVE-IN!!" Long Haul roars as he takes a cannon shot in the bed, causing him to loose control of his driving and careen into the wall. Because Mixmaster and Hook are muttering, he certainly can't make out what they're saying, and thus has no response to them. He brings his rockets on-line and then fires them at the drone, saying nothing else as he does.

Dump Truck <Long Haul> misses Training Drone with his Rocket attack.

Training Drone misses Dump Truck <Long Haul> with its blow attack.

"So he's just going to talk to anything with no face like him?" Mixy responds.

Hook hms. "Well I'm no psychologist, but I could see how he would empathise more with something that had the same level of expressions that he has. And have you noticed that he seems to like Scrapper more than us? It's the faceplate."

Mixmaster shrugs. "At least he won't be complaining to us.."

Or maybe it is because Scrapper is slightly less of a jerk than his be-faced brothers most of the time, although that's debateable. But what Scrapper insists is, "Nah, he digs the purple wing. Lack of face has nothing to do with it."

Dump Truck <Long Haul> transforms just in time to dive out of the way of the drone's latest attack before standing somewhat painfully and turning toward his brothers. "I'm right here, y'know!" he booms angrily. "Y'doan' have t'keep talkin' 'bout me like I'm not inna room!"

Mixmaster turns at Long Haul, surprised that he could overhear his muttering to Hook. "Obviously the design does something for the ability to receive audio input.."

Hook shrugs. "None of us have visable audial equipment" he replies. "Few do."

Scrapper comments absently, "We could get antennae." Okay, he just has antennae on the ol' mainframe, because he wanted to make a pointer out of an antenna. It'd be swishy!

Long Haul stomps over and half-heartedly attempts to cuff Mixmaster with the back of his hand, although the toll taken by his damage means that even a simple action like this is difficult to coordinate. "I just SAID quit talkin' bout me like I'm not here!" he growls. And for the record, he wasn't sure about most of what was being said before that, but could make out just enough to realize it was about him. Besides, why else would they bother muttering? Not to mention the constant glancing over at him... Long Haul may be dim, but sometimes things even get through his thick cranial armor.

Long Haul strikes Mixmaster with Backhand.

Hook takes a step back as Long Haul backhands his brother. "Well, unless any of you need me to build you a nose.. or a /new/ nose, perhaps, in Mixmaster's case, I shall go and check if Scavenger has found my hydraulic wrench set yet." Hook smirks. This does look entertaining, but he truly does have work to do.

But the other Constructicons might have been plotting Long Haul's Creation Day party!

Hook has disconnected.

Not leaking likely. That would mean actually THINKING about Long Haul's creation.

Scrapper is unperturbed by Long Haul smacking Mixmaster. After all, that means that Long Haul isn't smacking him, and thus life is good. That sensation of leeches crawling around his insides has even started to fade!

Mixmaster was just about to say how AWESOME Long Haul was too. "I could have still talked like that if you were here!" Mixmaster snaps, making a perfectly valid point. To further prove his point, or perhaps just to get back for the slap on the face, he raises his foot and brings it down on his brother's chest. Well, hopefully.

Mixmaster strikes Long Haul with Cement Shoes.

More like up on Long Haul's chest. Which had already been torn open by cannon-shots earlier. He stumbles back several steps and then... sways a little bit. Thanks to multiple cannons and plasma-shots from the drone, he wasn't doing so hot to begin with, and by now looks like he's barely standing. "Well, I toldja not to!" Long Haul finally answers after shaking his head for a few moments to clear it before leaping at Mixmaster in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. No real attempt at causing damage here, it's just that the transporter wants to wipe any potential smug off his brother's face.

Long Haul misses Mixmaster with his grasp attack.

Long Haul slams into the wall behind Mixmaster instead, knocking himself out.

Long Haul falls to the ground unconscious.

Training Drone hovers over to Long Haul and revives it with a quick zap of energy. "You require additional training to defeat this unit at this skill level."

Mixmaster turns behind at his brother lying on the ground. "Well, I told ya I wasn't!!" He snaps. Not one to not kick someone when they're

Long Haul was just knocked out, and then zapped back into consciousness. He's still trying to bring his systems online, much less worry about making sense outta anything anyone says, when Mixmaster kicks him! And he didn't even hear what Mixmaster was saying. Long Haul swats weakly at Mixmaster but in the state he's in he can't really do any damage, so instead he just pulls himself upright, stumbles over to the console, and resets his damage mumbling incoherently the whole way.

Long Haul moves south to the IHQ Troop Hall.

Long Haul has left.

Long Haul arrives from the IHQ Troop Hall to the south.

Long Haul has arrived.

"Adequate olfactory senses, adquate ingestion system, superior hearing.." Mixmaster says to his brother. "And a faulty vocalizer. YOu're a true wonder of mecha-construct science, brother."

Scrapper just enjoys that Mixmaster kicked Long Haul instead of him. See, Scrapper does piss off people less than his brothers! Sometimes. On good days.

"I ain' designed to smell good, Mix," Long Haul snaps, leaving himself totally open to attack without realizing it, "An' I can drink jus' fine, thanks." The transporter crosses his arms and leans against the wall, head tilted so that he seems to be looking at some spot on the floor several robofeet away from him. "Mebbe you missed it when I mentioned it before, but I'm designed to be tough, an' strong, an' durable, an' I do that jus' fine."

Mixmaster looks at the slight imprint Long Haul made on the wall. "Durable. Right. And Oh-So Graceful."

"Well, y'ken blame Scrapper for that," Long Haul grunts. "I jus' had an upgrade that was SUPPOSED to do something about it," he grumbles, looking up to glower at Scrapper. Well, to stare at him, anyway. Glowering's pretty difficult without a face.

Scrapper excuses, "Well, he recently got beat up rather badly. Of course he's not on the top of his game." That, and Scrapper has absolutely no luck doing upgrades. Curses.

"So now it's Scrapper's fault you did that. Not your own for getting in a grump about something frivolous like being talked about." Mixmaster sighs.

"I was jus' talkin' in general!" Long Haul complains, uncrossin' his arms so he can throw his hands in the air. "Yor the one wantin' to make fun of how ungraceful I am an' stuff!" Then he stands up straight and jabs the index finger of his right hand in Scrapper's direction. "An' I told you I didn't wanna talk about the damned cave!"

Scrapper mimes brushing some dust off one arm absently. "Well, I don't particularly want to talk - or think - about it, either, but it may be the cause of your troubles."

Mixmaster decides he'd better leave, before things get carried away and Long Haul. But then, he doesn't want to make it easier for Scrapper OR Long Haul either. So as he goes, he sings a silly song to himself. The words to which are, "# Cave, cave, cavecavecave, cave caave caaaaaave...#"

Mixmaster has disconnected.

Long Haul looks after Mixmaster, head tilted slightly down like a bull about to charge as he wanders out singing a song obviously designed to push buttons. But truth be told, it wasn't the cave, or the leech, or the damage he took, that has Long Haul upset about what happened there, so just saying 'cave' is really going to annoy him because it's obvious that Mixmaster's doing it to be annoying, in a circular sort of logic. Then he looks over at his other mouthless brother and shrugs. "Whatever, Scrapper," he finally sighs, resigned. "Jus' lemmee know when to look in for the check-up, or whatever."

"I'll go get that scheduled. I'm sure I can bump up your maintenance exam or something," Scrapper says helpfully. That and, if he goes and does that, he can leave the training room before that Long Haul decides that Scrapper looks like a punching bag. Go Scrapper!

Long Haul moves south to the IHQ Troop Hall.

Long Haul has left.

You move east to the IHQ Officers Hall.