Dark Ages of Cybertron Wiki
Advertisement

October 21, 2011

Back To 2011 Logs

Hookshot Quickrazor

(Repair Campus, Polyhex)

---

With just a gentle hiss, the door permitting entrance into the repair campus glide open as Hookshot, donning his silver and black paintjob featuring stylistic gradients, moving away from the tawdry colours he usually sports. He walks through the spacious department until he comes to the main bay, peering in with his glowing white optics, and announcing his presence with a sharp stomp of his heel and saying in a projected voice, but not one necessarily raised or bellowing, "Hookshot reporting for maintenance!"

Quickrazor looks up from his datapad and stares. "Sparkles...what the /Pit/ did you do to your paintjob?" His optics cycle with amusement- it's evident that Quickrazor is in a really good mood, and as such is willing to put up with the glider's antics.

Hookshot grins broadly and walks over to where Quickrazor his, glancing at the datapad in his hand before bringing his optics up to meet those of the chief medical officers. "Toned it down somewhat, but still styling. As you can see, this is no standard paintjob, with even gradients from back to silver, and only the most subtle glitter in the outter coat," Hookshot says, sweeping his hand down the length of his trim body. "Now then, shall we get down to business?" He glances around to see if anyone besides drones is within hearing range, and then looks back at Quickrazor.

Quickrazor nods. "Any particular problems you've been having, /other/ than an obviously cracked processor?" He's teasing, a little, as he lays the pad face-down on his desk.

Hookshot brings up his hands, palms facing upwards as he feigns a languished expression. "None but a broken spark, you see, for I have been assigned out of Polyhex for a duration, and shall be missing my beloved Knifepoint!" He then drops his hands, letting them hang limp as his sides, while simultaneously drooping his head and sagging his shoulders. "Such... agony..." he mutters in a shaky tone. After a pause he straightens up, lifting his head and staring at Quickrazor with a more sober expression. "No complaints. I just need to make sure everything is in optimal condition before I leave for an extended interval, where I will not have the pleasure of coming to you, my belovedly cantankerous CMO, for regular tune-ups."

Quickrazor snorts, flickering his optics with slight exasperation. "Very well, Sparkles, up onto the berth. And sit still, for the love of Primus. You'll survive being away from your...partner, I'm sure." He stands, then, his optics cycling to diagnostic mode.

Hookshot briskly hops onto the berth, sitting there and swinging his legs playfully a few times before letting them just hang over the edge, watching Quickrazor keenly. "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm stay still... I SUPPOSE I could do that, but only for unrequitted love's sake."

Quickrazor eyes Hookshot, beginning the scan. This mech had love on the processor. "Unrequited? I was certain he returned your attentions."

Hookshot shakes his head. "Ah, I DO love Knifepoint and he returns it; it's his love that warms my circuits after your rejection." He is quite still, other than his vocoder of course. "If he knew, though, he would be livid, for his hate for you is strong, perhaps stronger than his love for me... and such a thing is dangerous." He then smiles. "On another note, I hope you studies my schematics in my file after our last little encounter. Medics either loathe or love working on me due to my, ah, custom build."

Quickrazor continues the scan, noting that Hookshot's build is indeed rather unique. "You're not my type, Hookshot...sorry to break your spark." It's clear that he's anything /but/ sorry. "The fact that your beloved wants me publically offlined doesn't precisely comfort me, either. Why are you /really/ here, glider?" He's found no anomalies as of yet- apparently Hookshot takes rather good care of himself.

Hookshot smiles. "Like I said, I need a seal of approval for health before I can leave on assignment, and then you will be rid of me for a time," Hookshot responds, smiling, but his tone sounds very serious. "I can not have any unforseen complications on my assignment, especially since I'd likely be at the mercy of other medics, and... well... they may learn too much and that would lead to disaster." He glances around the area once more. "I am a spy after all."

Quickrazor stops and his optics flare. "You'd best be on the /right/ side, then. I have no love for traitors." Quickrazor resolved to watch this one more closely. He forces himself to continue the rather simple and routine check, making mental notes in Hookshot's personal file. "Looks good so far, Sparkles, but I suggest replacing that wing joint sometime within the next few decaorn. I don't have the part now."

Hookshot raises his optic ridges. "Ha ha ha.... of course I am on the right side. I'm on the winning side. That's all that matters isn't it? And I doubly hope that YOU are on the right side," he narrows his optics somewhat, "because you are also in MY crosshairs." He idly brgins up a hand to his shoulder. "Don't worry about parts, getting the right parts for me can sometimes get expensive, but I have connections and resources that stretche beyond Polyhex."

Quickrazor snorts. "My loyalty is to the Empire."

Hookshot nods his head. "Good, good, then we both have no need for contention between us. Besides, who do you think REALLY exposed the traitors, particularily, she whose slot yu now fill?"

Quickrazor tilts his helm. "Everybot's claiming credit for that, it seems. Psykeout, you, probably Knifepoint as well...who actually did the deed? I suspect that it was by the work of all of you." Quickrazor scans all four limbs, noting no problems that he could find, and makes a notation to that effect in his medfile. "You're cleared for duty, that's for sure. I actually have word of glider-specific parts en route to Polyhex- if you failed to notice, I too require similar things." He twitches a stubby winglet, stretching a bit.

Hookshot shakes his head. "Well, believe what you want, but Soundwave and I know the truth." Hookshot stretches when he is cleared. "Well, yes, you aren't exactly one of the typical seeker models either. How soon do you think those parts will arrive here?"

Quickrazor shrugs. "I'm not certain- within the orn, most likely. Perhaps two." He pointedly ignores the comment about his model- only a few knew of his rather unique capabilities, and he preferred it that way.

Hookshot inclines his head. "Well I have some time yet to prepare before I leave. I will check back periodically while I am still in Polyhex, but I'll have to use other resources if they take too long. One way or the other, though, I get what I need," Hookshot smiles and slips off of the berth. "Well, it's been a pleasure. Thank you for your services."

Quickrazor nods. "Don't get slagged." It is a standard warning, given to almost everyone Quickrazor sent from his doors.

Hookshot smiles. "Actually, I am usually safest OUTSIDE of Polyhex. All my injuries are result of altercations with other Decepticons," Hookshot says, adding a chuckle to the end. He salutes, waves, AND bows before he heads out of the bay, chuckling at intermittent intervals, as if something had set off a chain reaction of humourous thoughts or recollections.

Quickrazor calls out, "Then you shouldn't torque off the wrong femme!" He begins cleaning the berth almost as if he expects a sudden influx of injured soldiers, when in fact he's likely to be sitting here with only a datapad for company.

Advertisement