"Thank the computer!", Slipp thinks to himself. Slipp attempts to slip around the other side the doorway while at the same time smashing the red button again (since he's already there at the panel) with the hopes it will turn the damn thing off or at least he'll be on the other side of the door from the automatic defense system if it doesn't.

Steam grabbed his wrist in a moment of shock at being hit by the laser, taking a moment he didn't have to focus on the task at hand. He had lost his weapon, the laser was still looking for targets, he was wouned, his gun was on the ground, and his team was fleeing.

He shook himself out of his brief stun and shouted to his lagging teammates, "GO!" and kicked his gun out of the room ahead of him to avoid getting shot again by the the defense system.

With his good hand, Steam grabbed Team Leader by the scruff of their shirt and helped shove them out with him. If Ammpe wasn't a traitor, they were still a member of the team and necessary to complete Friend Computer's mission. If they really were a commie traitor, Steam would rather wring their neck himself than leave it to someone or something else.

Artie looks about whilst singing obediently, and sees the open door as an indication of the Computers will.

Artie goes like a go-bot through the doorway.

"Onward! What a day-cycle, the concrete under our red issue boot, corrugated tin walls at our side, ductwork and pipes overhead!"

"Steam, if your hand is less than 100% functional, the morale officer may be of loyal assistance. Quite an honor! And what loyalty, keeping your blaster with you in the circumstances!"

The Computer probably didn't want us the loaf about at that doorway.

For some reason, Ammpe was surprised when the Computer activated the defense system rather than opening the door… Well, he thought, that just doesn’t make sense. Why would it be the yellow button? Yellow is treasonous and… That thought, and whatever thought might have followed simply disappeared as the defense system’s lasers blasted him and sent him sprawling. For a long moment, nothing registered in his mind except for the rather confusing image of the room’s ceiling, occasionally streaked by a laser bolt or two.

Slowly, it seemed, his wits returned to him… there was shouting, and singing, and… “Ow,” he grumbled, finally with it enough to register that he’d been shot. He gave a slow shake of his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind and then, started to sit up. Since it had been Friend Computer’s defense system that had shot him, he couldn’t help but wonder if, when he made his report, that he should quantify this incident as Friendly Fire…

“GO!”

…Before he could finish pondering on the friendly fire bit and, also, before he managed to register the voice that had just shouted as Steam’s, Ammpe felt himself being hauled to his feet and shoved toward the now open doorway…

“Good idea,” he murmured, stumbling a bit in the direction he’d been flung, “good idea… Going.”

The firing laser cannon causes most of the team to take at least some sort of action - be that of running, dodging, heroically assisting others, trying to stop the shooting, or simply lying on the floor and playing dead.

Others, however, react far more sluggishly, as if the laser cannon were apparently a decoration, or, at worst, a distraction.

It is a given in Alpha Complex society that efficiency is something to be sought in all areas of life; waste - whether in resources, time, or effort - is something to be avoided. To do otherwise is treason.

As a result, modern targeting systems are a veritible model of efficiency. Consider, if you will, this yellow laser defense turret.

Presented with multiple threats, the targeting logic first elects to distribute the shots to mitigate any perceived threats.  Next, it attemps to distribute damage and weaken the resolve of the attacking force. However, when a wonderful target of opportunity presents itself - in this case, one clone that seems unconcerned with the severity of the situation - the algorhythm takes advantage of his positioning and lack of urgency to line up an extremely efficient shot.

The cannon swivels, hums, and fires again; this time, the shot will surely be analyzed (and lauded) by R&D. The beam penetrates the right temple of Bloz_R_UPP's head - just below the fuzzy red hat - and exits through the back of the skull, right at the dead (heh) center. 

The clone immediately collpases to the floor, where he does not even twitch.  Thanks to the cauterizing action of the laser, there is almost no mess whatsoever, in yet another testament to efficiency.

Slipp slaps the red button again, causing the feminine electronic voice to respond. 

At your service, citizen.  Automated defense system is already activated.  Multiple activations are not required.

Meanwhile, Steam is able to drag Ammpe to his feet, despite the military clone's own wound, and he shoves the team leader through the now opened door.  As the rest of the surviving members of the team rush through the opening, Steam kicks his pistol through the doorway.

Understandably, Steam did not notice the small chunk of Red reflec armor on the ground.  Truly, it isn't much to notice - around the size of a fingernail, this small piece of debris would not draw anyone's eye.  Truthfully, it should not even be here in the first place; some other unlucky Troubleshooter team apparently had a similar encounter with this laser cannon at some point in the past, but a treasonous HPD & MC clone assigned to janitorial duty apparently did a slipshod job and left this armor fragment behind. 

In normal circumstances, that fragment would mean nothing.  However, the recent drop of Steam's laser pistol apparently damaged the trigger mechanism, causing the weapon to fire far easier than normal.  And the kick caused the pistol to slip across this small chunk of debris, which just so happened to get caught inside of the trigger guard, which just so happened to wedge against the trigger itself with just enough force to cause the newly damaged device to fire.

Were it not so deadly serious, the unfolding chain of events might even have been considered humorous. 

Brighte made it through the doorway and stood up, secure in the knowledge that the yellow cannon could not possibly hit him.  At just about this time, Steam's laser inadvertantly misfired, striking the short clone at an angle in his left gluteal muscle. 

Fun fact - while red reflec armor generally provides reliable protection against red lasers, it does have the odd weak spot.  One of these is apparently located (at least in Brighte's case) in the gluteal cover of the suit. 

Being shot in the ass with a laser is actually far less humorous for the receiver than one might otherwise surmise.  The pain turns out to be quite excruciating as the small clone is pitched forward and to the ground from the impact.  Fortunately for Brighte, the shot came in at an angle; the entrance wound is towards the center of his body, the exit is at his hip.  The bone is only slightly charred - though this is the sort of injury that will certainly lead to a lasting limp if not treated.

Finally, the shooting comes to an end, and the survivors find themselves in what appears to be a relatively safe corridor marked "SWR Sector".

As you pause to catch your breath and assess the situation, Friend Computer's voice chimes from a crackly speaker somewhere in the ceiling.

"Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained a regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex."

The speaker falls silent.

   Brighte crawled out of the room and was relieved to be out of range of the auto-defense canon.  From out of nowhere, a stray red laser blast hit him in the rear.  Normally that would not be an issue as he had his red armor but apparently a traitor had made his and left an unfinished area in a rather inconvenient area.  "Well that really chaps my ass! he yelled in response to the pain.  Then he wondered if perhaps his armor was in facts chaps as that would explain the uncovered rear.  Was his ass really chapped or did the laser simply fry it?  Either way he could tell he need medical attention.  

Once the others were all on the relatively safe side of the door he confronted Steam.  "Looks like the red buton was not correct afterall.  Maybe a little less drawing of weapons on team-mates and lectures on treason and a little more thought might have saved my ass, your hand and Bloz's life.  Seems the computer is asking us to do things a little outside the normal blind faith realm. Now we need to find medical attention.  Don't you agree?"  

Moving close to Slipp he thanks him for risking pushing the yellow button.  As the morale officer he felt he shoudl say something about their fallen team-mate.  "Alas poor Bloz I new ye not well.  You can be proud in death for it was your work in R&D that likely allowed the laser to function with such precision.  Yours was a job well done and demonstrated the greatness of Friend Computer.  May the rest of us lead lives of such unselfish service."  He hoped that might raise spirits just a bit while they waited for the replacement clone.   

When Steam and Ammpe were clear of the room, Steam leaned against a wall to catch his breath, the smell of burnt flesh singeing his nostrils--whether from his arm, the dead body, or Brighte's ass, it was hard to say.

"Looks like the red buton was not correct after all," Brighte was now in his face, "Maybe a little less drawing of weapons on teammates and lectures on treason, and a little more thought might have saved my ass, your hand, and Blowz's life," Steam would have pointed out that Brighte was the only one around lecturing anyone, and that Team Leader was also injured, however the lecture continued, "Seems the computer is asking us to do things a little outside the normal blind faith realm. Now we need to find medical attention. Don't you agree?"

It was actually probably a good idea for Brighte not to seek medical attention, considering the difficulty they would have in differentiating his ass from his face. Alas, Steam could not get a word out, as Brighte had gone on to drone in someone else's face.

Steam looked in at the dead body as they awaited the next Blowz clone. Friend Computer does not make mistakes. If it wanted them to push the yellow button, they would have been given Yellow clearance. He didn't know why Friend Computer wanted to kill the first Blowz clone and wound him, though he could understand if the final result was to shoot Brighte in the ass the whole time. That was f***ing was hilarious.

He felt a heaviness come over him after the rush of adrenaline escaped, and gingerly pulled out one of his own vitamins to help push some of that heaviness away. He took inventory of everything he had on him. It wasn't much. He grabbed his gun with his good hand and knew as the equipment officer it would be his duty to ensure it worked properly in the future. He put the gun away and ripped off a part of his now burnt sleeve to ensure it would stay out of his wound and to perhaps wrap the wound. But first . . . 

"Oy, Officer Slipp-R-YEE, Hygiene Officer," he made his way to the bubbly clone, "can you have a look at this wound? Make sure I'm not gonna lose an arm to infection or anything? Everything look clean? Also maybe have a look at Team Leader when you get the chance. Thanks for that vitamin back there too, by the way."

Looks like our someone wasn't loyal enough. Or maybe they were - who gives a s**t. Artie doesn't have a tool to fix a laser disintegrated Red. Or a hand. Or a backside. 

Whence Brighte is done eulogizing, Artie applauds loudly and gives a "Hip-hip, hoo-ray!" in a show of morale. And loyalty. Always loyalty.

   "How long will we have to wait for a replacement clone?"

Artie wonders if we're being loyal enough... to fast? Too slow? Artie wants to get on with this mission. Artie looks around for a robot to repair in the meantime, perhaps he can be useful while we wait.

   "Steam, you know, I'm from Tech Services, I can give that laser blaster a once over."

In the meantime, Artie awaits the replacment clone with a song of happy obedience;

   "Send in the clones... there ought to be clones... well maybe, next year-cycle...."

This mission is going great!

Brighte had to stiffle a laugh.  Artie and his over the top loyalty was past annoying and into the realm of hilarious.  Maybe when Artie was done his song he would take a request for "another clone bites the dust"

After all the excitement comes to a halt and the computer gives new orders Slipp finally notices that the walls are starting to melt again. That means the supplements he took before he nearly got killed because his team can't press the correct button, are finally starting to kick in. Slipp looks his team over and sees the ones who weren't smart enough to not get shot and he decides this would be a great time to make sure everyone is spic and span.

While he's having to take care of his wounded comrades and having to wait on the replacement clone. He has no problem making sure everyone takes the whole time getting clean until the new clone arrives. Maybe next time they will not press the wrong button and try to get him shot.

"Ok everyone looks like you guys decided to go and get dirty and we've hardly even started the mission. Everyone line up and start getting clean. You know the drill. You'll be at peak cleanliness when I say you are so don't bother to ask. Cleanliness IS happiness and being dirty will make you unhappy and being unhappy is treason. You don't want everyone to think you're a traitor, now do you?" Until the clone arrives while everyone is getting hygienic Slipp will attend to the wounded.

Brighte did as Slipp asked and got ready to be made "clean".   He sort of wondered about the skills of a medic on "vitamins" but right now his hip hurt enough that he was willing to give it a try.  Beside, there didn't seem to be much of any of choice at the moment.  He hummed a little song in his head "Your not fully clean until you're Slipp fully clean"  He was not sure where that tune came from but it was catchy.  

Standing in the corridor just beyond the doorway, Ammpe gives his head one last shake to clear the cobwebs and blinks as slowly as he speaks as he surveys the scene once the lasers stop firing. Not the greatest of starts as a Team Leader, he muses, more than half of us injured in some way and one of us off to be recycled. Were he the truly treasonous sort, he might have questioned Friend Computer’s wisdom in selecting him for the role to begin with but, as it was, he could only bow to the Computer’s reason and wisdom in this matter…

"Attention, Troubleshooter team MAO-17859 Dot R-2. Sensors indicate that your team has sustained a regrettable casualty. Mission success relies upon a full strength team; please stand by as a replacement clone is activated and dispatched to your location.

Have an enjoyable day in Alpha Complex."

…Ammpe sighs, again, and shoves a hand through his static-spiked hair as Brighte and Steam have words and Artie begins to sing following Brighte’s impromptu eulogy of the fallen Blowz. “Squabbling among ourselves is not in the mission parameters,” he drawls in Brighte’s direction before glancing at Artie, “and singing is…” He stops, spends a moment contemplating, sighs again, and dips his head, “…good for morale, I suppose.

Well done, Team. Despite our missteps, here, Friend Computer has seen fit to let us continue. Let’s see to our wounds while we await the arrival of Blowz-2.”

At Slipp's request, everyone does their best to reach peak cleanliness.  However, this proves to be difficult; no one has a spare set of clothing, nor does anyone have much in the way of cleaning supplies on hand.  There is spit, but that only goes so far... fortunately, the bleeding done by lasers tends to be minimal, thanks to the cauterization of the wounds.  Still, there is no clone that can truly be considered "clean", even after their best efforts. 

This is obvious to everyone.  All five you you have treasonous apperances to some degree.

Meanwhilee, Friend Computer continues with expected efficiency as Blowz-R-UPP-2 is activated, force-marched into secret corridors, and sent on his way. Less than ten minutes after the "stand by" notice is given, a previously undetected door opens in a side wall, and the replacement clone steps out, glancing nervously over his shoulder at his Vulture Squad escorts. The Vulture Squad efficienty strips the body of Blowz-R-UPP-1 of his belongings, transfer them to clone number two, then grabs the body and retreats into the secret corridor.  The hidden door slides back into place, and once again, SWR sector is empty save Team MAO-17859 Dot R-2.

After the goons depart, the replacement clone seems rather cheerful at the developments, all things considered.  He proudly dons that fuzzy red hat and addresses the team. "Comrrrades!  Ees goot day for mission, da?  Enemies of de state haf no chance veeth us on de job!  Hy!"

A glance at your surroundings reveals a very dimly lit maze of corridors and pipes. Every junction is labelled numerically - but the labels appear to not be in any particular order. To confound things even more, quite a few of the numbered junctions contain letters and/or odd symbols mixed in with the numbers, which seem to only confuse the issue further.

A few moments after the replacement clone arrives, the blast door that seperated the team from the defense turret also slides shut - pitching you into darkness.

Sadly, no one is carrying a flashlight; surely, these will be distributed among the standard mission gear (which you have yet to receive). Ah, the fun of life in Alpha Complex...

Brighte watched as the dead clone was removed and now understood why culture teams were so named.  The new arrival gave greetings straight out of the party handbook.  There was no trade of individual thought in this one.  All seemed to be going fairly smoothly until the lights went out.  It seemed that friend Computer was into conserving energy again, something not done since the 70s.  "If we all get in a line behind the team leader and hold onto the clone in front of us we can at least stay together as we move blindly forward.  Always forward."

While on the Computer mandated down-period as they awaited the arrival of Blowz 2.0, Ammpe took a moment to assess his team. Very few of them, himself included, had escaped the room unscathed and the thought occurred to him (much like it must have occurred to Steam) that one or more of his underlings could be treasonous, commie mutoes… Could be all of them, he imagined, and that’s why the Computer chose to put me in charge… Maybe?... One hand rested on the hammer that hung from his belt while the other reached up to scratch thoughtfully at his chin… But to what end?

He didn’t have overly long to contemplate Friend Computer’s reasoning or wisdom, though, for, no sooner had the thoughts started to arrange themselves in his mental matrix than Blowz second clone appeared from behind a previously hidden door…  "Comrrrades!  Ees goot day for mission, da,” Blowz-R-Upp-2 greeted them, donning the fuzzy red hat that had been abandoned by his predecessor, “Enemies of de state haf no chance veeth us on de job!  Hy!"

Ammpe’s brow furrowed a bit… New vocoder in that model, it would seem, he thought, that’s not quite the voice I remember… Despite the curious “upgrade” to Blowz-2, Ammpe nodded a return greeting. “Da,” he returned, “a good day. Welcome, comrade. Speaking of on the job…” He motioned down the corridor. “…We should probably get back to it.”

With that, the team started, again, toward their destination and, for a few moments, all seemed to be going well. And then the lights went out. “Perfect,” Ammpe droned, coming to a halt and trying in vain to peer through the dark.

 "If we all get in a line behind the team leader,” Brighte’s voice came from the darkness, “and hold onto the clone in front of us we can at least stay together as we move blindly forward.  Always forward."

Unseen, Ammpe nodded again. “A good idea, comrade,” he said slowly, “but first, why don’t you give me a boost up so that I can check the power conduits? I am with Power Services, after all; it wouldn’t be treasonous for me to, at least, have a look and, maybe, get us some small bit of lighting back on line in order to light our way…”