The annoying jackboot led the team to a garage door.  The first to try the door was Steam.  When he got zapped to the ground Blowz was hardly surprised.  He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be annoyed.  The stupid bot hadn’t bothered to tell them the critical information.  Surely the computer had better sevants than this!  But seeing Steam zapped to the floor was funny.  Still, one should laugh at a fellow agent of the computer, so he stifled a smirk and stepped forward to do the job properly.

And got zapped to the floor himself for his troubles.  Zapping, it seemed, was one of those things that was far more humorous when it happened to someone else.  Sorta like walking into a glass door and spilling a big bowl of soylent green all over yourself.  Not that he’d done that of course, but he had seen other people do it.  He was not amused.  He was glad he had not laughed at Steam. 

After the stupid jackboot opened the door itself Blowz picked himself up from the floor and followed into everyone into the garage.  Once inside he beheld the all new friendliness hoverbot.  He liked the sound of friendly, but then the jackboot had seemed half friendly until it neglected to mention some rather crucial information.  Stupid bot.  He looked skeptically at the friendliness hoverbot.  “Anyzing ve neez zu kno vor getzing in ze bot?  Any codz or oder keyz ve needz zu avoid zapping?”  His question was intended for either bot. 

The group had a leader.  Perhaps he would fly the friendly skies.  For now, Blowz was ready to follow someone else through the opened door.  But it might work out well.  After all, the computer had chosen this transportation for them.   Perhaps it was time for a magic carpet ride.

Brighte followed along and came to the door a few seconds after those in front of him.  For a moment Brighte2 hd a moment fo fear that there would be some kind of laser guarding the door but that was just sily.  Why would friend computer put a laser on a door.  Sometimes Brighte2 wondered where his imagination came from.  Two team members got shocked atemptign to open teh door before the jackobot stepped in a provided the required information to the control panel.  Brighte2 did notice that the jackobot did not share the mission number with the team.  That bit of information along with the sarcasm and almost certain purposeful way in which it allowed two team members to be shocked made Brighte2 question its motives.  Was it really working for friend computer?  He woudl certainly need to keep an eye on this jackobot. 

Fuming enough internally, now, that it was likely starting to register on his externals, Ammpe stomped along behind the jackboot as it lead the team down yet another featureless corridor; this one ending at a blank door with a terminal set to one side.

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP," Jackie states, "the mission transportation is located in the garage through this door."

Steam reached for the door handle - and received a nasty electrical jolt that knocked him to the ground.

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP," Jackie spoke, "I apologize for the omission, superior troubleshooters. This door will only open to an individual that presents the mission number."

Ammpe drew in a long, deliberate breath and tried to keep from shaking his head in disbelief. He glanced at the stunned Steam, then, and almost smirked… See what happens when you put blind trust in robots even if they were sent by Friend Computer; bless his holy circuits… He lifted his hand to rub at the back of his neck, then, the smirk dissolving into something more of a scowl… And what’s this about a mission number? Were we given a mission number? I remember a Team number but not a…

“MAO-17859 Dot R-2,” he heard Blowz recite before he could even finish thinking the thought.

…OOOOOHHHHH!!! He winced as Blowz toppled to the ground next to Steam; That had to sting! You don’t get a smell like that if you’re holding back current. If you all would give a Team Leader time to think, maybe…

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP," the rustbuckobot prattled. "Clearly, my communication circuits have failed you, oh wise ones. MAO-17859 Dot R-2 is your team number. You must present your mission number. Please, allow me to deactivate the door."

…MAYBE I”D GET A CHANCE TO FINISH A THOUGHT THEN SPEAK AND WARN YOU OF STUPID MISTAKES YOU’RE ABOUT TO MAKE!!! Ammpe wasn’t entirely sure, now, that the ozone smell was coming solely from the air around him; in fact, he was pretty certain his brain had just fried in much the same fashion as Steam and Blowz. As Jackie moved to interface with the door, the PS clone pressed the palms of his hands tight against his ears and scrunched his eyes shut to keep any sparks, smoke, or smell resultant of his apparent power-shortage to escape…

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP, you may now proceed safely,” the bot buzzed, as Ammpe became convinced that his head hadn’t blown apart and nothing was leaking out of it, “I hope that no lasting harm has come to any of this esteemed team."

…Me too! Ammpe grumbled internally, letting go of his head and opening his eyes in order to follow along safely as Jackie lead them to the waiting transport. When they reached the obviously modified craft, he eyed it with no small amount of uncertainty. Sure, he thought, that looks completely safe and standard. I’m not sure I’d even know…

 "BING! Welcome, troubleshooters. I am the new, perfected Alpha-19.87b Friendliness Hoverbot. Please watch your step while boarding."

The door swings open, and the hoverbot sweetly speaks again. "BING! Welcome aboard. All mutants are traitors! If you are a traitor, please inform me so that we can reroute to the nearest confession booth."

"BING!" it continues. "Please designate a pilot for our journey."

…how to drive one of these… DAMMIT! STOP INTERRUPTING ME!!!

Scratching his head in thought, and knowing that he would likely fail miserably if he tried to pilot the craft, Ammpe gazed at the thing for a moment, then looked in turn at each of his teammates. Steam was an army clone, he determined, and army clones had experience in piloting dangerous vehicles, didn’t they? Sure they did! That makes sense! “As team leader,” he spat out as quickly as he could in hopes his thoughts wouldn’t be interrupted again, “I appoint Steam-R-LLR as our pilot!”

Steam woke up from his short nap with the taste of metal in his mouth and the hope that that nightmare of a mission had all been a dream. His eyes shot open then at the sound of a body hitting the ground next to him, and the all-too-common smell of burning clone reached his nostrils once more.

It was just Brighte.

He pushes himself wearily to his feet as the jackobot interfaces with the garage door himself and the door retracts.

Steam could have sworn he had been in a garage just like this only days ago, but everything before this morning now seemed like an eternity behind him. He wondered if this was because of all the trials he had had to endure with this makeshift team, or if it was some sort of consequence of the electrocution. That could very well be it. He was sure he saw wisps of smoke swirling out of Team Leader's ears as he passed him a moment ago, but that couldn't possibly have been real.

He took in the sight of the contraption they were to ride in to their next destination, and swallowed two more of his pills, praying to Friend Computer that they would kick in. If he started feeling any worse, he didn't know what he would do.

 "BING! Welcome, troubleshooters. I am the new, perfected Alpha-19.87b Friendliness Hoverbot. Please watch your step while boarding." A smirk returned to Steam's grizzled face. The Friendliness Hoverbot really did seem cheerful, much more pleasant than these neophytes.

"BING! Welcome aboard. All mutants are traitors! If you are a traitor, please inform me so that we can reroute to the nearest confession booth."

Steam raised his eyebrows and looked around at his team, waiting for someone to speak up.

No luck.

He took just one more pill for good measure.

"BING!" it continues. "Please designate a pilot for our journey."

Steam shot a look at Team Leader. He looked deep in thought and it seemed like the swirling smoke had come to a stop. Was he actually going to make one of his rare decisions? Or was he going to yell at Steam again because that was the only way he knew how to lead? Tch, he thought to himself, he better not pick himself to fly this beauty.

OOC: I am NPCing Artie for the time being, as Bud is unavailbale to play for a bit. 

----------------------------------------

Artie grinned at Jackie the jackobot's sense of humor; it was blatantly obvious that this sad group of unqualified Reds was nowhere near "superior" to such a long lived servant of Friend Computer.  Nor was it the fault of the ever logical robot that these trobleshooters were too stupid to follow simple instructions.  They KNEW that they didn't have a mission number, why try to sneak by with a team number?  Hopefully, they would learn the value of safe, predictable logic via electrical charge.

The Tech Services clone was less than enthused about the choice of the brash, loudmouthed military clone as the pilot; nobody had bothered to ask if Artie could drive (which he could).  But then, what did one really expect from such an impulsive, illogical group as this? 

Ah, well.  At least the Hoverbot was quite freind;y and helpful.  Artie was eager to try out this new conveyance.  If all went well, perhaps the streets would soon be filled with friendliness hoverbots as an upgrade over boring autocars!

"Come, let us board!" Artie exclaimed.  "How about another song to help with morale?  Hmmm, what rhymes with 'hoverbot', I wonder?" 

As Slipp watches the team get shocked. He hears his teammate mention a song for morale. "Artie, that sounds like an EXCELLENT idea!" 

Slipp bursts into a song to the tune of 99 bottles of beer on the wall. "99 hover bots driving around 99 hover bots driving! If one falls down while we're driving around..... 98 hover bots driving around!" Slipp highly encourages the rest of the team to join in by motioning with both of his hands and forces the rest of the team finish the song while we're driving around. From now on this will be an activity the team conducts the entire time the team drives around in a hover bot. (for morale and all that of course)

Boarding the Alpha-19.87b Friendliness Hoverbot proves to be a minor adventure in and of itself. Not only have the seats been removed, but of course, the seatbelts are also gone. After all, seatbelts with no seats would be inefficient, correct?

The six clones, plus one jackobot, do their best to find spots with something to hold on to. Poor Steam discovers that the opportunity to drive this thing will be particularly challenging - the controls consist of various levers, knobs, and buttons (all unmarked), as well as three pedals. Operating pedals without a seat will be an interesting proposal.

"BING!" the hoverbot intones in a sweet, helpful voice. "Ready to commence hover mode!"

Unfortunately, none of the controls seem to do anything at all.

"BEE-DEE-BEE-DEE-BEEP, superior human," Jackie suggests. "Perhaps you should ask the hoverbot for assistance instead of squandering valuable mission time? I am certain that Friend Computer would not approve of the waste of any resource."

Cheeks burning, Steam follows the suggestion.

"BING!" the hoverbot answers. "Engine startup is a voice command. Would you like to commence startup?"

At the nominal pilot's affirmative response, the four fans blades begin spinning with a horrible noise (though one starts much later than the other three, causing one corner of the hoverbot to droop alarmingly while the other three rise).

Steam grabs the levers, pulls slightly... nothing happens. A harder pull results in an abrupt lurch to the left, which in turn results in a wince-inducing scrape of metal against the parking garage wall.

"BING!" the hoverbot speaks. "For maximum saftey and ride enjoyment, please ensure adequate clearance before initiating turns."

Once the hoverbot is pointed in the apparently correct direction, Steam coerces it to move forward - again with a lurch that threatens to drop at least two clones over the side of the vehicle. Once moving, however, the coveyance *does* have an enjoyable, smooth ride.

"BING!" the hoverbot cheerfully intones. "Next stop, the PLC!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------

If anyone were to write an honest performance evaluation for the new, perfected Alpha-19.87b Friendliness Hoverbot, they would likely indicate that it both accelerates and decelerates in a smooth manner, and that the ride on straight paths is quite steady... even enjoyable.  Of the friendliness rating, one would have to objectively admit that this is, perhaps, the single freindliest bot that any of the Trobleshooters has ever had dealings with.

The controls, however, could use some serious adjustment. It would appear (much to Steam's dismay) that the left turn mechanism is easily twice as sensitive as the right turn mechanism, and that the vehicle lurches alarmingly when conducting any sort of turn.

This is first discovered after the armed forces clone is forced to nearly wrestle the vehicle around a right turn. Similar effort on a left turn has the hoverbot veering wildly into oncoming traffic, causing a teeth chattering crash with a streetsweeping bot.

The next complaint would likely be about the lack of both seating and restraints. It is quite difficult for anyone to maintain balance; even the most stoic of clones find themelves holding on with white knuckled intensity while the vehicle is in motion.

Ah, and the hover fans themselves... safety guards might indeed be appropriate. Said crash causes everyone to be tossed about, and both Slipp and Artie are launched completely out of the vehicle.

Slipp is fortunate enough to be thrown clear of the crash, and the greasy little man manages to tuck and roll enough to avoid truly serious harm (though standing up reveals a cracked rib or two to go along with various abraisions and contusions).

Artie, on the other hand, is not so lucky. The every cheerful, ever singing team Loyalty Officer produces some truly horrifying screams followed by choking, gurgling sounds as he falls, face up, into one of the unguarded hover fans. Some sort of safety protocol kicks in and stops the rotation of all fans after a good twenty to thirty seconds of chopping, but by that point, it is far too late to do anything for the minced clone.

At least the cessation of the blades stops any more blood and gore from being flung onto the surviving clones and/or the interior of the hoverbot.

"BING!" the hoverbot announces in its warm, feminine tone. "Standard event number six detected: one of the crew has unfortunately fallen to their deaths. Please stand by while a replacement clone is summoned."

At least the crash was with a streetsweeping bot. It efficiently begins to clean up the horrible mess while the team waits for the next incarnation of Artie-R-FCL.

"BING!" the hoverbot announces in its warm, feminine tone. "Standard event number six detected: one of the crew has unfortunately fallen to their deaths. Please stand by while a replacement clone is summoned."

As the vehicle settled down to allow a replacement clone to arrive, Blowz gradually released his death grip on the frindliness hoverbot.  He was no longer white knuckled, but it would be very wrong to say that he had let go.  Plus, at this point his knuckles were a bit too covered in little red bits of Artie to allow the expression 'white-knuckled' to apply.  Freckled was actually the description that crossed Blowz mind as bits of Artie crossed his vision.  It wasn't like this paint job hadn't been predicted.  As he held on he stared at the jackobot to see if it had been thrown around.  Perhaps the jackobot would offer a better handhold when the ride resumed then would the hoverbot itself.  

As they waited for the new clone Blowz said through still clenched teeth, "Friendliness bot.  Do you have any further instructions to aid our captain in controlling yourself?  Is there something he should know about how to turn?"  He had't even bothered with his accent.  He didn't want to risk the bot misunderstanding.  It seemed a foolish fear since the accent was awesome and perfect.  But sometimes these bots tended to forget to tell them things.  Perhaps this was why clones were superior, despite all the evidence to the contrary.  

When he was sure the machine had safely (??!!) settled to the ground he took the opportunity to wipe the Artie freckles from his face.  

"BING!" the hoverbot cheerfully intones. "Next stop, the PLC!"

S*** s*** s*** s*** s***, Steam growls silently to himself as the Friendliness Hoverbot careens forward, those pilots had made it look so easy. He continued attempting to emulate the motions and the coolness with which he had watched others conduct similar machines while also maintaining control of the off-balaced navigating system, but the two were hardly condusive. At one point he is nearly laying his entire weight onto the mechanism to turn right, then he must go left and proceeds to lay into that one as well. And then the s***, or rather Artie, hits the fan.

The left mechanism, as Steam finds out, requires nary a poke in order for it to turn. Thus, when he throws his weight into it, their hoverbot is thrust wildly into oncoming traffic and crashes into a streetsweeping bot. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Slipp flying wildly out of the vehicle, landing hard, but still in decent shape. Artie, however, makes it only as far as the hoverbots blades, and Steam is drenched in his blood by the time they come to a stop.

"BING!" the hoverbot announces in its warm, feminine tone. "Standard event number six detected: one of the crew has unfortunately fallen to their deaths. Please stand by while a replacement clone is summoned."

Ah, yes, standard event number six, Steam thought, standard event number eleven was his personal favorite, but standard event six could be pretty brutal.

The crew was quiet a moment as the dust and Artie particles settled, until finally he heard Blowz speak up from behind him, "Friendliness bot.  Do you have any further instructions to aid our captain in controlling yourself? Is there something he should know about how to turn?" Huh, no weird accent from creep-bot? Highly suspicious.

The thought of uncovering a commie bastard relaxed him a little as he stared down at his hands, still grasping desperately at the controls. He slowly unfurled his aching fingers and turned to the rest of his blood-soaked team, all looking as grateful not to have shared Artie's fate as he felt.

"Pilot, Loyalty Officer, not captain," at this point the distinction may not have seemed worthwhile to any of these civies, but any modicum of structure and organization was a goddamn blessing to the ragged soldier, "Anyone besides bloodstain over there hurt?" He looked out at the limping Slipp, "You gonna make it, Hygiene Officer?"

As the team, once again, found themselves stumbling into an encounter with ‘standard event #6,’ all Ammpe could manage was a rolling of his reddening eyes and a slow shake of his throbbing head. He also couldn’t help but wonder if Friend Computer was writing and maintaining it’s own Code or if, instead, in all it’s silicon-chipped wisdom, it was farming out that particular task to waste management clones or, perhaps, bots, for that matter. For once, he was grateful for the slow manner in which thoughts made their way from his mind to his mouth. If it was otherwise, he mused, glancing down at the pile of clone-slaw that was once Artie, I might have said that out loud and been shredded for treason, myself.

As the hoverbot, in expectation of yet another replacement clone, settles down somewhat gently, Ammpe swabs whatever bits of Artie there might be from his face and sighs (or was it a grumble?)… “By the time we actually get around to doing what we’re supposed to,” he drawls to no one in particular, “we’ll all be down to our last clone…” His gaze skims over the remaining members of his team, then, and he smirks mirthlessly. “…anyone else wanna recycle themselves while we’re waiting for Artie?”

The ride went just about as smoothly as Brighte2 expected.  That is to say it was horrible.  No seats or seatbelts me it difficult to remain inside the ride at all times.  When the inevitable happened and the was an accidental collision with a sweeper bot the unguarded fan blades that made Brighte2 nervous did an excellent job of mulching the unfortunate clone.  As they waited for a replacement clone he thought about how to raise morale.  "Since that went a bit less perfectly than could be hoped for, does anyone actually know how to drive one of these things?  Not that I expect it will result in a better outcome but just maybe it would result in less dead clones."

It takes approximately ten minutes for the next incarnation of Artie-R-FCL to arrive on scene, by which point the sweeperbot is essentially done with the task of cleaning the mess caused by the gruesome death of his predecessor. Naturally, traffic on the treet is now hopelessly snarled, but most of the citizens impacted appear to be infareds who have sense enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

Once the new clone arrives, the hoverbot responds. "BING!" it intones in that warm, friendly female voice. "Standard event six is resolved with the replacement of the dead clone. Transport may now resume."

Upon Steam's command, the fans whir back to life, causing a fine mist of blood (and a few assorted chunks of gore) to be tossed in and around the crew compartment as the hoverbot floats back into position.

Steam immediately discovers that the hoverbot's controls are no longer as responsive as they once were - presumably, this is a side effect of the crash. The bottom line is that the vehicle is now even more difficult to control.

Fortunately, The rest of the trip to the PLC goes without incident. Yes, the parking itself is an ordeal (it is possible that a motorbike might have been destroyed while maneuvering the hoverbot into a parking location, but who is really counting?), but soon enough, the fans stop spinning and the hoverbot lurches to a rest.

"BING!" the hoverbot chimes. "Production, Logistics and Commissary - we have arrived at our destination. Please watch your step when deboarding, and have a nice day!"

******************************

You step inside the PLC to find yourselves at the end of a very long line - at least forty clones of various colors stand in your way, awaiting their own turns. The vast majority of the clones in line are infareds and reds, though you do spot three oranges and one yellow.

To your right is a long table with at least fifty types of forms arranged in various stacks, and each of them bear reference numbers and notations more bizarre than the last. Fifteen to twenty plastic pens are chained to this table, though it would appear that none of them actually work.

Several ceiling mounted monitor-lasers keep a careful eye on the clones inside the PLC. From time to time, one will train on a clone, cuaing everyone around that individually to subtly shrink away from the person in question.

The line moves excruciatingly slow, taking at least ten complete minute-cycles for each clone in line before the line shifts forward.

Slipp gets in line with the rest of the crew and holds his chest in pain from the cracked ribs. Slipp decides he needs to take some pills to kill this pain. So Slipp takes the necessary amount of pills that is called for this type of injury. He then proceeds to take an extra dose just for good measure. Maybe a few other supplements for distress, PTSD and a few other ailments he can come with that might come as result for being thrown from a moving vehicle with four spinning blades. Once properly medicated he goes back to waiting for his teams turn in line.

They had arrived at the PLC.  Greatfully, Brighte2 disembarked the hovercraft.  He hoped they would not be reboarding it any time in the near future.  From the look of the crowd it was likely his wish was answered.  Turning to the jack-o-bot , "Well, we made it.  Now what?"  Perhaps the jack-o-bot had some way to skip the lines.   

“…anyone else wanna recycle themselves while we’re waiting for Artie?” Team Leader says with as much amusement as Steam feels, his feet sticking slightly to the floor of the Friendliness Hoverbot as he paces back and forth. With the exception of Slipp, still ambling to get back on, and of course Artie, everyone seems to be in no worse shape than when they first hopped on board. And that was saying something. That was really saying something. 

After a few more minutes of waiting, Brighte addresses the group, "Since that went a bit less perfectly than could be hoped for, does anyone actually know how to drive one of these things? Not that I expect it will result in a better outcome but just maybe it would result in less dead clones."

Before Steam's rage could truly boil this time though, the newest Artie arrives and everyone takes their places once more.

Ignoring Brighte for now, Steam re-takes the pilot mantle and once more careens them down the road. To his growing dismay, it has somehow become even more difficult to control. Friend Computer must have allowed him to try again though because it knew Steam was adaptabe, hardened by battle, and never one to give up so easily. He could not allow another accident delay, for the sake of effiency, he would not let it happen.

Blood dripped from his tongue as he bit down on it, weaving through the traffic, trying only, really to stay on the right side of the road.

At last, this time only one motorbike the victim of this ordeal, the fans slow and the Friendliness Hoverbot has landed.

Steam takes a moment ot wipe the sweat from his brow, and the blood from his chin, before he turns back to follow his team. None of these weak little bastards could have managed what he had done there. That's why he was Steam, the most trusted of Friend Computer, the only one who had been capable of moving this team along.

As he finishes the thought, they stop, parked at the end of an ecruciatingly long and slow line. He tries to see who is running the line. It seems very inefficient. Are any of these clones on a mission for Friend Computer? He doubted it.

Slipp is taking pill after pill beside him and still looking pretty badly injured. Steam looks over to Brighte, who is now pestering the jackobot, "Well, we made it.  Now what?" Now what? What's it f***ing look like? Steam glares between him and Slipp, wondering how much longer it will take for Brighte to shoot the Morale Officer in the head once again. By the looks of it, not long.

"Hey, Jackobot, how long is this supposed to take? Does Team Leader need to fill out any of those forms?" he asks, nodding his head to the form table.