Scene #8702: Artillery and Torpedoes

Owner	Pose
Combaticon	The Shrine's combat area has been commendeered by a-- well, a boat. The field is open ocean with no bothersome terrain, just the gentle rolling of waves and the blue-and-white seacraft slicing across them. In a shower of spray, the boat swerves sharply to the left, then weaves again to the right, accelerating suddenly to top speed. Quite suddenly the boat swerves again and this time uses it as a braking maneuver, swinging around to halt itself. The hull splits along the centerline and, in a motion that also reduces it in size, the craft compresses and folds itself up into a human figure mid-frontflip. Depthcharge lands on the water's surface, sinking up to her knees without much care for it. Rather, she pulls up a holographic clipboard, fixing crimson eyes on data feeds with a slight frown on her metal face, "Acceptable, acceptable... Within tolerances... Further adjustment needed... within tolerances..." Seems to be occupied with her mobility testing for the moment.
Wisconsin	FOB Bravo is a long way away from here by actual travel, but one of those fancy artificial warp gates leads right to the Dorado, and that means it's a quick jaunt for several of the Eagle Union girls. Wisconsin and her crew are ostensibly here to watch, but, well. There's ocean in the Shrine fields today, and that is just... peachy. Two of the destroyers hop out of their overcoats and PT gear, manifesting their rigs and sort of just... start tooling around on the water, stretching out, as Wisconsin leans on a perch over the top of the waves. "You girls, don't bother the nice lady." A green haired girl makes a face back up at Wisconsin, and blehs. "We're just getting some stretches in, boss!" Wisky rolls her eyes and puts her aviators back on, as she Observes.
Combaticon	There are a pair of robots in the stands. One mostly black with red glass and gray accents, rotor blades protruding off her back like wings; Vortex has her legs perched on the seat int he row in front of her, eyes dimmed as if asleep. The other, blue and blue-green with a tall headpiece like a military cap; Onslaught reads something off a tablet. His posture shifts just enough to reveal one crimson eye from under the bill of his cap in order to regard Wisconsin and her destroyers. Once assessed, he returns to his reading. Out on the water, Depthcharge's gaze lifts from her readouts, that frown deepening, "This time was properly reserved." Her right forearm splits open, hand swinging back. In the same motion, a twin-barreled cannon slots forward in its place, "My next stage is weapons testing. Are you volunteering as targets?" A mask flips closed on her face, leaving only her eyes visible behind protective glass, "You do not scan as organics, but you are not robots either. Most curious." "Depthcharge," Onslaught states without looking up, "Concord allies. Task Force Bravo. Try not to start an interdimensional incident."
Wisconsin	The green haired destroyer and her white haired sister mildly panic at the idea of being targets for weapons fire, before Wisky waves her hand. "Hey hey now, peace, sister they don't mean harm. Chew, Cole, come on. Let the nice lady-" The calm direction from the other crowd of Decepticons gets the big lady to relax, before she straightens up. "That's right, Task Force Bravo, with the Eagle Union. Sailing for better seas for the Azur Lane." She salutes a little lazily, before she goes back to leaning. "That's right, we're ships! And girls. A little of both, but definitely ships. I'd say it's complicated but it's really not. ...Actually, girls, rigs out. Give 'em a show." The two girls salute a bit, and then a set of Wicke-class rigs slip into place around them. Not the... flashiest or biggest guns, but it's clear these two are not meant for slugging it out on the open water. The green haired girl and her very similar looking sister cheer. "Chew and Cole, at your service!"
Combaticon	"Onslaught. Commander of the Armed Response Team, under the Decepticon Justice Division." the blue 'bot comments. He once again lifts his head just enough to see, gets that salute, and returns it in kind with two digits to the brim of his hat. "The young 'bot in stasis next to me is our air support specialist, Vortex. And on the field is..." "Depthcharge. Armed Response Team technical officer. " Her voice is a mix of icy and acidic, staring down the two destroyer girls when they show off their equipment. With the way her battle mask works, reading the expression in her eyes is all but impossible. "Aquatic molds. Interesting." Leaning forward slightly, she reaffirms, "Whether you are targets or not, my purpose here is testing."
Wisconsin	"See, there you go. Oh, right. I'm Wisconsin, USS Wisconsin. Battleship, ship of the line, all that. Buuuuuuut I'm guessing you knew that, Mr. Onslaught. My file data IS on record with the Concord." The dark haired woman rolls her shoulder, and adjusts her khaki hat, watching the pair of destroyers quake again at being called 'targets'. She suppresses a snicker, and then looks more seriously at Depthcharge. "...You're built for rapid aquatic response, but I was pretty sure your home planet didn't have much in the way of water. You an offworlder or something?" A keen eye rakes the field, and all of the Combaticons will feel the gentle ping of active sensors. Since, you know, the other side is peeking too. Chew and Cole, glance up at Wisky and then to Depthcharge, and then start to climb back up and out of the water, grumbling a bit to themselves. (...we never get to do anything fun.) (...people always bullyin' us.) (...we'll get to do exciting stuff too.)
Combaticon	"I make it a habit to be informed," Onslaught states in an even tone, tapping at his tablet, "Especially with regards to allies, it is useful to have some idea of what one can expect." He closes his screen, tucking it away and rising to his full two-meter height. Hands fold behind his back. Beside him, Vortex jolts slightly, one optic lighting up and glancing at him. Dimming again, she stretches with some metallic creaks while Onslaught approaches the railing to overlook the field more directly. "If your destroyers wish to remain and engage Depthcharge, I have no objection. This is a training simulator after all." "I am the result of my own modification," Depthcharge addresses Wisconsin's question. Her right arm flips around again, exchanging the cannon for a hand strictly so that she can fold her arms across her chestplate, "Aquatic molds are rare. Which makes them valuable in the appropriate situations. I saw a niche and I poured myself into it. As a result, my body is entirely custom made, you will find no other 'bot in my mold." "What got into her crankcase?" Vortex asks, rubbing the side of her face as she steps up to the railing, "Doesn't wanna share the deck?"
Wisconsin	Chew peeks a bit over her shoulder as she was just about to climb out of the water, and smiles brilliantly. "You hear that? We get to fight!" She shoves Cole back into the water, where the other girl tumbles on the surface, never quite touching the waves. "Okay, Miss Depthcharge, we'll give you some shots, but don't think we'll make it easy!" And just like that, their rigs are out once more, and the Shrine fills with the distant noises of turbines revving up to full power. The pair of girls give each other a HIGH-FIVE, before tearassing around Depthcharge, laying down smoke fields for cover before trying to even start firing at the Decepticon. Wisconsin, however, seems to have found her way over to the other side of the arena, and settles in next to Onslaught. "Nice to meet some fellow artificials around here, actually. Been a while. Lotsa organics in the Concord's channels." She conjures up a big old can of oxygenated kerosene, and pops the top to take a drink.
Combaticon	"Artificial or not, Onslaught's eyes remain on the field as Chew and Cole get moving, covering the artificial sea with smoke, "Your model is particularly human-coded. I do not imagine you having much trouble living among them without any concerns, if you chose to." "Wait a nanoclick; you're not organic?" Vortex leans around Onslaught to peer more closely at Wisconsin. The narrowing of her eyes is clear incredulity, "You definitely look it. Huh. Fooled me for sure." On the water, Depthcharge inclines her head, following first Chew, then Cole on the other side as they move to surround and smoke her out. With the smoke obscuring her, there's that distinctive metallic-electronic noise and her radar signature grows much larger. And then-- disappears. Underwater, a seacraft accelerates, ejecting explosives out of either side in pairs that float up and burst on the surface.
Wisconsin	Whisky waves her hand at the 'live among them' bit. "Honestly? Maybe? But I can never be what they are. I'm a warship, you know?" She sips on her kerosene, and then ruminates. "I'm not people, and that's fine. Organics break way too easily to do the job we do. That's why I'm here. Why the girls are here." The 'break too easily" is about ot be tested. "Chew! She did the thing with the changing!" "I heard, I heard, it'-" And that's about when the first wave of attacks comes, the reverse depthcharge crashing into the side of Chew as Cole manages to sneak away with just a buckled plate or two, her uniform getting rumpled and damp from the attack. Chew has to hew herself back up and out of the water, skating on her sea legs as she starts to pound the water with torpedoes. The small projectiles still read as full size armaments. On the other side, Cole lays down a similar pattern, before the pair of speedy escorts get back into their mutual dance on the water. "Light 'er up, girls, Woooooo!" ...oh no, she's a noisy lacrosse mom...
Combaticon	Underwater, Depthcharge dives further, though hydrophones pick up the telltale sound of torpedoes exploding, one after the other, one on the left and one on the right. Successfully pinned between the pair, her signature changes again. Underwater, Depthcharge transforms back into robot mode, trailing glowing pink fluid. Whirling in place, her right arm reshapes back into that twin-barreled cannon. Over her shoulder another weapon extends with four. While now presenting a far, far smaller target, she returns fire on Cole with paired bursts of bright purple laser light and Chew with a spray of autocannon slugs, both fired from below. "Organics can be resiliant, I have found," Onslaught dips his head slightly in stern thought, "...But that is hardly the majority. We Decepticons are more than aware of this from the war." Attention shifting slightly, he fixes a single optic on Wisconsin, "Some would say it was partnership with humans that gave Autobots the edge, at last. I am not certain I believe that. But. Here we are." Beside him, Vortex isn't going to let Wisconsin do all the cheering. She leans on the railing, raising her synthesized voice, "Get 'em, Depthcharge!"
Wisconsin	"It's okay honey, this is practice!" yells Wisky as poor Cole gets perforated by the twin laser blasts, her rigs rupturing with a crumple of metal, and she sorta... limps off towards the edge of the arena. Chew is used to the autocannon fire, though, and she's able to dodge and scoot her dancing way around the gunfire, at least long enough to angle herself and her rigging down into the water. "EAT IT!" She starts pounding the water with her 4-inchers, trying to suss out Depthcharge's position with simple artillery. Wisky sighs at that, and grumbles a bit. "I don't think that's going to work as well as you think it will, hinuknik!" Another sip of her kerosene, and she looks to Onslaught. "Maybe so. I know the humans made us to fight an extraworldly threat on our 'Verse, and I know some of the other branches even got some human Commanders. Bravo's just got us girls for now. And we're doing okay, if some of my girls didn't try to be... Silly."
Combaticon	The autocannons eject their magazines, empty metal housings sinking out of sight. Crimson eyes swing from the retreating Cole to the remaining Chew and the bursts of artillery blasting into the water's surface. She takes a moment to analyze the name to the era of weapons, then does a quick second of study. Crimson eyes narrow not in suspicion but in bemusement, flat across the entire upper arc of both optics. She twists, speeding aside and around, then ascending. A heartbeat later, the water bursts upwards behind Chew. From within the geyser, Depthcharge's hand grabs onto her rigging and lifts the little destroyer clean out of the water. With her other hand, the Decepticon grabs onto part of her kit, squeezes, and wrenches it off-- then shoves what she's holding into the girl's face. "These are depth charges!" the decepticon shrieks, "When your opponent is underwater, this is what you use!" Hauling up, she throws Chew aside, taking a moment to examine the canisters she tore off, "Primitive design. To be expected. But such a thing does not necessarily have to be complex to be effective." Splaying her fingers out, the ruined charges are dropped into the water at her feet. "Built to fight their battle, is it," Onslaught buzzes thoughtfully, tapping a digit against his faceplate, "So long as you are effective, there isn't much to critique." His optics lift to the field, "Aside from said 'silliness', of course. Training is about turning destruction into muscle memory. Not every 'bot is going to take to it so easily. Getting shot at from below must have thrown those two off considerably."
Wisconsin	And that's... pretty much the fight, really. Chew is grabbed and shrieks right back, mostly in fright, at the big giant robot who's got her by the rigging. She swivels her secondaries, really just flak guns, to plink shots off of Depthcharge, as her depth charges are POINTED OUT TO HER, and when she's dropped, she just sorta.... Cries. Wisky sighs, and rubs at her face. "And this is why we needed more time in the training, honestly. Don't mind them too much, they're new to the Task Force. Older models that had to get pressed into service." A wane smile, as she winks at Onslaught. "Sorta like me, ya know? But I've got a lot more field time than those two. Waaaaaay more." Wisconsin adjusts her hat, and then calls out, her voice klaxoning. "The girls yield, you got 'em!" and then back to her inside voice, "There's a reason those two are mostly home patrol girls. They're not ready for otherverse 'stuff'."
Combaticon	Depthcharge swivels where she stands, looming over Chew as the girl cries. Her posture shifts just enough to aim her arm weapon at the girl, the interior of the twin barrels glowing. Wisconsin calls it off and she clearly hears it. "That is enough, Depthcharge." Onslaught's voice is what finally gets the Decepticon to lower her weapon. The cannon barrels rotate back into her forearm and she looks--patently out of her depth about what to do with the destroyer girl. Eventually she settles on just-- lifting Chew up by the rigging again and, holding her at arm's length, carrying her to the side of the arena as one might carry something they distinctly do not want to touch. "They will get there eventually," Onslaught reassures Wisconsin, "It is better that young 'bots learn these sorts of lessons in a controlled environment." After a pause, he gestures, "As controlled as this is, anyway." "You did great!" Vortex calls out. "Stop nattering and take this from me!" Depthcharge barks back. Vortex doesn't move.
Wisconsin	And Wisky is there to collect Chew, hoisting her up and over into the stands, where the damage to her gear is already starting to undo itself. Thanks, Shrine. "It's okay, hakogija, you'll do better next time." She's patting at the escort's hair, as Cole shambles over, and flops onto one of the stands, staring at the ceiling. Wisky hand the other girl a can of coolant, and pats her hair too. "What did we learn today, girls?" Chew's still too shaken up to answer, but Cole manages. "...don't mess around with people who are more experienced than us." "Aaaaaaaaand?" "...let you or Miss Yorktown handle the big fights." Wisky sighs. "Nnoooooot quite but we'll work with that tonight."
Combaticon	"The lesson today is to remember what tools you have at your disposal." Depthcharge grumbles from the water. "Keeping a clear processor for tactical decision-making is key," Onslaught states, his hands folded behind his back once more. The way his mouthplate and hat brim frame his eyes makes his expression look like a scowl, but there's no hostility in his voice at least. "Excitement and Panic are more related than you might think. So try not to be so eager to fight." His eyes shift, glancing aside at Vortex, "In a real scenario, this sort of mistake could put you offline. We certainly do not want that." Vortex jolts, shooting at look at Onslaught, "Wait, why are you looking at me when you say that?" Throwing her arms out to either side, the younger 'bot objects, "I'm plenty careful! Primus, I'm not a protoform anymore!" The lady boatbot grouses, deploying a nozzle from the palm of one hand to spray down the other, "Stop acting like one, then." With a frustrated noise, Vortex hops upward and throws herself into a backflip. Mid-flip, she folds her arms and legs inward and expands in size, assuming the shape of a sleek black attack helicopter. Rotors whirling, she crosses the arena, dips through the exit, and ascends out of sight. Onslaught unfolds a hand, pinching the point where the two halves of his faceplate form a crease, his optics dimmed, "Why."