Bedside Manners

[whatbedsidemanners]

Who: Red Alert, Sentinel, and anyone
Where: Medical clinic somewhere in the city
When: Two weeks after arrival (Or whenever really)
What: Red Alert finds a medical clinic and works on getting it up and running
Warnings: Red Alert's bedside manners

The medical centre is in somewhat decent shape. She does have some problems though. For one, she's having trouble getting power to certain parts of the station. A medic she may be, but a technician she is not. Luckily, she manages to get some crucial machines working, but if anyone needs any surgical work done, then they're very much out of luck. Still, this is more than she had before, and she's quite pleased with the progress she's made.

She asked Sentinel to help her, and he did. In return, she fashions him a (semi)brand new hand. It isn't pretty, but it is functional. He's just have to be happy with that. Now, she really, really, really wants him to leave. To her credit, she at least tries to be subtle about it.

"That's all for today." She says, shortly after Sentinel had moved a piece of furniture from one side of the room to the other. "Now please leave."

Later on, after finally getting rid of Sentinel, Red Alert is found outside the clinic, trying hard to dislodge a piece of debris from what used to be a window. Sure, she could have Sentinel do that for her, but she had forgotten to ask him in her haste to get rid of him. Unfortunately, her small, thin frame is no match for the hunk of rock. That doesn't stop her from trying.

After that, she could be found indoors, doing whatever medics do when they don't have reckless idiots to scold.

Comments

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet watches a slimmer Cybertronian in medics red-and-white struggling to clear a window. He hesitates, not seeing a faction brand one way or the other, but... hell with it. There wasn't much of a point to worrying about that at home anymore, and it seemed even less useful here.

"Need a hand?" he asks, coming closer, still moving carefully in case she's hostile.

[quantumechanic]

One day Sentinel would give an order about something Nautica didn't agree with and they were going to have to have a chat about just exactly which Prime she answered to (ie, not him) but today was not that day. While having a fully functioning medical facility struck her as a good idea in general, apparently no one here felt any need to stay in one piece for more than a few days at a stretch, upgrading the clinic from merely useful to completely necessary.

Knocking on the door frame with a knuckle, she stuck her head through the clinic door. "Red Alert?"

Post baby fight (let's say a few days after the clinic opened)

[aminerproblem]

Megatron didn't follow Ratchet and Red Alert after they, thankfully, responded. It was all rather surreal after he fully realized the extent of the damage he'd inflicted on the Prime. There's no doubt he hated Sentinel. He despised him. But he was also unnerved at how easily a sworn enemy could be reduced to nearly lifeless torn metal. One well executed attack - and an entire Cybertronian life would be gone.

He didn't want to face that again, not yet, and thus did his well best to avoid the two doctors after they were occupied with his opponent. They would be busy anyway.

But as sturdy as he was, the years of the lack of maintenance and injuries from the fight were taking their toll. With his abdomen dented and blasted to hell, he would soon find warnings ping from the continued strain of travel. He couldn't keep going like this.

Resignedly, he uses the remainder of his energy to his way to the clinic, his already damaged frame low on energon from broken lines in the gunshot wounds of his arms and torso. He wasn't sure what to do with the tcog he'd sequestered from Sentinel, so he just kept it in a storage compartment. It was impossible to hide the fact that he clearly didn't want to be here, even through the blackened ash and scrapes on his face.

"Hello?"