step one: stop fighting robots

[wreckers]

Who: Verity and OPENish
Where: Autobot Clinic
When: Noooow??
What: The fallout of this
Warnings: Injuries, TBD.


[ Once she shook loose from Arcee, Verity bagged out. She was not inclined to trust anyone let alone someone closely associated with Prowl, on good terms or not, but she trusted Arcee to run interference long enough for her to clear out of there. Running away happened to be one of Verity's talents and one she took immediate advantage of when the opportunity presented itself. ]

Shit - shit.

[ Burning rubber screeched on the metal floor of the clinic followed by a loud crash when a disoriented Verity slammed into a nearby steel utility table; spilling all kinds of equipment onto the floor. The clinic was dark - of course it was, everyone was off getting stupid at that party at the forum. Verity swore louder as she staggered up and waved her arm wildly in front of a motion sensor near the doorframe that brought the lights back on.

I fucked up, was all Verity could think while stumbling through the clinic wildly searching for anything that looked human friendly. ]

Enough people on this rock they should have painkillers or someth- hnng.

[ Verity stopped near a minicon sized gurney. She pulled herself up and once she was sitting felt the full force of what a little scuffle with something rip snorting pissed off and over thirty feet tall did. The plates of her armor retracted back until she was down to her clothes. Stomach rolling as she took rapid shallow breaths close to hyperventilating, pulling her shirt up to find angry red and purple bruising covering her entire right side. She cringed, looking down to see the inflamed mess that was her foot that twisted awkwardly at the ankle.

Winded, Verity collapsed on her back. Leaving her armor in pieces around her on the ground as she tried to steady her breathing. ]

Comments

[wreckers]

"I hitched the wrong ride." Verity groaned with a sense of self-awareness how circumstances that threw her headlong into this war mirrored events that put her on this gurney.

Fighting through lethargy and the sharp smell and biting sting of antiseptic, Verity put the last several years of her life into a nutshell; from life as a wayward kid drifting up and down the southwest to her stint as a regular teenage astrogirl throwing her lot in with the Wreckers (skimming the details of Garrus-9 off the tops). Several times pausing to motion at Ratchet when he, in her words, pulled her ass out of the fire.

Verity fell quiet, her eyes drifting around the room as her head lolled against Ratchet's gentle but firm hold. She started to move against June cleaning the wound on her temple, becoming increasingly irritable with a slur creeping back into the growing incoherence of her word. When she had the room she jerked her arm forward, gripping Ratchet around one of his fingers. Somewhere along the line she connected 'head injury' to a name - Ironfist, and suddenly panic crept in and took hold.

"Ratchet," She was starting to shake with fever and throat bobbing, "If this gets worse...if this gets worse -" Knuckles bone white as she squeezed Ratchet's hand with all the strength left in her, "I need to tell you how to get into the on board smart system in the suit. The matrices I wrote to encrypt it - there's a code for it. To get the data to you."

[asafepairofhands]

"Verity..."

Ratchet hesitates for a long moment, looking grave and cradling her just a little more securely. He sees the mute terror in her eyes and connects it, grief and pain pressing a leaden weight down on the tops of his tanks.

"You're going to be okay, Verity," he says, very firmly. "You aren't going to have an aneurysm. You aren't going to die on this table. You are going to be fine." He holds her hand back in a delicate grip, his optics locked on her face. "But if you want to give me the code, I'll take it."