You Keep Coming Up

[pharma]

Who: Drift, Ratchet, Pharma. Anyone else hanging around the clinic?
What: The reunion no one wanted.
Where: Red Alert's clinic
When: A day or two after Pharma's meeting with Tarn.
Warnings: Lots of bitchiness and angry and yelling.

Well. A nice little chat with Tarn was all very good and all (not really), but there was still a small manner of the fact that Pharma had no shelter, nothing to sustain himself, and still absolutely no idea what was going on. He's been making do finding small alcoves of rubble to recharge under, but he needed some place to settle down, if only temporarily.

He doesn't realize he's hit some semblance of a building until he's practically right in front of the entrance of it. He blinks, pressing one hand against it and just staring for a moment. This seems like good shelter, but... it was also probably inhabited already. After all, this place was hardly completely abandoned.

"I'm unarmed." It's the first thing he can think of saying in the off-chance that there's someone here as he steps through the entrance. After a moment, he shrugs and mutters to himself, "Although if you're the sort that shoots first and asks questions later, that doesn't really do much good, does it?"

Comments

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet swings into the main room of the clinic from a storage area, still a little awkward on his crutches but moving much more smoothly now.

"Don't know why you'd walk into a clinic expecting to get shot," he begins, then... stops. His optics pale and he looks sick, livid with more emotion than he even knows what to do with anymore.

"Ah," he says faintly, his voice breathless with soft static. "I see. That's why."

Beep boop sometime like a day or so after that chat with Ratchet

[lifepersists]

Living should have been getting easier, not harder. First Aid is in a constant state of agitation-- he shifts between irritability and crying. He can't sleep anymore -- not anymore -- and instead he shifts around the clinic aimlessly, almost useless.

Pharma's alive. He knows he shouldn't let it get to him, but it does. He feels cheated. All that stress and despair and it didn't amount for anything at all. He'd have to kill him -- again -- and that makes his spark throb in his chassis. He missed Pharma, but what he had become was monstrous.

He can't hole up in the clinic forever. A doctor who didn't tend to patients wasn't a doctor at all. There were larger threats looming over the clinic-- lack of supplies, the DJD. It seems like mechs were losing energon quicker than they could put it back into their frames.

First Aid has a gun at least. He keeps it magnetized to his hip as he takes out the rubbish, then vents softly and straps a pack over his shoulder before setting out into the streets. Scavenging was likely going to become something he was used to doing, especially just to get out and be somewhat useful.