if you pray to god for rain, don't you complain about the lightning

[asafepairofhands]

Who: Ratchet and YOU and also whoever else wants to set up threads in here
What: Ratchet's limping around on crutches, feel free to put yourself in the line of fire
Where: Red Alert's clinic
When: A little while after Drift is conscious
Warnings: YELLING? yelling probably


Well, it had been a few days and nobody had nearly died again so Ratchet starts to let himself relax a little.

Not much, mind--Drift and Nautica are still bedridden, if not critical, and there are people in and out all the time. This is completely ignoring the fact that Pharma and Tarn are wandering around out there somewhere, probably terrorizing the general populace or maiming things or doing whatever else psychotic killers do in their clearly abundant free time. Ratchet has no such luxury, and he works, maintaining the patients he already has on top of trying to handle anyone else who comes in the door. He's just not necessarily pleasant about it.

Comments

[candidcamerabot]

There's a bug running about the clinic - no wait, it's just a really small robot, come to investigate what's going on in here, since it has such frequent activity!

Don't worry, Ratchet, this one isn't in need of repair. Unless someone steps on him. Then Spy Shot would probably be a bit beyond repair.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet doesn't notice him for a bit--he's finally letting himself sit for a few minutes, sorting through the motley assortment of supplies they'd managed to find and setting aside things that are useable. He looks down when he registers something else in the room, going very still.

"Can I help you?" he asks, dry and guarded but polite.

[candidcamerabot]

He's been spotted! Not that he was trying not to be spotted, he's just... very small. He turns his attention to Ratchet, and answers succinctly, "No."

Then he waves in greeting, and says, "Hello."

open

[smarterthandad]

Val had gotten her more anti-social projects--which was to say weaponry--to the point where she was satisfied with her progress, so now she felt at liberty to turn her attention to things she had real interest in, like Cybertronian anatomy and physiology. Megatron had been useful enough, but he was just an intelligent lay...mech. It was time to visit the clinic and consult some domain specialists.

She'd programmed the circuitry in her bodysuit to talk to the city's giant doors, so now she could do things like mime palming the switch and have it actually work. The clinic door obligingly slid aside for her, and the little human in black and glowing green walked into the clinic, alert to but not worried about the possibility of being stepped on. She had a force field generator for that.

"Hello?" Val glanced around the room, gaze flicking quickly across everything yet missing nothing. Looked like it had been a busy few days on the medical front.

[asafepairofhands]

"Valeria," Ratchet says, twisting to look at her and... pausing, briefly, an extremely mild expression crossing his face. He hefts himself on his crutches and turns around properly, taking in the suit and leaning slightly to one side, considering.

"You appear to have been busy."

[smarterthandad]

"Not as busy as you." Val looked pointedly at where his leg wasn't, then back up to his face. "You okay?" she asked with genuine concern.

[milkruns]

After her conversation with Megatron, June's taken to exploring the clinic a bit more, hoping to learn something she might be able to use -- or occupy her time, at least, until she hears from Megatron again. The other Megatron. The one who's supposed to be taking care of Tarn.

She knows that Ratchet's working here, figures he must be in charge -- but June doesn't imagine it's the Ratchet she knows. She really hasn't encountered any different versions of people she knows here except for Optimus and Megatron -- and while Megatron is radically different from what she's used to, and Optimus has his differences too, but he's strangely familiar. June has no idea what to expect of whichever Ratchet this is.

June looks up and sees a one-legged Autobot limping her away, and although it's far from the same face, there's something distantly familiar about it, and June recognizes the medic's red and white, and while he might be missing a leg, he definitely works here.

"I'm sorry -- are you Ratchet?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet stops, his optics narrowing.

"I am," he says, looking curious as he clunks over to the counter she's standing on, a respectful distance away. The organics stuck here probably felt dwarfed enough--no need to loom. "Have we met?"

[milkruns]

"Not strictly speaking, no. But Megatron mentioned he's been working with you."

June was sort of surprised to hear that Megatron's interested in medicine at all -- she just wouldn't have guessed -- but it's sort of reassuring that he's putting time into that instead of...whatever turned Megatron into a war-mongering tyrant in the future.

"My name's June," she introduces herself matter-of-factly. She'd hold out a hand, but she figures Ratchet needs to be holding onto those crutches. (The size difference isn't a concern, Shockwave had shaken her hand no problem.) "I knew some Autobots back home, although talking to everyone else here I've come to understand that was a...different universe, I guess."

She eyes the space where Ratchet's missing leg ought to be with a concerned frown, and her expression darkens slightly. "Was that Tarn's doing?"

[phase6kindofbot]

If Ratchet's work takes him out the back door, he's going to find a bit of a surprise.

Well, a big surprise.

A very big, green and white surprise, lying stretched out on the opposite side of the road on a pile of rubble. Sixshot had been here a while already and seemed about ready to doze off again.

Admittedly, he had originally avoided most of these parts, ridden with Autobots as they were. But his aimless wanderings had taken him close to the clinic today and curiosity and boredom got the better of him. He hadn't seen First Aid since that day at the crater and there was a scent here that he suspected belonged to the young Megatron that Tarn had spoken of.

And Ratchet, of course, was here. It's been a while, hasn't it?

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet does go outside to set a pile of unusable parts and tools by the door, and stops when he sees Sixshot there, staring for a long, horrible second. He backs up a step, managing not to trip on the broken ground in his crutches, before he gathers his bearings and straightens up, his jaw clenching, and just turns around and heads for the door again. If Sixshot wasn't tearing the clinic apart, Ratchet isn't going to deal with it just now.

[whatbedsidemanners]

Not that he was maintaining them by himself, of course, as Red Alert was there too. Somehow she's managed to avoid being a part of the worst of the drama, and instead focused on keeping her head down and her patients alive. Considering how few of them there were, she wasn't entirely surprised that her medical clinic saw so much use.

"Have you slept?" She asked, her voice as curt and cold as usual as she glanced Ratchet over.

[asafepairofhands]

"Enough," Ratchet replies, nodding. He feels a little guilty--he's grown accustomed to maintaining a medibay almost by himself, with First Aid's habitual moping and Ambulon's... absence. Having another medic constantly present is throwing him a little, but the more he works with Red Alert the more he likes her, and her no-nonsense attitude is more refreshing than it is anything else. He doesn't stop cleaning the tools he's working on. "Have you run into Pharma yet? I figure I should warn you."

[lifepersists]

Overcoming depression was a huge hurdle, even when things were to be done. Seeing Trailcutter, alive and whole, had helped somewhat, but First Aid still was struggling to find his motivation when his head was full of his failures and the ghosts of all those who he couldn't save. For the most part, he just tried to keep out of Ratchet and Red Alert's way.

Even laying around recharging gets old eventually though, and First Aid eventually forces himself to participate in some semblance of usefulness. The clinic is filling up with more and more injured by the day.

He's gathering up trash to bring out when he bumps into Ratchet. He doesn't say anything, and instead First Aid just stares with disdain across the room at the crutch and the medic's missing leg. Stupid. So stupid.

[asafepairofhands]

"First Aid," Ratchet says, and he almost opens his mouth to say something about First Aid being kind enough to come in and help, but it dies in his throat, his optics dimming slightly.

"...I need to talk to you. Privately, please."

[warcorrespondent]

After the talk with Megatron, Aftermath makes a quiet change to his current routine. Instead of driving off in hunt of clues that might explain the emptiness of this world, he stays nearer now. In light of recent events, he was needed here instead of out in the empty urban wilderness anyways.

He needed to know more about what had happened. Megatron had already given him his piece, but it was always good to get as many sources of information on an event as possible. Perhaps it would help them predict what Tarn's next actions were.

Stepping cautiously into the clinic, the first person he sees is one of the very people he'd been hoping to talk with.

"Ah, hello," he greets. And because it never hurt to make sure, the old truck adds, "Are you Ratchet?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet turns when he hears his name, setting down the set of tools he was cleaning and sterilizing to eye Aftermath warily.

"Yeah," he says, jerking his chin up and taking firmer hold of his crutches to turn and face Aftermath properly. "Can I, uh. Help you with something?"

[taselikeabee]

Bumblebee mostly leans off to the side. Watching. Ratchet sure is being very... Ratchet. Despite everything, Bee does have a little grin.

"They say doctors make the worst patients."

Really, the old guy should slow down. Just a little. Hobbling around on that leg can't be good on him. Bee is a little concerned, but not so much that he is going to put himself out there. Ratchet might throw something at him and Bee doesn't need another scratch to add to his collection.

[asafepairofhands]

"Good thing I'm not a patient, then," Ratchet says peevishly, turning a baleful optic on Bumblebee. "We have bigger problems than Tarn busting in here, nearly ransacking the place while trying to make me perform surgery on him , then sawing my leg off when I refused. Surprisingly enough." His optics stray briefly to Drift's berth.

"I'm certainly not the worst off by a long shot. Anyway." He turns his attention back to Bee, looking him over critically. "How are you holding up?"

[system_dp]

You should go see a medic. Such odd advice that quite a few people have given Miria since she's been on this planet. So here she was, outside what she was guessing is the medical facility, standing at the door and...

Not quiet sure what to do. Does she just go in? Should she knock? Or announce that she's here? This is something she has no knowledge of, but she'll follow the procedure she knows from home. Which is to ask permission to enter the repair bay.

"... This Unit is requesting permission to enter the premises." It's said loudly, so hopefully someone inside hears her. If not she'll be standing in front of the door for a long time until someone shows up.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet hears that and shift,s looking up from his work to stare a little.

He doesn't keep her waiting long, though. "Permission... granted?" he hazards, sounding bemused. "Can I help you?"

[tomemyoutliers]

Medicine might not be his speciality - he doesn't have the hands for it - but Shockwave has a passing interest in it regardless. Purely scientific, but if he's going to be stuck here he might as well see what they need and what he can create. They are all in this together, after all.

A simple knock on the wall next to the door before he sticks his head inside, "Hello? Optimus mentioned that someone had started a clinic and I--" And then his smile widens into a grin. "Ratchet!"

There's a face he's seen recently. But perhaps not so recently as Ratchet had seen his.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet goes completely still. He knows that voice--he didn't know Shockwave well, before... everything, but he's hardly likely to forget. He takes a tighter grip on his crutches and turns, struggling to control his expression.

"Senator," he says, his voice colorless and his optics slightly wide, straightening.

SORRY IM LATE DOC

[towardspeace]

The repairs Megatron needs after his face-off with Tarn are relatively minor. That's not to say he doesn't need them – he's come in limping, and with one optic cracked and sparking, and there are numerous dents in his plating – but at least he doesn't need any of his limbs reattached this time.

The same cannot, of course, be said for Ratchet.

Megatron raises an eyebrow as he looks down at the conspicuous absence of leg. Obviously it's not new to him, he was in here before, to see Drift, but he didn't really get the chance to remark on it.

"When are you planning on having that reattached, Doctor?"

UD BETTER BE WOW

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet looks up from what he's doing to take in Megatron's battered state, letting his lip curl slowly. He leans down and scoops a twisted mess of wires and half-stripped plating out of a box labeled 'spares' and thunks it down on the table. It's only recognizable as what used to be a leg after a few moments' scrutiny, once the deep, crumpled indentations made by Tarn's fingers around the knee joint are identifiable as a hand print to bring the rest into focus. Some of the plating is missing from the upper thigh, and a few wires have been cut, stripped, or removed entirely with what is clearly surgical precision.

"Oh, I don't know," Ratchet says, his voice chill poison as he turns back to his other project to pack it up, apparently in no particular hurry despite Megatron's injuries. "You're the one who wanted to be a medic. Why don't you tell me when that," he jerks his chin at the mangled remains of his limb, "will be loadbearing again."