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

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet's expression sours a little at that last, his optics dimming.

"No," he says, looking away. "I really don't think you could have. By the time we were a few weeks out, I could barely hold a glass, let alone fix anyone. 'Useless' is a pretty accurate descriptor, actually."

He looks down at his hands, at the chipped red paint, scuffed blue at the knuckles.

"These weren't originally mine. They're new--well. Gently used." His voice is full of a kind of of serrated humor, all turned inward. "I picked them up while I was out."

[asafepairofhands]

"I've been called a lot ruder," Ratchet says, sounding amused now. "We call ourselves 'Cybertronians,' for the record. But don't worry about it."

[system_dp]

"This Unit believes that loss of a limb is still considered an injury." Miria states plainly, sorry Ratchet that's not going to fly with her. And as he's unbuckling the plating on her arm she's going to also state.

"It must also lower your efficiency, lacking a limb."

Not that she would know about that. And don't mind her slight silence before a slow blink at the question of anything else wrong while she flexes her fingers.

"Oh yes. The Cybertronian Pipes wishes this Unit to see if it's systems are compatible with the subtance called 'Energon'. Pipes showed great distress at this Unit stating it would be fine in regards to fuel."

[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.

[tomemyoutliers]

A wave of his hand, dismissing the title. "Shockwave, please. There's no point to a title here is there?" On account of there being no Senate to speak of. But he smiles - the reaction not going unnoticed. But if Ratchet won't bring up the fate he's been so recently informed about, then Shockwave won't either.

Or at least until he sees the missing limb and his own eyes go wide. "What happened?" And why haven't you been working on getting it replaced?

[candidcamerabot]

Standing next to Ratchet's foot, Spy Shot stares up.

"Oh." He tilts his head curiously. "Like what?" It would be good to know so that he doesn't accidentally call somebody something rude. They might not be as understanding as Vera was those times he used bad words for her by accident.

[taselikeabee]

"I was more talking along the lines of emotional support or just having a friend close by," Bee amends.

That had been what he originally meant. Though now he has to wonder what Ratchet's talking about.

"So are you gonna tell me what happened that forced you to get shiny hands?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet bites down slowly on his tongue for a moment, dragging air into his vents before he lets it out in a warm, shaky rush. This gets easier every time he does it, somehow. Parts of it, anyway.

"Might as well, since he's here," Ratchet says, his voice oddly colorless. "His name's Pharma. Autobot medic. We went to school together." He stops briefly, optics sliding away. "He was stationed at Delphi, on Messatine. DJD territory. We found out he'd been killing patients to harvest organs for the DJD in exchange for them not murdering everyone inside wholesale, but eventually he figured he'd get caught and cooked a virus. Tried to kill everybody on the planet with it, only a few were left when Drift and Pipes and I showed up." Ratchet's optics stray to Drift's berth again, his mouth a thin line and his expression unreadable.

"We all caught it, I went after Pharma to get the antidote and knocked him most of the way off the roof, and he tried to shoot me to death. Drift somehow managed to haul the three-quarters rusted mess of himself up the ladder after us and chopped Pharma's hands off at the wrists right before he fired, let him fall. So I took them."

His optics flick back to Bee, a sort of brittle humor edging his mouth.

"So, what have you been up to?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet's lips thin.

"His name is Tarn," he says dryly. "He tried to force me to do surgery on him. We had a disagreement. I'd recommend avoiding him, if possible. He's not a great conversationalist."

[tomemyoutliers]

"Tarn-- as in the city?" Yeah, you're going to have to explain a bit more, Ratchet. Shockwave makes a contemplative sound, optics narrowing. "It's a clean cut - you either tidied up the wound or this 'Tarn' knows what he's doing."

Hence the whole.... 'avoiding him' thing. Shockwave straightens out from the crouch he'd gone into without realizing it, hands on his hips. "If you need anything I'll do my best to see that you get it."

Ending up on a ruined Cybertron won't stop him from being him. It's a curse.

[stubbornandfrustrating]

"He took the name of the city because it's where Megatron was originally from," Ratchet says, shaking his helm. "And, it had better be clean. He used one of my saws. I don't keep substandard equipment lying around."

He snorts, shaking his head, and firms his grip on his crutches to limp mostly steadily past Shockwave, going back to sorting usable parts.

"I'm managing. We have more critical patients, the leg is unsalvageable, and it's already been partly recycled for repairs. It's not a top priority right now."

[tomemyoutliers]

"I've become aware of the Decepticon slide away from political activism towards-- mmm, full scale violent revolution, yes." Which is a shame because he'd enjoyed his debate with the Megatron he'd run across on his first day here. He's wrong, of course, but it had been nice to not want to flip a table or two.

Shockwave steps aside for Ratchet, mindful of his size and area he's taking up. It's not easy being tall with wings on his arm, alright.

"You'll be no use to anyone if you work yourself into exhaustion," he says casually, still trying to make this Ratchet meld with the one he knew by reputation. It's hard, but not impossible - as if he's not used to doing the same thing with everyone he's met here.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet goes still and very carefully sets the part he was inspecting down before he turns his head slowly to look over at Shockwave with glittering optics.

"I appreciate your clearly very incisive assessment of my usefulness," he says, his voice just shy of frigid. "I've been the Chief Medical Officer of an army in a shooting war for four million years. I apologize if this shocks you unduly but I do, in fact, know what I'm doing."

[tomemyoutliers]

Ah, yes, this is exactly what he was talking about.

Shockwave's good natured expression vanishes, replaced by one that's sympathetic but concerned. "You've been Chief Medical Officer long before we met. You should know I wasn't questing your skill or ability to do your job." Seriously, Ratchet.

He was trying to look out for you, on account of the missing leg and the high chance of overwork.

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet sucks in another long vent of cool air... before his shoulders relax slightly and he looks away, shuttering his optics and bringing a hand up to pinch hard at the bridge of his nose.

"He destroyed the leg with his bare hands before he cut it off. It's hard not to think about it," he says shortly, rubbing a rough hand over his face before he drops it back to the handle of his crutch and looks back at Shockwave, tired but no longer angry. "When I'm not busy, I mean. Makes breaks slightly less appealing. But I know my limits. And I don't want anybody forcing me out of here in some misguided attempt to make me lay around on a berth instead of being useful, because it won't actually help."

[taselikeabee]

Not once, but twice Bee tries to open his mouth to say something. Only he finds he can't. Not right away. This sort of tale... That's the kind of thing that people read in comic books on Earth. Yet this is their life. They are living this every day and the level of what is crazy and what isn't... Bee isn't sure what he is more surprised about: the fact he can accept this or the fact Ratchet is retelling this tale far too nonchalantly.

"I don't know if I should laugh or groan right now. You took the hands."

That's what's really funny, truth to be told. It's not that salvaging is uncommon. Ratchet's delivery just makes Bee rub his neck with a little grin.

"You guys must get into the strangest stuff out there in deep space. I wonder if I'm not just a little jealous," he admits with a sigh. "Sounds like your friend is shifty, though. Do we need to be careful about him?"

[warcorrespondent]

"Because the people he's hurt or killed still matter." Aftermath lowers the mic, gently covering it with his palm, expression unreadable. "This isn't about glorifying Tarn's brand of violence, it's about what it's done to the person, what it can do to a community. I hope that discussion will make people think about what can be done about it, not only in regards to dealing with Tarn and his like, but about healing in the aftermath as well."

Looking up, he adds, "Besides, I'd like to know the perspective on matters such as these from people who aren't Decepticons."

[phase6kindofbot]

Sixshat makes an odd face at that, stance suddenly stiff and awkward. He should probably leave.

Like, right now.

After a moment of internal debate however, he stays put, eyes drifting to the clinic.

"... How is First Aid?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet actually stops what he's doing and sets the tools down, putting his hands back on his crutches so he can turn and look at Aftermath, his optics sharp and focused.

"Yeah," he says finally, nodding slightly. "Yeah, all right. Well, it was right here, a few days ago. Didn't get the exact time. Megatron--the one from the past, I mean, if that even helps since there's a half-dozen of them running around--brought Tarn here to be fixed, not really knowing who he was, and left a bit after. Tarn wanted a t-cog transplant, too, since he'd nearly worn through the one he was using. I told him to shove it up his tailpipe."

Ratchet's optics gleam a little, but his voice is mostly flat as he continues, watching Aftermath's face. "He didn't take too kindly to that and started tearing drawers open and dumping things on the floor. So, I jumped him." He has the grace to look at least slightly sheepish. "Not really the most complex plan I've ever executed, but it's not like I could outrun him if I did get the hell out of there, and he would have ripped the medibay apart anyway. We've only just got it in working order and we need it here. So, anyway. It was a lot of him yelling at me to tell me where the t-cog was and me telling him to go to hell, and he crushed my knee joint in one of his hands before he grabbed a saw from an upturned drawer and gave me one last chance to tell me where it was." Ratchet shrugs a little, helplessly. "I'm stubborn, I guess. So he cut my leg off and then realized Megatron would be back shortly and booked it. I managed to patch it myself before I bled out, and that was it."

He cycles his vents in a rough sigh, leaning a little harder into his crutches.

"Look. I'll treat pretty much anyone who shows up in my medibay, Decepticon or not. It's my job, and refusing care has never been an option, not for us. But just--not him. For a lot of reasons. I just want it be clear it's not our policy to randomly attempt to stab people coming to us for help, all right?"

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet watches Sixshot tense and goes taut himself, his optics sharpening.

"...he's been better," he asks, his voice flat. "Why?"

[phase6kindofbot]

"Met him at the crater," Sixshot murmurs distantly in answer. Eventually, his attention returns to the medic before him, taking in the sudden change in demeanor.

With an internal shrug, he finally, wordlessly raises himself up onto his four feet again and turns to leave.

[milkruns]

Oh, and he laughs. That's almost a novelty to June. She grins a little, wryly, looking up to study his face.

"Yeah, I've met a few humans, and none of them doctors, but I guess there are even more about. I'm even shorter on supplies, though, so I'll have to do some looking around..." June stops, her brow furrowing.

"I'm sorry, three what?"

[warcorrespondent]

At the sudden agreement, Aftermath nearly fumbles and drops the mic. That- well! Usually it took a lot more wording at people to convince them to do interviews!

Fortunately, the old truck recovers with relative grace, bringing said mic back up. He didn't have much in way of features, but one could still see the growing expression of horror begin to somehow write itself across his face as Ratchet went through the events.

"I... don't think anyone would blame you in the least for that particular exception," Aftermath manages to utter after a moment of blank staring. He's heard stories of Ratchet. Actually getting the story from Ratchet, blasely told as if it were a bar fight and not a smack down with the leader of the DJD, was a bit... different.

There's one little detail that catches his attention though.

"It's strange, but this is the fourth time I've heard Tarn being linked to a busted t-cog."

[asafepairofhands]

"It's not strange at all," Ratchet says, then stops for a moment, debating. "...hell. I usually care a lot more about patient confidentiality, too, for the record, but screw it, it's not like keeping it a secret will make anybody's internal organs safer. Tarn's an addict--addicted to transforming, I mean. I have no idea how many t-cogs he's burned through, but it's a lot, and he's been known to steal them from people who are still using them if he can't just find one lying around, so I'd be careful."

He watches the shock blossoming visibly over Aftermath's face and cycles his vents in a rough sigh.

"Look, it wasn't heroic or anything, all right? Tarn's not some sort of sparkeater--I know, because I've seen one, by the way--he's a mech, and a small, petty, selfish one at that, who just happens to be good at hurting people. The less he's given room to exercise his talents, the better, but being scared of him is what he wants and he's the only one it benefits. It's pointless, and I'm not going to let it get in the way of my work, and neither should anyone else." Ratchet's optics flash and he settles a little into his crutches, flexing his fingers slowly.

"And, for the record, the face he makes when he gets kneed in the pelvic block doesn't exactly inspire spark-shattering terror. I wish I'd taken a picture."