Chapter 1: 24 Hour Countdown
Chapter Text
6 am
It’s quiet in Iacon. The moons of Cybertron watch on as silent observers to the inhabitants that call her home. It’s still dark enough that most are still asleep in their homes with their loved ones, while others start to get ready for the beginning of their day. Construction bots getting their fuel rations warmed, teachers doing last minute prep work for their students, retail workers preparing their stores for the morning crowds, and whoever else decided to be awake before the sun broke the city’s skyline. Part of these unlucky few are the bots who are “fortunate” enough to work at the prestigious Iacon General Hospital right in the heart of Cybertron herself. Surgeons. Residents. Nurses. These are just a few names to call the bots who look after the misfortunate who end up crossing the thresholds of the hospital. To our unsung heroes, this is their story.
It's calm when Kup walks into the ER administration center and taps Red Alert on the shoulder. The jumpy bot almost bolts out of his seat before settling down to the older bots’ familiar EM field.
“Slow night mech?”
“About as slow as you could expect. A couple of racers with burnt-out rims, a non-fatal blaster shot, and a couple of addicts who tried to OD. I had plenty of time to reorganize some of the mess here that seemed to have accumulated while I was away on vacation. Really, I’m shocked you all cannot follow a set guide for organization that I have gone over in extensive detail to maintain. Oh please Kup, I know that face. All I ask is that you do try to keep the papers aligned before I get back in.” Red Alert pleads while an apprehensive expression crosses his face. Already afraid of what disaster would be waiting for him on his next shift.
“No promises there mech. You never know what may happen during the day hehe. Is Inferno almost here to get ya?” Kup asks as he settles in the spot next to Red Alert and starts getting papers set in a way that he prefers and immediately messes up Red’s system.
Sparks start lighting up Red Alert’s horn as he tries to calm down. “… Yes. He had to stop by the fire station to drop off some equipment he accidentally took after his last shift, but he should be here any second now. You know you could at least wait to start messing with my system until I leave for courtesy, you know?”
“Ah, but where’s the fun in messing with you and your system if you ain’t here kid?” Kup gives the biggest shit eating grin to Red to punctuate his point. Before sparks could really fly around, a tall frame ducks under the entrance way and heads over to the desk with a bright smile for so early in the morning.
“He teasing you again Red? Gotta stop letting him get under your plating all the time. And Kup you know not to make Red too riled up or else he’s gonna spark up out of his processor.” Inferno berates as he moves around the desk to start gathering Red Alert’s stuff. The big mech moves around fluidly as if he has done this routine time and time again. Calming down his conjux while getting his stuff together so they can get home as quickly as possible for some much-needed rest. Kup just chuckles and waves off the fussy couple and sticks an unlit cygar in his intake to chew on as he watches them leave the hospital together. No more than five seconds later, Minerva appears from who knows where with a stack of fresh charts ready for Kup’s sorting.
“Morning Minerva, looking beautiful as always. They keep you busy last night?” Kup asks as he grabs the stack of charts from Minerva. Her black finials flick for a moment, and just as she is about to respond, sirens hit the back bay doors, with a determined-looking Flatline rushing in with a bot on a gurney.
“What are we looking at Flat?” Minerva rushes and asks the paramedic as she starts doing a base evaluation on the bot in front of her.
“Got an OD on boosters. Some Syk infused with Primus knows what else. Their friend waved us down over near the west side of town and practically shoved him to us before running off. EP was getting low at the last check of 80/50. Gave him a dose of Narcan, but he’s looking bad.” Flatline presents as they wheel the bot into the first trauma room. Hook is there, putting on gloves and barking orders to the nurses rushing around. After a quick countdown, they transfer the bot onto the medical berth, and everyone gets to work. Minerva gets an I.V. going in one of the bot’s major energon lines in his arm, a couple of nurses get the right equipment connected to start getting medical readouts, and Hook shines a light in the bot’s optics to check for a response.
“I want perfection this morning bots! So, what do we have here? An unfortunate addict from the pits of Unicron? Not a fantastic way to start the day, but I suppose it will do for a warm-up. Do we have any ID on him?” Hook asks as he straightens up the OD equipment next to him.
“Checking his referral code, he’s a cold con with the designation Slide.” A nurse gives as the equipment finally starts reading off the poor bot’s vitals with alarms blaring as they drop rapidly.
“He’s crashing out quick Hook, time to step it up a bit don’t you think!” Minerva yells over the alarms and starts to prepare a crash cart for the inevitable.
“I suppose so Mrs. Minerva. All right bots get another dose of Narcan in his system and then get that energon drip going quickly. We need to get out as much corrupted energon as possible with this flush. Add 10 ccs of Gallium and 30 ccs of Mercury to help with boosting the new energon.” Hook orders as he administers the Narcan, helping even out the mech’s vitals as he stabilizes. As Minerva finishes setting up the energon drip and prepping the metals, something hits her pede. Looking down a small, coagulated puddle has formed under the right thigh of Slide and has started leaking over the side.
“Slag! Hook, we got a leaker!”
Hook looks up away from the vitals to check and curses under his breath. Grabbing a weld patch, he moves aside the assisting nurse to weld it to the leaking spot.
“Someone tell Soundwave to get an OR prepped for an OD leak who probably has rusted out energon lines and is trying to ruin my perfect patient streak. The sun has not even risen yet and I will not let this one bot ruin the start of my day.” Hook huffs as a nurse rush over to the comm system. After quick confirmation that the room was ready, Hook has the group secure Slide to the berth and wheel it out to the lift that will take them to OR. While this goes on, Kup continues to chew on his cygar as if some poor bot’s spark weren’t trying to go offline right down the hall from him and just sort charts for the residents coming into their long shift.
8:25 am
“10 shanix those are the new medical students by admin.” Nickel points out while munching on a rust stick. Hook, First Aid, and Ratchet turn to see two vastly different mechs standing by the administration counter. First, a red and white mech with a spotty paint job fidgeting in his spot, trying to be as unassuming as possible while talking quietly with Kup. Next to him, a bright blue pointy femme leans across the admin desk to chat with Minerva ecstatically.
“Well, aren’t they bright and early.” Ratchet sighs and quickly rubs a servo over his face, preparing mentally for the introductions. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Hook, Nickel, come on. Aid, keep an ear out for any newcomers while we meet with the new kids.” Ratchet rises from his chair and heads towards the students with Nickel and Hook following suit.
Kup sees them first. Gives a little salute to Ratchet and gives a supportive shoulder pat to the spotty mech before going back to sorting the charts in front of him, while Minerva gives a final smile to the blue femme before heading to check supplies. Seeing their respective distractions move on, the two students straighten up to attention as the group enters.
“Good morning to you two. Happy to see you both can be punctual. Let’s keep that up. Anyways, welcome to Iacon General, where our motto is that we accept anyone and everyone. My name is Ratchet, and I am the Chief of Surgery here, so you’ll see me now and then if things get too dicey. These two behind me are Nickel and Hook, our residents, and your teachers. You’ll be following them during your time here. Their word is law, understand? If they say duck, you duck. If they say to stick an I.V. into a bot, you do that. If you’re lucky enough, you may be able to get some rather useful information out of them. Now I have a meeting upstairs that I need to unfortunately attend to, so these two knuckleheads will take it from here. I wish you two luck.” Ratchet gives a clap on the shoulder to them both before turning away and heading to the closest elevator. A second or two passes as the four bots look at each other in silence, wondering who was going to break the tension, when faint siren whoops are heard getting closer to the hospital.
“Well, nothing like the present. Spotty you’re with me, and Pointy you’re with Hook. We are about to get some action in here.” Nickel orders out as she starts to jog to the bay door with everyone following.
After taking care of two racers who had a nasty collision on the practice tracks, Nickel pulls her student to the side for a quick chat.
“Alright Spotty, working wi- “
“It’s Ambulon.”
“…. What?”
“My designation. It isn’t Spotty, it’s Ambulon.”
“Oh well, whatever you’re slagging name is, when I address you, however I may, you listen up, got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good, now do you even know how to do emergency work? I watched you try to put that I.V. into one of the racers, and your servos shook like a newborn petrorabbit! If you’re going to be working and learning under me, I need to know what you can and cannot do.” Nickel snaps. Ambulon cows back towards the mini-con and fidgets with his digits for a moment. For a mini-con, Nickel sure is intense to those who first meet her.
“I have basic knowledge of most emergency procedures and situations, and I’ve worked with paramedics before. Since this is the first stop in my rotations, I haven’t had much firsthand experience beforehand.”
“Mmmm, okay. I can work with that, I suppose. For now, you will observe when I tell you to observe and take on lower-risk cases for practice. Do you know how to do basic welding?”
“In theory.”
“…. *sighs* Alright, you’re on welding jobs for the rest of the shift unless advised differently. Need you to build up some basic skills first, I guess before letting you run loose on some poor bots. Come on, let’s see what Kup has for you.” Nickel motions for Ambulon to follow her up to the front to check the admin. Passing by rooms, Ambulon sees Hook and his medical student, whom he remembers learning was designated as Velocity when they introduced themselves to each other, going over some X-rays of various speed frames. Ambulon quietly sighs and accepts his fate of doing grunt work and hopes that maybe Velocity will take pity on him and pass on some knowledge that she learns from Hook later.
10:15 am
Hoist works on his daily word puzzle when something nudges his leg. Looking down, Ravage sits there patiently with a note in her mouth.
“Ah good morning, Ms. Ravage! Is that for me?”
A quick nod is all Hoist gets before Ravage drops it on the floor and walks away. Chuckling over her cold demeanor, Hoist picks up the note from the floor and reads over it. Seems like Knockout was requesting him for a quick check-up on some young spark up in his department. Humming to himself, he sets down his word puzzle on the desk and gets up from his chair with a stretch.
“Kup! I will be up in Knockout's office for a moment if any emergencies pop up.” Hoist says and waves by as Kup gruffs in acknowledgement. One quick elevator trip later, and Hoist is walking through the halls that take care of the family units. A couple of steps more and he’s outside Knockout’s office and can hear faint murmurs coming from inside. One quick knock and Hoist walks in and makes himself known.
“Why hello there Knockout! What can I help you with today?”
“Ah Hoist welcome. Meet Cranklock and Harness here. They are in the process of protoform creation for their second spark and wanted somebot to check their first creation while at it. I need to discuss some private matters with them, however, so you can’t check him in here. Their creation is in the room next door if you would so kindly check.” Knockout introduces with a casual flourish. His face plate seemed a little pinched in concern as he looked back over to the couple and Hoist just nods before leaving and closing the door. Knowing things must be serious if Knockout isn’t in his usual showy attitude, Hoist sends a quick prayer to Primus for the couple and heads into the room next door. In there, he finds a little protoform trying to wiggle down from the observation berth. One little pede dangling, trying to find the floor, and a face so stuck in concentration that he didn’t notice the door open.
“Well, what do we have here? An escape artist caught in the act? I can’t have that now. Up we go!” Hoist rumbles as he steps forward and lifts the young sparkling back onto the medical berth. A little startled beep comes out before a cascade of giggles comes out as the sparkling tries to climb out of Hoist’s arms to get up higher. After wrangling with the young one for a minute, Hoist settles the sparkling down to examine him.
“Alright my little escape artist, what is your designation? Can’t keep calling you a criminal now, can I?”
A little giggle and a bright smile comes from the sparkling. “My designation is Wrangle!”
“That makes sense after having to wrangle you from my helm a moment ago. Now, Wrangle, my name is Hoist, and I’m here to make sure your frame and everything are developing properly. If it is okay with you, I would like to check your baseline readings through this port on your arm strut. Is that alright?
“Sure Mr. Hoist! Carrier and Sire told me that doctors are nice and give treats to good little bots who do their exams, so I’ll be good!”
“Did they now? It’s a good thing I brought these with me then.” Hoist pulls from his subspace a packet of rust sticks that he was saving for later to show Wrangle. The little bot’s optics grow wide, and the little smile that had been sitting on his face grows tenfold at seeing the promised treat. Hoist chuckles at the excitable sparkling and gently pulls his arm closer to him. Unspooling his medical cable, he walks through every step with Wrangle to make sure he understood what was happening. Hoist has tried to do sparkling examinations before without this much explanation; however, every time, the little bots would turn cold and distant from him after the examination occurred. Seems their still developing processors didn’t fully comprehend what was happening and thought Hoist checking their systems was intruding in some way and would shut him out to protect themselves. Once figuring that out, Hoist made it his personal mission to never have another sparkling distance themselves from him and found that explaining every step helped the developing processors comprehend what was about to happen.
“Aaaaand we are done! Looks like you’re all healthy and strong, and you may just be about ready for your first frame upgrades.” Hoist praises as he spools back his medical cable. Wrangle beams in excitement over the thought of getting his first upgrades soon and starts to wiggle off the observation berth again to tell his creators. Hoist sets him down and hands him the promised pack of rust sticks as they walk together back to Knockout’s office. Wrangle opens the door before Hoist can knock and rushes into his creators, who seem to be quickly gathering themselves together and keeping their fields tight to themselves.
“Carrier look! Mr. Hoist gave me a treat just like you told me! He also said I could get my first upgrades soon too!”
“Really? That’s amazing sweetspark. Aren’t you growing up so fast hmm?” Harness coos at Wrangle as she pulls the restless sparkling into her lap. If Hoist saw smears of blue around her and Cranklock’s optics, he didn’t say anything as the little family unit took a moment to bask in each other. Not seeming to notice the somber mood of his creators, Wrangle sits content in his carrier’s lap and eats away at the rust stick without a care in the world.
“So, when should we schedule the frame upgrade Dr. Hoist?” Cranklock asks as he rubs his servo up and down Harness’s back plating in a reassuring motion.
“Looking over Wrangle’s data, he seems to have quite a strong frame, and everything seems to be developing normally. I would say in about 2 months he should be ready for his first upgrades. I know a couple of amazing frame upgradists who would be more than happy to work with you if you would like their contact information.” Hoist explains as he pulls out a couple of business cards from subspace and hands them off to Cranklock. He says his thanks for the cards, they chat with Knockout for a minute more, and then the family is on their way out to who knows where next. After they leave, Knockout stretches out of his seat and grabs a pack of cygarettes from his desk.
“Care for a smoke big boy? I think I need one after that one.”
“Mmmm I’m not needed anywhere anytime soon, why not. Roof?”
“Lead the way.” Knockout gestures with a wave for Hoist to head out first. The elevator ride is done in a comfortable silence as they both take a moment to gather themselves. Hoist, feeling discomfort in Knockout’s EM field tries to politely push a calm, easy field over the other medic to ease the tension growing in Knockout’s frame. A grateful smile is given before they step out onto the roof of the hospital. They head over to the small garden that Rung had set up, intended to help with reducing medical staff stress, and take a seat on some loveseat someone had brought up for hangouts. Knockout takes a cygarette out and passes the pack to Hoist before striking his claws together to get it lit. Hoist lets his mouth guard retract and passes back the pack, waiting for Knockout to light his cygarette before asking any hard-hitting questions.
“So. How was that consult?”
Knockout takes a drag and lets out the biggest sigh one could muster before speaking
“Rough. The protoform that had been developing suddenly stopped taking in the sire’s transfluid and is starting to deteriorate. I mean, thankfully, they hadn’t tried to spark yet to put in the proto, but I had to tell them to basically give up on this one and try again later once the carrier had reabsorbed the proto. Truly, I don’t think they will be able to develop another frame together, but I wasn’t about to drop that sparkbreak on them today. A mech can only break a spark so many times in one day.” Knockout takes another long drag and lets his helm roll back over the seat and closes his optics. Hoist just hums in acknowledgement and quietly works on his cyg and tries to soothe Knockout with his field.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Wrangle looked healthy. No mineral deficiencies or processor lags. I think he’s going to grow quickly and get his other upgrades not that long after.” Hoist nudges Knockout with his pede, giving him a soft smile to reassure the red medic that everything was going to be alright for that little family unit.
1 pm
It is taking everything in Ratchet to not grab the closest item to him and chucking it at this presenter at this so-called meeting. He is absolutely wasting time here listening to chucklefuck after chucklefuck yap about how great their mineral composition is for energon compared to others and how their involvement and money will make the hospital better and blah blah blah. Same old snake oil meetings that seem to be becoming more and more common nowadays. It doesn’t help that Pharma personally wanted Ratchet here to get his professional opinion as the Chief of Surgery, but Ratchet couldn’t give two frags over this nonsense. He should be downstairs, making sure the new medical students were getting adjusted to the ER and that his residents were treating them well. Not here, counting the time down till this whole “meeting” would be over.
Ratchet swears that Pharma is doing this on purpose to him. Ever since they broke up a couple of months ago, the energy between the two of them had become weird. Seemed the farther Ratchet tried to distance himself from the other, Pharma would just take two steps closer and try to keep them tethered. It was starting to get on Ratchet’s nerves. The poor bot couldn’t take a step away from the ER without Pharma requesting for his opinion on the simplest issues.
Ratchet likes to think they split ways in a professional, grown-up way. They both realized that they were too busy for one another, and they were already treading a thin line professionally since Pharma is technically Ratchet’s boss. Well, more like he brought the subject up, and Pharma seemed to have been listening. He remembers that last dinner together ending amicably enough. Ratchet gave Pharma a hug and a soft smile before heading to his apartment.
Just as his processor starts to wander in thought over Pharma, the presenter wraps up his spiel and thanks the doctors for listening. On that cue, Ratchet gathers his lukewarm energon and whatever charts he had snagged as reading material and books it out of the conference room before anyone could stop him. He’s been gone from the ER floor for too long, and nothing was gonna stop him from getting back down there. Just as he was about to get to the stairs, a clawed servo grabs his arm, and a suave accent hits his audials
“Now where’s the rush Ratchet? The hospital wasn’t on fire last time I checked, and the ER can wait for their mighty savior a bit longer. I want to discuss some of the presenters with you first.”
A sigh. “Pharma, you know damn well I didn’t listen to a word those business bots were saying. That’s the financial department and your job. I still don’t know why you insist on me being here for these pointless meetings.”
“I invite you to these important investment meetings to get your opinion as the Chief of Surgery.” Pharma narrows his eyes as his warm tone turns cold. “You and your crew downstairs are the ones with your servos in the bowls of Iacon’s injured and dying, so you would be the most knowledgeable about what we need. Unless I am mistaken and you are not paying as thorough of attention to your patients as you should?” Pharma questions with a critical tone that Ratchet always hated. It’s the tone that Pharma uses to agitate Ratchet into arguing with him, and it works every time. Ratchet turns sharply and pokes a digit into Pharma’s chassis
“Now listen here Pharma. You can badmouth me and my character from here to the pits of Unicron, and I won’t care. The minute you question my duty to our patients is where you cross the line. Sign off on whichever presenter has a good stock of cobalt, titanium, or mercury if you want my “professional” opinion." Ratchet shoves away from Pharma, and before another word could come out of his intake, Ratchet was escaping down the stairs back to the ER.
It's safe in the ER. Pharma would rather prefer the glory and calm of an organized operating room before even considering stepping a pede into the disorganized chaos of the emergency room. Ratchet loves the chaos it brings. Not knowing what was about to come through the doors from Iacon was half the kick of working here. Having to roll with the punches and needing to keep his processor running at max function was a thrill he hadn’t experienced anywhere else. He’ll be damned if Pharma tries to take that away from him by introducing more administrative work that keeps him chained to his boring office.
Huffing and grumbling back down, Ratchet beelines for the admin desk to look for First Aid. The expression he was making must have been a mean one, as every bot who saw him immediately stepped to the side to let Ratchet pass. Perks of having a resting bitch face, he thinks to himself before approaching the admin crew.
“Wow who leaked into your energon this morning Ratch?” Kup raises an optic ridge and whistles at the grumpy doctor. Ratchet just gives him a middle digit while grabbing a couple of the ready charts and calls First Aid to follow him as they head towards the observation rooms.
A bot with a cough in his exhaust? Prescribe some minerals and move on. A rust-based optic infection? Direct the poor bot to Perceptor for further examination. A bitlet whose temperature won’t stop fluctuating? Get Hoist to examine the kid immediately and start an IV drip. Simple tasks to get his processor back in order after the misery of dealing with Pharma upstairs.
“Uhm Ratchet, are you okay? You seem grumpier than usual by this point in the day, and you haven’t taken a moment to vent yet.” First Aid worries after they finish up the rest of the minor cases sitting around the ER.
“I’m fine.”
First Aid raises his optic ridge at that and stops walking to cross his arms. Ratchet looks back, and after a moment of Aid not budging, he just sighs and motions towards the break room. A few nurses and one of the general surgeons were the only ones in as Ratchet and First Aid grabbed some warmed energon and took a seat at one of the couches. Ratchet takes a moment to finally take some needed deep vents as his processor finishes up whatever recalibrating it thinks it needed to function optimally. All while he takes a moment, First Aid just sits there waiting for the older bot to start talking while sipping on his energon.
“Yeah alright I guess I wasn’t being the most subtle about my mood. That meeting upstairs was a waste of my time, with investors clambering over each other to get Pharma to sign them on. Pharma says he wanted me there for my “professional opinion”, but I doubt it. Just wants to see me squirm, I bet. Oh! Pharma also dared to bring my duty to our patients to question, and Aid, I tell ya it took everything in me to not deck him across his smug face plate.” Ratchet yells out in frustration, grabbing the attention of whoever was in the break room.
“I mean, do you think maybe he just wants your opinion? I mean, you are the Chief of Surgery, and you are down here in the ER all the time. You would know best what we need.” First Aid tries to placate, knowing Ratchet needed someone to point out the logic amongst the emotions.
“That’s what he said, and I get that, but… I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking things. I just hate it when he makes things seem like there’s more to his actions than there are, you know? Gah whatever. Sorry you had to listen to this old mech’s problems, Aid.” Ratchet rubs his servos over his face and vents. First Aid pats him on his shoulder affirmingly and grabs their used energon mugs to put away.
“Anytime Ratchet. Why don’t you take a moment to close your optics and rest? I can come get you if anything serious happens.”
“Yeah kid, I think I’ll do that. Thanks.” Ratchet gives a nod to First Aid and leans back to lie out on the couch, optics closed. First Aid takes that as his cue and heads back to Kup to update him on the latest of Ratchet’s emotional crash-outs.
3:30 pm
This is insanity, Sunstreaker decides. This place wasn’t built for a bot like him, and he still doesn’t know how his carrier and brother roped him into doing this. Ironhide already had Sideswipe being primed to take over his position as head of the hospital’s security, so why Sunstreaker was here, he couldn’t fathom. He should be finishing his business degree so he can open his dream paint shop. Not wrangling a seeker down while the doctors bend his wings back into their sockets.
Apparently, the poor mech had taken a bet to see if he could dive through a hole at some incomplete construction site nearby. He had misjudged the width of the hole, and next thing you know, his buddies hear him scream in pain as his wings get ripped from their joints. Mech immediately passed out and was unresponsive until the doctors tried to move his wings again. That onlined him pretty quickly, and Sunstreaker got called to restrain the seeker so the staff could connect the right wires together before sending him up for surgery. This job is messy, and he hates it.
He's quick to retreat to the main administrative desk, getting out of the way of both patients and doctors alike to avoid messing with his paint job any more than what’s already ruined. Kup laughs to himself while watching the young bot dance around everyone.
“Having fun with your little waltz there Sunny?” Kup asks humorously, passing off charts to a few doctors walking past.
“It’s Sunstreaker, old timer, and no, I’m not having fun. Can’t begin to think of why carrier would even have me down here.” Sunstreaker grumbles as he sinks into the chair next to Kup, pulling out his personal polish and rag to clean up his energon-streaked servos.
“Hmmm, I’m sure Ironhide has some sort of lesson built in this for you. He knows not to waste a mech’s time with nonsense. Probably wants you to get your helm out of your aft and see what life’s really about besides your fancy paints and slag.” Kup says in response. Sunstreaker scoffs and goes quiet as he focuses on his servos. He had tried to keep his servo plating as close together as possible, but some energon had slipped through some lining, and now he had to be more meticulous than he wanted. After a couple of minutes, Sunstreaker is satisfied with his servos and shoots a quick side glance towards Kup’s busy self.
“Why are you still here then Kup? If you’re so worldly and know so much about other mechs, why stick around here at an ER admin desk instead of retiring to some beach planet or something?”
“Well, if I leave Iacon, I’ll die.” Kup says in all seriousness. Sunstreaker sits up at that and actually looks concerned till Kup actually looks at him and breaks out into a laughing fit. Sunstreaker punches Kup in the arm and sulks back down into his chair, glaring at Kup for his offense.
“Ah I’m just pulling your pede kid,” Kup wipes a tear from his optic. “Well somewhat. I’ve got some analog parts in some key places in my frame that I only trust Ratchet to tune up, so that limits to how far I can go. Also got a lot of loved ones here in town so can’t leave them. And as nice as a beach planet retirement sounds, I'd rather be stuck at an ER admin desk knowing after this I can go spoil a couple of kids back home with some energon goodies.” Kup wistfully smiles.
“Anyways, kid you focus too much on the when, focus on the now and pay attention to who you help. Actually talk to the mechs who come in here for help instead of retreating back here at every opportunity. Maybe you’ll finally figure out why Ironhide put your sorry aft down here then.” Kup finishes off with nudging Sunstreaker’s arm affectionately before getting back to sorting charts and patient check-in information.
Sunstreaker huffs and turns away from Kup, focusing back out onto the bots lingering around in the waiting room. A construction bot with an out of socket arm. A parental unit worrying over their kid who seems to have minor plating damage. A femme with a nasty green hue radiating from her face and so many others wait to be picked next to see a doctor. Sunstreaker absentmindedly rubs on his plating where Kup touched him and thinks on his words as he waits for the next emergency.
5:45 pm
This is everything one could wish for, Sideswipe settles on. As soon as he replaced Sunstreaker for ER security duty, he had to break up two fights, restrain four patients, and even escort an especially rowdy mech to the local police station down the road. What a great way to start a shift.
Just as he is getting back to the ER, a loud boom and a big vibration are felt throughout the building. No alarms sound off as one of the nurses’ heads to Soundwave’s direct line to see what happened. Sideswipe checks around the waiting room to make sure no random debris had fallen from the building during the shake when he gets called to the phone line.
“Soundwave requests you, Sideswipe. Think it has something to do with the science building.” Nurse Whistle tells him as she passes the phone. He nods before taking the phone with quick thanks and addresses the line.
“Sideswipe here, whatcha need Sound?”
“Soundwave request: Sideswipe to science division. Purpose: Help clean up Wheeljack’s mess.” The robotic static of the building’s notorious communications officer comes through the line. The monotonous tone gives away no emotion, but Sideswipe swears he can hear a tinge of annoyance in Soundwave’s voice.
“Ah did another one of Jackie’s projects blow up?”
“Affirmative.”
“Gotcha. Okay I’ll head that way if you could tell Ironhide I’ll be away from the ER for a minute if he could head over to take over while I’m gone.”
“Affirmative.” With that final confirmation, the line goes dead as Soundwave disconnects. Sideswipe puts the phone up and starts heading to the elevator to get to the skybridge. Stops by the admin desk to update Kup and Red Alerté about where he was heading and a quick rust stick to snack on.
The building the hospital was in was very nice. So nice, in fact, that the city decided to attach a whole other building to it for collaborative feats between medicine and science. Or something like that, Sideswipe didn’t really pay too much attention when Ironhide gave him and Sunstreaker a rundown of the buildings. What he did know is that due to the “collaborative” nature of the arrangement, the hospital got first dibs on any breakthrough revelations from the science wing, and the science wing got the hospital’s security when needed. How that was fair, Sideswipe couldn’t tell you and really didn’t care. He just works here and goes where they need him.
It's relatively normal on his way over to the science wing, which means Wheeljack’s little explosion isn’t that bad. He can only imagine how Shockwave would react if Wheeljack blew up another atomizer or some other super-expensive science equipment they had. Passes a few science interns and gives a flirty smile to the science wings receptionist before finally running into a very frazzled-looking Perceptor.
“Heya Percy! Where’s Jackie’s mess I need to help clean up hm?”
“Oh Sideswipe! Thank goodness you’re here.” Perceptor exclaims as he grabs Sideswipe’s arm and starts dragging him towards one of the labs. “It’s an absolute mess in there. Wheeljack was working on upgrading a perfectly fine fire extinguisher in order to increase the rate of the solvents release in hopes of decreasing the time spent on fires that the fire department deals with to decrease the amount of property damage, and whatnot. He thought that if he could modify one of the extinguishers in the laboratories, he could apply that to a larger model and create special enhancements for larger firefighter frames to help their jobs. All he did today though was cause an explosion of solvent that will definitely ruin several laboratory machines and knock us down a lab for a day or two.” A pause as he finally gets to Wheeljack’s lab. He takes a vent as he puts in Wheeljack’s lab code and begins again as the doors unlock. “Your job will be to help Wheeljack clean up his mess and take stock of what machines have been impacted. Whether they can be fixed or not, just write it down in a data pad. Thank you for your assistance. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get back to the hospital to run some diagnostics on some rust infections that recently came to my attention.” With that, Perceptor all but shoves Sideswipe into the lab, tosses him a data pad, and leaves.
Taking stock of the lab, Sideswipe lets out a little whistle at the sight. There is foam everywhere. The lab isn’t small either. Shockwave made sure the labs had plenty of space for any bigger projects his scientists may work on. How Wheeljack got over half the space covered in the foam retardant; Sideswipe has no idea. Stepping cautiously, he peeks around the tall computers in hopes of spotting the hazardous scientist.
“Uh Wheeljack you in here?” Sideswipe asks, and a loud crash from the corner of the room is his response. Cringing, he slowly walks over to find the infamous Wheeljack in the middle of a pile of wrecked equipment covered in foam from helm to pede.
“Sideswipe! Man am I glad to see you. Made a little bit of a mess while working earlier and need some help hehe.” His finials poking through the foam lighting up bashfully as he fiddles with something. Sideswipe places his servos on his hips and chuckles at the sight, like a sparkling getting caught by his carrier after coming home covered in dust and muck.
“Alright Jackie, where do I start?”
9:20 pm
Velocity takes a moment to vent as she settles into a chair at the admin desk. After following around Hook all day and him going through all of his procedures step by agonizing step, her head felt full and swimming with too much information. Thankfully, his shift had ended around twenty minutes ago, so now Velocity can sit down and write out the important stuff she remembers from Hook talking at her all day. Nickel had been merciful on Ambulon and let him go home earlier since it was winding down for the night. Nickel herself was talking to Red Alerté, updating the night charge nurse with the important patients from the day.
Kup has left for the night, his replacement being a volunteer from the police station. A newer detective, designation Prowl, whom the chief of police, Orion Pax had introduced to Ratchet. He’s the serious type and doesn’t like to interrupt his work with conversation, so Velocity has respectfully kept to herself to not bother him. While sketching out injuries on a mech doodle, a tap on her side draws her attention away. Nickel stands there, arms crossed, and a semi-disgruntled expression crosses her face.
"As much as I would love to just call you Pointy the rest of your time here, Ratchet would have my aft for doing that, so tell me your designation,” Nickel huffs as she looks away, a little energon flush on her faceplate as if embarrassed by the thought of getting chastised by Ratchet.
“My designation is Velocity, but my friends call me Lotty! Nice to formally introduce myself to you, Miss Nickel.” Velocity beams and puts out a servo to shake.
“You can just call me Nickel, no Miss needed.” Nickel grabs the outreached servo and gives a good shake. After the well-waited introductions, Nickel grabs a chair and slides it over next to Velocity to take a breather, resting her helm on her arms as she closes her optics for a moment. Taking that as her cue not to bother her, Velocity goes back to her data pad sketch and works out the steps to rework a main line energon circuit.
Not even five minutes later, a large crash is heard from the bay doors where the ground emergency vehicles come to drop off patients. This time, however, it’s not Flatline or Fixit rushing in a patient, but the hospital emergency shuttle Skyfire cradling a purple seeker in his arms. Nickel and Velocity shoot up from their chairs and race over to the worried shuttle and get to work.
“Red Alerté, get me a gurney stat! Give me the details Skyfire. What happened?” Nickel reaches for the still seeker to get some baselines, and Skyfire gently kneels down to let her reach.
“Oh yes um okay. His designation is Skywarp, seeker frame with a teleportation outlier ability. Said ability malfunctioned at a stunt show, and he crashed hard. I was nearby and picked up the call as soon as I could.” Skyfire rattles off as Red Alerté and another nurse roll in a gurney. Just as they transfer a now-waking Skywarp to the gurney, a rush of wind and transforming parts are heard outside as a red, white, and blue seeker rushes in frantically. Eyes bouncing around until they land on the delirious seeker in the gurney and walking towards him.
“Skywarp you idiot! What did you do to end up like this?! Were you doing those stupid stunts again after we told you to stop!” The new seeker practically screams, drawing the attention of Ironhide and Prowl, who quickly get up to interfere. Before Velocity could even get a word in to try to calm the seeker, Skyfire steps in between the aggressor and everyone else and puts his servos on his shoulders, pushing out the largest and calmest EM field Velocity has ever felt before.
“Sir, your trinemate is fine. I personally brought him here from the accident as quickly as I could. Now you need to calm down and let the doctors do their work, or security will have to escort you out, and I don’t think either of us wants that now right?” Skyfire strongly asserts while still sending out soothing fields to the frazzled seeker. Said seeker just ends up standing there, accepting the shuttle’s field and nodding in agreement to whatever Skyfire had said.
“Ooooooo the pretty shuttle got Screamer to shut up hehe,” Skywarp deliriously snickers from the gurney as he tries to sit up. Losing balance, he almost falls over the side, but Velocity is there to grab him and put him back in. That seems to trigger something in the seeker in front of Skyfire, and he tries to reach around the big shuttle to almost swipe at the now giggling Skywarp. Nickel just sighs in exasperation before going back to scanning the troublemaker.
“Skyfire, keep his Screamer occupied while we take him back to get checked. Lotty, you’re with me to check on his wing sensors and calibrations, probably need to call in someone from the science wing to check his teleportation module too. Check to see if Brainstorm is still in,” Nickel orders as she motions for the gurney to start moving.
An angry squawk is all Velocity hears from the feisty seeker they leave behind as she follows the team to one of the observation rooms. As she helps the nurses get Skywarp hooked to the medical equipment in the room, she realizes that Nickel had used her nickname for the first time. With a slight smile and a flash of giddiness in her EM field, she continues to get Skywarp connected and waits for Nickel’s instructions.
1:03 am
Time goes by slowly in the ER, Prowl realizes. Well, it didn’t help that he was doing the graveyard shift on a normal weekday in Iacon. A mech can only organize and reorganize charts and patient information so frequently before even that gets too boring for Prowl’s overactive processor. He’s in the middle of mentally running through a police drill when that gets interrupted by a familiar melodic whistle coming through the front doors. Snapping to immediate attention, Prowl can feel his door wings flutter in excitement to see the one mech who could cure him of boredom at the moment. Ironhide, picking up the movement and focused gaze of Prowl, sits up a little in his chair, not knowing what to expect to come through the doors. A beat later, the doors swing open, and Prowl lets out a little sigh with a small smile on his face as Jazz sways in.
“Prowler! Baby, how are ya doing this fine night?” Jazz asks as he saunters up and leans over the admin desk. Wanting to be close to Prowl but keeping some professional distance since Prowl was technically at work.
“Hello Jazz. My night is going fine, but it’s better now that you’re here,” Prowl responds, keeping the small smile as he tries to look busy.
Meanwhile, Ironhide just stares at the pair, all gob smacked at the couple. In the short time he’s known Prowl, he’s never seen him act like this before. Usually, Prowl is all serious no no-nonsense mech that Orion wanted to get some of that “stick up his aft” attitude curbed by working here. The mech Ironhide is seeing right now wasn’t that, but some soft-sparked bitlet talking to his childhood crush at the playground.
He’s too old for this. The two mechs seem to have forgotten that he was even here as Prowl kept fiddling with paperwork that Ironhide knows he’s sorted at least ten times by now, and his mech friend just stands there watching him with a little glint to his visor. A cough from him, and both mechs break out of whatever trance they had put themselves in, and all Ironhide could do is raise an optic ridge and wait.
“Ah yes apologies Ironhide. I should introduce you two. Ironhide, this is Jazz. He’s a performer at a bar in downtown Iacon. Jazz, this is Ironhide, our chief of security here at the hospital.” Prowl introduces. A slight flush to his neck and wings turned down in embarrassment over briefly forgetting about Ironhide.
“Nice to meet ya, Jazz. How do you know our stick-in-the-mud Prowl here?” Ironhide teases as he puts a servo out to shake. Jazz chuckles at the sour look that crosses Prowl’s face as he takes Ironhide’s servo in a firm grasp.
“I met him at one of my shows. I was playing with my band when out of nowhere, Prowl over here is throwing a guy onto the stage and making an arrest right in the middle of our gig! New blood wanted a hot arrest to shoot up the ranks, but all he did was cause chaos over a little drug dealer. Spooked a lot of folks out of their seats, and the manager was pissed. Gave him a good scolding afterwards. Seeing his little dejected wings after the talk, I couldn’t keep away and introduced myself and bought him a drink. The rest is history, as they say,” Jazz recounts fondly as he flashes Prowl a little smile.
Prowl is back to his stoic façade, quietly organizing new charts that Red Alerté had brought by a minute ago, but what he wasn’t showing on his face, his wings were definitely showing. A little downturn instead of the ram rod straight that they usually are. He actively avoids both Ironhide and Jazz’s smug optics as they can tell he’s embarrassed.
“Aw look at em all flustered, never seen em act like this before,” Ironhide chuckles as Prowl quickly straightens his door wings. Shooting a glare at both mechs, Prowl gets up from his spot with a few completed charts and stomps off to get away from the teasing bots. A low whistle passes through Ironhide’s derma at the sight of an emotional Prowl leaving the scene, almost impressed that the kid had been hiding these pure emotions from them.
“Wow hadn’t seen Prowl act like that before,” Ironhide mumbles out loud. As if Ironhide told the funniest joke he’s ever heard, Jazz lets out the loudest bark of a laugh that almost spooks Ironhide out of his seat.
“Ah that’s a good one mech,” Jazz wipes away a little tear that slipped away from his visor. “Prowler got as much emotions as we do. Just takes a minute for them to start showing.”
“Are we talking about the same mech? The kid is as emotionally constipated as a stuck pipe,” Ironhide pulls a face, unable to picture the stoic mech crying or laughing out loud like his partner here.
“Hmmm maybe with you all, but with me he’s as easy to read as a data pad on the brightest setting. Mech has his spark on his sleeve for sure. Just gotta get to know him right and you’ll see.” Jazz says as he watches Prowl drop off the last of his charts to the right rooms and start making his way back to the front.
“You just gotta be patient,” Jazz practically whispers as Prowl comes up to him, straight-faced as if he wasn’t looking at Jazz but just another mech checking into the ER. Ironhide waits and watches, expecting Prowl to get annoyed that Jazz had overstayed and needed to leave if he doesn’t need medical attention. What he didn’t expect was the slight twitch of Prowl’s door wings before stepping up and placing a gentle kiss on Jazz’s cheek with a little murmur next to Jazz’s audials.
Ironhide’s jaw drops, never expecting Prowl to show such a public display of affection ever. As the couple stands there, Ironhide gets the sense that Jazz’s optics were on him, and the slight tinge of protectiveness from his EM field reaches him. Getting the hint, Ironhide gets up quietly and leaves the couple at the admin center to go update Ratchet with his findings from tonight.
4:37 am
It’s quiet up in Ratchet’s office. Being the blessed twilight hours before the dawn crests the city, Ratchet is able to get a little light recharge in before the morning crowd starts rolling in. Pharma also isn’t in the offices since he actually leaves the hospital at normal hours, compared to Ratchet, who pulled some strings to get a small berth in his office to sleep in between shifts. He’s just about to go into a deeper recharge state when a soft knock comes from the closed door of his office. Knowing that it’s not Pharma, who usually just barges into Ratchet’s office, and it isn’t an emergency, since they also just barge in, Ratchet takes a moment longer to himself. It’s when he’s almost back into recharge when a second knock comes, and Ratchet knows whoever is outside isn’t leaving anytime soon. With a grunt, he swings off the berth and makes his way to the door. Opening the door, the scowl that was on his face lightens up as Rung and Orion patiently wait outside.
“I was wondering who would be bothering me at this time. Well, come on in and make yourselves comfortable.” Ratchet waves them in as he heads to his office chair, while Rung and Orion come in and find their spots naturally. Orion at one of the armchairs across from Ratchet and Rung on the couch that was left by the previous Chief of Surgery.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your sorry afts this morning?” Ratchet asks, optic ridge raised as he gets comfortable in the unused chair.
Rung shifts a bit in his spot to focus on Ratchet. “How has Pharma been recently?”
A huff and then a beat of silence as Ratchet rolls the question around his processor. “Not any different from before, honestly. Maybe a little clingier than usual? Seems he wants my opinions more often over small stuff. It’s a little annoying, but nothing I can’t handle really.”
“And how have you been, old friend?” Orion asks as he reaches over to rest a heavy servo on Ratchet’s arm. Ratchet bristles a little at the contact but settles once he realizes Orion isn’t moving it anytime soon.
“…I’m fine.”
Rung and Orion share a look. The one they always share when Ratchet says he’s fine but actually isn’t. Orion brings his attention back to Ratchet and waits.
“…..”
“…...”
“Okay fine you win. We can talk about me for now, but don’t think we aren’t gonna talk about Megatron tonight, Orion,” Ratchet huffs out in annoyance. The servo that had been gently lying on Ratchet’s arm tenses for a moment at the mention of Megatron, but Orion just nods in acknowledgement before letting Ratchet take the floor.
“I won’t lie, it’s been draining. I haven’t been able to get certain workloads done since I avoid the office area like a rust plague. Only coming up here once I know Pharma’s clocked out for the day, so I know he won’t come and bother me while I work.” Ratchet pauses to vent, patting Orion’s servo before getting up from his desk to pace.
“Like I respect him, I really do. He’s hard-working and cares enough about this hospital to put in the effort of making sure we have all the equipment we need to succeed. I just feel like since we split, the warm, tolerable air we had with each other has gone sour and cold. Makes it hard to vent sometimes if we get to talking about things.”
“Have you talked to him about this? Setting up boundaries at work so your personal conflicts don’t interfere with your workflow?” Rung asks, keeping his optics on Ratchet’s pacing form the entire time.
“I’ve tried. Right after breaking up, I went by his office to set some ground rules at work, which he followed at first. Yet as time went on, he would coincidentally forget and bother me when he shouldn’t. It’s tolerable, but it’s getting annoying if anything.”
“Have you reported this to HR?”
“Frag no. This is my issue to deal with, not the hospitals. Besides, we could both get into a heap of problems if our relationship gets any attention. I still like Pharma as a mech, he’s decent when he wants to be, and he’s got a good helm on him. I wouldn’t want our silly mistakes to ruin a good mech’s career.” Ratchet sighs as he gives up pacing to settle his racing thoughts by flopping onto the couch with Rung, adjusting his dear friend to sit in his lap like a weighted blanket. The weight helps settle thoughts as he rests his chin on Rung’s shoulder to look over to Orion.
“So that’s my life update. How about you and Megatron hm?” Diverting attention to Orion, both Ratchet and Rung look towards the mech now fiddling with his digits and avoiding optics.
After a few minutes, Orion sighs in defeat before sitting up straighter in his chair and finally making optic contact with the two on the couch.
“Megatron and I have been….talking. We’ve met up a few times since that union protest I told you two about and have been exchanging ideas. He’s very passionate about making sure the underrepresented mechs have a voice in Iacon.”
“I’m sure that’s all he’s passionate about hmm” Ratchet teases, not expecting to get much out of it. Orion snaps his intake closed at the comment, however, and fidgets. Immediately picking up on their friend’s nervous silence, Rung and Ratchet exchange a look. After thinking about it for a moment, Ratchet’s optic ridges shoot up, and he turns back to Orion.
“No. No no nononono no way you are fragging Megatron! After everything you two went through back at the university?!” Ratchet gently moves Rung from his lap before swiftly crossing the room to Orion. Putting his servos on his shoulders as if to shake some common sense into the mech.
“After the spark break he gave us when he left the university with no regard? Not saying a single word to anyone for years just for you two to have a “moment” at a protest as he knocks the slag out of you???” Ratchet’s frame practically vibrating from an onslaught of emotions as he looks down on Orion, the mech still not meeting his optics. A cough from behind breaks Ratchet out of the almost processor crashing reality that two of his closest friends were clanging behind his back, and he retreats to the couch. A gentle servo from Rung helps to bring Ratchet’s emotions and racing thoughts back to a manageable pace as he waits for Orion to continue.
“I apologize. I should have told you two that the nature of Megatron and I’s relationship had become more intimate than previously stated. However, it is also none of your business who I interface with and when. As close as we are Ratchet, I would hope you would understand and respect the want to keep such a relationship private.” Ratchet winces at the verbal jab as Orion reiterates the very wants Ratchet said earlier about him and Pharma.
“To continue, Megatron and I are meeting in a few days to discuss potential collaborations with the police and his union group as a show of unification of sorts. We will be hashing out the details in greater length over the purposes and wanting results from this event. If you two would like to reconnect with him, I am more than happy to pass on your wishes to him when we meet.” Orion finishes, looking towards Ratchet and Rung with what almost looks like hope in his optics. Hope of seeing his friends putting aside past grudges to become a whole unit again.
Feeling the slight apprehension in his EM field, Rung pats Ratchet's arm and takes over. “Thank you, Orion. We would love a chance to talk to Megatron if he wants to. It really has been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and I think it would be nice to mend some broken bridges.”
Ratchet mumbles out an agreement after Rung pinches a wire in his side, and Orion beams in delight. He gets up from his spot in the chair to make his way to the couch to join his two dear old friends. It’s a bit of a squeeze to get everyone on a couch meant for two small mechs, but they make it work. Rung resting comfortably in Ratchet’s lap while his pedes lay gingerly in Orion’s. The three take a moment to let their respective EM fields gently mesh together as they sit in a relaxed silence, just enjoying being with each other after such an emotionally charged discussion over Megatron. Finally, after their fields have intertwined in completeness, Rung starts talking about a recent telenovela he picked up from Earth while Orion and Ratchet listen on in fondness as the night starts to wind down for the upcoming dawn.
6 am
It’s quiet in Iacon. The moons of Cybertron watch on as silent observers to the inhabitants that call her home. It’s still dark enough that most are still asleep in their homes with their loved ones, while others start to get ready for the beginning of their day. As others quietly begin their day, one doctor will finish his night out with a bang.
Ratchet passes Prowl at the admin desk with Orion as they walk towards the entrance of the ER. The young mech intensely working on sorting some data pads, and completely misses the two as they walk out.
“I see Prowl was taken to the paperwork aspect of the clerical position swimmingly,” Orion points out, a soft smile on his face as he looks back to his junior.
Ratchet looks back and nods in agreement. “Yes, since you’ve introduced him to us, the administration has been happy for once. I know they are tired of Kup’s lackadaisical attitude toward maintaining the paperwork and Red Alert’s stressful system. Prowl has been a Primus send for them.”
“He needed the mental stimulus. We only have so many cases for him to look over at the central station, so having this helps. Also works on getting him more out of his armor and talking to regular bots. Smokescreen and Bluestreak can only get so many one-word responses before moving on.”
“Really? From what I heard from Ironhide last night is that Pro- “
Before Ratchet could finish his thought, an armored truck comes barreling down the street. The few bots out quickly get out of the way as the truck drives straight for the hospital. Right as it seemed the truck was going to plow straight through Ratchet, it veers quickly to the right, and a side door opens. Two shadowed figures quickly throw a mech out at their pedes. Not even a second after the body leaves the truck, the door is slammed, and they shoot off back into the city.
After the surprise drop off, Orion and Ratchet immediately get to work. Orion quickly transforms into his alt and pursues the escaping cybertronians while Ratchet calls out for Red Alerté for a gurney as he checks on the mech in front of him.
He’s alive, thank Primus. Poor kid is riddled with blaster shots and scorch marks from a firefight, most likely from some gang’s shootout. Ratchet swears when he sees the pool of energon underneath start to grow more as he starts to do quick line repairs, sealing what major lines he can get to at the moment. As he waits for a gurney, Ratchet connects into the mech’s neck port to get some baseline readings and information.
Despite the young-looking face, the mech is about as old as Ratchet. An MTO frame intended for racing with a designation to match. Drift.
“Don’t worry Drift, you’re in good hands. We’ll make sure to do everything we can to save your spark kid.” Ratchet whispers to Drift, a quiet promise intended only for the audials of the mech slowly growing colder.
As the team finally gets to him, Ratchet gently picks up Drift from the hard ground and lays him down onto the gurney. Once down, Ratchet’s demeanor immediately shifts from the kindly savior to his infamous title, General of the Wards. He starts snapping orders left and right, administering medicine himself when the nurse goes too slow for his liking, and even yelling at mechs to get out of the way as he wheels the team and Drift to the elevator to get to an OR that he knows Soundwave has already prepped for them. He does all of this while still staying connected to Drift, making sure the spark that was dropped off at his doorstep didn’t become extinguished like all the others he couldn’t save before.
Chapter 2: Road to Recovery
Summary:
Dear Readers,
We bring to you the latest updates from Iacon General in a very timely manner. This week's issue has our dear Dr. Ratchet reviewing patient charts and thinking over conversations he's had from the past week as he stands dutifully over the still unconscious Drift.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Drift’s Hospital Room
It’s been one week since Drift was unceremoniously dropped off at Iacon General. The poor mech had more problems than just a few blaster shots and scorch marks, so Ratchet took his time in the operating room as he constructed Drift back to almost factory new. Corrupted energon lines taken out and relined. Various input nodes fried beyond repair which he meticulously replaced. Carefully reheating his frame in several spots to get dings and dents out that looked like they had been there for years. By the time Ratchet was done with Drift’s frame, it was time for the night shift to come in and do their duties. It was a lot, but damn it if Ratchet wasn’t proud of his hands for not failing him to save Drift’s strong spark. He remembers how exhausted he was, and First Aid practically dragging him by his kibble to get him out of the hospital after the surgery.
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Seven Days Ago - Post Surgery
First Aid was there to greet him as he walked out of the operating room. “I take it that since it’s been around 14 hours since you’ve stepped into that room with the patient, that he’s alright now?”
Ratchet shrugs off his shielding gown and gloves and takes a seat, letting out a contented sigh of finally being off his pedes.
“Yeah, Drift is going to be fine. I had to do more than expected, so it took longer. The poor kid had rusted out energon lines and fried input nodes, but he’s a tough one. Spark refused to give up the entire time I was working on him, no matter how far I got into his wires and frame.”
“Mmmm, probably how he lived for so long with corrupted parts. Anyways, congratulations on another successful surgery, Ratchet. You are officially off duty for the next 16 hours as your reward.” A determined gleam in First Aid’s visor is all the warning Ratchet got before the Chief Resident starts to push him to the front. Maybe it was his processor lagging, but Ratchet somehow got outside with his things with a determined First Aid and Sideswipe blocking his way back into the hospital before he could retaliate. With a grumble, Ratchet bid them goodnight and headed to his small apartment for a deep recharge.
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The end of the week came and went, and Drift has yet to come out of his medical stasis. Ratchet has been checking on the mech every day since the operation, and his updates stay the same. Vitals steady and even, but no signs of waking up. It’s starting to become a habit for Ratchet to come and sit with Drift during breaks. It’s calm up in the recovery wings; Ratchet gets to review his upcoming surgeries while keeping an eye on Drift’s vitals and stats. First Aid has sent a few looks his way whenever he leaves the main floor, knowing it’s unlike Ratchet to be so hung up on a patient post-surgery; normally, once the patient leaves Ratchet’s operating table safe and stable, he moves on to the next. Yet, with Drift, it’s become almost personal. With him getting thrown directly to Ratchet’s pedes like yesterday’s garbage, Ratchet knew then and there he was going to take care of him.
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Three Days Ago - Pharma’s Office
Pharma called him out on it. On day three of the Drift observations, Ravage brought Ratchet a notice to meet Pharma in his office. Knowing it’s better to face the storm than prolong it, Ratchet stores away his reading materials and lets the nurse on duty know that he was leaving. It’s a quick ride to the office level, the receptionist taking only a glance at Ratchet as he stepped off the elevator before nodding him through and going back to her data management. Ratchet huffs at the dismissive attitude but goes on his way, not caring to make small talk with the mechs who work up in this nightmare space.
A couple of steps and a quick right later has Ratchet standing outside Pharma’s office. Pulling his field in and taking a deep vent, Ratchet knocks and waits to be acknowledged.
“Come in, Ratchet.”
A second passes before the door slides open. Pharma was standing by one of the large windows overlooking Iacon as Ratchet quietly came in and sat at one of the nice chairs across from Pharma’s desk. Pharma stays quiet as Ratchet settles, just continues to keep looking out across the city as he lets Ratchet stew in his thoughts. Ratchet knows that this is one of Pharma’s intimidation tactics. Let his opponent simmer in emotions and thoughts before breaking the silence to throw them off their groove.
As if on cue, Pharma finally takes his optics away from the city to look at Ratchet. He takes a moment to look him up and down, as if trying to find something wrong with Ratchet’s frame to comment on. Finding nothing major enough to comment on, Ratchet assumes, Pharma walks over to his desk and takes a seat, crossing his digits in front of him and leveling a disappointed look towards Ratchet. Eyes piercing him like a teacher giving his prize student his first failing grade. Ratchet bristles at the look and gives Pharma a hard glare back as he crosses his arms in opposition.
They keep the staring contest going for a few minutes more until Pharma finally sighs and grabs some paperwork from the side. “I have heard from a few nurses that you have a new… project you’re keeping a close eye on. Is that right?”
“If you’re talking about my patient from earlier this week, then yes I’m keeping a close eye on him. He hasn’t awakened from stasis yet, so I’m monitoring him myself to see if there are any other complications I could have missed during surgery.”
“Hmmm.” It’s dismissive. Pharma doesn’t really care about Drift. Cares more about why the patient hasn’t left yet and is taking resources that could be diverted elsewhere, Ratchet figures.
“Do you need to be the one monitoring him, or could you allow one of your residents to take over? I’d rather our Chief of Surgery not be preoccupied with such a simple case.
“I’m afraid not. The university recently sent over their medical students to be trained, and our residents are taking care of that.”
Pharma perks up at the mention of the students, putting his papers down briefly. “Ah, yes the medical students. Do they look promising? It would be advantageous for us to show our best side to prospective employees.”
“You’ll have to ask Hook and Nickel about them. I haven’t had much time to talk to them, but they seem like good kids.” Ratchet shrugs and eases back, no longer tense as Pharma’s mood shifts to a more casual tone from the cold professional mood from earlier. They start to ramble after that, talking about the latest inventions and disasters from the science wing and the latest political news of the council’s reactions to the Decepticon gang’s most recent attacks. Well, attacks in the loose sense of them vandalizing a senator’s home and a business they funded. The media tends to ramp up the Decepticons’ action to drum up business with their flashy headlines. Regardless of the topic at hand, Pharma and Ratchet just continue to casually chat and ease into each other’s fields. Just like before, they had dated.
However, this doesn’t last long. As they wind down from the most recent topic (how Mirage’s salon had been booming in popularity recently), Pharma reaches and puts a servo on Ratchet’s arm, slowly rubbing it in small circles. Ratchet didn’t realize he had started to learn forward while talking with Pharma, and once his servo came into contact with his arm, he froze. The EM field that had been starting to pull away from his body and mix with Pharma’s shrinks back, and the warmth in the air turns cold. Realizing he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted, Pharma stops rubbing circles and pulls his servo away, drawing it to his lap as he straightens up and levels Ratchet with the same calculating stare from earlier.
“Well, as fun as it has been to catch up and chat with you Ratchet, I do have business to attend to, and you have patients. Feel free to keep working on your little project, just don’t let it get in the way of work now.”
“Pharma, he isn’t some science project; he’s my patient. His name is Drift.”
“Yes yes whatever you decide to call him; he’s your responsibility. Have fun.” With that, Pharma dismisses Ratchet with a little wave, turning back to look over the paperwork on his desk.
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Ratchet was pissed at Pharma’s indifference towards Drift. Yes, he wasn’t Pharma’s patient, but Drift still had a beating spark and was a living mech. To think the hospital’s Chief Medical Officer was more concerned with resources over a mech’s spark was unimaginable to Ratchet; it was just another factor that led to him realizing that they weren’t compatible. Ratchet cared too much about his patients, and Pharma cared too little.
Ratchet adjusts in his seat next to Drift’s berth and continues to go over the most recent cases that have come through the ER. Thankfully, First Aid has a good handle on the ER whenever Ratchet is too busy to check things. The cases he reads over are the more intense patients who have been taken care of but could potentially be coming back at a later point. Finishing up the review of the intense midsection rust infection that had come in, Ratchet pauses as he reads over the first part of the next case. Stunned silence as he reads the words “Severed right servo lodged in patient’s valve channel” right at the top of the data pad.
“…..what?”
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One Day Ago - ER Administration Desk
First Aid stands diligently at the admin desk as he helps Red Alert get his desk system back in order while still passing out orders and charts to the other doctors on the floor. Just as his pile of fresh charts gets small enough to see over, he sees someone he wouldn’t expect to come in. A lone Motormaster, his gestalt nowhere in sight, wobbling through the ER front doors and straight to the admin desk.
“Good afternoon, Motormaster! Kinda surprised to see you voluntarily coming in here for once. Where is the rest of your gestalt?”
“Uh, heya doc. No, yeah the boys are at home taking a day off from the usual. Breakdown might be here talking to that pretty red thing upstairs, though. But um yeah I wanted to get a, uhhhh, physical done. Yeah, a physical.” Motormaster unsurely decides on as he plasters on a little too casual of a smile. Definitely hiding something. Deciding not to deal with this helmache, First Aid does a quick look around to see who could check Motormaster real quick. Luckily, Hook is finishing up an exam with the two new medical students and makes optic contact with First Aid.
“Perfect timing! Hook is available now, and this will be great practice for our students to learn from as well. Oh Hook! If you would be so kind as to take Motormaster to observation room #4 for a physical. Please and thank you!”
“Hmph, alright then. Ambulon, this will be your time to shine as we go through the physical procedure. Velocity, you will be observing. Come along, Motormaster, we don’t have all day.” Hook gives a wave to Motormaster as he leads Ambulon and Velocity to the room, missing the nervous bot’s fans kicking on as Motormaster winces into an awkward gait. First Aid, just knowing that something was about to happen, heads over to the direct phone line to Soundwave to request extra security for good measure.
Meanwhile, in the observation room, Ambulon takes stock of the big mech in front of him, sitting on the slightly too small medical berth. First observations of a patient are the key moments to determine what’s wrong with them. Well, at least that’s what First Aid told him one night as Ambulon was studying procedures. Taking stock of the big guy in front of him, the dark grey and purple combiner seemed fine. No major discolorations. No missing limbs. No obvious infections. He seemed a little uncomfortable and making minor shifts as he sits, but he’s also surrounded by a doctor and two medical students. Anyone would be nervous with an audience.
Finishing up his initial visual assessment, Ambulon looks over to Hook for confirmation to move on. A quick nod from the resident, and Ambulon continues on.
"So, sir, do you have any general pains or aches we should be aware of? Part of this physical will have you moving into different positions, so we want to ensure we don’t agitate any pre-existing conditions.” Ambulon asks as he pulls a basic data pad out of his subspace, putting in the information he gets from a quick medical scan.
“Uh no, nothing I can think of. Maybe some joint pain, but that’s normal.”
“We will take that into account. The physical will start with some questions to get a better understanding of your frame’s history, and then we will begin the movement test, understand?”
“Sure do doc.” Motormaster seems to have relaxed as Ambulon explains what he was doing next. Taking this as a sign that he’s not actually fumbling his job up for once, Ambulon starts the questionnaire portion of the check-up. All the usual questions, like “when was your last hospital visit”, “have you ingested any weird/unusual substances recently”, “most recent limb loss if applicable”.
“Moving on to the last question, are you sexually active?” Ambulon mindlessly asks, prepping the equipment for the active portion. Not hearing an immediate response like normal, and hearing fans click on, Ambulon pauses the untangling of wires to look at Motormaster. The big and easy-going bot that seemed to have been coming out as they’ve been chatting has retreated back to the nervous and skittish mech from earlier. Ambulon shoots a look over to Hook, hoping to get some kind of direction on how to navigate this emotionally fluctuating mech. All he gets back is a frown and a raised optic ridge over his visor as he starts to get annoyed with the mech.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hook finally loses his patience. “Oh for Primus’s sake Motormaster we all frag, just tell us when your last time was and we can move on,” he snaps, and finally, Motormaster’s fans kick up a notch as his face starts to blush blue.
“…. An hour ago.”
“Finally! Ambulon, take note and move on. We have lost precious time that we could have been using to take care of any other patient.”
Ambulon quickly nods and writes it down. Not wanting to waste time and potentially wear Hook’s thin patience even thinner, Ambulon quickly sets Motormaster up to the machine to get baselines and measurements. Just as he’s about to have Motormaster get up, Hook makes a distressed noise and steps out of the observation room, heading towards the admin desk.
“Mixmaster? I felt through the bond that you were near. What are you doing here? And where is your servo??” Hook questions as he nears his gestalt member. Jumping at the sudden emergence of Hook, Mixmaster quickly reels in his surprise and giggles at his angry cohort.
“Aw Hooky, you do have a spark. Bonecrusher owes me 5 shanix.” A quick punch to the arm is all the response Hook gives to his gestalt member as he waits expectantly.
“No fun from you today, huh? Well, if you must know doctor, I was working on a new formula when our beloved Bonecrusher decided to interrupt my very important work, and one distraction later, it was gone. Couldn’t tell ya where it went,” Mixmaster shrugs casually, waving his servo-less arm and grinning wildly. Hook looks over to First Aid, who was helping Mixmaster, and just gives the deepest sigh that only a fellow combiner would understand.
“Alright. First Aid, I’ll take over from here. This will be good practice for Velocity anyways. Go to room #5 and we’ll be with you shortly.”
“Heard boss!” A quick salute with the remaining servo, and he was walking to the observation room with a pep in his step.
Meanwhile, Ambulon kept running diagnostics with Motormaster while Velocity left to prep the room next to them for Mixmaster. Everything was going well, all of his vitals were reading normal and steady. Yet, when instructed to do some basic lower stretches, Motormaster refused to budge from his spot on the berth.
“Is everything alright sir?”
“It’s either Motormaster or Motor, none of that sir slag, got it kid? Do I look old enough to be a sire?” A heated glare and snap of words is all Motormaster gives Ambulon as the medical student starts to fidget, not wanting to piss off the bigger mech any further. Thankfully, Hook returns to the room at that point and gives his own pointed glare right back to Motormaster.
“You still haven’t finished? Motor, are you being a fragging sparkling over a simple physical? Unbelievable. I have no idea how the other Stunticons deal with your childish aft.” He throws his arms up in disbelief before looking towards Ambulon to continue. A step is taken before an engine growl starts coming from Motormaster, warning Ambulon not to get any closer. Looks are shared between Hook and Ambulon before the humble med student bows out for the experienced resident to take over.
“Alright, Motormaster, get up and bend over to touch your pedes. Let’s get this over with.” Hook directs, taking the data pad Ambulon had been inputting all the readings in and moving to make space for the big mech. A second goes by, and Hook doesn’t hear a certain combiner leader move from his spot. Checking over his shoulder, Motormaster continues to sit there and not budge, a light shade of blue starting to creep across his face plate, the only distinction he was acknowledging the situation.
“Are you serious? Didn’t you come in asking for a physical? Why come in if you aren’t going to do the full exam? What, did you get a stick stuck so far up your aft that you can’t bend over?” Puffs of steam start to come out of Hook’s vents out of frustration as he looks down on Motormaster. A mumble and a little shift is all he gets back.
“I’m sorry, the sparkling in front of me is going to have to use his big boy words and tell me why he won’t get up from the observation berth.”
A pause. Then quietly, “It’s not a stick.”
Hook leans back as he processes what Motormaster just said to him. Ambulon is next to him, wide opticed and slack-jawed at the admission, and Motormaster is there trying to convince the medical berth to swallow him whole.
Out of nowhere, a loud laugh comes from behind everyone as Mixmaster stands there in the open doorway, trying to contain his laughter while Velocity tries to herd him back to his room.
“Aw Momo, why don’t you tell Hooky here what’s really stuck down there? You’ll get out of here faster to do more important things if you do.” Directing his feral grin to Motormaster, Mixmaster saunters in and takes a seat next to him.
“Mix, stop eavesdropping on other patients’ evaluations and go to your own room. I doubt he’ll be any more comfortable with your insane aft next to him.”
“Ohhhh I don’t know about that. We’ve gotten very close recently and are quite comfortable with each other. In fact, I know what’s up his aft. Well, actually his valve, but that's not as fun to say.”
A pause. Quizzical glances were shared amongst all the medical personnel in the room. “Now, why would you know what’s up his valve?
Mixmaster’s grin grows even more as he waves his missing servo arm around and gives his gestalt member a look. It takes Hook a moment, looking from the missing servo to Motormaster and back, but he eventually connects the dots. Once those dots are connected, Hook almost loses a bolt or two from how rapidly his frame heats from the hurricane of emotions forming inside him. Mixmaster just gleefully giggles at Hook’s fluctuating temperament, and all Motormaster can do is groan aloud before his helm falls into his servos in resignation. Velocity and Ambulon can only look at each other in shared bewilderment over the fact that their resident’s gestalt brother got his servo lodged up another combiner’s aft.
“I’ll go get the ultrasound machine.”
“Yeah, you do that, Ambulon. You do that.”
While Ambulon leaves a stunned Hook to grab the ultrasound machine, around the corner, First Aid and Sideswipe are practically bent over in half trying not to laugh and agreeing with each other that they will for sure be telling the other staff about this.
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A soft chuckle comes out as Ratchet finishes reading that report, taking notes to give Hook a weekend off for his troubles. Movement catches his optics and as he looks up from his reports, he finds a bleary opticed Drift finally rousing from his medical stasis. Warm amber meets cool turquoise.
“To think Primus would bless me by letting me hear the soft laughs of an angel upon death.” Drift murmurs out as he looks up at Ratchet. His voice was a little scratchy from a week of disuse, but still strong enough that Ratchet could hear the slight mix of accents. A rough baritone of Polyhex matched with the more refined speech pattern of Iacon. It was a nice combination Ratchet settled on.
Realizing Drift actually had said something, Ratchet’s concerned look shifts to an irked one as he replays what Drift had said in his processor.
“Angels don’t exist, and Primus doesn’t give his blessings out on a whim, kid. Just a bot with decent hands making sure a mech with a strong spark lives.”
“Hmm, if you’re not an angel, what am I supposed to call you?”
“Just call me Ratchet.”
“Ratchet…. how pretty,” Drift mumbles as his frame decides then that it was time to go into a proper recharge. Ratchet pats the medical blanket covering Drift as he watches the mech succumb to the recharge his frame has been needing for who knows how long. As a slight blush warms Ratchet’s face plate, he sits back from Drift’s berth into his chair and turns back to the reports in his lap. As he sits there and reads, his servo never leaves its spot on Drift’s berth. Right on top of Drift’s servo. The small physical connection and the quiet vents of a mech recovering being the needed moments, Ratchet sought out to settle his worrying spark.
Hours go by. Red Alerté gathers up the evening charts and starts to head to where she knows Ratchet would be. He had given her orders at the beginning of the week to bring all completed charts to him for review before getting finalized. A quick trip up the elevators and she’s already down the familiar hall of the recovery ward and crossing the threshold into Drift’s room.
“He-“ Red Alerté quickly shuts her intake as she takes in the scene before her. Ratchet was asleep in his chair softly snoring. Drift in the berth with a small smile resting on his face. Both of their servos gently clasped together. Taking a quick snapshot to share with Kup and Ironhide, Red Alerté carefully moves the teetering charts in Ratchet’s lap to a side table and pulls out an extra medical blanket. Gingerly, she places the blanket onto Ratchet and quietly steps out of the room, closing the door and switching the “Do Not Disturb” sign on.
One shared picture through comms later, Red Alerté starts heading back down the hall towards the elevators. If Ratchet felt comfortable enough to go into recharge in there, then Primus damned was she about to have any issues this night that would wake him up. With the determination of a Prime going into battle, Red Alerté heads down the elevator to her arena. The infamous ER during a weekend night shift. Splendid.
Notes:
Welcome to the endnotes!
- You may have noticed Red Alerté was both spelled differently and using she/her pronouns in this chapter and the last. That's because there are two different Red Alerts in this series. The G1 version and the Animated version. I figured, just like humans, that there were bound to be some repeats in names across bots, so we get two Red Alerts! Girl Red has the e with the accent mark to help distinguish the two.
- Schedule-wise for this story, I aim to put a chapter up no later than three weeks after the last chapter gets posted. Life gets crazy sometimes tho and motivation can get haywirey sometimes, so we ball on that, and I thank you for your patience ahead of that.As always thank you for reading and I'll see you next time! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Chapter 3: Was That A Teleporting Sparkling?
Summary:
Dear Readers,
Welcome back to another update to your hottest spot for the medical drama in Iacon! This week, we bring to you some goofs and laughs, blooming romances, and all the drama you could ever wish to have. So sit tight, grab a snack, and enjoy~
Notes:
Howdy chat!
Real quick, just wanted to advise that in the last portion of the chapter (when we switch to Prowl), it will get a little intense as we will get our first big medical emergency in the story. Nothing too crazy, like slightly graphic depictions of bodily harm, but for those who may want to skip that, the start of that is "Frag! There was..." and goes to the end. I'll include a TLDR to summarize that portion at the end.
There is also a small reference to the pregnancy loss that was touched upon in chapter 1 in the Knockout portion as well. If you would like to skip over that, the start of that is "The last consult..." and ends with "...his door". Super short, but just in case ya never know.
Okay with the advising done, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dawn just breaks the horizon when Hoist gets his first patient for the day. A bright-eyed sparkling peeking around at all the bright lights and noises, and her two overly anxious creator units. A storm of anxiety had been brewing around the administration desk before Hoist stepped in to take care of the young bot. Red Alert was doing his best to gather the family’s information, but with their erratic EM fields feeding into Red’s overactive processor, someone was due for a crash sooner or later. Noticing this spiraling spark attack waiting to happen, Hoist gently took the family unit to an observation room while Velocity and Nickel tried to ease down a frazzled Red Alert.
Once in the observation room, Hoist takes stock of the little patient sitting on the medical berth in front of him and begins his tests.
“How old is the little one here?” Hoist asks as he begins to perform some easy dexterity tests to assess the protoforms' development. Using a small rod, he places it into the bitlet’s servos to check grip strength as he focuses back on the creator’s response.
“She’s recently emerged, roughly a month old,” the sire, a black and white speed-frame named Checkered, tells as he stands behind and softly massages the tense shoulders of his partner. The carrier, a dark cherry bulky ground-frame named Pitt, watches her babbling sparkling like a cyberhawk, making sure the young frame doesn’t scooch too close to the med berth’s edge or try to grab a tool she isn’t meant to have.
“First sparkling?”
The sire laughs and nods, “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a smidge. Your respective parental protocols will dial back soon, especially once this little one starts having better motor controls and gets her first frame upgrade. If you two decide to have any other sparklings, the protocols won’t be as strong since your processors will have already gone through this rigamarole before,” Hoist explains as he pulls out a deck of flashcards to test out the sparkling’s processor development.
“That’s…good to know. It’s been rough juggling the creator coding, the sparkling, and our everyday stuff. It’ll be nice when the coding isn’t as aggressive, heh,” Checkered slightly grimaces as he moves on to rubbing small circles on Pitt's upper back, hoping to ease her tense frame a bit. Pitts has yet to look away from her creation, hasn’t even acknowledged that Hoist was even in the room, as she keeps vigilant watch over her sparkling.
“I imagine it’s been a difficult time for you two with your first creation, but I can assure you that from this point on, it should be smooth sailing from here on out. Isn’t that right, little bitlet!” Hook bops the small protoform on her olfactory sensor, causing her to scrunch her face plate back at him, as he finishes up his final tests.
Everything was going well. The young protoform had excellent readouts from her medical ports, strong motor skills in her servos and pedes, and even her processor was developing at a higher rate than others at this point in the development stage. Every new positive readout Hoist gave the creators seemed to ease the aggressive protocols in their processors, focusing more on Hoist rather than their sparkling resting on the medical berth.
“With reviewing these final readouts, I can safely say that you have a healthy, developing sparkling who is on track for their next upgrade! Once you notice her protoform is starting to change colors, bring her back for me to check up on and see who would be a good specialist for her upgrades. Now, if you have any other questions or have any concerns in the next couple of months, here is my card with my contact on it.” Hoist passes Checkered his data card as he pats the little creation on the head. As he does one final look over the protoform, a small alarm goes off on the machines still connected to the sparkling as her readings start to spike exponentially. Happening in almost a blur, Hoist looks from the readings to the sparkling as the bitlet starts to giggle. The giggling leads to a big hiccup, and in a flash of grey and blue, the sparkling is gone.
Everyone freezes. Checkered still leaning over the medical berth, gripping Hoist’s data card, Pitts hovering over the chair that she was getting up from, and Hoist standing there with his servo still suspended right where he had it gently resting on the protoform’s helm. When a second goes by and the small protoform doesn’t flash back into existence, all hell breaks loose. Pitts passes out from her processor crashing. Checkered launches himself across the berth to grab at Hoist, all while Hoist is grabbing the phone for the internal comm system to tell Soundwave of a teleporting sparkling on the loose in the hospital.
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“WHAT?! How does…you know what, never mind. Ugh okay okay I’ll let everyone else know to keep an optic out for a teleporting sparkling. Nickel out.” A deep sigh is what comes out of Nickel next as she hangs up the phone and pinches her olfactory bridge in irritation. Of all the days for a sparkling to get loose in the hospital, it would be the day her boss was walking around the ER with a prospective donor. Nickel looks over at the entrance and sees Pharma chatting with a couple of seekers; bright blues and yellows stand next to glossy, deep reds and blues as the two new seekers stand out to Pharma’s own polished yet duller reds and blues. If Nickel remembers right, one was Thundercracker, a cabinet member from Vos, and the other was Starscream, a lead scientist under Shockwave in the science wing of the building; two out of three of a trine nicknamed The Elite by gossip magazines She remembers Starscream from the last time he was here with his crashed out trinemate. The everyday bots sitting in the waiting room were all staring and whispering to each other over the fact that Cybertron’s biggest names were just standing and casually talking to each other right in front of them. Before Nickel’s helmache could get any worse, Skyfire appeared from the break room and carefully walked over to her with some charts.
“Nickel! First Aid wanted you to look over these charts real quick. These are over the patients I just brought in about thirty minutes ago.” Skyfire passes several charts before checking his surroundings. Looking at the charts, Nickel takes note of what will be needed and starts making notes for treatments when she suddenly hears a little squeak from above. Looking up, she sees Skyfire avoiding optic contact with anyone and a little blush starting to form at the base of his neck. Taking a wild guess of who the culprit was, Nickel turns back to look at the ER entrance and sees Starscream grinning wickedly while tweaking his wings just slightly. Thundercracker and Pharma seemed to be in deep conversation, so they missed their compatriots’ actions, but Nickel swears she saw Thundercracker smirk slightly.
“Is he bothering you, Fire? I can report him to Shockwave if you want,” Nickel offers as she heads to one of the taller chairs by the admin desk to sit in.
“Hm? Oh! No no no no don’t worry about it. He was probably just messing with me to get back for that time I surrounded him with my field. Thank you, though Nickel,” Skyfire gives a small smile before glancing back at Starscream. Nickel also looks back and is happy to see the troublesome scientist gone from the waiting room. Yet a new problem makes itself known as Pharma is leading Thundercracker straight to them.
“Ah, and here we have one of our prized surgical residents. Ms. Nickel here has been with our hospital for the past four years, and ever since she joined us, we have seen some exponential improvements in patient turnarounds. We are truly lucky to have her in our program. And Ms. Nickel, this is Sir Thundercracker of the Vosnian cabinet, who has heard excellent things about our hospital and has come personally to see if we live up to our reputation!” Pharma introduces with that golden confidence that investors eat up.
Nickel has seen this same song and dance before and knows her part to play. Pharma brings the investor to the ER to show just how much work and attention the staff does for the public, and she talks about how much of an honor it was to work here and how Pharma has given her the ability to grow and blah blah blah. Yet as she is about to give her spiel, she notices something peculiar. Thundercracker wasn’t looking at her, but at Skyfire, as if waiting for Pharma to introduce the big shuttle as he did for her. The shuttle in question had decided to take a seat behind the desk and read some datapad he had on servo after realizing that Starscream was gone, not realizing that his trinemate had locked onto him.
Realizing that Thundercracker wasn’t focusing on Nickel, Pharma tracks his line of sight towards Skyfire and gives a little rev of his engines to get the attention of the shuttle. Hearing the growl of Pharma’s engines snaps Skyfire’s focus from his pad and up towards the three sets of optics focused on him. A second goes by as Skyfire processes everybot's EM fields that cross over him. Pity, annoyance, and amusement quickly flash over the fields, and Skyfire scrambles to get up from his spot.
“Oh! I’m sorry, was I in the way? Or did you need something from me or from behind the admin desk?”
Nickel opens her intake to say something, but Pharma’s quick glossa beats her.
“Jetfire was it? I do believe the breakroom for our emergency vehicle workers is down that hall, if I remember correctly. We must keep the front free of unnecessary personnel in case of emergencies, understand?” His tone gave the impression he did not want Skyfire here and wanted him gone as soon as possible.
Now, what Pharma didn’t know was that there was an unspoken rule in the ER not to speak down to the emergency vehicles they worked with. Nickel remembers when a former doctor tried to sass Flatline for almost running him over when dropping off a critical patient. That ended with the said doctor laid out in the middle of the ER with a pissed off Flatline glaring down at him from above. Ratchet had needed to step in and diffuse the situation, sending Flatline to the breakroom and the punched-out doctor home, but with him upstairs in the recovery wing, it would be up to Nickel to make sure nothing went ugly.
Skyfire bristles at the remark. Where once was a flustering shuttle trying to make amends, now stands a steeled emergency vehicle not taking any slag from anybot. His field takes a sour note as he straightens up to look down on Pharma, optics honed in on the smaller flier as he levels him an icy glare. Pharma, picking up on the usually friendly bot’s turn of attitude and the hint of danger in the air, just raises an optic ridge at him, but he does subtly take a step back from the shuttle in preparation.
“It’s Skyfire, sir. I am aware of where the emergency vehicle break room is. However, seeing as I was waiting for Ms. Nickel here to review some files for First Aid, I deemed it appropriate to wait here with her. I made sure to step behind the administration desk to avoid the main ER traffic route, where you are currently standing. If you have any other complaints, feel free to file them with my supervisor Flatline. I’m sure he would be amenable to any comments or critiques you would have, sir.” Skyfire cocks his helm and gives an icy smile to the now very flustered Pharma. Nickel just stands there, optics large and intake slack as the last bot she ever expected to talk back to Pharma stepped up with a hitter and verbally just put her boss in his place. A laugh cuts through the tension as three helms whip to look at Thundercracker trying to contain his chuckles.
“Well, *ahem* Pharma, you truly do have a unique team here. I would never have expected them to be comfortable enough with their boss to be so direct with their thoughts. Truly a well-earned dynamic from years of exceptional service, no doubt. I am excited to meet the rest of your team if they are as hardworking as these two are.” Thundercracker sends a little wink to Skyfire before turning back to Pharma. Just as Pharma gathered himself and was going to lead the way out of the ER, a little vwop and flash of light appeared down at their pedes. Four helms look down, and sitting by Pharma’s polished pede was a small protoform, maybe only a couple of months old.
“…..Is that a sparkling?”
“.....Why yes Mr. Thundercracker, it is a sparkling.”
“Good to know.”
Four sets of optics stand and watch as the little sparkling takes in her new surroundings. Curious optics, looking and taking in all the new sights and sounds of the ER that mere moments ago weren’t there. A small gurgle escapes her intake, and her face turns into one of distress. Before anybot could react, the small frame learns over onto Pharma’s pede and throws up all over it. A squawk and rev of engines from Pharma has Thundercracker quickly picking up the sparkling to avoid being trampled by the offended party.
“Why you little-“ Another flash, and the small protoform that Pharma was about to chastise was gone from Thundercracker’s servos. Everyone stares at the space and collectively takes a moment to process what just happened.
“….Miss Nickel, I do suggest that you begin looking for that runaway sparkling.”
“Yes, Mr. Pharma. Right away, sir.”
“If I may be so bold,” Thundercracker interrupts before everyone splits away to look for the sparkling. “It seems the young bitlet has a teleportation outlier ability, and I have a trinemate who possesses a similar ability. He is doing a photo shoot in Iacon, and I could call him to come help, if that’s alright?”
“That…” Nickel looks to Pharma, not wanting to overstep and take away his guest. Pharma gives a quick nod, probably wanting this little issue to be taken care of as quickly as possible before anything else goes awry. “That would be very helpful, Mr. Thundercracker. Having someone who understands the outlier ability will be genuinely very helpful in locating the young protoform. Thank you for assisting with this problem.”
Thundercracker waves away at the statement, “It’s nothing to worry about. From what I understand, Skywarp and Starscream caused a bit of headache the last time they were here, so consider this a repayment for their troublesome behaviors. And you,” Thundercracker turns and faces Skyfire, “I owe an apology to you for my trine’s behavior the last time they met you.”
Before Skyfire could open his intake, Thundercracker dropped into a deep bow, one arm crossing to rest over his spark and the other staying close to the side of his frame. His wings pull back into a tight V, and a low rumble comes from Thundercracker’s engines. Yet another dignified squawk and hiccup of engines escapes Pharma at the sight of the deep Vosnian bow meant for truly offended parties, but Skyfire looks at the display with only mild curiosity and confusion.
“Oh, uh, it’s alright. I mean, one of them was concussed from crashing, and the other was freaking out over that fact. I would also be a little erratic if someone close to me was hurt. You can, uh, get up now, sir, you don’t need to bow or anything,” Skyfire leans down to gently pull Thundercracker up, giving him a little smile once they meet optics again. Nickel watches on in amusement at the sight before her, noting the slight blush on Thundercracker’s neck plating at the small smile Skyfire gave him. The two idiots in front of her seemed to have gotten lost in their own little world, so it was up to her to bring them back to reality.
“So! Mr. Thundercracker, if you could call up your trinemate quickly, that would be very appreciated.”
“OH! Yes, yes, let me step outside and give him a quick comm. I will be right back.”
Thundercracker gives a final look to Skyfire and heads outside the hospital to give Skywarp a comm. Once gone, both Pharma and Nickel lock on Skyfire and, in a synchronized movement, raise their optic ridges at the shuttle before them.
“Well, that was nice of him!”
“Oh, Skyfire, you have no idea.”
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It was quiet in Knockout’s office. The couple he had just completed a consult for were about ready for their spark fusion as the carrier’s protoform was developing at a good rate. With another happy couple under his radial belt, he sees what else he has lined up for the day. Checking his schedule, he had a frame alteration in about an hour and then another consult for protoform creation in the afternoon. Seems like the couple would be bringing their first creation as well, so Hoist will have to be called up to check on that. Thinking of Hoist and the last time they had to work together made Knockout pause the tapping that he was unconsciously doing on his desk.
That last consult was a rough one, to say the least. A failed protoform development was never easy for the carrier, and Knockout sympathized with each one that walked through his door. He’d thought about it, having his own creation, but the lack of a partner and his job’s busy schedule doesn’t lead to a lot of time to worry about a bitlet. Well, for the moment, he didn’t have a partner, but a persistent Stunticon had been knocking on his office door recently. After running into Breakdown at a local bar and talking late into the night, it seemed like Knockout had gained an admirer. It was cute, Knockout thought. Breakdown was sweet, and would swing by the hospital on lunch breaks and come to just talk. Sometimes he would bring little gifts, mainly polishes and oils from Mirage’s salon, the Polished Mirror, but it seemed like he truly just wanted to get to know Knockout. That was new for the speedster. Usually, the mechs he met and dated just wanted to spend a night with his pretty frame and move on. Most of his suitors were turned off by his high maintenance and job life. Nobody has wanted to actually get to know Knockout before. Not until Breakdown.
His little reminiscing spiral is interrupted by a knock on his office door. Checking the time to make sure he hadn’t just spent an hour stuck in his own processor, he gets up from his desk and lets the mech in. Lo and behold, the very mech he was just thinking about was standing there holding a tin of what looked like jellied energon goodies.
“Well well well. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you today, Breakdown?” Ruby optics glow with interest as he sizes up both the energon goods and the big mech in front of him.
“Heh, I was in the neighborhood and thought you might enjoy these, doc. Got them from the dessert shop down the road, and I just knew the boys wouldn’t appreciate them like you would.” Breakdown offers the tin in his servos to the doctor, giving a goofy grin that makes his optics look closed. Knockout huffs out through his vents and shakes his helm slightly before taking the tin, the grin the bigger mech gave being infectious and spreading to Knockout as he gave a small smile back.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to waste these delicate goods on those lacking taste. Come, take a seat.”
Turning back into his office, Knockout takes a step when a flash of blue appears out of nowhere and a tiny giggle sounds through the space. Sitting in the rolling chair behind the desk was a little sparkling, giggling as she took in the new space and mechs in front of her. Knockout’s optic ridges shoot up and look back at Breakdown, making sure the other mech was still there and he wasn’t being delusional. The big blue mech was still standing there, but now, instead of the goofy grin on his face plate, a soft and endearing expression crossed it.
“Who’s little bitlet is that doc? Am I interrupting a consult?”
“No, I don’t have any appointments until later. I don’t know where this sparkling is from, nor who her creators are. Give me a moment to call Soundwave.”
Keeping an optic on the creation sitting in his chair, Knockout reaches the hospital’s internal comm system and dials the line to Soundwave.
“Soundwave: present. What does Knockout require?”
“Ah, Soundwave, my favorite monotone mech. Are you aware of any creators missing a sparkling perchance?”
“Knockout: in possession of teleporting sparkling?”
“Why yes, I do believe so. Was about to entertain a guest when “vwop” and a big flash of light appeared, and in its place sat a sparkling in my office chair. I almost thought I was losing my processor for a moment there.” Knockout turns away from the sparkling and inspects his claws, picking out a little bit of dirt as he focuses back on the call.
“Task: Knockout, ensure the sparkling doesn’t teleport until Hoist gets there. Trigger - hiccups.”
“Oh fantastic, let me just make sure she doesn’t hiccup. You know, a completely involuntary response that I have no control over. I’ll do just that, Soundwave.”
“Soundwave: doesn’t care. Ensure sparkling doesn’t escape.” The abrupt cutoff tells Knockout that Soundwave had pulled the plug on the call, and he was left to himself. A deep sigh leaves his vents as he pinches his olfactory bridge in annoyance. Of course, the day Breakdown comes over to talk is when a rogue sparkling teleports into his office, and now he’s on babysitting duty. Fantastic.
Finishing up his little pity party for himself, Knockout turns to apologize and see Breakdown out when he stops. It seems like Breakdown had taken the chance while Knockout was on the phone with Soundwave to move over to the sparkling and pick her up. The sparkling was giggling while looking up to Breakdown as he cooed over her, cradling her in the crook of his arms. All Knockout could do was just stare and watch Breakdown mother over the form in his arms, seemingly having forgotten that Knockout was even there. After a minute of coddling, Knockout moves from his spot by the wall comm and approaches the duo.
“My, you sure have the touch when it comes to young protoforms, don’t you? She hasn’t cried a moment with you. Unlike some mechs I know,” Knockout peeks over Breakdown's shoulder to look down at the sparkling currently gripping one of Breakdown’s digits.
“Hmm? Oh yeah, well, I’m the second oldest in the gestalt, and Motormaster wasn’t really that helpful in raising everyone else, so I had to step up. We basically just had each other to rely on growing up since Sire and Carrier were deadbeats, so I’m used to this.” A shrug is all Breakdown gives to that before focusing back on the sparkling.
It was spark warming to see the big, intimidating Stunticon being so gentle with the young protoform. Knockout was getting so comfortable with the sight that he hadn’t realized that their EM fields had started to mesh and a low rumble was coming from engines. His engines. Catching himself in the middle of a rumble, he starts coughing through his vents and tries to get his filters re-regulated. Breakdown and the sparkling stop staring and playing with each other to watch Knockout struggle to reorient himself. Knockout must have pulled a funny face while checking his systems, as the sparkling starts giggling uncontrollably at him. It’s joyously loud in the once quiet room, and soon it has Breakdown laughing raucously and Knockout quietly joining in.
A knock at the door breaks the warm spell that had enveloped the group. Knockout checks his internal chronometer and sees that it’s been about five minutes since he called Soundwave. It feels like hours have passed while Knockout and Breakdown were laughing with the sparkling. Wiping away some leaking coolant from his optic, Knockout takes a moment to clear his intake and dust off the imaginary dust on his frame before heading to his door.
“Ah, Hoist! There you are! We were just wondering when you would show up; the dear sparkling over here was starting to get bored with us.” Sidestepping to let Hoist in, Knockout flourishes his arm out to show Breakdown bouncing the sparkling in his arms. The tension that Hoist had been holding in his frame visibly melts away as he makes optic contact with the bitlet. He takes a step towards her, and just as Breakdown starts to hold out the sparkling, a small hiccup escapes her. A flash of blue and she was gone. Reaching frames lock in place as they just watch as the sparkling disappears from their sights. A second goes by. Another. And another.
“AW FRAG THIS!” Hoist erupts as he runs back out of the office, probably back to Soundwave to see where the sparkling went next. Knockout and Breakdown just stare at the space that Hoist was just at before making optic contact with each other. Fields still meshed together, Knockout feels a twinge of sadness from Breakdown at the disappearance of the little sparkling. A notification pops up in his HUD, which he quickly dismisses as he just watches Breakdown subtly sulk; a cute little pout, that should be kissing his frame, crosses his face plate. Knockout cringes back at the aggressively wanton thought, when another notification pops up, and Knockout finally processes what it was for.
ACTIVATE SIRE PROTOCOL? [YES|NO]
Breakdown must have felt the weird uproar of emotions from Knockout’s EM field as he shakes himself out of whatever depressive stupor he was in and walks over to check.
“Are you alright, doc? You’ve got a weird energy going on right now.”
“Ah apologies, Breakdown. I should have reeled my field in. I forgot how expressive it could be with other mechs. I am alright, just going through some protocol management at the moment.” Knockout selects the NO in his HUD notification and takes a moment to collect himself. Breakdown, realizing that his own field was also very open, takes a step back and works on containing it as well. A slight blush crossed his face plate as he must have realized his disappointment in the sparkling disappearance must have reached Knockout.
Knockout takes his moment by himself to really think about Breakdown as a whole. A sweet mech who hasn’t tried to make any salacious moves without Knockout’s consent. A fantastic listener who never complains about hearing whatever misfortunes came across Knockout that day. A genuine bot who seems to know how to take care of others and has a subconscious want to have sparklings, if his interaction with the random teleporting sparkling was to go off of anything. A mech that Knockout could truly see a future with.
Coming to that conclusion, Knockout pushes off the wall he was leaning against and slowly heads to the door. Projecting every move to Breakdown in the case of any rejection, Knockout closes his office door and locks it, keeping unbroken optic contact with the mech of his immediate desires. Breakdown, taking notice of the change of demeanor, raises an optic ridge at the prowling doctor, but doesn’t move. Waiting to see just where this goes.
Knockout saunters up the big mech and corrals him towards his desk. A couple of steps later and Breakdown's knees are hitting the edge, and he’s practically sitting on the desk while Knockout slithers right in between his legs. Standing hip to hip, Knockout gives Breakdown a moment to process where this could go as he gently scratches the plating around the top of Breakdown’s thighs. A frame-racking shiver and a smoldering stare are all Breakdown gives Knockout as the two stand together.
“Breakdown. In the time that I have known you, I have come to gather a level of respect that I would only give to my closest compatriots. And seeing you handle that sparkling today truly cemented in my processor that I would like to give this…,” he pauses to rest a servo on his chest before placing that same servo on Breakdown’s, right about his spark. “… a chance.”
The heated air from two mech’s heavy venting is forgotten for a moment as Breakdown’s features soften at his lovely doctor. He moves one of his servos from the desk to lay over the one resting over his spark, “I think doc, that doesn’t sound too bad. Been wondering when you would finally let me catch you.”
The soft expression gets quickly replaced with a wicked grin as Breakdown’s other servo quickly moves to cup the back of Knockout’s aft with a quick and playful squeeze. Knockout raises an optic ridge at that, and Breakdown’s grin grows wilder. Revving engines fill the room as the two mechs wait for the signal that will start a race they both intend to finish satisfied.
“Well, Breakdown… I have an hour till my next appointment. I want you to ruin my finish before then, big boy.”
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Ratchet takes a moment to watch Drift walk. Being a couple of weeks after the major frame surgery, Ratchet was having Drift do some exercises on the sky bridge to get a change of space. A mech can only stare at the ivory walls of the hospital for so long before losing their processor. Notes were scratched down as Drift made a hard bank near the end of the hall in his alt mode, quickly lining himself and pushing his frame to the max to reach critical warnings from his HUD. Just as Drift was about to collide with Ratchet, he threw himself out of his alt mode to fly over Ratchet and land crouched behind him with a well-practiced flourish.
Hard vents and engine growls fill the space as the two mechs look at each other. Drift with a raised optic ridge as if daring Ratchet to say any less how impressed he was with his display, while Ratchet looks at the speedster with an exasperated look as he finishes jotting down the last of Drift’s data points into his pad. Like a mischievous turbofox, Drift smoothly gets up from his crouched position and saunters over to his current target. Engine growls turn into soft purring and a coy smile climbs his face plate as he approaches. Gently placing a servo on Ratchet’s arm, he draws his attention from the medical pad to him.
“Sooooo doc, did I pass?”
A roll of optics as Ratchet bristles slightly at the nickname. “Hmph. I told you kid; it’s Ratchet, not doc.”
“And I’ve told you that I’m not a kid! I’m only a couple of years younger than you!” Drift steps back to cross his arms over his chassis, acting like a sparkling who had their favorite toy taken away from them. Seeing the grown mech act very much like the sulking kid he calls him, a soft chuckle and small smile escape Ratchet as he focuses back on finishing the data compilation. This being one of Drift’s final tests before discharge, Ratchet wanted to make sure he was in one hundred percent condition before leaving his care.
He had, unfortunately, grown rather fond of the speedster in his time here at the hospital. It was easy to talk to him; it seemed like the two mechs had known each other for decades rather than days. Light jokes and casual banter came out almost like second nature when talking with each other. They had even accidentally merged EM fields in the quiet, tender moments together during his recovery. It was refreshing for Ratchet after spending the past couple of months looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t screwing something up in front of Pharma. It….it was nice being with Drift, Ratchet decided. So nice in fact that he didn’t want to ruin it. When Drift started being more forward, more casual touches, his EM field actively reaching out for Ratchet, even asking Ratchet if he wanted to “check” his spark directly, Ratchet had to take a step back.
Firstly, Drift was still his patient. He wouldn’t ever dream of stepping over that boundary of doctor and patient with anymech, even if Ratchet was starting to think about how cute the white speedsters aft was. Secondly, his break-up with Pharma was still relatively recent. Especially with how Pharma had been acting towards him recently, Ratchet didn’t want a new relationship to sour whatever bond he had left with Pharma. He did appreciate everything Pharma did for the hospital, and he very much still respected him as a mech in general. The complicated nature of emotions and work is exactly why Ratchet had sworn off pursuing anyone else after Pharma. That is, until Drift.
Drift had gotten the memo, thankfully. He was still very flirtatious with his actions towards Ratchet, but had taken a step back and kept a respectable distance. Now, instead of being a heavy cloak clinging to Ratchet’s frame, Drift floats by as a ribbon, giving careful touches to prove he still thinks of Ratchet even when brushed aside. If the kid was going out of his way to respect Ratchet’s boundaries while he figured his slag out, then by Primus damned was he about to make sure Drift was at the optimal levels to leave his care.
“Alright, kid, these last few tests look pretty good. Your mineral counts are still a little low for my liking, but I’ll give you some supplements to counteract that. I’d say you should be good to go after another day or two of observations.” A final click to turn off the pad, and Ratchet turns to finally give Drift his full attention. Drift had moved on from his childish sulking, but now a different emotion colored his field. Ratchet couldn’t tell just what it was since Drift had pulled his field in close, but that alone caused some alarms to ring in Ratchet’s processor. Taking a look around the open skybridge, he didn’t see anything in particular that would cause for concern, but listening, he swore he could hear the faint thrum of a flight frame’s engines.
Just as he was about to ask Drift what that was about, a flash of blue appears, and a sparkling sits between them on the bridge. The little sparkling looks up at the two curiously as everyone takes each other in. Ratchet lowers the medical pad that he very much wasn’t going to use as a blunt weapon and notices Drift trying to reach for something from his waist. It’s quick, and Ratchet would have missed the movement if he weren’t already looking at Drift, but the servos reaching for air quickly get directed back up to be crossed over his chassis again, as if he were trying to play off the whole action sequence nonchalantly. Ratchet frowns at that behavior and makes a mental note to ask Drift about it later, but then redirects his focus to the little bitlet sitting in the middle of the skybridge hallway.
“What do we have here? How did you get here, little bitlet? Where are your creators?” Ratchet coos at the sparkling while taking a knee and opening his field up, trying to seem less gruff for once. The sparkling’s still developing engines make a tired little sound from them as she starts to crawl to Ratchet, optics starting to droop from excessive energy spent from teleporting around. Just as she gets to Ratchet, an energy starts buzzing around her. Optics lighting up a light blue, she hiccups again and teleports away, leaving a confused Drift and an exasperated Ratchet.
“Was that… a teleporting sparkling?”
A deep vent comes out of Ratchet at the question as he gets up from kneeling. He mulls over the question for a second, debating on giving Drift the correct answer or the “no slag” response. Seeing the confused turbofox face on Drift did soften his spark a touch to be a little easier on him at the moment.
“Yeah, Drift, it was a teleporting sparkling.”
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“Aaaaaaand there we go! See! Told you the calculations were right.”
A final flash of blue, and the teleporting sparkling drops into Skywarp’s arms with a startled rev of engines and wide optics. The rambunctious seeker gives the little bot a big grin before carefully passing her on to Hoist, a mech who was very happy to see the sparkling in one piece. Before getting too far, Shockwave moves from his spot next to Soundwave towards Hoist and places a small device at the base of the sparklings neck, right on her medical port.
“This is a rudimentary device that will prevent the protoform from using her teleportation ability. Inform the creators that they must return in approximately 3 weeks for a more permanent solution. Skywarp will assist us in developing the schematics for a device that will alleviate the issue of the random aspect of her teleporting. His calculating abilities will be crucial during the process.” Shockwave explains to Hoist, making sure the mech understands his words so he can explain to the creators. Hoist nods in understanding and quickly leaves Soundwave’s comm room to get the now-asleep sparkling to her overly anxious creators. Shockwave closes the door behind them and turns back to the other two in the cramped communications room. The room with wall to wall switchboards was just big enough for just Soundwave and his smaller cassettes on a good day. With Shockwave and Skywarp also being there, it was hard to move around without bumping into one another. Keeping a couple of wires connected and ensuring no emergency messages were coming in yet, Soundwave turns his attention to Skywarp.
“Skywarp: explain calculations for teleportation.”
“Hmm? Oh, what I had spewed out loud right before the bitlet showed up?” A nod is all Soundwave gives as Shockwave also focuses his singular optic on Skywarp’s words.
“Okay, how do I explain this? Well, when I use my outlier, there tends to be a residual…. “frequency” is the best term for it. There’s a residual frequency that acts like a trail of sorts. So thankfully, she wasn’t too far away, and I could pick up on her said teleportation frequency pretty quickly. Picking up her trail, I did some internal calculations that I use for my own teleporting to give to Shockwave for his little sparkling beacon over there. Thank Primus Starscream remembered how to make one of those from my own development days.” Skywarp finishes with a casual wave towards the crude but functional device at the end of the switchboards. Soundwave and Shockwaves look at each other, lost for words at the seeker’s explanation. Shockwave breaks the contact first to inquire more information.
“Does Starscream have knowledge of these internal calculations?”
“Nah. He tried once, but I think I broke his processor when he tried to download them from me. Doesn’t have the hardware for it.”
“Ah. Then do your creators have a similar ability or know the calculations?”
“Mmmmmmm nope. They just kinda prayed to Primus that I wouldn’t teleport into a beam or somewhere that they couldn’t get to easily. Thankfully for them, I picked up the calculations pretty quickly.”
“Perfect. Well, Skywarp, you will quickly become a familiar face to the Science division as we will require your full processing capabilities in the next couple of weeks. If you could come in tomorrow and start with Cosmos, that would be best. He is our lead in planetary explorations and has a few instruments that should be able to handle your processor’s calculations. Your help will be essential in the creation of this new technology.” Shockwave punctuates this point by stepping into Skywarp’s space and grabbing his shoulders, his singular optic glowing with a menacing aura that Skywarp didn’t want to be on the receiving end of if things went ugly.
“Y-yeah, not a problem. Cosmos right? Cool cool. I’ll check in with him tomorrow. I gotta go now, need to uh not be here okay by- “cutting himself off, Skywarp teleports out before either of the other two mechs could say anything. The energy from Skywarp’s teleportation sends some of Soundwave’s instruments into a tizzy, but with deft servos, the fritzing technology calms down, and the two mechs take a second to vent. After making sure no new alarms started up, Shockwave heads to the door to go back to the Science wing and figure out how they were going to make this work.
“Cyclops.” Shockwave’s servo freezes over the door’s keypad, straightening up at hearing his codename.
“The Fallen requires the High Command’s presence tonight.”
“…..Understood.” Digits press the code to open the door. The woosh of a panel opening and closing is the last of what Soundwave hears of Shockwave before immersing himself completely for the last few hours he has on shift in the communications room.
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Prowl watches the family unit leave, the carrier seemingly having a vice grip on her creation as the sire gently guides them to the exit. Kup had given him the shift notes before heading home: a sparkling in their first stage of development, having access to a teleportation outlier ability with two anxious creators. having to handle an ER while also dealing with the teleporting sparkling issue almost made his processor crash out just picturing the scenario. Finally leaving after having spent the whole day at the hospital, Prowl knew they were due for some well-deserved energon and recharge. With wings held tight and processor already running high, Prowl begins his shift by sorting what charts are sitting at the admin desk and waiting for whoever to come through the door.
…….
Hours go by for Prowl as it gets late into the night. So far, the most extreme patient to come in was an unattached servo that Velocity fixed up quickly. His Processor running idle had Prowl wondering what Jazz was up to when the administration phone began ringing. Minerva pauses her stock checking to grab it. Prowl watches as the energon drains from her face, listening intently to whatever Blaster is saying down the line. Knowing something big was coming, Prowl grabs Ambulon and First Aid to wait on standby once Minerva gets off the phone. Distant sirens start to become louder as Minerva finally gets off the phone with Soundwave, steel replacing the dread in her face as she addresses the space.
“Okay, mechs. We have a major incident coming in. Reports are saying a downtown bar caught fire, and we have a lot of injured bots on their way in. We need to prep any and all medbay gurneys for our emergency vehicles to unload onto. Move all non-priority patients into the waiting room and load up all supplies carts with anti-burn polishes, oils, and welding patches. Pharma and Ratchet are heading down to assist, and Blaster is contacting all off-duty doctors and residents to come in. We’ve got about ten minutes before the first wave hits us, mechs, so let's go go go!”
With those final words, mechs get moving. Nurses start filling carts with different solutions and welding patches. First Aid and Sunstreaker start moving gurneys and opening up the floor. Ambulon escorts patients into the waiting room with promises of assistance once the catastrophe is handled. And Prowl just….stands there. Frozen in place as he takes in the information Minerva just gave them. A bar in the downtown area had caught on fire, with many reported injured. Jazz worked in a bar in the downtown area. There were a lot of bars in the downtown area, surely it wouldn’t be the one Jazz worked at, right? They were up to safety codes and shouldn’t have had any issues. But what if it was Jazz’s bar? Surely Jazz was fine; he was a quick mech and could get out fast enough. But he was also a selfless mech and would help the others. He’d make sure the other mechs got out before he did.
Noticing the frozen mech about to have his processor melt out of his audials, First Aid shakes Prowl out of it. “Prowl! Snap out of it! We need you to help with moving gurneys now. We have maybe two minutes ‘til Flatline gets here.”
Optics blinking rapidly and wings recalibrating, Prowl zeros in on First Aid and nods in understanding. Thinking about what had already happened wasn’t going to solve anything. All he could do right now was make sure things were prepped for the inevitable. He can check in on Jazz later, once he knows things are in order here, since he knows Jazz is definitely fine.
He has to be fine.
Gurneys are moved, and supplies are set. First Aid, Ambulon, Pharma, and Ratchet stand waiting at the emergency vehicles bay doors, donning their shielding gowns and gloves as they wait for Flatline. Sirens draw closer, and Prowl merely watches from the side, standing at attention for whatever orders come in.
In the blink of an optic, it goes from calm to chaos. Flatline reverses into the ER, cabin doors opening, and doctors rush in to grab burned frames. The first wave of patients brings with them a symphony of noise. Gone are the quiet beeps of machines and muffled conversations of an empty ER, replaced with moans of pain and wails of suffering. Ambulon gets the last patient out of Flatline, and the mech speeds off, racing down the pavement to get more injured. Not even a vent later, Fixit arrives with more. Soon after he gets unloaded and gone, Skyfire arrives with even more. The hospital truly was being swept away in a maelstrom of patients. Amongst all the chaos and calamity, Prowl just stands there. Watching and waiting. Looking for the mech he knows is fine.
The waves go on for hours, it seems. Apparently, the fire had spread to an apartment complex next to the bar and did some major damage there as well. Red Alert had shown up to help since Inferno got called in to contain the fire and was running the admin desk with a steel servo to make sure things were accounted for. Thank Primus, Prowl had thought once he arrived, since he was basically out of commission while he waited for Jazz to show up fine. He had checked his comm link with Jazz a couple of times while waiting for him. Hadn’t reached out yet since he would do more harm to the injured mechs nearby, and Jazz would be upset if he did that. Suspiciously, Jazz’s status read as offline, but that probably just means that he forgot to turn his comm status back on after getting off work. Probably made it back to their apartment and was recharging, waiting for Prowl to get off work so they could lounge in their berth all day before going back to work the next evening.
Another drop off of patients and Prowl blinks. Oh, it’s Jazz’s manager. Must have been at the next-door apartment complex, visiting someone. Is that mech Jazz’s bandmate? Probably not, would have remembered him. I think that’s one of the waiters from the bar. Didn’t know he worked at another place.
Someone bumps into him and pulls him out of whatever feedback loop he had going, as he saw different mechs that may or may not work at the same place that Jazz worked at. Moving to the side, Prowl sees Red Alert give him a pitying glance as he moves charts around. Minerva shouts that the last wave was incoming and a collective exvent of relief could be heard from staff as the storm had almost passed.
More mechs come in, and none of them are Jazz. Skyfire drops off the last few mechs he had and quickly moves out of the way, vents working hard to cool off overtaxed internals. Fixit swings by with an energon cube, and the two emergency vehicles take a break outside to avoid the clamor and movement of the busy ER. Prowl unclasps the servos he didn’t realize were in a tight grip and loosens his wing joints from their entirely too tight position. Jazz wasn’t here, so that means he was safe. Probably home recharging and forgot to send Prowl a message, which was normal. Taking a couple of vents, Prowl unlocks his knee joints and moves to the administrative desk to see what work he could help with when Flatline crashes through the bay doors, transforming into root mode, carrying something.
“Frag! There was one more mech! Didn’t see him all the way in the back of the building. Covering another mech who didn’t make it. Barely venting, backplate melted down almost to struts, wires exposed in multiple locations, and spark rate dangerously low. He needs attention now!”
Minerva and Ratchet rush in with a gurney, multiple nurses following, and help Flatline ease the mech down. Prowl catches a flash of light as the overhead lights get reflected off the gurney. Actually, it wasn’t the gurney, but something on the gurney.
An ache from his spark starts to form as Prowl looks over the gurney that doctors and nurses were quickly wheeling to the OR. A scorched arm falls from the gurney, and he squints at it. It looked familiar. Prowl could practically see the worn grooves of years of playing an electrobass in the digits. Could count the multitude of welding scars on the servos from the fights the mech had gotten into. Could tell where the metal was worn in some places and was smooth in others on the arm.
Prowl knew what the light was reflecting off of on that gurney, but wouldn’t connect that thought in his processor. Prowl knew why that partially melted arm seemed so familiar and could recall it in great detail. Prowl knew why his spark ached at seeing the anomaly in front of him. Finally looking towards the top of the gurney as it passed by him, Prowl could see the broken dirty visor of his Jazz. Splinters of the grimy visor glass cutting up the fragile protoform that Prowl knew so intimately. The usually warm gold optics that never cease to amaze Prowl, now barely light up and flicker weakly. The last thing he sees is Ratchet cracking open Jazz’s chassis as the elevator doors close on them before Prowl succumbs to his long-awaited processor crash and falls..
Notes:
TLDR: Flatline brings in an almost offline Jazz who is severely injured. Prowl's processor doesn't accept the reality until the last second he sees Jazz disappear behind the elevator doors, and proceeds to fall unconscious.
I love when I said in the last chapter I would do updates 2-3 weeks and uh *looks at calendar* let's do once a month lol. That being said, I am planning on starting a side series for this for some more explicit scenes and development of side/background characters that I don't have room for in the main plot. First one being that fade to black scene with Knockout and Breakdown hehe so keep an eye out for that soon~
Also, I update my anatomy appendix every now and then when I get ideas for how certain Cybertronian biological functions/constructs work (how gestalts work, anatomy terms, how babies are made, etc..), so if you're curious for more information on how things work in this AU, I recommend checking that out!
With that, any comments or questions are always welcome and I'll see you lovelies in the next chapter! ٩(๑> ₃ <)۶♥
Frinzzyfonx on Chapter 1 Sun 20 Jul 2025 01:58PM UTC
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Shelbean on Chapter 1 Tue 29 Jul 2025 11:02PM UTC
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MinnieTheMoocherDA on Chapter 1 Tue 29 Jul 2025 09:04PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 29 Jul 2025 09:08PM UTC
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Shelbean on Chapter 1 Tue 29 Jul 2025 11:13PM UTC
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Agentpaperyyc on Chapter 2 Tue 12 Aug 2025 01:51AM UTC
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Shelbean on Chapter 3 Sun 14 Sep 2025 02:46AM UTC
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