Ep. 1 - Reconfiguration - [Closed]
Jun 24, 2014 18:13:12 GMT -5
Post by Flatline on Jun 24, 2014 18:13:12 GMT -5
Do Not Forget Your Place
It had taken Flatline some time until he stabilized enough to get up and try to focus his mind on something else. He had been so happy, so excited, wanting to look over all the machinery and samples to evaluate and make a mental checklist of components. But no... it had all been torn away horribly from his own idiocy and blind sense of comfort. Ripped back to leave a gaping wound of terror. He had to remind himself this was a new ship, new people, new rules, and that most of all? It was with MEGATRON leading it directly. He had to remind himself this was not the lab where he had some status and place already established.
Gradually, he got to work.
Starting off the inventory stock and cleaning was very slow at first. He idly smeared dust off of objects with a trembling hand. However the longer he was alone, despite the silence that bothered him? He started to relax again, started to find some peace and get back into what he needed to do. With this, his speed rolled up, until soon, much of the machinery was pulled away from the walls to expose the draping cables behind it, and parts were scattered about on countertops and the floor.
It was an odd pattern of components; one area housing things he would classify as manufacturing, while others was more specialized processing aids, another hand tools counting blades and routers. To an outsider it was pure chaos, a pure mess of nonsense and destruction as if he was taking out some misguided act of rebellion that was going to get himself killed. It was so bad even walking through for a normal mech would be impossible without crushing or knocking into something, everything evenly distributed around.
But it was a method to his madness, it all making sense to the Medic, and it soon made him realize just how much he had at his fingertips. It was amazing, and some of the tools? He didn't even RECOGNIZE! Artifacts from the time he had been put in stases to now, things he would need to tinker with and actually look up on the database.
Spindly small legs and peds stepped over the gutted out parts and tools, not disturbing a single one as he easily glided across to the opposite side of the room. It is there, he started to backpedal, and everything that had been ripped out? Was being put back up into new areas.
Storage cabinets that once housed one thing, now housed something completely different. The larger tanks and processing computers that could be relocated, had been pushed and shoved to new areas. The only area to remain mostly the same? Was the contaminants storage that was sealed to keep infection or corrupted chemicals from meshing with the healthy, and then the one with chilling properties to keep certain things suspended or frozen.
While the lab still had work to be done, and it still had that dingy dark look, it was completely reorganized to nearly resemble what his old one was, meaning he could pick up where he left off on efficacy. The last thing he needed while in the middle of surgery, was to go back into old parameters, reach for forceps in order to pinch and hold an energon cable, only for his hand to return with a protomass saw.
In order to even accomplish as much as he had, he had worked through the night, not even really aware of what time it was any longer. His desire to see things done, and his fear to not halt in his work, didn’t even permit him to look in the back quarters. He had not even opened that door yet. But there was much still to do, as evident by a patch of the flooring being covered in a near gridwork of tools that needed to be picked up, re-cleaned, and stored into their new homes. The tools consisted of laser scalpels, to impact tools, armor shears, angle grinders, diagnostic scanners of different types that hunted for different things, all the way to transfer tubing and pipelines.
Flatline was actually in the process of doing just that at this time.
The Medic's frame was a bit slumped, his shoulders sloped down and head drooped. Sure he could recharge, but he was still in functioning order, and he didn't want to have Megatron return and think he was being lazy. Especially with a 'mess' still on the floor that had to be sorted through. It was because of this, he was standing at the medical slab, a large jar of a decontaminating chemical to his left, with a few dingy blades to his right.
His right hand grabbed onto one of the blades, and held it over to the left, which dunked it into the decontaminating compound. The fluid ate away at anything that would have gotten on the metal from the flooring, before the limb pulled it out and handed it off to the secondary arms that had already been cleaned. By the time the hand had passed it over? The right primary had already supplied a new tool to the left primary to be dunked. The secondary hands rubbed at the metal with a sort of cloth material, absorbing excess chemical and buffing it clean, permitting his red optics to latch down onto every detail to make sure it would work to his needs.
The entire process was almost like a conveyer belt, his head craned down, locked into his motions. Right primary, left primary, dunk, retrieve, left secondary right secondary, evaluate, place. He was engrossed in it, though kept an audio feed open for any heavy footfalls. Paranoid.