Wounds {Flashback, Closed}

[Deleted]

Shortly before the war and the destruction of the towers/Praxus

Oh Primus, the pain was horrible.

Her side was dented, a trickle of fluid left the cracks in her armor, dripping onto the ground with each step. Though she wasn't the one walking, no, Cipher was carrying her. He didn't want her trying to walk, it would have been too much on her frame and the mech was worried about her. Rota, had never been this hurt before and to know who had done it? It hurt him right down to his very spark.

“We're almost there...You'll be fine.” The mech muttered, dipping into an alleyway to avoid other mecha that were wandering around this late at night. The femme gave a shudder, her servos gripping onto him as he had to shift her weight around and a whimper was the only thing uttered. “I know, I know...Ratchet is a good medic, he'll have you patched up in no time.” Frag it all to the pits, he shouldn't have told her that the mech that was responsible for all of this wasn't doing well. He should of just let it be, saved it for some other time.

But no, he had to open his big stupid mouth and look what happened, Rota was hurt because of him.

Primus forbid it if something happened to her, Cipher knew he wouldn't forgive himself either and his frown deepened as the small femme gave another little shudder of pain. “He didn't mean it Ciph...You know he didn't...” Rota muttered lightly as the stronger mech started walking again. He was walking a bit faster now, he didn't want her losing anymore fluid. At least he was able to stop it well enough with a quick solder and the placement of his servos. Still, it felt slick against her side, and he had to keep shifting her weight from time to time to stop from dropping her.

It was a good thing he was built for hefting around cargo and the sort, Rota was light to him. It was also a good thing that Ratchet was here, and not elsewhere. Hell it was a good thing his sweetspark was harmed in Iacon and not Praxus, that would of meant calling for real medical attention and there could have been some price to pay with him being of a lower caste with someone like her. Sure, they were both good at lying, but something like this? Oh that wouldn't have been easy to explain in any shape, way, or form.

At least he was getting close to where they needed to be and he felt Rota's helm rest on his chest plate. There was a moment of worry, but the femme let out a small muttering again about how that slag-eater didn't mean it. He was simply angry for the time being, but in time that anger would lessen with her insistence. ::Ratchet, this is Cipher again.:: The mech commed the medic. ::We're almost there, you mentioned which building again? We're on Bolt and Nut right now.:: Another shift, another small whimper of pain from Rota.

::I know you're on the fifth floor too, number fifteen but I can't remember the fraggin' building name.::

[Deleted]

There was a long moment of silence.

"Cipher, is that you?" The voice was gruff. "Yes, you're nearby. But be aware that I am no longer located at the building you're thinking of. There has been a need for me to relocate to a new temporary clinic. Fortunately it is not far from your current location. I can explain the details later."

There was an aggravated sigh. "For now, you need to get out of public sight. Continue forward until you see a lane on your right. Turn down it. Walk past the back of the mod shop and into the sheltered rear lot behind it. There you'll see a small storage garage on the opposite side of the lot with an unlit sign reading 'Prion' above it. Yes, it's rather shabby looking, I am aware of that fact. Either way there will be two doors: one big one sealed with a retractable shutter, and a small side door. Knock on the side door. I'll unlock it once I've verified that it's you."

The voice paused. "Got all that?"

[Deleted]

::What?:: There was confusion at the mention of having to relocate. ::Yeah, please do.:: He was being as patient as possible but with Rota hurt? It was unsettling to the mech, he just wanted her to be alright and not possibly dying on him. Sure, he just might be having an overactive imagination but could anyone blame him for worrying?

At least, Ratchet was giving him directions and he was already headed for the lane on the right. He turned down it as Ratchet spoke, his helm bobbed slightly as he memorize everything there. ::On the lane, walk past the back of the mod shop and into the sheltered rear lot behind it. Knock on the side door of the small storage garage that has 'Prion' above it.:: He repeated. ::And you'll unlock it once you've verified it's me. Don't forget I have Rotary with me too, she's the femme I've been telling you about...:: Really, even before she was hurt he'd comment about the dancer and how she was.

::I wish you two would of met under better circumstances, but I'm gonna be there with her in two kliks tops.:: Cipher explained as his optics fell on the mod shop for a brief moment before continuing onto that rear lot. He found the storage garage, shabby was a nice way to call this place – but it wasn't like it was worse than any places he has been to. “w-Where are we?” Rota's soft voice popped up as she tried to glance around a little. “I'm taking you to a medic, the one I've told you about.” He told her lightly and the femme nodded quietly, simply accepting his answer.

“This might hurt...” He muttered as he shifted her in order to hold onto her with one arm. There was a soft screech of pain from the dancer, and there was more fluid dripping from her side. Cipher hated that sound of her being in pain as he knocked before quickly going back to holding her with two arms.

“Come on Ratchet, get on with the verification.” The mech thought.

[Deleted]

The rear lot was small and crowded. It sat beneath three much larger suites, all of which punched far up into the red Cybertronian sky. A layer of winding speedways and bypasses criss-crossed overhead like a net of steel and concrete.

The clinic was hidden so far beneath them that it was practically subterranean. It was small and squat and roughly rectangular, with a large corrugated cargo door marked unobtrusively with black and yellow stripes, and a large florescent light mounted directly overhead. A nondescript side door sat next to it, where the wall made a handy dark corner to lurk in. 'Prion' spelt out the sign above the cargo door. Once it had hummed with neon light, perhaps; now it was broken and dark, and smudged with grime.

When Cipher stood in front of the door he would hear a subtle click. A moment later it gently slid open.

The inside of the clinic was brightly lit, in stark contrast to its gloomy exterior. The main medical ward itself filled up much of the space. Its walls were rusted but well-scrubbed, and lined with shelves of neatly arranged tools. Loops of electric cabling and crowded racks of lights and cutter equipment hung from the low ceiling, each mounted on tracks that allowed them to be moved about and manipulated at a surgeon's fancy. A scratched window offered a cloudy view of the rear lot.

In the centre of the room sat a heavy berth, canted at a slight angle with a circular tube light positioned directly over its head. Judging from the oil stained into its metal surface, and tray of tools resting on a rusted trolley nearby, it had seen recent use. A boxy red and white robot stood next to it, an oily rag in one hand. The white stamp of the medical elite sat upon his left shoulder.

"The Council will miss me in a matter of hours, so I'm afraid I must keep this as brief as possible," he said warningly. "I'll do my best for your friend, but I cannot allow the Council to uncover this shop either. They will shut it down and demand that I restrict my services to that of a private surgeon, with emphasis on private. I won't be able to help anyone but Council approved Autobots then."

He frowned at Rota and gestured to the berth.

"Set her there, please," he said. "And as concisely as you can: explain to me what happened to her, and what you gauge to be the extent of her damage."

[Deleted]

Cipher was relieved when the door slid open and he was able to step inside. He was also glad to physically see Ratchet, instead of just hearing where the medic was. “Understood, Sir.” The mech told him, it was disgusting to think that the Council would force him to shut this place down and only work on approved Autobots. At the same time? It wasn't surprising and he knew that Rota wouldn't say anything about this place, and it certainly wasn't like he was going to expose Ratchet's secret either.

Shifting Rota in his arms he gave the medic another nod as he moved to set her on the table. There was a small sound from the femme with the shift. “It'll be okay...” He mentioned softly to her, the tone of his voice was gentle and he knew that if the medic was attentive? He would probably guess that the two younger mecha's relationship went a little deeper than simple friendship. “I know...” Rota told him and as soon as she was set down? Well, the dancer could have sunk into that table as she was no longer being moved. Her optics brightened a little more as she looked towards Ratchet and spotted the symbol on his shoulder, or rather the edges of it.

She knew that she was in good hands.

Cipher turned his attention onto Ratchet, he was hesitant on telling what happened. “She was hit, by a garbage mech.” “It was an accident...” The femme spoke up, her voice soft and the mech cringed slightly. “It was, but you still got hurt by that slag eater...” He shook his helm, he hated that she of all mecha got hurt – simply because it was Rota and she was his sweetspark. “Still...an accident...” Another shake of his helm, and Cipher was looking towards Ratchet.

“It could have been worse, but her plating was punched inwards and I think one of her lines was possibly severed. I soldered some of the more obvious wounds, to keep her from losing too much fluid...” The mech explained. “But you know that's the extent of what I know...” There was an annoyed whir that left him. “There could be something else - but I just don't know, Ratchet.” There was certainly a worried tone. “It doesn't help that her plating is fragile, lighter...If it had been me? It'd barely make a scratch...” Then again he was a dockworker not a dancer...