We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Having left med-bay only a short time ago Ratchet was not the happiest to be returning so soon. The place had been spotless when he left as he had been sure to give the whole place a very deep cleaning. He had been looking forward to go back to his clean med-bay. What he did walk into as well as what he saw was most annoying.
“What has being going on? I had this place clean of all organic life I could kill.” Ratchet’s vocalizer was rising. As he looked at the new organic life he had and the other Earth material Ratchet saw a path of sorts. This path was from near the ground bridge; Ratchet would guess and led to here. Continuing to follow the path ending with him looking at a cassette, a badly damaged one and the one who seemed to have brought in the organic and Earth material. Looking the sad bot up and down Ratchet looked the new coming in the opics.
Ratchet started at the volume he had left off at when first talking. Or yelling but whatever. “And you would be who? Why did you bring in all this…” at which Ratchet waved one servo to show the now dirty med-bay. “And who let you in here looking like that?”
This... This must be the infamous medic, best of the best, pride of the Autobot army, the Prime's own medic, because only a medic would have that kind of proprietary indignation about their medbay. Steeljaw let himself sag a little, craning his neck as best he could to get a look at the mech, and the relief and hope in his field wasn't in the slightest bit feigned. "My deepest apologies, sir. My designation is Steeljaw and," he glanced back at his sprawled, numb, and utterly filthy hindquarters, "this planet and I have been disagreeing ever since I crashed on it. I commed for help; lucky for me, your 'Bots took pity on a stranded neutral."
"Don't worry, Bee. I'll get right on it," said Blaster.
He flashed a grin at Velocity while he was at it as he was walking towards the medbay. Ratchet was already yelling at the new bot.
"This planet isn't so bad. It's just that landing in the Amazon during monsoon season wasn't a particular great way to get off on the right foot with this world. BUT it does get better. You have an accent, by the way. A nice one at that. Accents are cool. But... how did you acquire a Terran-based accent? That is if Ratchet doesn't mind me gathering a little extra research while he works," said Blaster flicking a glance at the resident surely medic.
There was surprise almost in Ratchet’s EM field but over the years he had learned to hide much. Not many would be so happy to still be near him after he voiced his opinions so open, loud, and mad. Still this Steeljaw was more than first thought. He would be a great help if he stayed with the Autobots. It seemed a lot of help had been coming at this time.
“Yes the planet did disagree with you, and my med-bay.” Ratchet went over to check and was about to keep up his talk when Blaster came in. After hearing what he had to say Ratchet could only grumble, “No trouble just another annoyance in my med-bay. But it would help the job get done fast and let me clean the place up again.”
Ratchet began by sending a ping to Blaster you going to be useful and check his ID or should I do that too? in the mean time Ratchet started on a scan. Best to know what all he had to deal with.
Bee had slipped out when she was distracted but that was fairly normal so she didn't think too much on it. Instead it was the dulcet tones of their most wonderful of medics that got her attention away from the small mecha on the berth. Though instead of cringe and hide away she still stood there bold as you please and kept one red hand curled around the edge of the berth. A lot of the mechs here were petrified of Ratchet, but not Velocity. It took something beyond special to make her scared, either that or she just lacked that sentiment.
The one named Steeljaw spoke and she still kept her mouth shut except for a sly little grin. She saw Blaster grin at her and she just returned his flirty look with a disgusted sneer of her own. He was not going to get the time of day from her no matter what other bots thought of him. Her field even spiked testily for a very brief moment when he started to speak. “This planet isn't so bad? I think you need a check-up Blaster. This planet is...ugh. Nevermind.” Vel's accent was from back on Cybertron, she always thought all the different ones were odd but fascinating however. Her own carried a heavy haughty tone at all times, she was, or rather had been a Towerling who worked amongst the incredibly rich and uncaring. It was called educated by some, she didn't care she knew she sounded terribly snotty at the nicest of times.
Patting Steeljaw on the top of his head she scritched at the seams gently with her claws and took a few steps back giving the injured bot a friendly wink. “I won't get in the way of the fearsome Ratchet but I will stay here and watch the goings on.” Even if that meant being in the same area as Blaster willingly. She might forgive him but she was well known for her stubbornness. Cyan optics traveled about the room as she leaned on a wall close by, going all over Ratchet a moment just to unsettle him before taking in Blaster and then settling back on the berth with Steeljaw.
[Cycle it down, Steel',] Uplink was whispering in the back of his processor memory, [Down, 'Jaws, DOWN. Best side forward, play it smooth. No biting!]
Steeljaw gave his former host an internal hiss and the sort of tangled glyph insult that would have made Uplink laugh; that sound memory made him relax better than all of the warnings in the universe, letting him keep his audio arrays up and claws sheathed, the femme's too-familiar touch be slagged.
"I'm afraid," he managed instead, not quite through his teeth, "that I really must disagree - this planet, from what I've seen, in a perpetually wet mud bath crawling with organic vermin." He stretched his mouthplates into a sort of smile, directed at the one who was apparently going to be interrogating him, craning his neck over his shoulder to be able to look at the mech... and nearly bit through his own mesh. Too many new fields, all pushing and pulling around him in a flux that he could barely focus on beyond the pain, and he hadn't taken a good look or feel at all of them yet, too focused on the promised medic.
Host. Communications data host, or he'd eat his own tail, and only the pain and lack of response in his hindquarters kept Steeljaw on the table and not flinging himself bodily off of it. The pseudo smile locked into a sort of rictus and he had to cycle vocalizer and optics, focusing on the pain cascades of his injuries in lieu of the entirely different pain of the host standing entirely too far into his field. "Which I'm sure," he ground out as lightly as he could, "is perfectly agreeable mud and vermin, when it's not inside of my plating. As to the accent, it was the first one I picked up on the inbound approach before crashing. Patched together a translation and signal to get through to the local native network - I needed the information to figure a minimal impact route of approach and how low contact the natives are."
He was panting by the end of it, vents heaving to try to flush out all the system imbalances that were falling like the organic rain across his HUD. He let his head drop, gravity thunking his chin onto the berth between his paws. If they weren't already running his ID they were fools, and Primus help the entire universe if the Prime's own squadron were made up of fools. It might take them some time - the records were old and lots of things from early in the war had been lost or scrambled over the vorn. He hesitated, then sucked in a deeper ventilation. "The records you'll want to look under are Autobot," he told them wearily. "Uplink, communications security and surveillance, out of Crystal City." Frag it, the statue of limitation of going AWOL had to have expired by now, and the Prime was said to be fair spark. Better to lay it all on the table and not have hanging ends bite him in the aft later.
He arched his audio arrays weakly at the medic. "I would be thrilled to assist you in cleaning, sir, if it means cleaning me as well. I can not even begin to convey what this feels like."
::Don't worry, Docbot. I'm running them as we speak,:: said Blaster privately to Ratchet.
He was already running the IDs in his collection of databases. Steeljaw mentioning the extra info was certainly a help. The hit came in on Uplink first.
Autobot. Deceased Autobot.
That meant that Steeljaw had no carrier. Blaster had a familiarity with other comm bots who were carriers. Typically, if a carrier died the minicons partnered with them wouldn't last very long. But what about Steeljaw? Here he was in the mesh and still very much alive. How?
"Oh come on. There's plenty of great things about this planet! I'll have to show you around," said Blaster.
He then offered Velocity a quick wink, "You too."
Glancing back at Steeljaw, Blaster had a few questions for the kitty-bot. Despite his ID checking out, there was still a lot of mystery surrounding him. That's what had Blaster curious.
"Good news is that you are the real deal. Although, I do have a few questions for you if you don't mind, mate. Your arrangement is a little unusual to me. I've seen a lot of minicons and their carriers in their time. But I don't typically see minicons on their own. Did you since adopt another carrier?" said Blaster.
Steeljaw turned his face away - if he wasn't looking at the host then he wouldn't be tempted to bite the host, and he'd rather pay attention to the preparations the medic was making in any case. That, he reminded himself, was more important. FAR more important. Infinitely more important on the quantum scale of the universe than the host standing beside the berth.
[NO biting,] Uplink warned. [Play nice.]
Frag you, Steeljaw thought back, and tried his best to tune out his host's chortling laugh.
Another chain of error logs and accompanying pain. Whatever Primus blessed numbness had come with the initial injury was wearing off and now everything HURT, right up until it didn't respond at all, and the parts that weren't responding were causing their own catastrophic error trees that his processor still insisted was some type of pain even if it wasn't sure what or where. It took more effort than it was worth to keep all of the bite from his voice.
"I'm so very pleased to hear that I pass inspection," he panted, venting hard. "I'm sure Uplink would be honored to still appear in your records." [Haha,] said the voice in the back of his processor, without a lick of humor. [Ha ha ha. HA. As if.] Steeljaw ignored it. "I'm going to be a bit forward and guess that you don't have a symbiont of your own - contrary to popular myth, we don't all curl up and go grey the moment our host dies. I haven't," he added, his vocalizer bleeding into edges of static, "ever taken another host."
[What?] Uplink teased gently. [Not even a little? Not even a bit? I don't know, 'Jaws, there was that one femme who took a shine to you…]
Steeljaw rolled his face down against the berth, shuttering his optics. SHUT. UP. You unmitigated GLITCH.
Relived to have one thing done Ratchet checked the scans. It seemed the list of what was not broken was shorter. Much shorter. Ratchet did not bother to hide the disappointment. “It seems you will be here a while Steeljaw.”
Ratchet’s second job was to start a pain block. Letting the code take over and dull the pain as well as loosen tight gears, joints, and connections.
While starting this Ratchet noted Velocity. “Tell me why it seem my med-bay is a hangout location?” Ratchet make sure his vocalizer was set to high annoyance. “Do you have nothing better to do? And everyone stay quite. I am trying to work here. I don’t care about this planet other than defeating the Decepticons and going home.” Ratchet was sure to just file away the strange look Velocity. He should check her optics next time she was in for a checkup. They could be messing up. Another issue to deal with. Joy.
Ratchet was sure to hear all of the questions and answers being given and received. The most interesting part was Steeljaw’s reactions at times. Something more was going on than the scans told him. Or the surface scans did.
And that something always seemed to involve bringing unknown Cybertronians into their base. It was processor-crashingly against every bit of security Labyrinth had drilled into them, and if she was perfectly honest, it was hard enough dealing with mecha she hadn't known almost her entire life in a place she was trying to learn to consider home, even without what felt like a constant stream of newcomers. It was something she was going to have to get used to; that didn't mean it didn't make her twitchy in the meantime.
At least this one wasn't a Decepticon. That was an improvement.
She kept close to the walls of medbay, field clamped close against her frame (because their latest guest already looked on edge, and she knew there was no way she was going to be able to fake welcoming), and watched as the neutral - Steeljaw - was swarmed by what seemed like half the base. Which certainly meant he wasn't going to be able to get up to anything (even assuming he was faking his injuries - which seemed unlikely given the amount of yelling from Ratchet - and could get up to something), but at the same time she couldn't help but feel a little sorry that he was having to deal with them all when he was wet, muddy, battered, and clearly miserable.
On the other hand, she decided as he neatly told Blaster off, even a wet, muddy, battered, and miserable Steeljaw could obviously hold his own. Which was reason enough to keep an eye on him.
"No. I don't have symbiotes.I generally improvise and work alone. It's better for everyone that way," said Blaster.
His mind lingered on his old bond-mate, Freedom Fighter. It always sent a lonely pang through his spark. Yeah. That one hurt still. It was very much the reason why he got to being so non-committal.
"Don't worry, Doc-bot. I'll talk to him as soon as you finish up," said Blaster.
The lack of pain was... better than any highgrade Steeljaw had ever had, before or after the advent of the war. Venting, he sprawled limply on the berth, every system and relay relaxing. Primus bless medics and their suppression codes. Steeljaw would willingly have - how did the organics put it on their forums? Married the medic. Or had his sparklings. Anything, just so long as the pain stayed gone.
He rolled his head to the side, and when had focusing his optics become so difficult? "You have my deepest gratitude," he managed tiredly.
Now that the error messages and pain sensors had been blocked by codes it seemed Steeljaw was falling into recharge. “Good then maybe you will stay out of trouble unlike the others.” Ratchet did not hide his annoyance. His voice was only slightly nicer. “I will begin to wash you off. I need to see what I am dealing with.”
Turning away Ratchet went to get the needed supplies to clean the new bot. He was not looking forward to see the damage. What he saw already would take time. This was not going to be normal fix and send out. After getting them he went back to Steeljaw. “Try and relax.” Ratchet let his vents cycle and was ready to begin cleaning.