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.
“Right! uh, see- see ya around!”The young femme echoed. Lightly and loosely raising a hand in… Sort of an awkward wave goodbye, that swiftly turned to a rub at the back of her neck, as her attention shifted to the floor. She let out a puff of air as her optics widened and shook her helm a little.
Welp! That had been terrifying…
And… Kinda awesome.
But mostly terrifying.
Shaking it off, and lowering her servo from her neck, Patch started prepping her area again.To be frank, she felt the paper was a just a little bit overkill. Though… She hadn't questioned Ratchet about it when he’d had her put it out. And it was serving to entertain her somewhat, as the young femme had deemed pulling it off the roll, and ripping it to be rather fun.
Once through getting the place back to how it’d started -save the little vial of energon from Javelin now sitting in the rectangle of foam on Patch’s stand- she allowed herself to tune back into what was going on.
“Uh, no sir. Actually you’re a little bit early.” She replied casually. A smile lacing her face as she looked over at him, and leaned upon a foot pedal under the slab to make it lower some. “I can take you right over here when you’re ready.” Her attention idly shifted back to her instruments once more.
Letting his optics scan the compartment, the Old Mech had felt a sense of relief when his optics fell on a younger Femme clad in a white and red scheme. Kup had learned over the many Ages that the age of one's frame often belied either how young or even how ancient they were, and from the first glimpse of the Femme's young frame hadn't simply implied she had been young but had carried some experience to hardships.
'When did I get so old?' the Old Mech thought.
“My Old Platoon Sergeant used to say, he worked for a living. I simply went along for the great chow,” he'd say, with a little humor. While he hadn't disliked the Basic Field Rations troopers encountered in the trenches, there was something to be said about a nice home cooked helping of Energon and a nice steaming hot mug of oil.
“This Medbay is spacious, and nicely decorated,” Kup said, following the younger Femme -- the Medic. “Thanks. My hip actuators aren't what they used to be. It's part of the trade of spending cycles in trenches, and in climbing over the lips of those trenches,”
Lowering himself first onto the Bioslab, he'd swung his legs up and over to rest on the slab while he'd laid back with his optics staring at the ceiling.
“When I was a younger Mech, I didn't really care for visiting the Physician. How times have changed. I think that might have been due to how short we were on Physicians at the time,” he'd say.
"There's a light up there that's about to go out. It's one of those phosphorescent bulb numbers. It's the fourth one from the right,” His optics had fallen on one the phosphorescent light fixture in question, to watch it briefly flicker at first with electricity still feeding into it at a nearly steady beat.
“Oh, pardon my manners. Kup, of Tesarus," he'd say.
Ratchet started to ready the tools for the energon sampling. He glanced at Pyro, considering how much to tell him. The general rule was not to tell patients too much about any unknown illness.....they tended to see every little creak or twinge as a sign of impending death and destruction, which never helped anyone in any sense. At the same time, not telling patients about any new illness tended to create paranoia and a sense of distrust in the medical community, which also never helped anyone. It was always a fine line to walk.
“We know it affects the nanites,” Ratchet said, taking Pyro’s arm and straightening it out, positioning it so he could easily see the bend in the elbow, “Some sort of condition that solidifies the energon. We’re still conducting tests on it to further our understanding, which is why we need additional samples of everyone’s energon. It helps to have a control, a base to see what would be considered average and what isn’t.”
Locating the small gap in the plates of Pyro’s arm where the general energon line would be – everyone’s frame differed, but the basic energon lines always ran in the same general area – Ratchet started to wipe it down with a cleaning, de-rust agent.
“Have you been experiencing any unusual sensations or feelings? Nausea, anger, dizziness? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Two things went through Pyro's head once Ratchet gave his answer. 1.) Confirmation for him that this "illness" is the cause of Bumblebee's rampage thanks to the part about solidifying energon, and 2.) Testing these rogue nanites with pure energon sample in hand was not the reason Pyro was expecting for these proceedings. Not that finding out what made these things tick was a bad thing by any means, since it gets the medical staff on the road to developing a cure for these things (and/or possibly a vaccine), not matter how long that may take. It's just that Pyro was under the impression that this was for finding out whose nanites were infected and whose weren't.
This could possibly be because they didn't want to cause unnecessary anxiety between staff members, since any behavior can easily be assumed to the exhibition of symptoms, and thus sow distrust. Also, if it comes down to it, where exactly would the infected be quarantined to? Pyro could only thing of a series of storage rooms on this base alone, which were insufficient as cells without the necessary upgrades. Well, regardless, if this was a factor for the medical staff and they wished to keep it secret, Pyro would respect their wishes and not say anything about it. These train of thoughts was interrupted by the piercing of an ergon line in one of Pyro's arm, who flinched at the occurrence as the sample was taken. With all that out of the way, Pyro answered Ratchet's query on his well being as of late. "No, not really. I've been managing with the base's energon quota in spite of the pain in my fuel tank." Although to someone who has bore more intense pain considering the Wreckers' line of work, to the Optimus Prime fanboy it was dull by comparison. Pyro wanted to sway any potential fears Ratchet may have on that specific subject.
Patch smiled easily up at Kup as he made his way over. Quietly listening to the older mech, as she continued to prep the little space.
As Kup spoke of his time in the trenches, the young medic perked up. “Ah, you’re a frontliner?” It was always kinda nice to know someone else you’d be working with had some notion of your own experiences. The frontlines were very near all Patch had ever known, in her short little life. She figured it might be nice to compare stories sometime, if it turned out the mech was interested.
As Kup lay back against the slab, Patch stood at his side with her attention turned to her instruments. Unscrewing the cap to a bottle of anticorrosive, then tipping a bit of the fluid inside onto a small mesh pad. Once the top was back in place, she turned to the bend of the older mech’s elbow joint. Making certain the palm of his servo faced the ceiling, she swabbed the line she’d need to access, then… Paused as her attention was suddenly thrown up and behind her.
“Ah!” She said, looking up at the light, as her free servo went to her hip. “What do you know… I’ll see to that when I’m done here, I guess. Thanks.” She turned back to her patient, and finished cleaning the line.
“Kup, of …” She echoed, as she possessed the name. Her field simmering down as the notion of someone so important settled in.
Primus! Why hadn’t she recognised him!? Why hadn’t she saluted!?!
Of all the people in Patch’s little world that she really truly looked up to… Well, let’s be honest, at this point most of them were dead. But of what few remained? She’d gotten to meet nearly all of them here at this outpost. She’d gotten to meet not only the Prime, but Optimus Prime. She’d gotten to meet the CMO of the entire autobot regime. She’d… Sort of gotten to meet that yellow scout who’d gotten away from Megatron alive...
But of all the heroes she had, there was one in particular she’d simply assumed had died; the way so many of her friends had died. Becausehe did what they did. He did what Patch had done, and he was fabled to do it better than anyone...
“It’s… It’s an honor, sir.” It was very rare for Patch to well and truly be starstruck by anyone, but… Gosh. Some of the other recruits she’d trained with hadn’t even thought Kup was real!
“I’m Patch, Patch of Kalis. I’m a big fan of your work, sir… Did you… Really serve on Beta-4? I hear the conditions out there are next to impossible to cope with!”
“You could say that,” Kup said, in response to Patch's inquiry about being a Frontliner.
“I miss being in the Trenches. It's part of who I am. Instead, I went and became a Teacher. There were times I'd give my Lug nuts to be back in an honest Trench with incoming and outgoing artillery. You never forget that. You never forget how to tell either apart. If it's Incoming, you get a high pitched whistle. If it's an Outgoing, you get a thud,” he'd say.
He'd make sure to do as Patch had instructed, turning his servo palm-facing the ceiling with the digits relaxed before the Femme found a main feed line though he'd sort of winced a little. He'd forgotten he'd had that particular Line moved after taking some shrapnel, that resulted in his right arm being taken off. Though, he'd had it reattached later on.
“I had that Line moved. I took some shrapnel from a Squid based Howitzer. He was a mean customer, but a little calamari sauce...well, I mean after we concentrated our fire on his location before calling in artillery there wasn't much left of him. I will apologize for not warning you, but would you believe I'd forgotten about that until the needle went in?” the Older Mech said.
“I had it moved to above the elbow joint. It's less likely to get hit, and if I lose the arm during an engagement I don't really have to worry about bleeding out,” he'd chuckled softly.
“I'm honored. We're both honored. Is there a Line Dance or a Song for that?” he'd ask. Reaching up with his left servo, he'd gently tapped the left side of his helm. “There we go. Sometimes the old memory processes get a little weird,”
“Well met, Patch of Kalis. Beta-IV? Hmm...oh yes. We tried to keep the Trenches and Facilities cleared of the mud and sand, which I suppose worked. We had a problem with pollen causing the Sergeants a heck of a time," Kup said, with a smile.
"The local Fauna was something else too. I remember this big Ick-Yack, bigger than this compartment, came stomping and tromping down the mountain towards our lines. A big one too. Flames spewing out of its nostrils, and with the dust storms wreaking havoc on our optic sensors made for a very interesting time,” he'd say, catching himself in his own story. The memories of being in those Trenches, on Beta-IV, having an Ick-Yak chase him thinking he was its surrogate Mother or it wanted him to play. He wasn't sure how that memory file happened to be saved, and brought up with Patch's inquiry allowing him to relive it.
“You learn one thing in the Trenches, or was it you learned many things? It's one of those. You keep your helm down,” he began. “Or it might be that you remember turning the field stove off,”
“You said you're from Kalis, but you sound as though you've been around a bit. I'm sure you have stories of your own. Everyone of us has stories, even the Decepticons -- though in their stories I'm sure the Ick-Yaks bites them in the aft plating,” he'd say, with the last part a bit of a joke.
Last Edit: Sept 17, 2019 1:41:32 GMT -5 by Deleted
Ratchet watched as the energon flowed into the tube from Pyro’s lines. It didn’t seem to be solidifying, which could be a good sign....or not. Regardless....
“Pain in your fuel tank? From a limited supply of energon, or is it something else? Did you have it before you had to start on rations?”
Ratchet’s mind was already starting to work on what it could be, if it wasn’t associated with the odd illness. Damage from battle, or poor quality energon. Some planets mixed additives with their energon in an effort to spread it out, make it last longer, and if not done correctly, it could corrode the lining of the tank.
“No symptoms, then. Well, that’s good news. If you do start feeling off, come to the medibay and let myself or Patch know. It’s probably nothing, but always better to have it checked than not.”
The tube filled, Ratchet put some gauze over the small hole made in the line, and lifted up the tube, inspecting the energon closely.
Eyes still on the sample, Ratchet spoke to Pyro, “I never really got a chance to talk to you since you arrived here, Pyro. How are you making out?”
"No, I wasn't feeling it before I arrived here. Pretty sure it's from limited energon." Pyro answered to the CMO. Probably should have specified that the first time. The Wrecker also chided in his head. The intent of speaking about that bit in his last answer was sarcasm, but as indicated by Ratchet's follow up question: it ended up leaving ambiguity on why and when exactly Pyro started feeling pain in the fuel tank. Should've known better. Well, regardless of minor screwups like that, Pyro nodded at Ratchet's recommendation on checking in case when he feels such a need. Following on that was the question how Pyro has been holding up being on staff at the outpost. This time Pyro decided to answer more professionally, considering his last answer. "I've been doing fine in spite of the energon quota. Although, I would be remiss to say that our current situation with our current energon stocks, MECH, the temporary truce with the Decepticons because of them, and now these rogue nanites... while I haven't given up hope on our chances of surviving all this, I must admit that I'm not entirely optimistic either given their severity."
“You’re okay.” Patch said lightly as the older mech winced. A near hum as her field stayed steady, and her other hand shifted on his elbow just slightly, to make sure his arm wasn’t going anywhere. She continued to listen to Kup talk as she worked. Paying idle attention, as her main focus remained on his line.
The young femme smiled as Kup spoke of his adventures. He was describing it almost exactly how she pictured! Though, she had somewhat neglected to research the local fauna. It was interesting to hear about the ‘Ick-Yack’. She hadn’t imagined organic creatures could get so big!
She did what was necessary to accommodate for the energon line having been shifted, then finished the draw; only half a vial, as had been requested by Ratchet. Once the needle had been eased out once more, a small square mesh pad was pressed over the site and held in place. The young medic’s first few digits remained over the pad as she turned back, and separated the needle and the vial with her thumb. Making sure the sharp was placed in the proper container, then setting the vial down on her small rolling table.
She turned back to the older soldier, and peeked beneath the pad, to check if his line was self sealing properly. Once content that the minuscule leak had adequately closed, she removed the pad, and disposed of it. “Probly'.” The young medic said with a chuckle, as Kup prodded at the way Con stories must have ended, when they involved Ick-yacks.
“Alright. You’re good to go.” The young femme said, steping back and smiling. “Unless of course you have any questions? Or any thing else you want looked at.”
“I didn't even feel a thing,” Kup said. He'd opted to have run an internal diagnostic focusing mainly on the pain receptors in his upper right arm based on his own curiosity whether those receptors had misfired given that those receptors hadn't detected the needle being injected into the Energon line.
“There isn't a malfunction with the pain receptors in that area, or at least that I can detect. I'll say this, you're a far sight prettier than the Base Physicians of the past. I hope you don't mind an Old Trooper saying that,” he'd smiled. “I meant that compliment in the best of ways, and meant no harm,”
“Oh, a problem? I seem to have a nasty burr in the Rotator Cuff for the right arm. I'm not sure when it developed, or when it started making its presence known. It has a nasty habit of only making a protest once every few cycles, or if that arm's been over-exerted,” Kup said.
“I've done everything one mech could possibly do. I've tried to polish it out, pound it out, and I'll admit I've largely ignored it since it only makes a protest once and a while,” he'd say.
“Was that it? The Energon Sampling? A little bit of Energon in a vial?” the Older Cybertronian asked. Slowly, he'd pushed himself up off the bioslab before having swung his legs over the side. “If we'd had this kind of Medibay on Dromedon, we might not have had so many casualties. The Shrikebats were particularly mean, and persistent,”
“We defeated them. We managed to force them back, but...” he began. There were Sectors in his RAM that were prone to skipping, or had simply been subject to many Over-writes over the Ages that he might have heard the Secret to Existence or a Quintesson's Recipe for a Favorite Pound Cake which over the Ages had become so buried in his RAM that even Primus would have become confused. “...I can't remember how we did it,”
Ratchet put down the sample, and looked Pyro in the optic.
“I know it seems pretty overwhelming right now, but we’ll make it through. We always do. I don’t know about you, but I’m not letting anything stop me from being able to watch Megatron get his just punishment for what he did.”
Ratchet reached for the tape, and tearing off a piece, kept it stuck to a finger, as he lifted the gauze and peered under it, making sure his lines were resealing themselves properly.
“The energon stores can be rebuilt. Primus knows this planet is dripping with them – once we can get back to searching, I’m sure we’ll find one or two. And we have allies in the humans that can help us bring it back to base if needed.”
Ratchet was quiet for a second. While he knew Optimus didn’t want the humans getting too involved in their problems, he didn’t think their leader would balk at simple lift and carry assistance. A few of their military vehicles loaded up could carry more than a single Cybertronian of average size. Every little bit would help.
“MECH is something to be concerned about, but as long as we obey the buddy system, we should be fine.”
Nodding to himself, Ratchet taped down the gauze, leaning back to observe Pyro, “I’m sorry you ended up coming here during one of our more...chaotic periods. It’s not always like this, trust me.
As for the truce...well...that’s not going to last. I trust the Decepticons to keep to it as much as I trust humans to suddenly discover how light works.”
As a full fledged Autobot, Pyro was in full agreement with Ratchet. Seeing that spawn of a glitch finally getting his just deserts will be a glorious day, indeed! The bit with the tape did confuse Pyro for a bit, but once again figured: why argue with a professional like Ratchet when it comes to medicine? That bit about sticking to two-man teams, though? I know that's optimistic, but it wouldn't to stay on guard during missions. It was a little uplifting, though. That and the apology about the current situation. ...Not so much the insult about humans fully figuring out how light works. Pyro kept up the professionalism, but the optics conveyed what would have been a deadpan expression from the Wrecker. Give them some credit! At least they know the fundamentals!
Last Edit: Oct 18, 2019 23:41:35 GMT -5 by Deleted: At last!
“Hm.” Patch looked at the old mech’s shoulder as he spoke. Hoping to find something simple that could easily be fixed. There didn’t seem to be anything readily apparent that was wrong. The notion that he’d had it for a while, was somewhat concerning, though it was good that he could live with it; he’d probably have to. At least until they’d figured out this illness.
She nodded quietly as she listened to him speak of the attempted remedies. Making a mental note to put a notice in his medical file. “I’ll let Ratchet know. See if he’ll take a look at it.” She said, her voice low in thought as she continued to examine in passing. “If nothing else, he could probably give you a program for the pain.”
As the mech spoke again, Patch turned back to her tools. Grabbing her marker, she popped off the top, and wrote Kup’s name on his vial as she listened. “Yup! Clean and simple.” She said as she placed the energon sample in the foam, beside Javelin’s.
Patch quietly smiled as she continued to listen to the old mech’s story. Indeed, this was one of the nicest medical bays she’d ever worked in herself. She listened about shrikebats, and Dromedon… And she looked back, as the mech’s memory started to fail.
It concerned her, though she said nothing.
“Hey, that’s alright. Happens to the best of us.” She reassured. Shrugging it casually off, as she started to tidy her work space. “But you are gonna have to tell me the rest of that story when you do remember.” She smiled back at him. “I need to know how it ends!”
“That is appreciated, Patch. I don't want to burden Ratchet anymore than I have to, and maybe I'll go by his end of the Medbay and say hello or get him a cup of Oil,” Kup said.
“You'll be the first that I'll tell when I can remember it,” he'd say. “Sometimes, my memory's not exactly what it used to be. Even if I've forgotten a few things here or there, I haven't forgotten the experiences I've had. I have a few stories about old Starscream too, and they aren't flattering,”
“I'll be the first to admit, I'm old. I'm not getting any younger, and I'm not as flexible as I used to be. There have been engagements where I've left more of me behind than has been taken off by a Con's Potshot. I stick around because that's all I can do, and seeing a young Femme like you gives me reason to keep telling my stories. I hope you'll take that in the best way. When I was a young Mech, there weren't many Femmes around and those that were around could hold a blaster better than most Mechs,” the Old Warrior said.
Looking around the rather spacious Medbay or at least spacious in his opinion, the Old Warrior tried to take in the various little details. He'd known he'd been in a Mesa, of some sort and hadn't been certain if what he'd heard about it having been converted from a Missile Silo had been accurate.
“Humans just leave these things laying around after digging them out?” he'd ask. “Would it strike your interest if I told you I'd never encountered Humans before, and this is my first time to this Planet? Though, I am hoping the local Humans are more impressive and reserved than the Avians that decided to use my breast plate as a target in their bombing runs,”
Last Edit: Oct 28, 2019 16:26:37 GMT -5 by Deleted
Ratchet rubbed the back of his helm slightly, “Have you had a chance to look around the area, Pyro? Get a tour of the nearest city? We try to give the Autobots new to Earth a quick run down on where the children live, in the event anything happens. I’m not familiar with what you chose for alt-mode, but some Autobots still have their holoform go into the city and look around, get a taste of local human culture.”
Ratchet leaned forward, and started to write Pyro’s information on the tube containing his energon.
“I’m afraid I can’t recommend any particular places to go, save for the children’s school, but some of the others might have some areas of interest, if you like. Bulkhead and Arcee are familiar with Jasper, you could ask them.”
Finishing putting Pyro’s information on the tube, Ratchet placed it in a little rack, keeping it upright. Ratchet felt a little guilty for not being able to give Pyro any more information. Newcomers to Earth usually received much more information that this, were shown around the base, given tours of the area. But now, with everything going on, he felt some of the newly arrived might be falling through the cracks. He himself wasn’t aware if anyone had shown him around or not.
“If you have any questions about anything here on Earth, Pyro, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m sorry if your arrival hasn’t been given the proper attention it should.” He made a sort of helpless shrugging motion, as if to say, “You can see what’s going on.”