[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]What You Think You Know - [Closed]

[Carbine]

"Not on th̷-̕t͟h-́their o̢wn! L̀ike̷...͢ ̛h̸o̵w ͢a rock yah wont k̸z̛z̶ttt̨t hurt, but if yo̢ư s̨l͠a̕m̧ ̡it ̕i̛nto a joint it stings."

Carbine tried to explain, not sure if he was getting his point across well, or if the analogy was a stupid one. When the crystals were just sitting on his hand inert, he didn’t really even feel anything legit he didn’t think... It tingled a bit, there were ghost sensations, but that was probably more along the lines of being overly paranoid and KNOWING they were there, than any actual feeling being picked up with his relays. If you focused on a point on your frame hard enough, just about anyone could probably convince themselves that something was touching them.

A roll of his weight, Carbine let his arms fold down to his sides once it seemed Ratchet was done looking over the one, trying to get into a more comfortable position. This was a bit difficult however considering he was still wet, the feeling of water pooling in some portions of his armor unpleasant, able to feel some dribbling down black plating. It caused a small shallow puddle to form at his feet, soft taps accompanying it, but there wasn’t much he could do for the moment. He had to use the emergency shower, and it wasn’t like he could shake off like Bolo or anything. He didn't seem to pay it any heed though, helm turning to peer at Javelin as she approached and asked what was happening, before looking to the medic with hope for a good reply.

Not good news.

He wanted Ratchet to say he has seen something like this before. He wanted to hear it was a disease or something else, but also hear that there was a cure that they could synthesize if given enough time. Maybe it was just a freak defect within Bumblebee, and normal Energon spazzed out his systems, or perhaps it was something else easy to explain and fix, but what he got in reply wasn’t the hopeful statements he wanted. He found out that Bumblebee was going to have to go under the blade, and that was sad.

Carbine didn't want Bee to be cut into and poked at, he didn’t like the idea at all. It had to happen, he wouldn't protest it, but it also worried him and made him feel a bit unease. This caused his already tucked tight rotors to pull even more so against his back. Stiff, folded fully flush. It made it seem like there were only two panels of metal instead of four, the armor plates held taunt.

"I g-ǵ̷̸o͝͝t͘͢ ͏̴n͝o͜͡wh̢̕e͟r̛e̴ to b͟e."

A chirper and happy reply to Ratchet telling them to stay put, playing it off like it was casual errand day, and not something dire going on here. It was once Ratchet had gone to deal with their Prime, that Carbine's attention fully settled on Javelin, his eyes narrowing a bit into a sort of smug look.

"Y-you nev̧e͘r̶͟͏ ̸̢t̀o͡l̢d̸ ̴̧̧me͠ ̛y̡o̸ú̸ ̸ẁ̨e͏re ͢a̴̛͡ ̷̧͡n̡͝u̢rse. Th-that is an awf͠u̷͞l͟l͝͠y̛ s͘e͝xy pro͝f̛ession."

Ahh yes... coping mechanism...

Carbine purred these words out lowly in a quiet droll, a sort of gritty static lacing from his previous and suppressed stress regarding this entire situation. It made parts of it almost unable to be deciphered, but the gist was there, and the coy sort of pose he leaned into filled the gaps.

[Javelin]

Javelin remained standing, arms crossed as she listened to Ratchet and Carbine speak. Like Carbine, she had been hoping the medic and doctor had seen something like this before. The fact he so openly admitted he hadn’t chilled her faintly. Doctors were supposed to know all about things like this.

They weren’t supposed to fail.

An unhappy feeling in the pit of her tank, and she shifted her weight faintly, from one leg to the other.

Silently, she watched as Ratchet moved and spoke to Optimus. A part of her watched closely to see if he removed the patches she had applied, worried she hadn’t done well with it. She felt a little relived when he seemed to ignore them, and continued speaking to the leader.

Javelin blinked slightly when the black and white mech’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to look up at him with a faint, “Really?” look to her face.

“Yeah, I’m not a nurse. I hate hospitals and medibays. If I had my way I’d run screaming out of here, thanks.”

Not even his little game of flirt could ease back on her anxiety.

There were too many memories associated with hospitals for her. And while she understood she was by no means the only one who had probably lost friends in hospitals, that didn’t make the faint sense of panic that was starting to grow in her spark lessen any.

“I can’t believe Bumblebee did this,” she said lowly, “I don’t know him that well but he seemed chipper and happy and….not ….. shoot your leader in the face.” Eyes still on Ratchet, she shook her helm, “What happened to you, anyway? Were you in the middle of it?”

She lightly drew a palm down over the back of her helm, a nervous gesture, before dragging her optics from Ratchet, looking Carbine over again, “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

[Ratchet]

Ratchet’s optics moved over Prime’s face again, once more taking in the damage that had been done. If Bumblebee hadn’t been taken down as quickly as he had…. or if he had been any luckier….

“Time is critical, yes. I need to see how damaged Bumblebee’s interior is. If those crystals have formed inside his systems…..but I needed to offer you the chance to observe.”

He took a step back, peering over towards Carbine and Javelin for a moment, “I’ll have Carbine or Javelin assist me in case I need additional hands, but I doubt it. Unfortunately they can’t be of any help to Sideswipe or you - while Javelin’s hands are small enough for the work, she has no experience whatsoever and I have to work on Bumblebee. If it’s ok with you, I’ll have the other start cleaning up the spilled energon outside. If it’s contagious it needs to be contained. Plus one of them needs to check on Rafael - I’m worried about him. He shouldn’t have been in the middle of that - only Primus knows what he saw.”

Ratchet moved to draw a servo down his face, but caught himself, shaking his head. He looked back to Optimus, listened as his old friend spoke.

“We’ve all been short tempered, Optimus. There’s too much going on, and our resources are too limited. We’re all at the breaking point.”

There were things he wanted to say, badly. He wanted to tell Optimus that despite the truce….they may need to start considering a raid on a Decepticon mine for energon. They were running out. Everyone was forgoing their rations, even Optimus, if how he knocked back that supply was any indication. They only had the small amount in the recroom and what was in the medibay for emergencies. Truce or not….they needed to refuel…or die.

But this was neither the place nor time.

Stepping back, Ratchet raised his hands, brushing them together, “Right. I’ll go see which of my two unknowing volunteers I’ll be working with, then get started. Optimus, I’ll set a recorder so you can at least review that once I repair your optics.”

[Optimus Prime]

The amorphic concept of what the crystals looked like was constantly changing and evolving the more that Optimus heard about them. At the mention of the idea that the things could be forming within the young scout, the mental image changed and snapped down to a far smaller scale, perhaps a peppering of translucent grit or other similar forms of crystals rather than a crystalline formation like that of raw Energon that would be too large to really be in there. Then again, if it was large like that, that could be a major concern, if it was strong enough to tear through the more sensitive and calibrated internal mechanisms.

When Ratchet's blurred form took a step away to peer over at the other two individuals in the room, Optimus instinctively turned his helm a slight amount, as if he intended to look as well despite his current handicap. He halted a brief second after the subtle motion formed however, not turning enough to even see them out of the corner of his eyes if he had been full sighted.

The Prime had returned mostly to his stoic exterior while he listened to others and considered what Ratchet was saying, muddling down his frustrations and packing them into a small box to contend with later, but even then the mention of Rafael seemed to challenge that. The small human should not have been anywhere near this ordeal, and it frustrated him greatly that someone so young and innocent could be witness to such violence. It was a violence that was made ten times worse by the fact it was Bumblebee who was going out of line. If it was someone else, he doubted the tiny human would be as shaken as he undoubtedly was. Another Cybertronian that the young teen didn’t know well, instead of the one who he had bonded with closely...

A soft exvent slipped out at this, his shoulders dipping slightly, causing the broad swoop of red to fan out.

"Damage control will need to be considered."

A low rumble, before he finally seemed to look back at Ratchet, even if he didn’t manage to make proper eye contact.

"Very well, I trust your judgment."

He was continuing to throw full control of the situation into the medic's hands. Ratchet was the one who could make the appropriate decisions for the upcoming hours, to properly help and assist those who were injured, not Optimus, and he accepted this fully. While the Prime would not be directly getting involved however, he kept a keen ear out to try to gleam whatever information he could just from what he could hear.

[Carbine]

The statement had been inappropriate, but Carbine did as Carbine did.

Especially in times of stress.

While the tension was still high in the air, and while things were still very much in a bad way, things were no longer seemingly in a crisis mode. Things had to be done that were very important, there was no way to work around that fact, and they had a pretty gnarly and constricting mystery to uphold and tackle full force... but it had quieted just enough that the nervous poor tact jokes and humor-shield could come up, to try to ease back the tension enough to more comfortable terms. That said, it didn't seem to really work for Javelin like it did him, and Carbine let out a soft 'tsk' in reply.

Hospitals were not fun in any way. They could be romanticized for the sake of the 'sexy nurse' concept though. The idea of some pretty femme or mech tending to your every needs... but it was definitely an abstract hollow concept that didn’t equate to reality well at all. A real hospital felt sterile and weird, and more often than not your personal boundaries and personal bubbles were challenged badly, and the injuries that are being treated not superficial 'boo boos' but actual painful wounds that need to be scraped clean and worked on. Carbine also did not appreciate the REAL idea of a hospital...

But he'd take a sexy nurse any day.

But he also knew when he was soundly shut down.

As Javelin spoke about how she couldn’t believe Bumblebee could do this, Carbine's attention shifted away from her, to look in the direction the scout was tucked away. His expression softened, the luminous outline of his optics calming from the more angular expression that had been held a moment prior.

"Ah..̧. ͝well,͡ I̛ ca͡n."

He declared, though quickly continued to explain why.

"It don't mat̵teŕ ͜w͘ho y͘ǫu are, ift͠h-t̶hi̢s͏ i̸s̶ ͟an̵ ͜i̢ll̴nès̡ş it-it-it could have ̷b̀e̛en anyone."

The best of the best could be taken down if the illness was potent enough. Chipping away at nerves and manipulating thoughts by discomfort and anxiety. Carbine didn't know WHAT plagued Bee, but he was not willing to accept that this was some scout just snapping one day and trying to mow down his teammates. This was too erratic, too feral. If he had been pushed to his wits end and really just wanted to kill people? There were far more pointed and effective ways to do so than blindly shooting around like an idiot. Carbine himself could probably come up with five ways to completely obliterate the entire team by the end of the day if he felt keen to...

Breaking from his train of thought, Carbine's rotors twitched slightly when Javelin asked him a question.

"I swung in aft̕er̸ ̵ţh-thi͢n͡gs͟ we̴re i͡n͝ ͢f̢ull̵ mode. K̛-ki̢ćked̀ ̶Bee͡ do̶w̶n and ̶helped restrain."

He declared, the static still strong.

"Takes a lot moré t͝h͏an͟ ͡S̶q̢ue͏a͘k͠ers th-there to h-͡h͝u͟rt me."

The cocky attitude came back some, amusement in play, his coping mechanism booting fully up.

[Javelin]

Listening to Carbine talk, Javelin had to concede he was right. Illness could make anyone do anything. Some people felt everyone had a monster inside, and it only took the right conditions to bring them out. And what better conditions than pain and sickness?

She looked up at him, watching his face. So he had been there right in the thick of things? Ouch. That couldn’t have been easy. Javelin wasn’t entirely sure how close Carbine and Bee were, but they seemed to have an easy relationship at least. It couldn’t have been easy to bring Bee down. She wondered how he had lost an arm and leg, but she wasn’t about to start asking those questions, not here. If Carbine was upset at what had happened, poking for details now wouldn’t be nice.

Javelin spoke quietly, “Don’t be so sure. Just because someone is small doesn’t mean they can’t hurt someone. Regardless, I’m glad you weren’t hurt, too. Poor Sides looks like he got a lot of it too.”

A glance towards where Ratchet was talking to Optimus.

Javelin spoke again, in a lower voice, “I don’t like the way Ratchet keeps looking over here. It looks…shifty, somehow. You don’t think we’re all going to be…locked in here or something, do you? Like we’re all infected? I saw this movie on the human’s television and there was this building and these rats had some sort of weird disease - I think it was called Rabies - and everyone was locked in and not allowed to leave. And one by one they all died.”

Javelin gave a faint shiver, looking back up at Carbine, “I really really hate hospitals.”

[Ratchet]

Ratchet nodded. Not one to put off what needed doing, he rubbed his hands together, “Alright.”

Moving towards one of the monitors, Ratchet began to enter commands. In the middle of the ceiling, where what looked like a mechanical octopus with various tools and things on several arms, one of them began to move with an audible hum. The arm telescoped out to the full reach of it’s length, then swung around to move out towards where Bumblebee lay on his berth. It lowered until it was several feet above the unconscious mech, where it came to a stop, immobile.

Ratchet walked back to Bumblebee and reaching up, took a hold of the arm, and pulled it down until it was closer to Bumblebee. A few levels switched, and a mirrored light unfolded from the arm, along with what appeared to be several small lenses. Cables ran the length of the arm back to the central array in the middle of the ceiling.

Flipping a switch, the light powered on, and the closest monitor flicked. An image of a closeup of Bumblebee’s frame appeared on the screen.

Ratchet spoke, “Test, test. One two three.”

Nodding to himself, he returned to the far side of the medibay and opening various cupboards and drawers, started collecting the tools and devices he would be using to open Bumblebee up, carefully placing them on a silvered tray.

Without looking over his shoulder, he spoke aloud.

“Carbine. Javelin. I’m going to be operating on Bumblebee to see how much damage he may have sustained from these crystals. One of you is going to have to assist me to some degree, while the other checks on Raf and cleans up the spilled energon outside.”

Ratchet turned, casting a stern eye on the two mecha, the tray in his hand complete with tools.

“Who is going to volunteer?”

[Carbine]

((Going to skip Optimus for a bit until I have something he would comment on or do for now. He's just eavesdropping and trying to piecemeal together the situation one clue at a time.))

As Sideswipe was mentioned, Carbine looked over at the red mech, his amusement clipping some and growing a bit jagged. That injury was horrible and it really seemed to bother him that Bumblebee had done something like that. A bullet hole to an arm or shoulder was one thing, clipping the side of the Prime's helm was another, but straight up punching a hole into someone's face? Damn that was cruel...

"Disgust̶i͢n͘g̶ ͘t̢o ̕ev͞e͡n ͢lo̶ok at straight on."

The bottom edge of his eyes crooked up at this, somewhat squint glaring in the direction of the downed Cybertronian.

"I hope hedi̕d͢n't͘ h-̷h-͞h̴áv̛e modeling aspirations!"

An awkward bark of a laugh sounded out at this, though the noise was half aborted and snorted in the process an instant after it started. It was a kind of hiccupped response as if he had just realized he was about to make an exceptionally loud noise, only to remember part way through that this was a hospital and not exactly a place where a comically loud 'HAH' could even remotely be acceptable. He grumbled after this, a sort of gurgled clear of his throat in uncomfortable response, before he focused on Javelin's whispered words, eyeing Ratchet across the way.

"Well... if that happens yoù g̨o ̡for ̵t-the kn͟e̡es, ill sock him in the face. Unless ͘yo͏u ͢w͘an͟t me to throw you at him so your legs are high enoųg͞h t͢o ̴f̷lyin͜g k͡ìc͟k him in his huge chin."

This was said in a hushed voice of his own, holding up his left hand near where his mouth would be to help direct the sound of his voice to aim at Javelin and Javelin alone. This was also paired with a crook that ended with him leaning forward to be a bit more level with the femme. If Ratchet still managed to hear, he wouldn't be too terribly hurt over the fact though...

While he said this to her, he did side eye the door some, as if there was a way to visually tell if it was locked or not.

It was then Ratchet activated some honestly creepy looking machine that was hitting a bit hard to home as far as Carbine was concerned, his rotors flicking up and twitching anxiously while he shot bolt upright again.

"O̸h̵̶͡ ̶̡̧m͜à̧n, how long has he been sitti̶ng̡ ̴on͘ T̀HAT n̸igh̨t̷mare fuel e-eager someone got maimed enough to ̛p̷uļl̴ ́it o͘u͜t."

The black and white mech squawked this out, his weight rolling back to rest a bit more on his heels. That thing looked like it was half pulled from a horror movie, or so... that was where his mind went first. Probably because the femme had already implanted the idea of horror movies into his mind to kindle even more unease than the thing probably would typically. She was a bad influence.

As bad an influence as she may be, and as unhappy as Medical Bays made him, Carbine was well aware of how uncomfortable Javelin seemed. Even if she didn't profess her absolute hatred of Hospitals a moment prior, he would have picked up on it by now. Because of this, when Ratchet asked for a volunteer, he didn't even give the femme a chance to speak, his leg cutting forward in front of her while he thrust his chest out, hand raising to place on the front of his armor in a boastful way, blocking her path.

"I Carbine, gran͝d͜ ̀a̧ss̨is̵t̢an̶t͡,͞ m̸agnificent hero, opt t-to step in in Jave̸l͢i͏ns pl̢a̶će͢ ̡t̵o ̨save her from these oppressive sur-surro͟u͘n͜d͏íngs!

His bold boasting words carried loudly, popping with static and jitters.

[Javelin]

Javelin shifted her weight again, turning her attention back to Ratchet as he spoke to Optimus. She opened her mouth to say something, when Carbine’s suggestion of how to take the medic out sounded, and she caught herself, fighting back a half amused half anxious snort. The very image of both her and Carbine suddenly lunging towards the medic seemed so outlandish and insane she found herself sporting a lopsided grin.

Her own unease surfaced again as Ratchet turned on some ungodly-looking…thing….and it started moving. She had been of the idea the strange, many-limbed array in the middle of the ceiling had just been some sort of cable conduit and wasn’t actually able to move. Even if only one arm moved, the thought that all of the arms could suddenly spring to live and start moving about made her upper mesh feeling like it was shifting of it’s own accord and she gave a slight shudder.

About to say something, Javelin found herself unable to speak when Ratchet then walked towards them, carrying what looked like a tray filled with medical torture devices, and asked for a volunteer.

Oh.

No.

Ha ha. No. Nope. NO. I can’t.

Too many flashbacks started hitting her. Lying on the table, unable to move. Looking to her right at the other table, near and yet so far away. Surrounded by it’s own team of surgeons and medical personnel, hearing the sounds of the hospital, of emergencies. Beeping, alarms, tones and bells….trying so desperately to see the other person on that other table, just trying to get a glimpse of him, to see how badly he had been hurt…

I can’t.

Javelin opened her mouth, to try and say something, when the black and white mech beside her stepped forward.

She started, almost uncertain, as Carbine made an over exaggerated leggy stance, speaking over the top grand words.

The words.

He was volunteering.

Relief swept through her. She didn’t even have to say anything, Carbine was going to do it. Any concern was being taken from her servos and lifted out of her reach, and she almost burst out laughing in pure relief.

“Yes!” she suddenly found her voice, “Good idea! And I’ll go clean up and check on the human child. Make sure he’s ok and not…not…in a bad way.”

Nevermind the fact Javelin had never actually met Raf, had only seen pictures of the humans around the base in files given to her when she first arrived. All that was secondary. She would get out of the hospital. Even cleaning up all that spilled, creepy crystalline energon was better than staying here too long.

She looked up at Carbine, silently mouthing a Thank you! to him before she turned, more than eager to finally get out.

[Ratchet]

In all honesty, Carbine was the last one Ratchet had expected to volunteer to help. He had assumed the black and white would have taken off at first chance. He only hoped the ex police officer’s….chaotic….nature wouldn’t cause trouble during the operation. This wouldn’t be the time or place.

“Alright. Carbine, go to the sink, scrub up. There’s a tube of oil there on the countertop - make sure there’s a nice coating on your hands, and when it’s dry, join me at the table. You’re not going to be actually doing anything invasive - merely handing me things I might need or being a second set of eyes, but I want your hands protected anyway.”

Ratchet pointed to the various items he mentioned as he spoke, after which he fixed Carbine with a stern optic, “And Carbine. This is a working medibay now, and we’re performing a medical procedure. That means you can’t go talking about anything you see, willy nilly. Bumblebee will be given the full extent of privacy as would any patient of mine in the finest hospital.”

That dire warning, as such, issued, Ratchet eased back a little, nodding towards Javelin.

“Likewise, seal your hands before you start cleaning up, but check on Rafael first. Energon - even normal energon - is highly toxic to humans. Rafael is smart enough to let someone know if he’s been contaminated somehow, but he still witnessed a battle in which Bumblebee was attacking us. The boy has formed an extremely close bond to Bumblebee, and I don’t know how seeing that fight may have affected him.

Carbine, let Javelin know where Rafael is, and then come over.”

Taking a deep invent, Ratchet turned, and made his way towards his unconscious patient.

[Carbine]

While Carbine did want out of this Medical Bay, he liked to think that it was a fair tradeoff for some of the boons he could gain with Javelin later on. If he had thrown her to the wolves, and yelled 'I need to check on Bolo!', he was certain that she would hold that over his head far longer than she did the silly 'lack of gift' that had been offered at their very first 'date' that was totally not a date ((but also totally was)). By doing this, she would owe him, and look to him as a bit of a savior, which was something that would be worth a bit of discomfort and reminded bad times for a bit.

Besides, he was curious what was clunking around in Bumblebee to make him crazy.

"I'm f-full of̢ g̴o̷od ͏ide͢as!"

Confidence, overcompensating, he replied to Javelin quickly with a level of pride and arrogance that was nauseatingly thick in his words. While saying as much, he happily looked down at the femme, hands moving to plant loosely upon his hips in a mock 'hero' pose again, as if what he had accomplished was something worth receiving a medal for or other honorable things. Whatever the case, his attention was pulled away after by Ratchet, who had to be the fun police.

Sure it was a serious situation, but now that the REAL chaos was over, couldn't he lighten up some?... As if to answer this question himself, yellow optics slid over from the corner of his field of vision, peering at Optimus who was still lying on the medical berth, casting a glance then at Sideswipe again. Before he could think too much on things, his attention was pulled back, snapping to look over at Ratchet as if he was only tuning into things half way through, even if he did technically hear it all.

"Yeah, I th-think I already̢ ̕s̶cra͘p̧ed t͘he topcoat off my first the k̸z͝ztt̀t hands time!"

He chirped back, amused, lifting his hands away from his hips to wiggle them in the air some. Carbine had seriously scrubbed the crap out of his hands to get the crystals off of them just a few moments earlier, but he would do it again if he had to, and apply the oil or whatever was needed. It was then Ratchet spoke about patient confidentiality, and Carbine sighed.

"Uh-huh ye̛ah͏,́ ͢g̢o͘t͘ it."

Not a very reassuring response, even if Carbine did understand.

Turning, the ex-cop started to make his way over to the wash basin where he could clean off his hands, assuming that Javelin would follow to be able to hear the directions on where the human was squirreled away. While he was goofing around, he wasn't going to stand there and be a true pest by wasting time, turning on the water to wash his hands again, even if it seemed excessive. Looking over, he started to speak.

"Raf is in my room wi̕th t͝r̢ou͡blem͘a̡ker and Bolo"

He informed simply, hoping Javelin would know who the 'Troublemaker' was, since it was a much more befitting name than Miko.

"Fun fact, Bolo ̴wi̵ll͡ att̨ack you if you j-just walk in though!"

He chirped back, as if that was a real fun fact, and not a potentially life threatening one if she were to be caught off guard in close quarters with an aggressive canine. Thing was though, he didn’t know if others would start going crazy like Bumblebee had, so he didn’t want anyone to be on the 'safe' list other than himself. Optimus could probably walk in there, and get bitten if he tried to pick up one of the humans. Funny, but also totally not funny in the amount of crap he would get in after the Prime's fingers were fished out of his dog's tank.

"Press the middļe̡ ̴b̵ut͠to͡n̢ o̡n the keypad thing four t-times. I don't know what number it is, but you'll figure it out. Thęn͡ m̵ayb̛e l͠at̕e͢r you can use it to surprise me some night."

A wink, the bottom of his eyes were crooked up in the mockery of a smile again, watching Javelin while he scraped and scrubbed at his hands. At this rate he felt like the paint would be missing at the end of the day.

"The kids can t-tell̀ Bo͝l͜o ́to ̴b͡a̕ck ̶d̛own, but until then I would k-k͏e̢ep͏ ̴d͡i͞ştance."

[Javelin]

Watching as Carbine walked over to wash his hands yet again, Javelin paid attention to what he was saying. The fact Ratchet wanted Carbine to wash again either meant he didn’t think the black and white mech had done a proper job before, or else it was extremely easy to get infected by this….whatever it was. Which was creepy as slag.

A slight frown appeared on her face as he told her Bolo might see her as a threat.

Wait. They had been playing…sort of…not that long ago. Would he still see her as a danger?

It was impressive to her that the cassette was that well trained. Carbine must have given an order to protect the children and even someone he met a little while ago could still be suspect. It just made Bolo that much more amazing to the femme.

“Right. I’ll stay just outside until he seems ok with it, then.”

Javelin had no idea who “Troublemaker” was, or if she should be alarmed, but…they were human young. They couldn’t be that bad, could they?

Javelin had an image in her processor of the one called Raf. Upon arrival to the base, she had been given a very quick update on the fact there were human young around and caution needed to be taken. Profile pictures on the three of them - two males and a female - were given, but that was all. She knew the younger male was the one called Raf. As for who “Troublemaker” was….she’d just have to deal with it.

“Middle button four times. Got it.”

A slight roll of her optics at the next remark, but she was amused. Leave it to Carbine.

Before she left, she turned to look where Ratchet was setting up. A worried glance to Sideswipe, then Optimus, before looking back to Carbine.

“Be careful,” she warned, then rolled into motion, walking towards the sliding doors of the medibay, and passing out through them as they moved with a hiss. They slid shut behind her.

(Javelin will be moving to Safehouse from here)

[Ratchet]

Ratchet placed the tray of tools down on a small portable table he moved up to stand alongside Bumblebee’s side. Reaching up to take a hold of the telescopic arm that originated from the center of the ceiling again, he made a few more small adjustments, bringing it down so it was closer to the powered down mech, making sure the recorder was in place before he started.

Starting to lay out the tools he might need, Ratchet began to speak. His voice, normally acidic and sarcastic, took on a new tone, one not often heard before. The only people who may have heard this tone were also in the room; one conscious but unable to see, the other powered down, unaware of what was going on around him. Ratchet’s voice took on a note of professional blandness, no sarcasm, no gruff tone, no hint of his normal personality. Here was a medic getting ready to operate, in a sense, and just as others would slide their hands into gloves, Ratchet had slid into a professional mode. He spoke what he was doing, both for Optimus’ sake, and his own personal medical files, which he would transcribe later.

Here was a glimpse of the doctor that once healed and took care of a great portion of Cybertron, pre-war.

While waiting for Carbine to join him at the table, he started by reciting the year, month and day of the week, then earth hour and minute.

“Patient is Bumblebee, Autobot scout, seemingly afflicted with an unknown pathogen causing severe personality changes. Violence, aggression and confusion were evident when the patient attacked compatriots in the Autobot base. Patient was apprehended and contained by same individuals, however, damage was sustained in the struggle. One arm was removed in an attempt to stop a round of fire, and lower leg was also heavily damaged.

The patient is currently powered down. There is evidence of some sort of strange crystalline energon present on his face and upper chest, possibly the source of the affliction.

Exploratory surgery will be taking place in an attempt to see if the same crystalline substance is present within the frame, and if so, how much damage has been done as a result. If the substance is present, I will attempt to clean and repair any internal structure damaged by the substance.

The external injuries will be repaired once the surgery is completed.”

He paused, then spoke again. There was something he needed to add, as unlike other surgeries, Ratchet wasn’t only attended by other medical personnel. While it might seem unimportant, he was thorough in his work. Plus, in the future, if anyone else ever needed to look at the video or read the transcripts, they would understand where any unknown voices were coming from.

“Present in the medibay but not taking part in the surgery is the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime, who was visually injured in the attack. Also present is one Carbine, who volunteered to be my assistant in this surgery.”

Having spoken, having set everything up for the start, Ratchet, turned, and picking up a small tool from the tray, leaned over Bumblebee. Carefully, Ratchet put a hand over Bumblebee’s chest, lightly touching a few pressure points.

There was a faint click, and twin doors on the scout’s chest opened outwards.

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee continued to lay still.

Since he'd slipped off into the sedative-induced sleep, his frame had considerably relaxed. He didn't move, nor twitch any against his restraints which continued to hold him down. No, he was still. Quiet. Optics dimmed to the point the white was no longer visible. If it weren't for the fact he was strapped down and hooked up to monitors it'd look like he was simply recharging.

There were no outward reactions to any words spoken by those around him. If he were awake, he would've tried to explain more what he knew about the situation – which wasn't much. He would've scowled at Carbine's nickname for him but laughed it off and called him something in return, just to lighten the mood – he would've judged Carbine, too, for his terrible attempts at flirting. He would've tried to tell Jazz that he wasn't about to let him win next time they raced.

He would've apologized more.

Oh, how he wished he could apologize more.

The last thing he'd seen before he'd succumbed to the sedative was Ratchet and a look of worry. He'd been trying to explain- trying to explain why he'd done this, even if it hadn't made any sense other than he was simply so angry that it'd drowned out everything else. He'd tried to fight the urge to sleep to help explain as best he could but slipped momentarily, startled awake by Optimus yelling.

Before he'd finally slipped into recharge once more.

Of course, in this state of sleep, he wasn't thinking about any of that. Everything was quiet, black and completely still. The readouts on the monitors above showed that everything was looking good – nothing to be concerned over. Vitals were fine. Of course, there were a few HUD errors that continued to blip – unavoidable given the damage he'd sustained, but they still remained at the downgraded level and were nothing to be concerned over.

His chest would open without issue – and to a trained optic such as Ratchet, it wouldn't appear that anything was wrong or out of place. There were a few small dings and minor dents from old healed wounds that'd pierced the outer chest cavity a long time ago through various gunfire and scuffles, but everything else seemed to be in order. His spark chamber was untouched, unmarred by damage and well protected – a glow within that crept through seams around it showing that everything there was also fine. In fact – even to an untrained optic, it seemed that everything was... well, absolutely fine. The strange crystal-like Energon that littered his front hadn't moved inside his chest, and there were no signs of any Energon leakage, no tell-tale signs of blue.

No signs of what'd caused him to attack his friends, at any rate.

[Carbine]

Carbine didn't think this one through enough.

What had been meant to be a 'romantic' gesture and paint him as a Hero ((which it totally did thank you very much)), was now leaving him trapped in a room with the gruff medic and Optimus-friggen-Prime. These were some of the few mech's in the base who were super no-nonsense individuals, which meant that the second Javelin was gone? Things took a very 'not fun' turn in tone and action. For some reason he had some sliver of a thought that the amusement would continue to trail over, that things wouldn’t be super emotionally sterile, but instead, Ratchet just started to ramble to some recorder and log down everything. His voice didn't even sound the same! The gruff 'too tired for this life' tone that could be poked at and teased, stripped away to a more cookie cutter doctor approach.

It really reminded him of bad times.

Carbine did NOT like Medical Bays. He hated them, he absolutely did. Then again, most individuals who have been injured in the war probably had their own fair share of poor experiences at the hand of ragged medics trying to scrape by with little to no supplies at their respective bases. The prodding, the poking, ripping into raw and fresh injuries to send sensors alight. The nauseating feeling of awareness being challenged and ripped apart by sedatives or other medication. Could they ask you things while you are hindered to gain an upper hand? How could they manipulate you? The repair time was also horrible, trusting the individual to do what is right and that you won't have to have the wound torn open again later on to re-do whatever had been wrong... or to add onto the repairs and try to do it 'better' or remove the scarring... Or so was their excuses, when in the end it is called 'practicing' medicine for a reason, and your nothing more than a guinea pig...

Carbine did NOT like Medical Bays.

But he wasn’t going to shirk away and make a scene over it.

"He̕y-y͢o̕o͢o."

He chirped out happily when Ratchet said his name, as if introducing himself to some invisible audience who was on the other side of the recording device. While this was said, the black and white mech strolled lazily over to the operating table once his hands were sealed, casually moving to the opposite side of Bumblebee so he was across from Ratchet, not really sure where he was needed. While he did this, he made sure to move around the scout on the side where he would not cross in front of his remaining hand. It was a paranoid movement, but he didn’t intend for Bee to be playing dead, only to shoot at him like the little battle-psycho he has become.

As Bumblebee's chest unfurled and opened out however, another wave of reality hit Carbine and he misdirected his gaze and let out a low whistle of a sound, placing an open palm against his jaw as if pushing his own helm aside with the movement, while simultaneously blocking his immediate view of the more personal innards.

It wasn’t that he hasn’t seen another's open chest like this before, but it still felt a bit violating, especially since most of the open chests HE had experienced were of corpses with long vanished sparks. The dead couldn’t exactly feel embraced, and a hollow empty spark chamber hatch was just a sphere container with some fancy wires and lines framing it, while a live one had that flash of light between the seams and a swirling cage of someone's 'soul' just beyond sight.

"O͟h ́b̡o͡y!"

He squawked sarcastically, a bit uncomfortable.