[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]We're Off To See The Wizard [ Ratchet|Closed ]
Feb 3, 2018 1:05:18 GMT -5
Post by Hot Rod on Feb 3, 2018 1:05:18 GMT -5
Timeline: Week 1 | Day 3
- After 'The best ideas make the best mistakes'
Location: Medical Bay ( the place no one wants to be by choice )
Characters: Hot Rod | Ratchet
Right, so the medical bay. Medical bays weren't good places to be from both personal experience as well as from stories... mostly his own, to be frank.
In the Academy he was notorious for ending up in such a place since he had a really bad habit of starting fights... more often than not with mech who were much larger than he, or had a better swing. Standing up to someone twice his size gave him a reputation of having quite a pair of bearings... just as being too stubborn to back the hell down gave him the title of being pretty idiotic. The medics at least all thought so. Yes, he'd put in his fair share of licks as well, but Hot Rod just wasn't a hand-to-hand combat fighter. Sure, he was quick and could dodge when need be, but that only would do so good for a short period of time. Kamikaze strikes- that was his specialty- but those were damn hard to do when you were cornered in a tiny room or a hallway. Or surrounded by the other mech's little lackeys.
Now he was going to a medical bay. When he wasn't injured. By choice. Willingly.
That did NOT compute well with him.
So of course he didn't mind the scenic route around the complex. A casual stroll did him nicely, even if there wasn't a damn thing to look at besides the same color walls and doors. The paths all connected with one another so it was pretty impossible to get lost, though there was the occasional dead end which was sort of nice. It became a game, really, where he passed what he knew to be the medbay a couple of times, which he would then find a new way to take the same path to circle around yet again.
The fourth or fifth time in passing he did stop and stare at the threshold that would lead him inside. With his luck one of the femmes had already informed the CMO of his eventual arrival, and there was only so much stalling he could do before someone would probably come looking for him and ask him what was taking him so long. So here he was, about to commit treason to his own senses and do this thing: Get checked over ( willingly ) and get his insignia removed ( willingly... sort of, only not really, but this was part of the willing game he had to play ).
With a deep intake of air the rattled in his chassis, Hot Rod ventured through and made his way inside.
"Hello~oooooo!" came the obnoxiously loud call that echoed a little more than he thought it would. This was certainly smaller of a space than he thought it would have been. "Hot Rod here reporting for... whatever it is I gotta do as a new arrival, with whatever your name is." It occurred to him that he didn't know what the name of this medic was. He hadn't asked... then again, he hadn't even really cared. This was about to be public enemy number for him.
- After 'The best ideas make the best mistakes'
Location: Medical Bay ( the place no one wants to be by choice )
Characters: Hot Rod | Ratchet
Right, so the medical bay. Medical bays weren't good places to be from both personal experience as well as from stories... mostly his own, to be frank.
In the Academy he was notorious for ending up in such a place since he had a really bad habit of starting fights... more often than not with mech who were much larger than he, or had a better swing. Standing up to someone twice his size gave him a reputation of having quite a pair of bearings... just as being too stubborn to back the hell down gave him the title of being pretty idiotic. The medics at least all thought so. Yes, he'd put in his fair share of licks as well, but Hot Rod just wasn't a hand-to-hand combat fighter. Sure, he was quick and could dodge when need be, but that only would do so good for a short period of time. Kamikaze strikes- that was his specialty- but those were damn hard to do when you were cornered in a tiny room or a hallway. Or surrounded by the other mech's little lackeys.
Now he was going to a medical bay. When he wasn't injured. By choice. Willingly.
That did NOT compute well with him.
So of course he didn't mind the scenic route around the complex. A casual stroll did him nicely, even if there wasn't a damn thing to look at besides the same color walls and doors. The paths all connected with one another so it was pretty impossible to get lost, though there was the occasional dead end which was sort of nice. It became a game, really, where he passed what he knew to be the medbay a couple of times, which he would then find a new way to take the same path to circle around yet again.
The fourth or fifth time in passing he did stop and stare at the threshold that would lead him inside. With his luck one of the femmes had already informed the CMO of his eventual arrival, and there was only so much stalling he could do before someone would probably come looking for him and ask him what was taking him so long. So here he was, about to commit treason to his own senses and do this thing: Get checked over ( willingly ) and get his insignia removed ( willingly... sort of, only not really, but this was part of the willing game he had to play ).
With a deep intake of air the rattled in his chassis, Hot Rod ventured through and made his way inside.
"Hello~oooooo!" came the obnoxiously loud call that echoed a little more than he thought it would. This was certainly smaller of a space than he thought it would have been. "Hot Rod here reporting for... whatever it is I gotta do as a new arrival, with whatever your name is." It occurred to him that he didn't know what the name of this medic was. He hadn't asked... then again, he hadn't even really cared. This was about to be public enemy number for him.