[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Repurpose and Evaluate [Closed]

[Starscream]

Episode 3 | Week 3 | Day 7 - Directly after Fly Me To The Moon
-

The location at the other end of the swirling vortex was in stark contrast to the midday sun and open skies of Arizona, though it was still warm - and uncomfortably so. An oppressive stuffiness as claustrophobic, stagnant air would begin to cycle through their vents, offering very little of any form of cooling or comfort to their systems.

They had arrived into a hollowed-out tunnel - somewhere deep underground. Though it was not silent, and the distant thrum of working mining equipment and muddled conversation could be heard, however no words could be made out from this distance. The tunnel seemed to go on for miles, although it would be hard to tell given the absence of any sort of significant lighting, save for the vortex itself.

The gentle taps of heeled pedes would follow that of the single Eradicon, Windshield, and their Autobot captive as they made their way through the bridge. Starscream’s pace was not overly hurried, and his posture was just as casual as it had been moments earlier. With wings seemingly at ease, he kept one arm gently tucked behind his back as he made his way around the trio and into a small area that’d been carved into sedimentary rock. His other arm still held up, supporting Laserbeak who simply sat silently in observation.

“Mm, I suppose this will have to do for now.”

The hollowed area was simple indeed. It lacked any real lightning save for the most rudimentary string lights that were kept fairly dim, nor did it hold any sort of furniture. A blank, open cavity of a space- the only things of note being an area in the mouth of the cell where a field would no doubt activate at a later time, and a metal plate on the far wall that’d been bolted into place. Hanging from this plate was a single heavy-duty looking chain to which another pair of stasis cuffs was attached. The chain was short in length, and looked to offer no real range of movement - save for standing up and sitting down.

Making his way to the far wall of the hollowed area, Starscream would use his free servo to carefully pick up the chain, taking a moment to roll it between delicate talons, observing the links and how they were built. This moment of serene calm as he mulled over his thoughts did not last, that same servo wrapping around the chain itself and giving a hefty tug - testing its strength. Patch was a fighter - a foolish one at that - and he wouldn’t put it past her to put the shackle through its paces during her time here in this cell.

“Quickly now, get her over here. While I assume she has lost all of her fight, who knows when she’ll have a moment of brilliance and attempt to lash out. I want her secured for when Soundwave arrives with our medic.”

A gesture was given to the chain, though it did not take a genius to work out what he wanted to be done.

“Once that is complete, you-” one servo would raise to point at the Eradicon “Retrieve that which was left behind in Arizona while we still have time on our side.”

Should Patch find herself coherent enough to attempt to call for aid, she would find that the communication signal would simply not go through.

[Windshield]

At the sound of Starscream's command, the Eradicon and Windshield increased their pace, dragging the battered Autobot medic with them. They knew exactly what to do, settling in to strap her to the oppressive-looking chains by the cuffs. The links broke into a rattle at the very moment the two Decepticons set to work, no doubt giving some inkling to Patch as to what was being done with her body—if she was even aware enough to discern the noise at this point.

It took but a while to get her set up, after which the Eradicon faced the portal again. He gave a brief nod to the Air Commander in acknowledgment of his new assignment. Promptly, he left back through the portal. Meanwhile, Windshield checked the bindings now holding Patch in place one more time. He did not want any unpleasant surprises, since they had guests coming over and all.

Once he made sure the prisoner was not gonna go running off anytime soon, he turned away from Patch hanging in the cuffs.

"Do you reckon a single drone is enough for the clean-up? Would be a shame to get sloppy now that we have her," Windshield idly commented to Starscream as the Eradicon departed back through the GroundBridge. While doing so, he approached a relatively even segment of the wall next to the commander, leaning against it with his arms crossed.

Windshield was clearly getting some much-needed rest—or maybe he was just being flippantly casual as ever.

"Oh well, far be it from me to judge," he inclined his shoulders into a mild shrug for a brief moment. That should've been where their conversation ended, but standing around in silence while waiting for the doctor and tall-dark-and-creepy to arrive did not exactly strike the hacker's fancy. He preferred to keep himself busy with chatter at times like these.

And besides, the word was Starscream loved to talk.

"Anyways, was there anything you'd like to talk about before the gang's all here? I'm sure you've got a question or two," Windshield raised a brow towards the Seeker. His tone was mild and casual as if there wasn't a freshly-captured Autobot hanging from one of the walls right now. Clearly, the sight wasn't something that unnerved the Decepticon or even made him think small talk was inappropriate at a time like this.

[Patch]

The heat clung tight against the cheeks of her fuel-covered face.

Like a mask, like a hand, that steadied her. A wave- almost a shutter of comfort writhing through her tattered chassis without her consent at the warmth, despite the stagnant air. Behind the small cluster of two sets of clanking peddes, and a heavy metal dragging, soft pips of energon continued to litter the ground from countless wounds. The little spots of luminescence dotting along the dark floor like early rainfall in the young medic’s wake. The tattered remains of her left tire dragging along yet farther behind her feet.

Helm slung low, her optics flickered. The smell of slick line fuel intermingling with the chemicals one’s tank used to break energon down. The femme was covered. Entirely. Helm to pedde, all down her front- the gaps scarcely enough for an observant Con to grasp the white and red of her from anywhere besides her back. Servos bound in front of her, and hanging limply in a pair of similarly bloodied glowing stasis cuffs.

As she was flipped around, and dropped, and pushed up to the wall- she propped against a round shape latched to her, of red scraped down and deeply dented. Scorch marks, and silver metal showing beneath the already patched and chipping coat of paint upon the bag. Her lower back, beneath the object, where it failed to cover her was burned, and littered with small dings, and pebbles.

Her breaths were quick, and shallow with pain as Windshield bent to switch the binds. A wince, tired, half-gone flickering optics turned to the ceiling as she willed herself out of her body, no doubt. A few chuffing staggers interrupted the invents, as the child grit her teeth harder and whined, arms drawn behind her and shackled, exposing her wounds all the more readily. She was clearly in a great deal of pain, and -even to the least medically trained observer- it was abundantly clear why.

Her chassis and abdomen were littered with dozens of gushing, bright blue wounds. A shard of purple dermal plating, buried deep in nearly each and every one.

If one looked very closely, they would even see that corners of her gnarled expression were hindered by small, sharp bits of embedded debris. The whole thing- all of her plastered in a layer of her own, and someone else’s fuel.

It was grizzly.

And though the vast majority of the injuries were mesh-wounds… The last sparked was still hemorrhaging. Bleeding and fading rapidly. Regardless of who one was, or what they’d seen- this many leaking gouges at once constituted a serious trauma.

One which would kill her from fuel-loss alone, if action was not taken fast.

[Soundwave]

It was as though Starscream's words were a summon.


From the tunnel that led to the main chamber, flanked in faint light from the greater work area, a long slender frame started to walk towards the other Cybertronian. The figure was tall and thin, an angular shape with patches of dusted navy and black that was accented by thin magenta biolights. The glowing accents etched in jagged lines along the darkest patches, the illumination seeming that much stronger given the limited light of the corridor. While the figure was primarily more matte tones and colors, a sharp sheen of gloss shone across a triangular visor that was locked straight ahead, reflection dancing across its surface while passing beneath each low powered strung utility light.

Behind the individual were two others.

The first looked much like the Eradicon that was making its way out, though its broad paneled wings were replaced with wheels. It was rather clear it was a Vehicon instead, its figure silent while following the navy mech. In contrast, the second was far from the stock-built trooper. Its frame lacked any biolights, making its details blur out save for two red optics.

Soundwave was prompt as ever, efficient, already having planned things out before Patch was even fully captured. He moved with a calm, focused gait, each step muffled by dampeners in his joints, accented only by the crackle of grit and rocks that made up the rough-hewn floor below. Despite the lax speed, he made it to the opening to the cell shortly after passing Windshield a glance, helm crooking then to get a visual of Patch that was not filtered through Laserbeak.

Unseen lines and data flicked along his vision, marking injuries and damage, noting how they chose to handcuff her in place. It was while he looked in, his right hand would slowly raise, slender fingers uncurling with palm up in an absent gesture. The motion was met with Laserbeak's wings flicking with a soft rattle of the panels, before it's small structure kicked off and the vaguely avian cassette hopped from Starscream's hand to its Carrier's.

Once in place, Soundwave's long narrow arm would dip down, before angling in front of his torso. At this motion, the Cassette would 'jump' forward once again, slamming into its dock with a series of clicks. The altered wings ratcheted up to snap on either side of his sternum towards the juncture between helm and shoulder. Once panels smoothed back down, Soundwave's arm would dip to his side, his visor remaining angled at their new captive.

Windshield would need to be 'spoken' with about his time within the Autobots, though it seemed that such a task wasn't meant to happen right away by the sound of it. Patience was a core attribute Soundwave knew well however, and whatever data the other mech carried was not vital enough to warrant prompt discussions should it have not already come up in passing. As such, his gaze remained focused on their catch.

[Flatline]

While Soundwave's footfalls were relatively soft and with an even pace, one of the sets that came along with him was anything but. A clicking sound, followed by a rattled tap of hollow metal against stone, followed by the click again in an uneven pulse between the two... The darkened figure walked with a sort of limp to its stride, a misaligned dip at one point as an injured leg lagged behind the other, supported by a hollow metal pipe that had been adapted into a cane.

The individual's free hand was carrying a metal box, slung down loosely at its side.

Once Soundwave got before the open cell, this figure was not far behind, his misaligned stride halting as he looked within to see who, and what he would be dealing with.

Flatline knew that they had captured an Autobot. He knew they had value, for the rumors of having a spy meant it was likely an outcome of that... and he also knew that they were injured badly and that such a thing wasn't ideal for current goals. The extent of said goals were not exactly known however, nor how bad the injuries were, though he had gotten the request from Soundwave which outlined how the injuries were obtained.

Autobots just had to make things difficult, didn't they?

Which made his life difficult.

Red optics looked over once he settled, Flatline warily eyeing Soundwave and Windshield a second, before his gaze flicked to Starscream with a sort of deep unease that made him nearly forget the others were even there. He had not really spoken to or even interacted with the Seeker since he ripped his secondary limbs out, and while the damage had long since healed, the trauma of it was not forgotten. It brought on its heel a fear that repercussions may not be over, even if it had been months at this point with no further backlash. It was something he couldn't focus on however, attention drifting back to their captive with a subtle crook of the helm.

Not waiting to be told, Flatline's limped gait continued, walking within the cell to try to get a better bead on the damage, looking for where light glinted off blue to 'see' what ragged shapes were splattered below. It was fairly obvious she was in bad shape, though it looked to be quite a bit more Energon present externally than was really logical considering she appeared to be vaguely conscious. The amount lost constituted stasis in his opinion, meaning a good deal must have been another's, though... that did not matter. What mattered was the fact she WAS still alive.

A long blade-edged finger clicked a couple times against the handle of his cane, Flatline considering a game plan, though didn't necessarily have as much drive and 'care' in him that he may have felt should Patch have been a Decepticon. Nonetheless, he stepped forward a few paces, before he lifted his cane up, gently nudging the side of Patch's arm to see if she had any more fight left in her. He didn't expect much of a reaction, but he wasn't going to kneel down within range if she was going to lash out like a cornered animal the second she realized she had someone beside her.

[Starscream]

Lowering his arm, Starscream would take a gradual sidestep to allow enough room for the trio to pass, wings wilting downward as they did, before easing upright once more. There were no motions made to assist in transferring Patch to her new shackles, nor any orders snapped about hurrying things along - no, Starscream was uncharacteristically quiet in this moment, though this silence was paired with a look of mild indifference as he observed what would hopefully be a relatively easy relocation.

Once she had been secured and the Eradicon had stepped aside, a curt nod was offered in return to the one given to him - before the slim Seeker would turn his attention back to Windshield as the trooper vanished into the swirling vortex.

“A single drone should suffice. While the Autobots will surely notice her absence eventually, we should have ample time to remove the evidence of our presence.”

As she had probably noted where she was going before her unfortunate capture, it would be relatively easy to figure out the deception once she did not return. Though, the other side of this coin did mean the Autobots knew where she had gone, and may not go looking nor sense anything amiss for quite some time.

His free servo would raise as he peered at his claws in absent thought, before continuing.

“Feel free to assist, should you feel the need to speed things along, however.” his words were purred, and before he fully lowered his arm he would gesture to the still-open vortex.

One drone, in his opinion, would be more than enough to clean up a few scattered body parts and other things left behind - such as the signal blocker in the warehouse. If not? Then oh well. It really didn’t take a genius to work out what’d happened given the blast marks and signs of a scuffle, though it certainly would take one to track her to this location.

While part of the cavern system was populated by many a Vehicon that labored beneath the depths for Energon, only a select few Decepticons as a whole would know about the Autobot prisoner. Be it paranoia, or because Starscream was keeping things close to his chassis - the less that knew of her, the more unlikely word would get out - making it almost impossible for her to be found.

While she was certainly not important to him, she was important to the Decepticon cause - or at least, she would be.

If she survived this ordeal.

Glancing to Windshield, he would tsk softly. His own posture was not quite so relaxed, though still held a haughty, familiar air. It was simply a waiting game now, Soundwave would be along shortly, and while he too had no access to communications this deep underground - he knew the Spymaster had been observing from the beginning.

He was honestly expecting a moment of quiet, to relish in the sight of Patch being shackled and just how quickly she seemed to be slipping away. Windshield had earned this victory, and had done well to remain undetected among the Autobot ranks.

And it’d paid off.

The offhanded, casual comment caught him a little by surprise, and he in turn would quirk a brow as he turned his attention back to the other mech, shifting his weight slightly to account for Laserbeak, and so he could face Windshield fully.

“A question or two indeed.” he smirked, tsking softly as he shook his head. “Far too many for what little time we have before company arrives, I am sure.”

While Windshield had kept in contact when he could, communication had been understandably brief. Short, to the point, as to not arouse suspicion. Soundwave had logged and kept track of the information given, but Starscream wanted details.

A moment later, that smirk would shift into a more neutral look as Starscream’s attention drifted - just briefly - to the main tunnel. Something had caught his optic and Laserbeak’s attention it seemed, and the sound of footfalls would soon be heard. Three pairs, one with a distinct limp.

As Laserbeak’s panels would rattle and gently shift, Starscream would ease his arm forward as the cassette kicked off and returned to its master.

Lowering his arm and looping both limbs behind his back, he would offer Soundwave nothing more than a glance before his attention shifted - and settled - on Flatline. No words were exchanged, though he would nod at the other mech as he moved within the cell.

[Ren]

Trailing slightly behind both Soundwave and Flatline, there was a third member of the group. A single Vehicon, whose attention seemed focused on the task at hand, rather than those that were gathered.

Helping carry what Flatline could not, and playing the part of ‘pack mule’ - his arms were looped around another medical container that clinked when he moved, and was notably larger than the one Flatline was carrying. This one laden with cylinders of line Energon and other specialized tools he didn't recognize, since the types of injuries were unknown and as such, a variety had been grabbed. It seemed awkward to carry, and quite honestly he couldn't really tell just where he was going - though he managed without fuss or complaint.

He hadn’t asked any questions about where they were going, or why - though the sight of the Autobot chained to the wall of what appeared to be some sort of cell quickly satisfied his curiosity.

And- wait.

Was that-

Shuffling awkwardly past Flatline, he would ease into a crouch as he slowly and carefully began unloading the Energon from his arms and onto the floor. He wasn’t sure how much of this Flatline would actually need in stabilizing the patient - he wasn’t a medic, he didn’t know the first thing about this stuff! But too much was better than too little, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t take it back later.

Keeping his faceplate angled away from the prisoner, not wanting her to look at him - which was pretty ridiculous logic, should he think about it for two whole seconds - given the Vehicon drones all looked pretty much the same - QLC-972 would ease up into a stand, waiting for his next order.

[Windshield]

Windshield didn't avert his gaze from Starscream even as the footsteps in the nearby corridor neared. The suggestion that he help out with the clean-up had its appeal. He certainly had a few ideas on how to misdirect the Autobots and keep them guessing, but selfishness won out in the end—and so he waited for a brief few moments with the Air Commander.

He also soon realized that his question posited to Starscream was poorly timed. With multiple people right around the corner, he scarcely had the time to utter "Another time, then," to the Seeker. The next thing he knew, three different Decepticons poured into the room.

The most prominent member of this cavalry needed no introduction. Windshield was intimately familiar with the face of Soundwave—or rather a lack thereof in this particular case. He watched attentively as Laserbeak swung over to his rightful owner and shifted to join with his chest. For Windshield, that was a cue of sorts. His lax posture immediately shaped up as he disengaged from the wall and approached the spymaster's side.

In contrast with his demeanor towards Starscream, Windshield was particularly formal when it came to Soundwave, even going as far as to give him a brief salute upon his entry into the room. It seemed that he held some modicum of respect for the order of things after all. Namely, his place under the spymaster was not lost on him. As a covert operative, it was only natural to pay respects to one's senior in the field.

The second Decepticon that entered—the hunched, limping thing—wasn't familiar. Windshield paid him little attention, letting him set up in the room with the soldier in tow. Naturally, he understood that in this line-up, Flatline was the medic who would fix their little Autobot jailbird even before he began his diagnosis.

[Patch]

Helm like lead, Patch begged for the strength to simply look up.

Exhausted optics grazed the floor. Dancing tiredly across the scuffs as she listened to echoing voices, and steps. Her chin bobbed- making circles almost, as it butt against her leaking chest. Quick, shallow, labored breaths lifting her hunched front and shoulders.

Now that she was on the floor, with legs loosely bent in front of her instead of straight below- more energon was freed to reach her spark, and pump and optics. She couldn’t clutch her wounds like this- she was bleeding badly and she couldn’t hold them Shut. She’d had nightmares like this; Patch still wasn’t sure this wasn’t one.

She was distracted a moment as a vehicon lowered to place equipment on the floor. They were crouching beside her- no big deal. Just the same face that had tried -and succeeded- at murdering practically everyone she’d ever really loved. The same face which had gone dark, frame blown to pieces in front of her not moments prior. Perfectly alright and her eyes said none of it.

The irony in the seemingly disinterested fellow unpacking objects to save her...

In an alternate reality perhaps another would have laughed- made a stiff, unworried joke; though this version of Patch felt small. Simply small. Too small, too open to take any of this lightly- Eyeing the energon prepped for infusion. Searching the instruments for damage, or grime- not that she was in ANY position to be picky… Though even through the relative dark she couldn’t help but seek out the gauges of needles; the sharpness and size of that which would be stuck through her, in surely no time at all.

At the nudge to her shoulder, her helm jerked back. A tighter, quick suck of air taken in as though this had caused her pain.

“Nnghn-”

A high, desperate sound, swiftly followed by the soft shaking of unapologetic tears, too tired, too delirious to care that they were seen. This individual was young, and it showed- especially through this. Her weak voice chuffed out intermittently in squeaking whimpers. Round face pushed as far away to the side as she could hold it, optics shuttered hard. Glowing fuel on her teeth as they grit exposed a moment.

She didn't wanna be here.

The energon loss was visible in her eyes, once they sunk open again. The mueling snivel brought back down -if by nothing but necessity- to a more sustainable, very shallow hyperventilation. Now unfocused half lidded optics flickered duller than even the energon smeared across her cheek and chin and dribbling from her forehead.

Her reflexes grew slow, her movements disjointed. Like an animatronic- like a puppet, not quite used to being controlled. Thin lines of energon now began to roll off her sides from the punctures and pip to the ground. Purple shards and iron glass glinting in the midst of the hemorrhaging fuel as the medic above her sought the mechanism of injury.

[Soundwave]

Soundwave may not have been physically present when Windshield and Starscream spoke, however Laserbeak was, and as such he knew there had been a possibility the purple and black mech would turn and depart with the Eradicon. However, with his arrival, this idea seemed to be sidelined abruptly, both individuals falling quiet and inert other than a salute offered by Windshield. This tension was not lost to the navy mech, though it did not seem to bother him at all, his attention focused ahead.

Patch was understandably not very responsive, at least, not in a way that would imply she was cognitively present enough to chat or fight at the moment. Sounds of pain, a bobbing helm... Soundwave knew well the trauma such damage could cause, seeing the results of it more than a few times back in the gladiatorial pits, and then even more so once the war slipped into full swing. As such, he simply observed the way the Decepticon medic worked, and tried to consider what course would be most advantageous next.

Until Windshield took post at his side.

Noting that the other mech didn't seem keen to depart on any supposed attempt to help the Eradicon, it was only then Soundwave offered their spy a real look, the inky black visor turning to angle down at him. The slick surface of glass once more caught onto the dim lighting, bands of yellowed white cutting sideways as his head turned, before settling out in a way that cast the infiltrator's reflection back at him from the darkness.

This was the first time he really looked at Windshield, the mech having been across the way, battered and damaged, upon their first meeting. Details were lost, general records having been made in the meantime onto a hollow shell of a profile that gradually built up. Contact during this double cross had been fleeting and quick, mere glances to reaffirm goals and move on that were primarily all digital rather than face to face. As such, a silent capture of images was made at this moment, a mental scan to log into the database on all individuals on this planet.

After this, the navy mech would turn, his right hand raising to gesture subtly for Windshield to follow as he started to walk. It seemed he didn’t intend to let Starscream get first swings on speaking to the infiltrator if he could help it. A crackle sounded out as his screen illuminated with bouncing wavelengths.

/̧/How /͞/ ambitious /́/ do you feel?//̢

[Flatline]

Flatline's gaze locked with Starscream's a second, a sort of primal unease and fear felt in his core. That judgmental look, the way he carried himself... the sight of the Seeker threw Flatline back to when he was pleading for mercy, begging for his demise to be swift and as painless as he could ask for. Only to be mutilated instead. While he was glad to be alive in some ways... the fear lingered. While it was likely only a second or two of tension and eye contact, it felt like an eternity for Flatline before he sucked in air and turned away to move to Patch, trying to shake off the deep horror to focus on his work.

Looking to the side briefly, Flatline watched as the soldier placed the tools down, yet beyond that didn't give him a second glance. He had no idea just WHICH Vehicon this was... and as such the individual did not even linger on his mind, his attention focused on Patch as he poked her arm with his cane.

Thankfully, the nudge didn't really lead to anything. A whine, a lurch, a sound of pain... things Flatline could cope with. She didn’t snarl and whip around pulling at the chains, or anything else particularly foolish. While that didn't mean she wouldn't find the inspiration to attempt such a thing in the future, it helped him feel a bit more stable. Because of this, Flatline would lean his cane against the wall a couple steps away, wedging it slightly against the uneven rock, before he eased down into a sort-of kneel.

Given Flatline's general leg structure, he folded the digitigrade limb beneath himself rather than placed his knees on the floor, small prong-like peds flaring for traction and stability, while the majority of his weight was placed on the post that was set right behind them. It looked somewhat precarious, to be squatted down on such a small contact point, yet he seemed perfectly content and balanced, dragging the medical container in front of him to unclasp and flip open.

The contents were standard fare, though were bumped up with a few extra things packed in to account for the reports on more substantial damage. The first thing he needed though wasn't something to instantly try to plug the holes... no... if she passed out? She passed out. They had line Energon ready so she wouldn’t die if she decided to say good-night temporarily. What he needed was for her to hold still and not lash around when he did try to stop the fuel loss and work. If she were crying out in pain every few seconds trying to kick him, he was likely to rip her open and make things worse.

As such, with calmly swift motions, Flatline pulled out a cartridge injector that was slick stainless steel with a few adjusting screw bolts and a trigger. He would gently pull out a glass vial from the medical kit with a small clink of it tapping against others in the accompanying pack, before he slammed it into the metal contraption with a hard clunk as its inner chamber was pierced. The small vial had a noxious looking transparent orange liquid in it, a hiss escaping the mechanism as it was loaded.

As the tool was equalizing, Flatline carefully twisted the side screw with a few clicks to set the dosage amount so the trigger could only compress so far, gaze flicking to look over Patch and start to piecemeal together what would be an appropriate amount. While it would be an estimate, he could always add more, so he aimed on the lower spectrum of his guess which would still offer plenty of relief. The moment this was done, he then pulled off the front portion of the tool with a snap of the seal, revealing a sturdier needle that was predominantly used for goring deeper under plating rather than just surface lines for fuel draws.

Flatline wanted the compound to drown innermost points first, not drain out by trying to be delicate and use more traditional paths. He felt if he injected it into her arm, that there was a possibility the shrapnel punctures up them could interfere its flow to the rest of her body and not stop the onslaught of pain with only a partial dose. While it could seem barbarically cruel, and almost traumatizing in a way, he worked fast, and didn't have the tool overtly displayed in front of her to hype it up. In only a few flickers of seconds of his quick movements and calibration, Flatline's free hand would reach up and curl around the side of Patch's neck, long fingers hooking around it to hold on firmly, while the back of his thumb rolled down its side to feel for where the intended line ran on her model.

While the device looked harsh, Flatline did not simply bash the tool into her throat like some kind of monster, trying to hold Patch still as he attempted to snake the needle between neck slats into a major pathway beneath with more care than was possibly expected. Should he manage to pierce the intended line, he would pull the trigger with a loud almost pressurized snap, which would drive the dosed chemical in. If it worked, there would be barely a second of discomfort before it would disperse and start to bleed out the persistent mind-numbing agony.

While he worked, Flatline was ignoring the others behind him as best as he could, locked down onto his new job with a sort of fierce focus that he hasn't shown yet on Earth. Not normally called upon for medical work... at least not serious life-threatening medical work... it was a side of him that was suddenly shaken out of sleep and he dove into it head first with zeal.

[Starscream]

Starscream seemed content to simply observe the situation as it began to unfold. Circumstances were truly dire, and Flatline would have to work quickly to stabilize the prisoner. There was a time and a place for snapped orders, but here where he would simply be stating the obvious was not one of them.

No. He knew the medic was skilled. It was, after all, part of why he’d been allowed to live despite what he had brought upon them. Yet, while the black and red mech felt fear for a flicker of a moment, Starscream felt indifference. The punishment had been dealt for that incident, and he considered the matter over. His attention and thoughts were on the situation at hand, not lingering in the past.

The only time his attention drifted from Patch was when Windshield replied, to which a nod was offered in return, paired with a smirk as he spoke quietly.

“Another time.”

He noted Windshield’s change in posture once the Spymaster had entered the sorry excuse of a room, and while his own demeanor wasn’t exactly formal, his gaze shifted to that of the navy mech once more as the infiltrator moved to stand at his side - wings twitching ever so slightly behind himself as they eased up.

Only once Soundwave turned to depart did the silver Seeker unloop his arms, rubbing a servo somewhat gingerly over the missile housing on his left arm. A gentle ‘tsk’ escaping him - knowing full well what the Spymaster was up to, yet he made no motions to follow.

Turning his attention back to what Flatline was doing, he narrowed his optics.

“No need to be so gentle going forward. After the fight she put up in getting here, she has not yet earned such kindness."

[Ren]

QLC-972 wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing now that he’d done what’d initially been asked of him, and as such stood awkwardly to one side. He’d never done anything that required any real medical skill - well, unless slapping a mesh patch (first try!) on Vega counted, but after seeing the state of the Autobot in front of him? He wouldn’t know the first thing about what to do to even try to help things.

Maybe he could tell the prisoner - since he was pretty damn sure he knew exactly who it was - that everything would be okay. That while Flatline looked terrifying, he wasn’t that bad. He had a stick thingy for a cane, and had a bit of a short temper - but he worked in the Medical Bay so he had to know what he was doing.

But then - talking, even if he’d been doing his bestest customer service voice the last time he spoke to this particular Autobot - ran the risk of her knowing who he was via voice alone. But did that matter? Maybe there would be some comfort in knowing he was there. A terrible situation but with a friendly face! Though- all Vehicons did look pretty much the same.

No… He wouldn’t be able to help her.

Maybe that was why Soundwave had brought him along? He’d been there too - when she’d arrived to Earth. He’d been the one who’d miscalibrated the bridge ever so slightly to make her misstep, something that nobody believed him about when he mentioned it. Maybe it was some sort of fitting end to it all, being there when she’d arrived - and now being here when it may very well be… well… the end.

The first clunk of the contraption didn’t pull him from his thoughts, he’d heard that noise before, or at least, similar noises whenever he’d been around the Medical Bay. But the second one, the pressurized snap? It drew his gaze in the direction of the noise, a brief glance given to Starscream as he spoke, helm tilting slightly in confusion as he looked back at Flatline.

That was being gentle? It sounded horrible. Then again, he hadn’t been paying attention to how carefully it’d been applied.

“Flatline, Sir. If there’s anything I can do to assist with Patch the Au- Uhh- the Autobot, I am willing and able to help as needed.” his tone serious, even despite the slight stumbling of words.

[Windshield]

Windshield trailed after Soundwave, departing with nary a nod towards the remaining Decepticons. As the Spymaster urged him onward, he paused and shot one last glance towards Patch—a long and contemplative one. A hint of worry crept across his features in the moment.

A brief error in judgement—corrected quickly enough.

Windshield shook his head and steeled himself with reason. She was the enemy, an Autobot, he reminded himself. There was no reason to care about what was to happen next. His job was done. This was the end of their "friendship" and hopefully the last time he ever saw her.

It was easier to live with the sins if he didn't have to look at a living reminder. This approach worked fine for millions of years. One kind Autobot was not about to change that. This was his resolution.

With that, he turned towards Soundwave once more, now fully at his disposal, no more distractions or chatter.

/̧/How /͞/ ambitious /́/ do you feel?//̢

The hacker was quick to reply to the patchwork audio then.

"What do you have in mind?"

The proverbial doors closed shut. Goodbye Patch.

[Patch]

For a moment, she found herself tentatively distracted by the grace with which he balanced…

Flatline may have been subtle- but Patch was afraid, and educated, and Nosy, and that, in this desperate moment, lifted her struggle -as well as her helm- beyond the edge of (perhaps, sanity, though more literally) the lid of the kit.

With frightened eyes and deflated posture, she caught enough edges of the object (in conjunction with the sounds) to gather he was likely preparing some sort of injection. Patch pulled away as much as she was able, as the strange medic reached for her throat. Optics going wide as her chin pulled in and down.

“No please-”

The latter word tightly screamed as her breaths tightened, and quickened and shallowed yet farther- she squirmed, a little, as panic overtook weakness. She pushed into the ground with her foot to try and straighten up and away- shoving her chin down into Flatline’s thumb to try and hide the soft spot. Every inch of energy she had to spare was dedicated to fighting in vain against the larger medic; and even already, for sturdy a femme as she was, said fight was pitifully lacking from energon loss.

“-Please do-hon’t-”

As her helm was angled upward- as she felt the pinch in the side of her neck, an overwhelming sense of helplessness clutched Patch’s chest.

This was happening.


Some instinct switched frantic, disjointed struggle to soft skipping huffs as she drew still, and let the medic slip in without jerking around. Optics yet again shuttered hard as though it would somehow remove her from here. From This. The needle was large, it hurt- and some offhanded part of her brain was aware, this was a vital line. If it was severed, it could kill her; and -despite how afraid she was of this mystery shot- Patch certainly didn’t wanna aid in that threat of damage.

After what, three seconds that felt like ten simply sitting there bound with her eyes locked shut in the opposite direction… Her gnarled grimace settled to an expression of repugnant, chagrined, exhaustion. Rater than attempting to squish over, and hide the targeted site from him, the weight of Patch's neck and helm sunk more solidly into Flatline’s hand. Bits of armor- outer layers previously drawn tight, relaxed. Puffed feathers, risen quills smoothed down by the intoxicating lack of pain. For a moment, her frame even threatened to collapse to the side, sliding down the wall a bit.

The gaze of half lidded, flickering optics returned, and drifted as the anesthetic swept swiftly through her lines. That sickly, honey colored fluid washing into the already desperately dull blue glow of her eyes, tainting with the slightest hint of green.

The air to cool her internals still sucked harshly inward- though the length, and distance between ‘breaths’ was longer now. More steady, despite the rasping- though the pattern was wrong. The ex-vent and invent were meant to be roughly the same duration. In this young patient, the ‘in’ was half as long as the ‘out’... Then it would switch… Then a disjointed irregular pattern- almost panicked, then back again. The movement of her chest likely restrained by the shards- which, in the case of the deeper pieces could be heard rasping against the fresh metal edges of the punctures.

The shallow ones moved as though part of her armor- though a few… Particularly those from which fresh energon bled, grew tighter against an edge of the wound as she took air in, creating space as she let it back out. Likely buried in deeper dermal layers as well as piercing protective shell.

Flatline would feel at her neck especially that -even despite the energon loss- Patch was overheating. If this was explored further, he would find that the outer edges of her armor, her fingertips were cold. Her optics, helm and chest overly warm- a sign her frame was responding to her current state of shock by holding energon closer to her core components; Which, thanks to the nature of the injury, were not being properly cooled by natural means.