[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Skip Tutorial [Closed]

[Megatron]

Megatron continued to watch Starscream and Flatline for a while longer. He observed them with no change of expression, listening to the praise, the apprehensive acceptance thereof, the gratitude—and finally, the confident reassurance. The room was quiet enough for him to hear the brief conversation in full. Were they in circumstances that would permit for longer conversations, perhaps he would have been quick to chastise them for such a pointless exchange of comforts during matters most pressing.

As far as Megatron knew, it would have been more efficient for Flatline to bark his instructions ere he comforted a seasoned combatant like Starscream, but it made little difference. He relinquished control of the situation willingly and he would not question at length the medic's methods—at least, not so directly. Soon, the Warlord turned to face the ceiling once more, letting stark-white light consume all. Blinding, purging light. This was his comfort—blanched. For a while, it looked as if though he was about to rest and say nothing at all. But then...

"Touching," he rumbled in long, jaded tones, staring out into the colorless glow. It was not quite a reprimand, but the sarcasm in that single word was bitter enough to taste. Clearly, Megatron's compliance and acceptance of the situation did not necessarily mean he would conceal all his thoughts on what he considered a piteous waste of time.

But no sooner had the old tyrant said his piece than Flatline's voice cut through the room like a well-honed blade with such spit and fire. He hadn't seen the medic like this before, he thought at once. At least not in recent memory. Perhaps some of that rumored edge of his was coming back to him?

And all it took was a little control.

Perhaps he should allow the medic this liberty to exercise it more often within set parameters, depending on how everything panned out next. But those were thoughts for another day—immaterial in the thick of it. For now, Megatron merely canted his head slightly to observe what Flatline would do next, having taken hold of the cart. His optics shifted, dilated pupils narrowing from into pointed red dots as they adjusted from the overpowering light to the Decepticon's darkened form.

From there, Megatron simply looked on—expecting some manner of demonstration for the two mechs who yet stood in his presence.

[Starscream]

The silver Seeker wouldn't respond to the confused words of thanks, seemingly content to lay in silence and just let things proceed around him, as it wasn't as if he could do much else. He trusted Flatline, and knew that he was in capable hands, though he hadn't been able to see the injuries to his wings, and so was unaware as to just how bad things were– if they were bad at all.

The pain that'd ripped through him certainly indicated that things were dire indeed, even if he dared not look, though now in this dulled moment where the pain suppressants moved through his lines to the point he was no longer in agony, he found himself wondering how long he would be stuck here.

Or if he'd ever fly again.

That was the worst-case scenario, one that he tried to distract himself from as he found himself staring upward. He wouldn't move as the other mech placed the nodes across his frame, though heard the all-too-familiar noise as the machine whirred to life, tracking his various vitals.

Only when Flatline spoke again, offering reassurance did his gaze drift to him, briefly making optic contact, paired with a tired smile– though no words were spoken in reply, a simple nod the only response, showing that he had heard and understood.

However, he did not immediately settle back. The single, heavy word from Megatron made him grimace, venting out a long, drawn-out exhale of a sigh. He had not meant to show weakness, though in his exhaustion things had slipped. Too tired to respond in any sort of attempt to defend himself, knowing the word had no doubt been directed at him, his gaze shifted, and while he did not move to sit up or even try to change position, he watched as Flatline turned his attention to the Warlord, pulling what looked to be a bullet from his elbow.

His optics narrowed at the two snapped words that came a moment later, peering at the Medic in silent question, though did not speak, curious as to what was happening over that side of the room.

[Ren]

AKN-921 momentarily felt useless as he stood here doing nothing while everything seemed to be going on around him all at once. From Flatline applying the nodes from the scanner to Starscream, to Krieg assisting their Warlord.

He knew there would be a role for him soon, no doubt, though in the presence of Megatron he did not want to speak up out of turn, out of place. He did not want to inadvertently distract the thought process of Flatline, knowing that there would be a certain order to things, a mental checklist that needed to be followed in these precious few seconds where two of High Command were stabilized. Any diversion, even to answer a question could bring ruin, or mess things up to the point it'd be hard to get back on track, and even if Flatline was competent enough to not be distracted by such things? He didn't want to risk it regardless. 

So, he did nothing except watch quietly, waiting for a moment where he could step forth and assist. Waiting for an order that was directed at him.

Turning his frame, he kept his attention on the Medic as he moved toward Megatron, doing his best not to react – though still flinched regardless with a gentle hiking of his wings – as the obstruction from the Warlord's elbow was swiftly removed.

It was a testament not only to Flatline's skill, but to just how powerful their Warlord was. The sight of Energon never made him queasy, and Primus only knew he'd seen enough of it to know, though given just how much Starscream had lost, now this… the room was quickly filled with the smell of it, and it made him nauseous.

Before he could let these thoughts linger, the two words from Flatline pulled his attention immediately back, and a nod was given. He stepped forward, though not enough to impede any sort of movement from the Seeker nor the Medic himself, however, would watch as tools were moved aside. Speaking for the first time since this event started, the Armada Unit would nod once more.

"Affirmative Flatline, Sir! I am ready for your instructions."

He was nervous. How could he not be? Though would dutifully watch, paying attention to whatever the Medic did and said, making sure he wouldn't have to be told twice.