Ep 1: Aches and Pains -closed-KO

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By the time the dust had settled on the devastated warship, Jetfire had singled out one of the unharmed Eradicons and spent a good breem bullying him about finding a damned medic, for Primus’s sake. Unfortunately, everyone needed the damn medic, and it made bullying slightly more difficult- but not impossible. Certainly not that. Jetfire had entire deca-cycles of experience in being abrasive, and it was often too much for the sparklings these days.

After escaping, Jetfire had circled the wracked hull of the Nemesis. He scanned the floating hulk of a ship, feeling a gruff, determined focus, as he searched for any other signs of evacuation. Despite looking productive and confident as he searched for survivors… he spent a good breem terrified of sudden engine failure (on his own part), but managed to land on the exterior platform without consequence.

Most of the Eradicons seemed baffled by Jetfire’s… well, existence. Still, the Decepticon emblem and an authoritative tone of voice went a long way. It was barely a klik before hey were calling him ‘Sir’ and making decent efforts to get out of his way when he looked at them seriously.

The disorganization was appalling. “Watch them…” Jazz had said, before bridging out. Jetfire was tired of relying on assumptions, but the competence of the Decepticon army definitely lacked the luster he remembered. Jetfire knew he was being unnecessarily judgmental, but if he- an explorer unit that was practically a civilian- could hold his cool under this sort of attack while the drones were running about as if their spark chambers were on fire…

At the very least he could take advantage of the confusion’s aftermath. Things were now relatively settled and he hobbled after a unit that dubbed himself ‘Dave’. He’d been unlucky enough to be singled out by his fellow drones when Jetfire had demanded medical attention. The Seeker was surprised hew was being led anywhere. With a hoarde of this size, he would have expected to call for a doctor in a crowd and at least have one unit within earshot to call to attention. Instead he was being led to depths of the ship he’d already trekked through to escape the fragging hull in the first place. His joints started to grate and send screeching sounds echoing through the corridors, as he vented through the error codes and pains. He even stooped to leaning on Dave as he had previously with Yellowbot. Fortunately, Dave was considerably taller than the unfortunate scout- unfortunately he was also much more skittish.

“Not so fast,” the Seeker growled as the Eradicon quickened his pace when Jetfire leaned on him. “Can barely use my pedes as it is. You think I’m whistling over here?” The screeching in his right knee was deafening at this point. They both had to wince (even the faceless drone looked to be flinching) each time he took a step.

It wasn’t a moment too soon before the red frame of the medic was seen as they rounded another corridor. He was kneeling, probably tending to another fallen mech, but it was difficult to see with the gaggle of more drones huddled worriedly around him.

Jetfire sighed, giving Dave a good tug. “Lets go. Come this far already.”

OOC: I set Knock Out up there doing stuff- feel free to change it up however you want him to be and I’ll accommodate.

Also, I just got a new keyboard so if there are weird typos, it’s because muscle memory likes to screw with my head. Also, things have been happening so my writing is a little jumbled. If things don’t make sense grab me sometime.

Also, closed for now?

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"All right, get him up and to his quarters. And if I have to patch that again because you two jostled him, I'll weld all three of you together and call you a combiner."

Knock Out stood, stretching to get crimped hydraulics flowing again. He'd been working for breems, as evidently the Autobots had managed to damage every mech on the entire ship. First the drones, then Barricade, then SOUNDWAVE (who, at least, had hied off barely repaired, which Knock Out appreciated even if he did grouse about it on principle), then Eradicons and more Eradicons, THEN Shockwave, and then (oh joy) YET MORE Eradicons.

Knock Out was tired, his processor felt fragmented with the number of barely-documented medical updates he'd made to mechs' files, he needed a cube or three, and to top it all off he was FILTHY. Energon, coolant, hydraulic fluid, you name it, it was on his frame and likely etched into the scratches that little Autobot thief had gouged into his finish. He'd been too busy keeping sparks in their housings to do more than a cursory wipedown.

The 'bay was a mess as well. Slicks of fluids and bits of parts and plating made the floor a minefield. He'd run out of berths hours ago and sent as many patients to their quarters as he could. He'd sent some mechs away with nothing but some pain dampeners and an appointment for the next cycle. At this point, if they weren't bleeding out right this instant, Knock Out didn't want to see them.

And...currently no one was bleeding out. Or needed anything THIS INSTANT.

Knock Out popped the seal on a cube of ration-grade mixed in with the medical-grade energon stockpiles and took a long swallow. A trick he'd learned from a very old (and very dead) medic: stash your rations in with your emergency stockpiles, because if you're going through THAT much med-grade, there's no way in Pit you're getting to the mess hall anytime soon.

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Jetfire was halfway there when the patient that the red mech was tending to was pulled to his pedes and sent away. The Seeker limped along with a renewed, if rusty vigor. “MEDIC,” he finally called, his vocabulator screeching with feedback and echoing off the corridor walls. It was an upsetting hiccup but all the more to accentuate how run down he was, at the very least.

The red mech looked up from his short reprieve, and Jetfire did his best to ignore the look of disdain he sensed he was getting… he was too busy focusing on where to step next. The old Con leaned heavily on Dave, who was doing his best to emote how much he wanted to be anywhere else but there. His head was craned as far away from the older mech as possible, and he shook his helm with disappointment each time the deafening screech rang from Jetfire’s bad knee.

After an awkward struggle, they came to an awkward halt in front of the medic, Jetfire creaking audibly as the last of his strength went to keeping him upright. Since being reactivated, he needed much longer recharge times, and he hadn’t had a good ration of energon since first arriving on the Nemesis. Many of the error codes he’d been relieved from after care from PistonGasket were reappearing again- his systems were having trouble keeping up. It was a surprise he’d even made it this long without collapsing into stasis again.

The lights of his optics had a very slight flicker to them as he struggled to keep the error codes at bay. Something about finally being right next to his salvation made the exhaustion fall on him more than ever. Jetfire vented heavily, a faint puff of steam releasing from below his spark chamber from an overheating component somewhere. “I’m having trouble recovering from… a long term stasis,” he drawled tiredly, but with dignity.

OOC: I totally don’t play Team Fortress. Really. Honestly. OK. Fine. Maybe a little.

Tadbits of powerplaying here. Feel free to ignore/yell at me.

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"Well...you certainly look like it," Knock Out said, scanners crawling up and down the seeker's frame as he sipped his cube.

A seeker that he didn't recognize. With the most antique Decepticon insignia that Knock Out had seen in a long time and a frame to match. Knock Out was sure that there was a story there, but it had been much, much too long a cycle for him to care.

Much like the Seeker's state of disrepair. "Long term stasis" Knock Out would believe. The seeker had corroded parts and disintegrating linkages all through his systems. Not to mention his knee was slagged and he was nearly falling over from energon deprivation. However, he was not dying or in danger of dying, and Knock Out had been sending more critically-wounded mechs to their quarters for the last two breems.

The medic grabbed three cubes of medical-grade from the stockpile. A drawer on the nearest medberth yielded a dose of seeker-grade pain dampeners that he dumped into the first cube. He shoved them all at Jetfire. "Drink these, THIS one first. Then come back next cycle. LATE next cycle."

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Jetfire was dumbfounded. He grasped for the cubes offered to him, nearly dropping them in the process. The Seeker’s optics darted from the energon rations to the medic’s face, as if he’d forgotten why he was there. “Next… cycle?” He supposed it was shorter than what Ratbat had promised him (an eternity) but it was still much longer than he’d expected.

His olfactory sensors picked up the tang of the rations that he held, and the scent of them made him reel. How long had it been? His error codes seemed to glow brighter with the nearness of sustenance, and he was surprised he’d held on this long at all. He shoved two of the cubes as nonchalantly as the medic had to him at Dave before pulling at the seal of the remaining one with his dentals.

He spat it out to the side, taking a glorious swig before narrowing his optics at the medic. He may have been forced to back off from Ratbat with his tail between his legs, but he wasn’t about to give in to this fancy paneled dandy. Even if he did look nearly as run down as Jetfire himself was. “Perhaps I should define how ‘long-term’ my case is to you, doctor.” He felt the energon and whatever the medic had slipped into it begin integration into his system. Suppressing a shudder, he contemplated showing the carbon-dating information he’d gathered from the ice he’d been incased in, but decided to rely on his tone of voice- pixellated as it was in thisd state- first. He was frowning but making a sincere effort to pretend that he was being patient.

“My designation is Jetfire. What should I call you?” he asked pertly. It would be easier to argue with him if he knew his name.

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Knock Out's optics were distracted momentarily by a status report coming in from one of the medberths. He tweaked the medberth settings without moving, and the error report abated. He'd likely lose the mech anyway, but there wasn't much to be done about it.

He took another sip of his energon as he accessed the mainframe to see who this Seeker was. "I am Chief Medical Officer Knock Out, and I can see how long-term your case is." The Seeker's records were eons old, his name only showing up on a recent scouting report. He'd been dug out of the ice? Wonderful. His systems were going to be SLAGGED.

"You've got one of the most-advanced cases of frame degeneration I've seen. Painful, I'm sure, but you are not likely to offline in the next cycle or two." Knock Out waved his hand at his bursting-at-the-seams medbay. "As you can see, this is a bad time to have a non-critical problem, as I've got a 'bay full of mechs two steps from guttering, and I've got a skeleton crew to deal with it. So YES, next cycle. Possibly the one after."

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It had taken this long for Jetfire’s weariness to finally set in to the point of making his systems sag critically. He had rather extreme programmed protocalls that helped his frame keep functional in the worst of conditions. Part of being an explorer was being able to withstand extremes with no more than a frown and the occasional puff from a vent.

So why was dealing with these mechs so fragging exhausting?

The Seeker pushed against Dave’s shoulder, trying to haul himself upright after sinking a little. He was much taller than Knock Out, but with all his sagging, he was practically looking him in the eye.

He took a moment to frown at Knock Out deeply before responding. “If you have time to argue and take your rations so casually, I think you have time to give an old mech a lookover.” He vented, another cloud of dust from some overloaded component tingeing the air with a burnt smell. “Seems like I might have to go to complain to Starscream then, won’t I?” The idea had come to him quite suddenly. It seemed that threats went over much easier than any pleading would around here. “I’m sure he would be very pleased to hear that his old friend was turned away in such a critical state…” A poignant pause before adding, ”Chief Medical Officer Knock Out.” Most mechs assumed Jetfire forgot everything told to him- but he would definitely remember this name.

He had a slight sense that he was bluffing, but he shoved any traces of it out of his EMF. It had been quite a long time since he had last worked with -let alone even seen Starscream. He hoped the younger Seeker had as fond memories of Jetfire as he did of him… if any at all. Still. It was a good threat, what with the recent change in command. It may have caused all sorts of commotion and even Jetfire had his reservations about the whole ‘Lord Starscream’ business… But this didn’t mean that Jetfire wasn’t going to take advantage of it.

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Oh, really? Knock Out thought, one optical ridge rising skeptically.

But then...hmm...the old geezer's file did have him working with Starscream...forever ago. "Old friend"? Knock Out didn't think Starscream likely to be that sentimental, but who knew....

And after all, what was one MORE patient today? At least the old clanker wasn't likely to gutter on him.

Knock Out checked his patient stats once more as he finished his cube. Like the Pit he was going to be accused of dereliction of duty, on the even chance that this seeker was spouting slag. He almost wished that someone would choose that moment to develop a major hemorrhage or spark flicker, but everyone seemed to be stable. Except for the drone 11-902, who chose that moment to gave up the fight, flare, and extinguish despite Knock Out's best attempt two breems previous to repair his spark casing. Ungrateful slagger.

Knock Out dismissed the cube field and bowed slightly to Jetfire. "My apologies, sir. My two-point-three-klik break is over, and it appears--" he disconnected the now-vacant Eradicon frame from the berth and one of the other drones moved to remove it. "--that a medberth has opened up."

The medic gestured toward the empty berth, voice very correctly pleasant. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

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Jetfire stared at the limp frame for a long klik,

Did he just…?

The Seeker stood still for a while, his optics slowly moving back to the now totally complacent medic. He didn’t even bother trying to suppress the low, thrumming waves of suspicion coming from his EM field. “…Right…” he said, giving Dave a light shove, indicating that he should be set down.

The screech of Jetfire’s joints as he settled down made several Eracidons jerk awake from their shutdown sequences. He did his best to ignore them, and downed the rest of the energon ration he held. He snatched the next one from Dave. It irritated the Seeker that Knock Out proved to be such an aft-kisser. He knew it had been the goal all along, but… he’d expected a little trouble. At the very least grumbling. But here this mech had practically offlined another bot to appease him.

Still, he wasn’t about to take his success for granted, not after the cycle he was having. He leaned back, settling with a pronounced sigh. The error codes from his legs made his processors swim. He was a little too good at ignoring pain, and it was all coming down to this point. Finally. Relief.

He… hoped…

He pried his optics slowly away from the empty frame- he hadn’t even realized he was staring at it again. “Feels like vorn since I last got off these pedes.” It was said casually, but he held a look if serious appraisal. He was ready to do as he was told, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to judge the dandy along the procedure.

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"I imagine it does," Knock Out said, engaging the berth to give a med-level scan to augment his own. "Aqueous ice, I believe? And the knee, obviously, and one two three four five other joints in need of replacing. Along with just about every drop of fluid in you. Your coolant has all but turned to sludge in your lines."

Knock Out turned Jetfire's arm over to press a double-needled drip into it energon and coolant lines. He adjusted the mix to include some cleansers to clear out the corroded lines. "Aaaand what else...oh, the list of parts that need replacing is longer than my arm. I will have to fabricate some of them. It may take a cycle or two...but I guarantee you'll walk out of here feeling better."

It was going to be a Pitload of work, and working it in around his other patients was going to be EVER so much fun--

A medberth warning blared. Scrap.

"Excuse me," Knock Out said, turning to deal with the guttering spark. Luckily, this time a precisely-timed energy pulse and an adjustment to the containment field stabilized the Eradicon's spark. Several of the other Eradicons' battered frames relaxed as the medberth alert silenced.

"Now," Knock Out said cheerfully. "Are there any major medical events beyond your last medical record dated....908743.83 that would impact your care? One crash-landing, obviously, but any other excitement I should know about?"

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Jetfire furrowed his brow arches. There was something about Knock Out’s tone when he stated the date that irked him. It may have been that the reminder- that date compared with that newer date his HUD was reminding him of. All that time he’d lost… He clenched the hand that had the energon drip attached to it, feeling steadily more uncomfortable with this new arrangement. Knock Out seemed to be dealing with his other patients quite gracefully, and while Jetfire still felt a sort of entitlement to his care… He’d gotten what he wanted but…

Jetfire vented a sigh, scowling, “The knee was already bad, but some malfunctioning scout gave it a good wallop during the attack.” He craned his head to look the red mech in the eye, “His superior set him straight in the end… before I could give him what-for…” He supposed it was a tasteless joke to the medic- Yellowbot would have had to be sent to him as well if Jetfire had managed to give him a piece of his mind. The old mech continued, “That’s the most recent ‘excitement’ since that last examination… There was a bad reaction with my ventilation system after inspecting that gaseous planet in the A34G Sector shortly after… the date you mentioned…” he added, not wanting to bring up the number again. “I solved that problem on my own as best I could- but I was venting green smoke for a good joor or two, if I remember properly. And my vocabluator still has a bit of a crackle to it after that…” He blinked, his slightly flickering optics looking distant for a moment. He was rambling. “Too long ago to matter, I suppose…” he finished, not without a bitter tone. “Not any better after that fragging ice,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He spoke up. “Dealing with feedback screeches too… now.”

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Knock Out doublechecked the medberth's readings, watching Jetfire's power system reports in realtime to make sure that the optic flicker was hardware (it was) and not something more systemic (it wasn't).

His optics narrowed at the indication that Jetfire had fixed himself. THAT always turned out wonderfully. Though seekers seemed to frag up fewer things than the average, given their original purpose of long-distance reconnaissance. Knock Out could see the tweaks Jetfire had made to his ventilation system. "That green smoke was likely most of the cupric alloys sublimating out of your ventilation lining." Knock Out shrugged as he shunted his HUD aside and took a closer look at the slagged knee. "Just as well. It does nothing but oxidize like the Pit in this atmosphere."

He made notations in Jetfire's file about the rest, but everything else was old damage unlikely to kill him in the next few cycles or inherently minor. He assessed the knee and yes, that was going to need a complete rebuild. Lovely. The new damage certainly hadn't done it any favors. "You said a Decepticon scout did this?"


<<I sense the potential for utter HILARITY if Jetfire tells KO enough here. I'll feel bad for Jetfire, but KO will LAUGH if he figures it out, and possibly so will the others in Medbay. Up to you how much humilliation you want poor Jets to get. >>

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“The knee was already junk- barely functional as it was, but the little scrapling took it past that,” Jetfire grumbled, craning his head to look at the medic from his prostrate position. “Ground-alt. Little scout model,” he continued, lifting a hand to a level about the height of Yellowbot. “Glitched vocabulator, though I think he was missing a few processors as well… if you know what I mean. His Basic was backwards as a mech with an upturned T-cog.” He shifted against the medberth, grunting as components fell into place to allow him to lie better. “Absurd coloring for a scout, too,” he muttered, still puzzling about that.

“His superior said something about glitched programming after coming from an undercover mission…? Something along those lines.”

He almost considered mentioning Jazz’s name, but decided against it. He’d already identified that he’d met with Yellowbot’s ‘superior’, and Jazz wasn’t enough on his bad side to be blamed for an underling’s blunder… yet.

OOC: Have at it. The Autobots are going to have their fun with Bee’s highlight reel, so I don’t see why the ‘Cons should be deprived as well. He can take some [more] humiliation.

Tried to keep it subtle but still obvious enough. : PPP

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Knock Out was too busy poking about in the Seeker's knee to process that in any way for a long klik. Then he was done examining and moved to the supply cart, pulling out some neural suppressants and setting them to work on the knee. While he waited, though....

He blinked. "Small scout. Glitched vocalizer. Basic." No Decepticon had those specs, and Knock Out was the medic, he'd KNOW. "Absurd...coloring?" He snickered. "He wouldn't have happened to be yellow and wearing an Autobot symbol, would he?"

Wait wait, a superior who...undercover mission.... Knock Out grinned. "He WAS yellow and wearing an Autobot symbol, wasn't he?"



<<Knock Out'll wait for the reply to start the majority of the mocking. >>

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Jetfire laid his head back, wincing at the discomfort. “Yellow? Yes, that one. Unfortunate choice for a spy.” He shook his head slightly, feeling a slight buzz in his programming from the mecations flowing through his lines. “Not a bad bot… just has some tangled coding as far as common sense goes,” he went on, remembering when the scout went for a running dive towards a low stability zone. The bot got what was coming to him- the ceiling caved in right on top of him- but at that point they were both injured bots trying to escape the sinking ship.

Jetfire remained with his head back, but looked at the red mech out of the corner of his eye. “You know him? I didn’t catch his name- wouldn’t have understood it even if he told me, though.”