Ep.1 - Functional - Closed
Sept 18, 2012 23:00:36 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2012 23:00:36 GMT -5
Another medical bay.
This time, at least, he had walked into it under his own power.
Like the rest of the base it seemed worn, sparsely cobbled together, but functional. Ratchet kept his few precious medical supplies organised and his working space tidy. The medic had greeted him with surprise at first, but had accepted his presence with the brisk manner he was famous for. Offered him a greeting. And then pointed him towards an empty berth.
For five years he had lain upon one in a stupor, so dead to the universe that the Delphi medics had not bothered to keep lights activated around his monitoring station. This time, Fortress Maximus had taken his seat with a spark laden with apprehension.
As far as evaluations went, it had been mild. He was no stranger to the tests, scans, and systems checks that came with every possible level of medical inspection. This one had been no worse than anything he had undergone at Delphi. And yet Maximus had sat through it tensely, his hands clenched over the edge of the berth. At one point Ratchet had approached his left optic with a sensor-tap and a handheld scanner; there had been a splintering crack, and the medic had looked around himself in confusion while Maximus quickly let go of the berth before he did any more damage to it.
Caught Ratchet by the wrist before he could get near his face with that damn tap. Nobody was touching his optics. Not now. Not ever.
They had spoken for a while. All business, their voices filling the medical bay with low echoes. Maximus had answered Ratchet's questions stiffly. If the medic had been suspicious of his evasive manner he had not shown it, and had eventually switched from the topic of Maximus' medical history to a calm and steady conversation about light, harmless subjects. That had relaxed him, a little. Small talk, something he had once disliked. Now he welcomed it with strained relief.
Finally, a pass. Cleared for duty. Maximus had been aware of Ratchet's gaze upon him the entire time he'd left the medbay.
Now, he walked down the corridor outside it with slow, heavy footsteps. Watched his shadow stride ahead of him, huge and dark. Around him the walls rumbled quietly, with electricity churned by unseen generators somewhere deeper in the base. The sound of his own footfalls sounded unnaturally loud in his audials. Meanwhile the cool, ventilated air brought with it the faint scent of rust and mildew stirred up from the lower levels. He could hear the fans rattling somewhere high above him.
No one else seemed to be nearby. Thank Primus. Maximus did not want company right now.
He had attacked an Autobot. Shut down and gone straight for the kill. The thought paced restlessly in his mind, back and forth. This wasn't like the official he had nearly throttled on Delphi. He wasn't disoriented this time, his neural net still overwhelmed with ghostly images from his final conscious hours in the prison. He had been clear-minded and rational. No, not rational. Rational mechs did not attack fellow soldiers.
Ex-Decepticon!
Maximus' fuel pump gave a lurch. He reached up and wearily clasped the bridge of his nose, a gesture he allowed only because he was alone in the dim, rattly hall. Closed his optics. How was he going to explain this to Optimus? Explaining it meant explaining other things as well, things he had fought out of his memory since his return to active duty. Fought hard. Beaten back until they no longer seethed up when he was tired, or distracted. No. He was going to have to find some other way of getting this past his old friend.
Somehow.
This time, at least, he had walked into it under his own power.
Like the rest of the base it seemed worn, sparsely cobbled together, but functional. Ratchet kept his few precious medical supplies organised and his working space tidy. The medic had greeted him with surprise at first, but had accepted his presence with the brisk manner he was famous for. Offered him a greeting. And then pointed him towards an empty berth.
For five years he had lain upon one in a stupor, so dead to the universe that the Delphi medics had not bothered to keep lights activated around his monitoring station. This time, Fortress Maximus had taken his seat with a spark laden with apprehension.
As far as evaluations went, it had been mild. He was no stranger to the tests, scans, and systems checks that came with every possible level of medical inspection. This one had been no worse than anything he had undergone at Delphi. And yet Maximus had sat through it tensely, his hands clenched over the edge of the berth. At one point Ratchet had approached his left optic with a sensor-tap and a handheld scanner; there had been a splintering crack, and the medic had looked around himself in confusion while Maximus quickly let go of the berth before he did any more damage to it.
Caught Ratchet by the wrist before he could get near his face with that damn tap. Nobody was touching his optics. Not now. Not ever.
They had spoken for a while. All business, their voices filling the medical bay with low echoes. Maximus had answered Ratchet's questions stiffly. If the medic had been suspicious of his evasive manner he had not shown it, and had eventually switched from the topic of Maximus' medical history to a calm and steady conversation about light, harmless subjects. That had relaxed him, a little. Small talk, something he had once disliked. Now he welcomed it with strained relief.
Finally, a pass. Cleared for duty. Maximus had been aware of Ratchet's gaze upon him the entire time he'd left the medbay.
Now, he walked down the corridor outside it with slow, heavy footsteps. Watched his shadow stride ahead of him, huge and dark. Around him the walls rumbled quietly, with electricity churned by unseen generators somewhere deeper in the base. The sound of his own footfalls sounded unnaturally loud in his audials. Meanwhile the cool, ventilated air brought with it the faint scent of rust and mildew stirred up from the lower levels. He could hear the fans rattling somewhere high above him.
No one else seemed to be nearby. Thank Primus. Maximus did not want company right now.
He had attacked an Autobot. Shut down and gone straight for the kill. The thought paced restlessly in his mind, back and forth. This wasn't like the official he had nearly throttled on Delphi. He wasn't disoriented this time, his neural net still overwhelmed with ghostly images from his final conscious hours in the prison. He had been clear-minded and rational. No, not rational. Rational mechs did not attack fellow soldiers.
Ex-Decepticon!
Maximus' fuel pump gave a lurch. He reached up and wearily clasped the bridge of his nose, a gesture he allowed only because he was alone in the dim, rattly hall. Closed his optics. How was he going to explain this to Optimus? Explaining it meant explaining other things as well, things he had fought out of his memory since his return to active duty. Fought hard. Beaten back until they no longer seethed up when he was tired, or distracted. No. He was going to have to find some other way of getting this past his old friend.
Somehow.