it is our shame to see this go ( open )

[finials]

CHARACTERS: ratchet + ota
LOCATION: .. various
DATE: june
CONTENT: ic intro, various other threads.
WARNINGS: n/a att

TRY TO GET OUT
[ primus, what was he thinking? he can't afford to be away from optimus and the others this long, and yet he'd agreed so quickly.. and now here he is, in a berth-room that seems designed more for organics than his own people. and a quick internal scan says something's off about his size, too, half his mass displaced.. elsewhere somehow.

this has to be a station built for human-sized beings, which possibly means actual humans. which means.. he has to hide. ugh.

his holomatter avatar only gets sporadic use, but it's not like you ever really forget how to use it, and he's been around humans long enough to be pretty good at mimicking their behavior by now. so it's an irritated-looking older man that slips out of a newly-occupied habsuite, making certain the door shuts behind him before he peers down the hall in both directions. .. hm. where to go from here.. ]


KEEP STICKING AROUND
[ eventually, he realizes that cybertronians are maybe the least alarming thing here, so there's a (slightly smaller than average) white-and-orange medical caste mech currently stepping into the infirmary, a frown on his face that says it's probably his default expression. he pauses just inside for a few moments, gaze sweeping over the berths, the medical equipment available, and anyone that might be immediately within view.

then his frown deepens, and he plants a fist on his hip. ] Who do I need to speak to in order to establish my credentials and be put on rounds here?


VERY GOOD BAD THING
[ .. he shouldn't. he knows he shouldn't, it's a terrible idea, it's never going to be like this again (and he wouldn't wish a great deal of it back anyway), but.. well, the simulation room is apparently an impressive piece of technology, and ratchet is curious.

so anyone stepping into it at this moment in time will find.. cybertron. not the war-ravaged planet it's been, or the dead thing it is now for ratchet, but cybertron as it was. ratchet himself is standing at the end of an alley--deeper within, the clinic he runs for those in castes that can't usually afford medical care--staring out into the city as other mechs bustle to and fro on the sidewalks, in the air. ]

.. It's just like I remember it, [ he says, sounding distant, to anyone who's approached, ] this exact day. Primus. [ he rubs a hand over his nasal ridge. ] This is masochistic.

Comments

→ try and get out

[aurable]

Lost? [ A voice calls a few meters from down the hallway. Casting a long shadow that nearly touched the crown of the strangers own from where they both stood under a halo of fluorescent lights was a tall man with a five o clock shadow. Crowded in his arms was a small, folded pile of heated blankets. It was just a little errand for the infirmary to save the medical team a little time, as he always did when they had downtime. ]

You're a new face. Can I help? I was on my way to the infirmary.

[finials]

[ ratchet glances up, pausing to straighten the cuffs of his shirt, and decides with a brief frisson of irritation that he should have made his avatar a bit taller. he'd been considering his actual height compared to the other autobots and now here he is craning his neck to meet this stranger's optics. .. eyes.

the mention of the infirmary interests him, though. if he's going to be here for the foreseeable future, he may as well keep himself busy, hadn't he? ]

I'd appreciate following you to the infirmary, thank you. I'm a doctor, I should probably know where it is.

[aurable]

[ Drift cocks his head and gives the newcomer a perfunctory once over after noticing the way something lit up beyond their eyes at the mention of the infirmary. Almost as if the prospect of throwing themselves into a double-shift micromanaging the care for every cough, ache, and pain was exhilarating.

He knew the type. ]

Dr. McCoy would certainly welcome an extra pair of hands. [ Drift half-turned for the other to follow ] But he'd also understand if you needed time to get adjusted.

[finials]

[ he snorts rudely at the idea of needing adjustment. ] If I needed a break every time I had to deal with some ridiculous scrap, I'd never get anything done.

[ it's one thing after another in the war, after all. even when things are relatively calm, ratchet usually has a handful of projects going, after all, and that's generally how he prefers it. he likes being busy, being useful, working. ]

Dr. McCoy's the CMO here, then? [ he eyes the stranger, eyes narrowed questioningly. ] Do you also work there?

[aurable]

What was that? [ Drift paused midstride and blinked owlishly at him. Scrap was a fairly niche-curse, after all. Wanting to find out a little more before barreling through with pointed questions, Drift shook his head. ]

Right. No, Dr. McCoy acts in a less formal capacity but is no less capable. None of us really 'work' here. We just help where we can. [ Then, unable to stop staring, he decided to lean on simple pleasentries ]

I'm Drift, by the way.

KEEP STICKING AROUND

[flickerandfade]

[ Megatron is bent over a tablet, stylus in hand as he takes notes from a medical textbook open on the desk next to the tablet. It's for organics--humans, actually. There's not much to worry about in terms of injuries and so he's focused on studying up so that he can be more useful in the future. He looks up, blinking at the red-and-white mech. There's something familiar about him. The attitude? ]

I can help you with that. Cybertronian?

[ Yes, that's an Autobot crest on his chest, Ratchet. ]

[finials]

What--

[ for a moment, ratchet just stares. that's very nearly megatron's appearance. that's a less nasty version of his voice. that is an autobot crest he's wearing.

there is no alternate universe he would have expected to see something like this, and yet, here they are.

his eyes narrow thoughtfully, and he gestures to himself. ] Do you not know who I am? You are some version of Megatron, aren't you? [ primus, is ratchet a decepticon in his dimension? ]

[flickerandfade]

I'm afraid I don't.

[ Judging from the reaction, he's likely been recognized however. Odd. This mech does bear a striking resemblance to someone he knows.

Knew. ]

Ratchet of Vaporex? You don't look like him, but there's a resemblance...

[finials]

[ ratchet scoffs, scowl probably familiar even on a different face. ]

Well, you're not exactly looking like yourself, either. And the you I know would die before he'd put that-- [ a gesture to the badge. ] --on any part of his body.

[ he wants to ask, but he also really doesn't. what a pain in the aft. ]

[flickerandfade]

I suppose you recognize who I am then. Megatron of Tarn.

[ He dips his head slightly in greeting, optics boring into the shorter mech. ]

There was a time I would have said the same. Things changed, thankfully. I came to my senses about what I was doing. I'm happy to give a fuller explanation but it's a long story.

[ Even in other universes, Megatron is a tyrant it seems. He's not sure how to feel about it. ]

very good bad thing

[homeostatic]

( Expecting the blue skies and sandy shores of that idyllic beach sim, Leonard was surprised to find a city instead, teeming with life.

...with Cybertronian life.

Trading beachwear for the first thing that comes to mind, the Science blues that serve him well aboard the Enterprise and away from her, Bones finds that alleyway with ease. Mostly out of self-preservation, as it was necessary to stick to the fringes of the crowd, feeling too small and too-easily-trod on.

Retreating backward into the safe haven of the alley, he dusts the front of his shirt, and looks back up at the bot with a frown. )

You're telling me, ( the doctor grumbles, ) Nearly stepped on-- who the Hell left this running?

[finials]

[ he gently hauls the human a little further back to keep him away from foot-traffic, then releases him, snorting. ] I did. [ he folds his arms, scowling out into the rest of the city. ] I wanted to see what this simulation was capable of.

[ he's impressed, reluctantly. his memory is good, of course, but it managed to pull things out of the depths of his mind that he hadn't realized were still there. ]

This is Iacon, before the war. [ he grunts, then glances back down at the human, eyeing him. ] What were you looking to find here? [ in the room, he means, not this particular simulation. ]

[homeostatic]

( McCoy goes slightly limp for that moment he's pulled back, easily recalling the time Drift carried him across the snow, cradled in his hands. It's a thoroughly alien feeling to be shuffled around like a toddler, but the bot is careful, at least. Bones hitches his uniform straight- and stares up at him with a kind of wonder in his eyes. )

A long swim and a nap on the beach, ( he replies dryly, and draws a quick breath. )

'Before the war', you mean the Civil War? This is Cybertron? ( Swinging his gaze back toward the street, he doesn't venture farther out, but seems to take in the city with new eyes. )

Who are you?

[finials]

[ ratchet snorts, but it sounds a little amused in spite of himself. ] Shouldn't you be the one introducing yourself? You're the one that barged in on me. [ humans sort of do what they want in his experience, though. ] My name is Ratchet. [ he jerks his thumb back toward the end of the alley. ] That's my clinic back there, and yeah, this is Cybertron.

[ the stranger must be at least passingly familiar with the other cybertronians here if he knows that much. ]

How much do you know about the war?

[bindsthedead]

[Sabriel spends time in the infirmary for two reasons- the first is her lessons with Doctor McCoy, and the second is to offer magical healing to anyone who gets injured.

Right now, she's studying for the first while waiting for anyone to need the second. At Ratchet's arrival, she looks up from the anatomy book and spellbook laid out side by side.]

Doctor McCoy, I think? But... a lot of it is just anyone with who wants to help showing up.

[finials]

[ one of those books appears to make more sense than the other, but also, it's none of ratchet's business (or interest), so he eyes the young woman with a small frown. ]

That sounds chaotic. [ what happens if no one decides to show up that day? he hopes this doctor mccoy has some type of roster. ]

[bindsthedead]

Well, crewmembers come and go, and while not everyone is familiar with... modern medicine, plenty of us have other means of mending injuries.

[Like Sabriel!]

Besides, the infirmary is mostly needed right after missions- so far, all but one has ended in a fight.

well but of course

[groupiedrifter]

[A curtain gets unceremoniously pulled back, and:]

Oh, hell yeah! More big r—cybertronians!

[There's an idiot rigged to a bunch of wires on his head and chest sitting over in the corner, swinging his feet while monitors survey brain patterns and medical statuses and all of that fun shit. Point is, Newton's in here for some post-alien studies and check-ups. Study-ups, he calls them.

And usually he's in a pretty horrible mood as of late, but how's he supposed to be drowning in his misery when there's so obviously a cool robot man standing nearby? If any a time to stamp down all of the reasons for therapy he has, it'd be this moment.

He pushes up on his glasses, because they've slid down in his eagerness to see yet another big machine man.]

Nice paint job, dude. Love the pointy eyebrow aesthetic.

[finials]

[ this kid-- ratchet can already tell he's going to give him a headache. ] Pipe down, [ he grouches without much heat. ] This is supposed to be a place of rest and recovery, not overexcited yelping.

[ the electrodes and other input devices earn his attention, though, and he crosses the steps between them to bend and curl a finger beneath one of the wires, following it with a frown back to the machine it belongs to. .. ugh, truly, humans are such an inconvenient species to treat with anything like logic. their fragile organic bodies often defy such things. ]

My name is Ratchet, and they're not eyebrows. Humans have eyebrows. [ he huffs wearily, turning the readouts toward himself so he can examine them. he can't help himself, can he? he's not even employed here yet and he can't just not work. ] What are you being treated here for?

[groupiedrifter]

[He doesn't seem remotely deterred by the demand to pipe down, nor the complaints of yelping.]

Ratchet! I knew a Ratchet here once; he was a cute little furry guy though. Made some super awesome tech—hey! [Okay, well that changed his trajectory. He moves to turn the readouts back the other way again, freckles vanishing a bit under a pink shade that creeps slowly into his cheeks.] Totally not your patient, Pointybrows. A guy's got to have some privacy when it comes to medical issues.

[... Great, that makes him sound like he's got weird TMI issues. So he relents, though he leaves out the information that would have sent him into a mental tailspin, because this poor guy avoided all the awful bullshit from this last month, and Newt would a.) prefer to keep it that way and b.) not end up crying into another bowl of ice cream.]

I've got a seizure disorder caused by a lot of increased intracranial pressure on my brain. Which was caused by parasites. [Not even that far from the truth. In fact, it's not a lie whatsoever.] Sooo, uh. Y'know. I need to be monitored to see how my big, beautiful, genius brain is coping this week.

VERY GOOD BAD THING

[legalcy]

[Cybertron is not what he expected - especially not the one of the old era, with intact buildings and cities full of life. The alleyway is unfamiliar, stores and clinics that mean nothing to Minimus. Is Drift here? Are these memories of his pre-war days? He walks down the road to confirm, only to find someone familiar enough to recognize, but with an appearance that just doesn't feel right..]

...Ratchet? [He tilts his head.]

[finials]

[ he twitches as he's addressed by a voice that sounds strangely familiar, glancing up-- then down when his instinct is wrong. no, that doesn't seem right. he doesn't recognize this mech, even though he sounds a little like..

wait. ] .. Ultra Magnus? [ no, that can't be right. it's a little off, and anyway, the ultra magnus he's always known is enormous.

he blinks, optics shuttering briefly, then rubs a hand over his face. ] Apologies, you remind me of someone I knew. .. Know. [ but then, he'd known ratchet's name, so.. ] --Are you one of my patients?

[legalcy]

[Minimus twitches. He hasn't been called that in centuries, and at this point, that name feels unfamiliar. That's a good thing, he supposes.]

No. [His answer isn't entirely said with certainly.] Not the one with whom you are familiar, just as you don't resemble the Ratchet I know.

[He folds his arms in a manner very similar to Ultra Magnus, if he were a small green bot.]

[finials]

[ his mouth opens, then shuts again with a small click as he watches the stranger and his deeply familiar stance. .. ah. ]

You're from the.. other dimension, then. [ he's established that much, now, at least, although he's still picking up the details. .. still, he wouldn't have expected some version of ultra magnus to look so completely unlike the mech he knows.

planting a fist on his hip, he eyes him thoughtfully, then spreads his other hand in invitation. ] Well, if it's not Ultra Magnus, or at least not currently, what do you call yourself?

KEEP STICKING AROUND | I am sorry in advance

[spacedisaster]

[ Usually, Peter avoids the infirmary like the plague, he has too many unhappy childhood memories associated with hospitals, but since now Blue spends a lot of time here, so does he. He steps in to see his friend, but as soon as he sees the new Cybertronian around, Peter zeroes in on Ratched with the same intensity of a hunting fox spotting ad rabbit and none of its subtlety. 

Big metal eyebrows, blue optics, orange and white paint job, claiming to be a medic, doesn't take a genius to tell that this guy must turn into an ambulance...Peter steps into his line of vision at the first opportunity, and now Ratchet is being stared at by a starry-eyed human,  that seems surprisingly happy to see him even though they had never met before. ]

Ratty! I mean...Hi! Ratchet, right? Drift's husband? He told me a lot about you, but I didn't know you got here, Ah, he must be over the moon. [ Ah, if only Peter knew that this is a different universe medic husband. Alas, he does not. ] And to answer your question, I think you are free to start working, we don't have one single person in charge of the infirmary. Megatron is usually in charge of any injuries or illnesses that afflict the Cybertronians, and he's usually around here...