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.

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]

[ 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.

[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. ]

[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?

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?

[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.

[finials]

[ he pauses when the stranger does, in large part because he doesn't have a choice at the moment. he isn't sure where the infirmary is, after all. still, there's a definite impatient edge to the press of his mouth.

at least, until he hears the name. drift.. isn't a particularly human name, is it? they're usually ridiculous-sounding things like derek or adam or something equally nonsensical.

he eyes the stranger--drift--back, expression faintly mulish at the staring. ] Who makes the schedules, then? [ and because he supposes he needs to return the introduction, adds: ] I'm Ra-- [ pit. ] Randy. [ ugh. ]

[aurable]

Randy. [ Drift flatly echoes, willing his eyes not to narrow in suspicion with a cover so transparent they could replace the portholes with it. He remains placid and keeps all the questions he now had to a dull roar. ]

McCoy has help — from a nurse and another physician specializing in non-organics. [ There turning the corner towards the infirmary when Drift asks, ] Are you general or specialized, Dr. 'Randy?'

[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. ]

[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. ]

[finials]

[ now it's his turn to pause, stopping abruptly and whipping around to stare up at drift. ]

What does that mean? Non-organics.

[ medical care for non-organics. is it wishful thinking to assume he's not the only cybertronian here? 'drift' would make sense as a name if that was the case. ]

[aurable]

Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't think I'd have to be explaining what 'non-organic' is to a medical professional. [ Drift mildly teased as they got to the infirmary door.

The doors had slid open, quick and quiet like a whisper. No one was inside the little triage area where Drift set down his load. Not looking back as he continued the thread of conversation. ]

Plenty of examples. Cyborg, cybertronian, you name it.

[finials]

[ cybertronian. ] Oh, thank Primus, [ he sighs, and rubs a relieved hand over his face. ] I was really going to be annoyed if I had to pretend to be a human the entire time I'm here.

[ for one thing, he's the one autobot that spends the least amount of time among humans, so he's pretty sure he couldn't maintain it indefinitely. for another, he has zero patience for duplicity.

he follows after drift at last, taking in the size of the infirmary with a critical eye. ] In that case, my name is actually Ratchet, and I specialize in Cybertronian physiology. .. Most aspects of medical care, in fact, considering the rarity of medical officers these days. [ decepticons had done an excellent job targeting autobot physicians and medics during the war.

he circles a finger to indicate the entire infirmary. ] How many Cybertronians and other non-organics currently live here?

[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 stares back, not cowed despite how truly terrifying he knows the slagmaker can be if he wants to. if nothing else, that autobot badge says something has changed-- and the explanation, however short, is.. helpful.

okay. megatron is an autobot. surely stranger things have happened. ]

Well, I'm going to want it. Later, though. [ a pause, mouth thinning as his glance flicks from megatron to the work he was doing, then back up. ] You're the assistant I've been hearing about? [ hm. ] .. When did you start practicing?

[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?

[flickerandfade]

And you'll have it later.

[ He stands, moving towards one of the consoles in the room to start pulling up the rotation they've got going. Better to make sure there's always someone available just in case someone does something stupid on station. ]

....A few millennia ago, but I was only active for about eight hundred years. The rest of it I was in prison.

[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.

[homeostatic]

( Now that gets him to tear his interest from the street and back onto the Autobot, his expression slightly stricken for the briefest of moments. Oh. Oh, Drift. )

Ratchet.

( Bones means to sound vague and non-committal by it, wetting his lips. Ratchet. Does Drift know? Surely, if Ratchet has had enough time to get the hang of the sim room, but maybe he hasn't. Should he tell him?

What was the question? )

Name's McCoy, Doctor Leonard McCoy. And I only know what I've heard from the other two Cybertronians aboard, ( he answers truthfully, if reluctantly, ) Decepticons versus Autobots. How long it lasted before you all came to Earth.

[finials]

[ he catches the shift in expressions, eyes narrowing in his face in puzzled suspicion. has he heard of ratchet, then? from one of the other cybertronians? and if so, what's he apparently heard to inspire a look like that?

he's distracted from his questions by the introduction, though, his expression smoothing once more, interested now. ] Doctor McCoy. [ he offers a hand down, the size of it still dwarfing the human's even if ratchet is on the smaller side for a cybertronian. ] I've heard good things about you. Apparently you run an effective infirmary. [ people can say what they want about no one being in charge there, the gentle deference they show this human man makes it pretty clear who runs the show. ] If you could use the extra help, I'll be joining you.

[ who is he kidding? of course he could use the extra help. for one thing, ratchet's people are notorious for getting blown up or disassembled or shot. ]

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.