thisavrou | [video] + 001

[video] + 001

[The feed cuts on to show a Cybertronian with a red and white helm, blue optics, and what appears to be a habitually irritated expression on his face. His voice is brisk and no-nonsense.]

This is Ratchet, former Chief Autobot Medical Officer. I've been assigned here as a field medic, apparently, though I'm volunteering to lend my hand in the medical bay on the ship in my off-time. I have no idea where we are or what happened to get us here, which I can deal with considering everything else that's happened the last year or so, but I really don't like not knowing the effects this "Ingress" [brings bright red hands, chipped in places to reveal specks of blue paint, up to add scarequotes] thing may have had on us, so I want people in for checkups.

Autobots, since there seem to be some of you on the ship, I'm assuming I'm still ranking medical officer here so I'm making that an order--report to Moro deck room 022 earliest. Non-Autobots... I obviously can't order you to do anything, but barring any wild extenuating circumstances you're welcome to drop by for a systems check also. You won't be turned away out of hand.

I specialize in non-organic medicine so if there are any non-Cybertronians on board who fit that bill, I can't promise anything, but I'll take a look. If you're strictly organic, you should probably just hit the regular medibay, but I've got some experience and I won't turn you away if you want to come here instead for whatever reason.

Any current medical officers seeing this, I'd like to talk supplies and if I can get put on rotation--I have a holomatter avatar, same as the others, so I'll fit just fine. Unless any of you expect my field medic duties to take up the majority of my time, in which case I would like a much more thorough briefing on what the fresh hell is going on here.

Ratchet out.

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Pretty much everybody wants to target his face, me included.

I heard about Riptide. [His voice is quiet.] Something needs to be done, whether command on the ship is interested in doing it or not.

See, now you're speaking my language Doc.

Everyone else I talk to is like 'No! Don't shoot his face off even though he killed the team boat' I mean I get Riptide's not the prettiest mech but Tarn didn't have to mess him up worse.

[Whirl, what. Whirl, no.]

I think shooting his face off would just sort of annoy him--obviously death doesn't stick too well here.

[Ratchet's voice chills unpleasantly, though his expression doesn't change.]

We'll just have to come up with something more... permanent, as a deterrent, I suppose. [He shakes off whatever emotion that was and tilts his head at the feet, his optics brightening.] So, you coming in for a checkup, or do I have to find and sedate you?

Okay, so we could also shoot off other parts at the same time. I am not picky.

[Oh. Trust him. Whirl is thinking perma anything because he had enough reason just hearing Tarn was in a zillion feet of anyone and then you get things like 'oh he killed Riptide' and 'oh he force recruited panic button (because that had to be the answer, Tailgate wasn't stupid enough to go full con without something like that and it's Tarn and frag the more he thinks about it the angrier he gets)' and then Whirl starts thinking of ways to get creative.

...and then Whirl seems to full stop, Optic cycling huge and pointing to himself with a claw in the manner of 'what little old innocent me' before speaking. ]

I'm sure you've got a huge, huge, huge list of people you need to see more than me, Hatchet. Like. Uh. Uh. Cyclonus is all dead universe-y. And I'm sure Rodimus has done something stupid.

Uh-huh. You know, I'm not Chief Medical Officer on a ship of over two hundred anymore--there's only so long you can dodge maintenance checks.

[ Whirl proceeds to make a very long, drawn out, sound that is both very obnoxious and is probably more irritating in person. Are you sure you want him in the medbay, Ratch? Are you? ]

But I haven't broken anything yet!

I didn't say you did. [Ratchet's voice is deliberately mild by comparison.] I did say that I wanted everybody checked out, since we've apparently been trans-dimensionally kidnapped onto an unknown ship in an unknown galaxy in the middle of nowhere through means inexplicable to anyone involved. It's technically my job to make sure nobody's going to randomly explode as a result.

Hey. I am not going to randomly explode, that would be the literal lamest death in the universe, even if I took out half the ship doing it.

[Then, Whirl seems to actually pause to think about it....]

And. You're just saying that so I'll show up!

[A beat.]

.....

[And now he's just making that irritating sound again. But he at least seems to be debating heading down to the medical bay.]

If you like. [Serenely.] Your risk to take, I suppose. At least I have a baseline for you--a quick scan and I can check the data against that you'd be in and out in no time if everything's just as fine as you claim.

[Whirl continues making that sound until the feed cuts.

And then approximately ten minutes later, Ratchet can probably hear it in person, as Whirl hovers right outside the medbay doors, glaring at them like they've personally offended him. Not that it's easy to tell what Whirl is glaring at any day, but Ratchet has probably known him long enough to know.

Meanwhile Whirl just keeps sending exclamation points to his personal communications until he comes outside to join him. You'll never take him alive, Hatchet.

...lies. but still.]

[Ratchet palms the door to his quarters open and leans out into the hall, his expression extremely mild.]

You're going to blow your vocalizer eventually if you keep that up, and then you really will need to come in here.

[ He does stop, but he continues glowering.]

See?

[Whirl gestures vaguely at himself with his claws.]

One piece. Can I go now?

I said scan, which means I'll need you actually in here and within arm's length. Don't make me try to drag you into this room, Whirl, I've been kidnapped today and I have fifteen other patients to hunt down and subdue.

[ He takes approximately one step closer.

And continues eyeing Ratchet as he sort of....siiiidles in the room, making irritated noises with his vocalizer the entire time. ]

How long is this going to take.

I hear there's a whole three planets down there of debauchery and it sounds like more fun than here.

[Considering Whirl was basically hanging out in his room until he got the message he's completely just coming up with excuses.]

You're only making it worse the longer you complain.

[He moves around Whirl and takes scans, nudging one arm up out of the way, brisk and thorough and fearless. He 'hmms' in his vocalizer and steps back once he's done, running through the data.]

No significant changes. Do you feel any different? Besides a more severely pressing need to shoot Tarn's face off, I mean. I just assume it was always on your extended to-do list, but proximity probably jumped it much closer to the top.

[ Whirl lets Ratchet move him around without much fuss, looking more vaguely annoyed at having to stand still than anything else. ]

The entire place is too small. Pretty sure I've knocked my wings on every door. Every. Single. Door.

[Whirl is exaggerating but not by a lot. He's very large and this ship was not meant for someone his size. It's obvious.....Whirl hopes Megatron has knocked his stupid bucket head on the ceiling. Because that's the one good thing about this. He can try and adjust thanks to his legs but he likes to think about Megatron running into ceilings and door frames.]

I don't think there's a door I've been through that I haven't knocked something on.

It's built for human-sized organics, so I'm not exactly shocked.

[Ratchet finishes fussing and steps back, eyeing Whirl with a critical optic.]

I'm sure you'll find some as-yet-undented areas of the ship to knock against if you go exploring.

I've been exploring.

[Whirl puts a claw on his hip.]

And there are wing shaped knocks in the doors. My room's about the only space big enough.

[He gestures to Ratchet with the other claw.]

So Doc, what's the story. Am I gonna live?

Yeah, you seem all right. I mean, your readings haven't been altered from any previous baseline scans I've taken, so you seem no worse for wear despite being interdimensionally kidnapped.

I'm bored and my wings hurt.

[like this is the worst thing that ever happened to him.

Ratchet however knows better. But still. He grumbles and points at his wings. ]

Fragging organics.

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