Actions

2015-02-14 Medical Professional

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Medical Professional
Date 2015/02/14
Location Medibay
Participants Knock Out, Rodimus
Summary Rodimus comes looking for Ratchet. He finds Knock Out instead.

Red crosses on the door identify at a quick glance the medibay. Inside,

 the forward medical bay contains a half-dozen slabs lining the sides of 
 the room where the medical staff can take care of patients. There is a  
 central slab as well, but the winches and pulleys, carts of tools, and  
 life support machinery is all designed to be easily reconfigured to     
 support any number of patients at any of the seven beds.                
                                                                         
 At the back of the room, there is a large work station dominated by a   
 large screen that includes two holoemitters. Two doors at the back of   
 the room lead to cold storage, where patients in need of better care    
 than the medibay can provide -- rare as that is -- can be put into      
 stasis. Offices for the medical officers are on the other side.

Officially -- OFFICIALLY -- this is not Knock Out's medibay. Knock Out has things to say about that, but the Chief Medical Officer is currently absent. So instead the Decepticon medic -- badge still proudly displayed -- is poking around the contents of the medibay to see what is and is not up to his particular standards. He has also brought along a few toys of his own, the kinds of things that are /super practical/ and that might /theoretically/ be used for disassembly but they don't /have/ to be, everyone /chill out/. Sometimes you need to disassemble things for /non/-nefarious purposes.

Bursting through the doors like he owns the place, Rodimus leads flames-first as he steps into the medibay. "Hey, Ratch--." The word breaks into a hissing sort of hiccup of sound. "You're not Ratchet." His observation skills are /top-notch/.

Rodimus ducks his head under a villainous saw to come around and study the practical addition with a dubious eye. "Wow, if that's yours, you are /definitely/ a Decepticon," he says like a total racist. "Uhm, Knock Out, right?"

"Mistake me for your significantly less attractive Chief Medical Officer again, and I'll know exactly who to use it on." After offering that particularly Decepticon threat, Knock Out looks over to smile pleasantly at Rodimus. We're all friends now! Isn't it great? "It's a perfectly reasonable surgical saw. How do you think bots who need emergency surgery on their innards get opened up?" How do you think he's going to open you up when you're not looking? :D

Rodimus le-e-eans away. He backs up a step and runs into one of the slabs. With nowhere to go, he firms his posture and straightens. He was /totally/ not retreating. "Uh. Scal...pels?" He reaches out to catch at the edge of one of the saw's jagged teeth to give it a spin.

Knock Out cackles like a big jerk as Rodimus steps back into one of the slabs. "Oh, come now. No need to be nervous. The war's over, right? We're all friends now." He flips the saw on a moment before Rodimus's finger can touch. Just for a moment. Hah hah it's funny! "Sometimes all you need is a scalpel; sometimes something a bit larger is called for. Don't worry, I'm a medical professional."

The edge of the saw nips the tip of Rodimus's finger, leaving no more than a small score in his paint. He rather hastily snatches his hands back. "What the--." He frowns. Not funny. He braces his hands on the slab at his back to push forward and stride toward Knock Out. "Try pulling something like that when Ratchet is in here and he'll be turning that saw on /you/." He breathes through the irritation to settle in milder simmer. "Medical professional my aft."

"Oh, calm down. It's not like you're actually taking /care/ of that paint job." Knock Out throws a critical gaze over Rodimus's ~flames~ in particular. U r ridiculous rodimus. "I find myself rather skeptical at the idea of an Autobot Chief Medical Officer attacking me with a saw for nicking your paint. Doesn't sound very ~Autobot,~ does it."

"Yeah, because /you're/ an expert on all things Autobot, Doctor Hack and Slash." Rodimus gestures at various implements of disassembly-slash-healing scattered around the medibay. "No freaking people out--" Not that he was freaked out!! "--with the torture tools. War might be over, but it's a long walk to friends, and we don't need you guys making more trouble." Autobots would /never/ antagonize.

"/You/ don't need /us/ making trouble," Knock Out scoffs. "I have no plans to use any of my toys on any of your friends unless it is medically necessary. If people get nervous, I can't help that. Are you having talks with /your/ people about not making trouble?"

Rodimus glances from Knock Out to the saw and then back again. He allows skepticism to suffuse his expression. "Right. Of course. And you're not going to do anything to /make/ people nervous, are you." Notice the part where he doesn't answer the question.

"Moi?" Knock Out lays one beautifully crafted hand on his chest, fingers splayed artfully. "I would never."

Tracking that artful, beautiful splay, Rodimus looks at Knock Out with an unimpressed, direct regard. "Right. Look, just -- behave," he finally, wearily says.

"I'll behave," Knock Out promises solemnly. "Just so long as /they/ behave."

Rodimus considers this promise quite seriously before going, "Okay, whatever." So much for serious consideration. "I guess we'll see who tries to murder who first."

Knock Out spreads his hands wide, looking entirely innocent. "I guess we will. I, personally, am not in the habit of murder. I can't speak to your compatriots."

"I'm going to go find Ratchet before you say something else that makes my eyes roll out of my head." Pivoting to pace for the door, Rodimus pauses on reaching to look back. "Welcome aboard," he says with a /trace/, maybe just a /hint/ of sarcasm.

"Aye aye, Captain," Knock Out says with an entirely similar amount of sarcasm.

Rodimus leaves on that note of budding friendship. This is gonna be /great/.

blog comments powered by Disqus