2016-07-17 The Medic Tent
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-07-17 The Medic Tent|
|Participants||Blackstorm, Blaster, First Aid, Mirage, Soundwave, Windrose|
|Summary||Post-Titan patch-ups begin. Somewhere, Pipes is being medically treated like the hero he is, but for now its just Mirage and Soundwave. The two that decided going inside a fiery, wrathful titan was a good idea. Its not. Don't be them, be smart.|
The camp is bustling, though the ambient mood certainly isn't positive. Dread and worry choke the air, even as bots dart around setting up tents and lighting fires. There's a medical tent with proper medtables set up - a few Dunians are being treated for getting their heads smashed up a bit. Everything is SUPER DUSTY. A thick blanket of grit swirls around everyone's knees. It'll suck for a minibot.
<FS3> Mirage rolls Nightmares: Failure. (4 1 2 4 4 4 2)
It's a good thing Windrose is an explorer and used to long treks on the ground without using her altmode, or helping Mirage get back to the surface and off to the camp would of been a lot more trying. "We're almost there, just hang on." By this point she's just stopped trying to point out it's not Hound he's seeing at everyone else they pass.
Mirage, still leaning heavily on Windrose, stumbles the last few steps towards the dusty refugee camp. While his helper has finally convinced him that Hound is not coming yet, now that he sees the shadows of various mecha moving hope flares up again. Squinting, he tries to make out his faceplates from the crowd, but it is impossible through the pain. All he manages to do is make phantom shapes dance at the edge of his vision. Even in his current condition, though, he manages to recognize them for what they are. Lies, phantoms, dreams.
"Thank you for all the trouble," he mutters. "I'll-" he pauses, hissing against the pain from his searing burns. "I've had worse."
Soundwave has been handed off to the medics, by Quicksight, and more or less... placed down until one could get ahold of him properly. Ratbat is hanging off the table upside down, wrapped up in his wings while snoozing- maybe, hard to tell. The Cassette Player seems to almost be muttering to itself, the cassette unconcerned by it though. Its clear to most, especially medics, that the player is stuck in this mode. Soundwave doesn't have the best t-cog and it likes to get caught and stuck. Especially with all this dirt and dust that's been irritating it lately. So he sits there, muttering quietly to himself as he awaits medical attention.
Windrose tilts her head a little to regard Mirage for a moment. "I would hate to see what 'worse' looks like." She has no doubt he's not exaggerating, those that actually faught in the War went through more than she'd even know. Or what to. She helps Raj over to one of the tables. "Here you go. Just lay down and one of the medics will be with you soon." Hopefully.
It is no fun working in the dust. First Aid isn't keen on how it cakes up the bloody wounds, so he's got anyone with turbines surrounding the tent to push away the gritty clouds. He waves Ratchet over the moment he sees him, and gestures to Windrose hauling Mirage. "He looks rough," is all he can deduce from here. Enjoy top of the triage, Mirage!
"Wait, what happened?" First Aid asks of Quicksight, or tries to, when Soundwave is handed off. There's such a rush around the tent that he doesn't get his answer. He doesn't even notice Ratbat as he looks over Soundwave. Teeny tiny Soundwave. "Sir?" he prompts through the muttering.
The muttering that can be made out by sensitive audios. A blur of 'sorry, sorry' and a random hodge podge. Unbeknowest to most, its mostly a repeating of strings of thoughts and feelings and occasionally just sounds. But First Aid stirs him, just a bit out of the muttering. Silence... and then a rather hoarse response. "Titan... Go, Mirage. I function." And silence again. That's all he'll say about that.
Mirage falls back on to the table without needing much convincing. With a low hiss, his golden optics suddenly flare as another bout of pain tears through his frame. "Trust me," he mutters. "You really don't want to see it when it's worse."
Forcing a smile, he reaches out to pat her arm as if to reassure her. "I owe you for this one."
Nothing sits right with anything Soundwave has murmured. First Aid frets over him a moment longer, debating summoning Rung. "I'll look you over shortly sir. Just sit tight." As if Soundwave can go anywhere. "Thank you, Windrose," he says earnestly, hands flickering with a small flash of sterilization before carefully manipulating Mirage's bad arm. Warped, charred armor is quickly shed, and he sets to work to stem any bleeding, digits quickly turning pink.
Blaster has been busy helping the convoy get out of the tunnels, while the rest of everyone else was fighting the titan. It turns out the aftermath of it all has been the busiest for him, relaying medical supplies, helping First Aid with what small tasks he could.
And speaking of small tasks
He was passed a tiny little deck player with a quick instruction to keep it company. At first, he was a little confused by it all, then...he realises who exactly it was. "What happened to you?" He asks Soundwave.
Windrose returns the reassuring pat before stepping out of the way so First Aid can get to work. "You just rest and let the doctors take care of you. I'm going to go make sure there's no one else lost in the tunnels." She turns and walks away, until she's far enough from the camp to not cause more dust whipping issues when she transforms and flies off.
<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Body+body: Good Success. (7 8 7 1)
Soundwave ignores Blaster. It's easy. He does it all the time. So he'll continue to do so. He doesn't need to know about his bad T-Cog. Silence stretches... and then, slowly, the mumbling mutterances tumble forth fromt he Cassette player again. Its quite possible that Soundwave is unaware he's even doing so.
Once Windrose is gone and a new shadow takes its place at his side, the scout can't help asking in a hopeful voice, "Hound?"
But once again, that is quickly proven wrong when the shadow grabs Mirage's arm and begins the process of examining the damage. The scout grits his dentals again and does his best not to cry out. This part of the job never got easier. As the medic pulls away his armor, revealing the melted lines underneath, he may spot a glimpse of the mecha's intricately carved struts, the only part of his arm that escaped the horrendous burns. "Medic, r-right?"
<FS3> First_Aid rolls Berthside Manner: Great Success. (5 5 2 6 8 5 8 8 8)
<FS3> Blaster rolls Nosiness: Success. (6 8 1 3 3 2 1 1 6)
Blaster is not the least bit surprised that Soundwave is ignoring him. But the renewed muttering got him curious. He carefully turned up in audials and then lifted up Soundwave to hear what was being muttered.
Admist all the devestation, the cheerful whistle echoing in the distance is a startling contrast. It is only made more odd when a small minibot appears around the corner pushing a too-large container towards the medical tent. The pilot has been flying missions between here and the Lost Light all day, and he is using this break to help deliver supplies. This crate is earmarked for right around this quadrant. He stirs up another puff of dust as he pushes the impossibly large crate into camp.
He's about to enthusiastically announce "SPECIAL DELIVERY" when he sees that the medic is busy and clamps down on his glossa. Glancing around, he tries to find a place he can leave this without being a bother but ensuring it will be seen. Maybe by the side of the tent? He's manuevering it in that direction when he hears what he thinks is a familiar voice. "Blaster, is that you?" he asks, peeking in with a beaming smile as if they'd been friends for years.
"Right, First Aid. You're gonna' be fine," First Aid is quick to assure. Painkillers ought to be kicking in right about now. "Did you want to see Hound?" he eventually asks, if only to take Mirage's mind off the pain. That's some interesting anatomy there - he doesn't recall seeing the struts in medical records. Arm left flayed and lines pinched with vices, First Aid moves to look over Mirage's head. At some point the armor on one side is removed, and Mirage will feel the faint pulse of a scanner searching for damage. Indeed, the medic's too drawn up to address Blackstorm's delivery, or Blaster mech-handling Soundwave.
"Sorry, sorry... Smell, dirt- rocks above, my head... What is he saying? Deliver, supplies. So many, so many... Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry..." Comes his hushed voice. It still sounds synthesized, but easy on the monotone. Soundwave doesn't notice himself being held or lifted. Before Blasckstorm even speaks, the Commander speaks for him, "...Blast... that you?" Just as the mech thinks them and before they speak.
Ratbat, hanging on the table, shifts a wing to peer with one golden optic. It narrows slightly but the bat doesn't speak up.
Mirage, while he had been tense from the pain, begins to relax as the painkillers take effect. All things considered, even in a slightly delirious state, the scout is proving to be a decent enough patient. He doesn't flinch or pull away from First Aid's ministrations, and he's all too happy to chatter away when the medic tries to distract him. "Hound? He's supposed to be here. He's always in the dream," he explains, as if that makes perfect sense.
When First Aid starts to prod at his helm, a flash of understanding dances across Mirage's optics. Something.... He needs to say something. What is it? ... There it is. "Helm trauma. Past," he hisses, the most he can do to relate his history at this particular moment. No doubt the medic knows anyways. It's all in his file, but he's doing his best to help.
In Blaster's defense, he was totally not manhandling Soundwave. He is just curious enough to want to know what Soundwave is muttering about. Call it concern. For his personal enemy. No really.
egardless, Blaster definitely frowned at what he is hearing. It was all nonsensical to him, though, the apology felt strange. Maybe it was his deep despise, but he never thought of Soundwave as a mech who would willingly apologize to anyone. Before he could ask Soundwave what he is talking about, he leans back a little when he was.. sort of called by name. Coinicidentally (not a coincidence) he looks up when he hears someone /really/ call his name. Then his smile matches the mini's as he recognized Blackstorm. "Hey there mech, you got more supplies?" Blaster nods to a small space among the supplies and boxes. "If it is all medical stuff, put it there. If not, well, I can help take out and sort what is in there."
"'Course!" Blackstorm enthuses.
His small engine revving, he braces himself against the supplies and barely manages to push it into place. He comes away puffing, but his chestplates are puffed out like he's just achieved something amazing. Now freed of his burn, he trots over besides Blaster's pedes. "I'm starting to notice a pattern, mecha. You got a thing for medics?" he teases. He rocks back on his heels to get a better look up, and then he notices something else. "Wait, that's not a medic. What have you got there?"
"Dream," First Aid repeats, no judgment in his tone. Best to acknowledge, patients may panic otherwise. Some quick soldering pulls most of his attention when Mirage tries to inform him of past damage. First Aid's aware. He's got a decent recollection of the records of all the bots present. Well, anything they'd reported. "I gotcha', don't worry." He's back to sealing up Mirage's arm while a small square device whirs beside Mirage's head. "Stock armor for now I'm afraid." Meaning it's drab gray and you generally can't transform with it.
<FS3> Mirage rolls Pouting: Good Success. (6 7 4 8)
"Yeah, dream," he parrots back. "Y'know? Where I'm an Autobot?"
He chuckles quietly, as if the whole concept of him being an Autobot is a little absurd, as First Aid keeps at his work. Of all the things to snap him back into the moment, though, it's the mention of the stock armor that really seems to distress him. The scout's optics suddenly flare bright yellow like a caution light. "S-stock armor? But..." his voice drops to a whisper. "Hound can't see me like that. Or Torque. No, no, no." And there's the lip sticking out in a pout.
"'Course..." Soundwave murmurs right before Blackstorm. And now he's muttering about further nonsense. It takes a pause, though. "Where... Where are...? So much, so many... So terrible, sorry... So angry, sorry..." The muttering falls quieter until silence. Ratbat seems content to cover his eye again, and then stops as Soundwave picks up again. "H-Hound... Need, where... Where, where, no, no... Sorry, sorry. Autobot... Hound... Can't focus, so many, I can't..." Another dip into silence.
Blaster gives a soft snort at the medics comment. "I just respect what they do, and the scrap they put up with. Besides, I have a boyfriend now." He smiles more at Blackstorm as he gently put Soundwave back on the table or berth... wherever he won't get lost. Actually he takes a moment to gently put Soundwave on the crate Blackstorm brought in, step back to take a picture, then picks Soundwave back on the berth. "I think our-" Blaster took a moment to roll his optics like he can't believe he is actually going to say it, "-commander needs to be isolated somewhere. He's picking up on things." It was his best guess, considering that Mirage and Aid are nearby.
Yeah, Blaster feels sorry for Soundwave. Not so sorry as not to humiliate him later. But bad enough still.
First Aid manages a faint chuckle. "Only until you get a ride back up to the ship." A few more scans of Mirage's head, and barring the past damage, First Aid patches what he can. Mirage is left to coast on those painkillers. He's not going to think on the Autobot comment too hard.
When Soundwave's murmurs become more frequent, First Aid moves to the next medtable, worry on his visor. "Isolated?" He leans in, framing the tape deck with the tips of his digits. "I think you're right. But let me get his t-cog unstuck." The built-in electrical pulse meant for spark revival dances at a low current under his fingertips. He traces the upper edge of the tape deck, stimulating the jammed cog. Ideally it's all it would take. Ideally.
Curiousity morphs into a low whistle at Blaster's revelation. "Off the market? Shame," he remarks. "Who's the luck mech- ah! T-that's our boss?" he trails off, glancing sidelong at the muttering thing. He is remembering the concern with which Getaway spoke of Soundwave just a day ago, and he nearly empties his tanks when Blaster carries the mecha away from the berth. "What are you doing?" he asks, taking a step back.
Whatever this is, he's fairly sure he doesn't want to be implicated. He is getting ready to full on bolt when Blaster finally snaps his picture and puts Soundwave back in place. Blackstorm is having a little trouble shaking it off, though.
As Soundwave is returned to his rightful place, Ratbat swings himself up by his wing claws, hunching close to the cassette player and seeming between him and Blaster. No more doing that. He glowers at Blaster and Blackstorm. Idiots... He shuffles, audios twitched and he watches First Aid. Careful with they tiny boss- er, officer. Can't go taking any's tiny title.
First Aid's gentle stroking- its definitly stroking- does the trick and there's a nice click before the sound of transformation. A teeny, tiny Soundwave sits there a moment before the mass displacement sets in, the Commander now returning to his full size. He's pretty banged up and a little burnt. He leans forward, bent over and elbows braced on his knees. He's staring at the floor, quiet again. Being out of alt allows for... a greater degree of collecting his bearings. "Dunia... I'm in... In Dunia." Yes, that's where he's at.
Blaster steps back and lets First Aid do his work, glad that First Aid didn't see him take a picture of tinywave. Blackstorm, however, looks oddly terrified. Was it because he dared take a picture of someone who is supposed to be command? Maybe, his last run in with Mirage was not that long ago.
Blaster slid over to Blackstorm and in his comms asked, << Are you okay? >>
"Soundwave," First Aid begins softly, keeping his gaze, "We should get you on the next shuttle up and move you to a radio silence room before we try to treat you. Sounds like something got scrambled in a bad way and... I don't want things getting worse." He pauses to survey the rest of the tent. Enough medics are about to handle the workload now. Reaching out, he catches a nurse by the arm, "Don't move Mirage, I want him here overnight if possible." With this, he turns to Blackstorm. "Could you fly us back up?" Thankfully he's been oblivious to any shenanigans.
<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Charm: Failure. (6 5 4 6 5 1 5)
"Me? I've never been better!" he announces, throwing out his arms and giving a beaming smil- Wait, did he just answer that out loud? And right after what Blaster did to their commander? His tanks churned again. That would make him seem complicit. Trying to cover up the stumble, he says a little too brightly. "Look who is awake! Never looked better. Good morning, sunshine!"
'Please don't kill me,' is what he is really thinking. In a long string of rare awkward moments for the pilot, he gives a distracted squeak when First Aid addresses him. "Me? I can fly?" he asks, and then chuckles at himself. "Of course I can fly. I can do that."
"I'll stay behind to unpack the medical supplies, if you don't mind First Aid. " Blaster tells Aid, then, in a comm to Blackstorm. << I assure you, if you are worried about getting in trouble for what I did, you don't have to. I take full responsibility for whatever happens.>> And that is a promise for Blackstorm. He is pretty sure Soundwave has no idea what happened though. That's the good thing.
Soundwave turns his helm to look at First Aid. Its in the way his shoulders fall that its evident that he's unsure or confused by what First Aid is thinking. His helm shakes and he begins to draw himself up, a tremor running through his armor. "No... No, I am fine." A servo presses upon the glass of his chassis where- his visor flashes in panic. "R-Ratbat. Where-" He twists around and spots... Okay, he can relax. His deck opens up, in a rare display for all to see. "Ratbat... Safe, sync." He motions for the bat and after a moment, the cassette concedes and folds away within the Commander's chest.
Now where was he... "No fly, just... Fix me. Here, Dunia. I have to help them, I..." His voice drops off, like he's distracted by something, looking at Blaster. Hrmm...
First Aid studies the quirky little minibot with a mildly confused expression on his limited features before nodding once at Blaster's proposal. "Thanks for helping." Then Soundwave insists on staying. "This is a medical tent. I'm a medic. I'm sorry, sir, but it's my jurisdiction, so you're coming with me." Alright, he's not /completely/ sure about that. "Lead the way Blackstorm."
Once Blackstorm finishes rambling, he knows he sounds a little odd. This whole situation is just a tad strange to begin with. But forget that, he's just been picked for a Very Important Mission where he can show the commander why he shouldn't be dead. Stepping up, the minibot puffs up his armor a little bit and a more relaxed smile crosses his faceplates. "Apologize for that little confusion there. It's been a long day of shuttling back and forth, but I'm always game for more airtime."
His gaze tilts back towards Blaster for a fleeting moment, and this time he actually answers correctly. ::No need to worry about me. I got this covered,:: he replies, his brief period of fear forcefully replaced with smooth confidence. He doesn't have time to waste with negative emotions.
"Let's pack up and ship off, yeah? I promise you the smoothest and quickest ride you've ever had, Doc. My promise," he announces, gesturing towards the door and slipping out to wait until he's ready to go.
Soundwave's visor shutters. Medic tent. Medic. First Aid. There's a pause and he nods. He pushes himself up to his pedes, stumbling and bracing himself against... Faid. His grip on the shoulder tightens because, well... He might need some help walking through tunnels back to the surface and onto the ship. His pedes are fine, his head is just somewhere else.