no edit summary
(Created page with 'Logfile from dark ages of cybertron. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Repair Depot ------------------------------------------------…')
|(6 intermediate revisions by the same user not shown)|
Repair Depot ▼
Shark walks in with the last delivery of the worst wounded, he's a bit crispy himself. "That was not my definition of fun."
▲The sharp, authoratative tone that Ratchet barks sends even the medics to attention--which gives some of the less-wounded a chuckle. "What the Pit are you lot standing around for? Get me damage reports on every one and start triaging. We're here to save everyone we can, not lollygag around like you don't know what you're doing--though keep this up and I may question even /that/!" The medics quickly scramble back to work as Ratchet surveys the medical-bay, his scrutinizing gaze eventually resting on Jazz himself.
Shark jumps back a bit, "Woah..." and stepping further from where he lands to get the pit out of the way.
Ratchet's face is a complete stony mask, his mouth a straight line and optics narrowed to near slits. Oh yes, this medic is beyond fuming. "I warned you. I warned /all/ of you," he states coldly to the room in general, not just Jazz. "With the raids on Sub-Iacon, this was /bound/ to happen. Certainly you figured /that/. But on this scale? Who could ever imagine something like this? So where does blame go? The soldiers who couldn't protect, or the ones who took advantage?"
▲ "I have one thing you don't have," Jazz then states looking at Ratchet square in the optics back. That visor for a moment goes black and something darker flares out only for Ratchet to see, those red burning optics, before that visor clicks back on to mask them once again, "Dirty Hands." Jazz then starts to make his way out. "After all, Dirty hands can't get any more dirtier, and mine." He raises them up, those black hands, "..are so bad, you couldn't even tell anymore."
Shark frowns, he'd been patrolling the underground. He's done his duty every solar cycle and still be able to do his side mission stuff too. Hearing this has him gripping his fists and gritting those sharp and pointed teeth just to keep himself from biting someone's head off.. figuratively of course.
Lifeline is here. And just in time to keep Jazz from leaving as she's now blocking the doorway and looking every bit as dangerous as Ratchet.
Ratchet stares at Jazz as he completely ignores his words, his optics shuttering for a moment. "I see." He sees Lifeline in the doorway, blocking any chance for Jazz to leave, and frowns. He does not like where this is going, and he'd be damned if he lets it continue. "I will not let you do that. To jeopardize everything, dirty hands or not." A wrench appears in his hand. "Lifeline, watch your head!" And before he finishes the warning, he throws the wrench at Jazz's cranium--though from his off-hand almost immediately, he fires a powerful tranquilizer dart at Jazz from a tranq-gun he keeps on his person in situations like this (though firing at an angle to make sure it doesn't hit anyone else).
Lifeline opens her mouth to say something, but then there's a wrench flying at her (and Jazz). She lifts a hand to catch it just as the black and white mech does, but he intercepts it and then promptly goes splat. Huh. So she ends up just kneeling to check on him. "So where do you want me to start?"
Ratchet puts away the tranq-gun, showing no emotion for what he had to do. "Shark, Lifeline: Put Jazz on a free med-berth in this medical bay and strap him down with the strongest restraints possible. Use the Guardian-strength force field restraints if you must. I will take no chances with him at this point, and I certainly don't need him going on a rampage in his current state when he wakes up," he orders, his tone calm and surprisingly not barky. "Lifeline, after you're done with that, assist me in repairs and triaging. This will be a multi-cycle process due to the amount of casualties." He turns away, back towards the stream of wounded, as his optics dim. "We have all manners of parts and Energon here... so all we need to do is focus on saving lives."
Ratchet hesitates for a moment as he hears the kid's question, then smirks faintly. "Yeah. You could say that," he adds quietly before he disappears into the mass of wounded and medics.
Shark pops backup, moving to get a hold of Jazz from the helmet side of the mech and just doing what he's told cuz he want no part of grumpy, cranky medics. Nope! Just yes sir and ma'am from him right now.
Lifeline hefts the bulk of Jazz's weight as Shark helps, then looks down at the little mech. "Yes, little one. When we get Jazz here to lie down and rest, I want you to stay with him. Do you think you can do that?" She steers Shark toward the nearest med-berth and gets him settled their readily enough, then uses normal-strength restraints. But she's got an ace in the hole -- the best possible way to keep Jazz still. She turns and lifts the smaller mech to sit him square on Jazz's chest plate.
Ratchet lets Lifeline use her own discretion, but would be quite worried if he realized that she'd put the kid -- First Aid -- as a way to help keep Jazz calm with only normal restraints. Well, here's hoping... but the tranq should last for a long time. This medic, for his part, pretty much all-but-throws himself into his work, forgetting the pain of his loss by focusing on saving lives.
▲ First Aid looks around some more with the visor, "Hey-- Lifeline, think I could have one of these?" He points at the visor, "This is cool!"
Shark shakes his head again, figuring he'll come back later when its a bit less busy.. catch himself some sleep...