7/20/2011 08:43 PM
Chromia sits on the one of the large medical berths, clutching her injured side as she rummages through the medical tools, unauthorized of course. There is a long puddle of energon running throughout the med bay where she has obviously dragged herself in. "Slag it. Solder, where's the solder?"
First Aid arrives a few breems early for his shift, only to find the med bay empty except for a femme sitting on a berth and digging in the berth side stand and leaving a trail of energon all over the floor. "What are you doing?" He says, hurrying over to stand beside her. "Why didn't you call someone when you came in?"
Crackshot wanders in a little bit later, staring at his data pad, looking quite upset and a little pained. He then blinks and looks up "Huh? Yikes! " he exclaims, seeing the fluid left by Chromia.
"Primus, you two, I swear it's fine. Stop harping over me." Chromia grabs the small coil of metal and the blow torch, melting the solder onto her dripping gash and she winces as the smoke rises up from the heat. It's a sloppy job, and a painful one at that, and her hands are shaking as she fights to stay online.
Crackshot frowns "If its 'fine' then you wouldn’t be smoking, or looking in pain. " he points out.
"It's not fine, you're bleeding fluids all over the med bay and that needs to be cleaned out- please let me help?" First Aid says.
Chromia hisses at the sizzling noise before her hands drop the blow torch and she hunches over, groaning. "Frag."
Crackshot winces at the hiss and looks sympathetic, before glancing to First Aid.
First Aid picks up the torch and sets it out of reach. "What happened, anyway?" He looks at the wound, turning to pick up a scanner from the workbench and taking a quick scan of Chromia.
Chromia shoots a glare at First Aid and Crackshot. "Not sayin'. You'll just tell Ratchet an' I'll be taken off active duty. Not happen'" She seems adamant about this, baring her teeth like a feral animal, threatening.
Crackshot frowns and looks at First Aid "... Why do people seem so stubborn about getting repaired. Fast Repairs equal faster return to whatever they do." he asks, mystified.
First Aid says, earnestly. "You can't be on duty hurt- it's not safe. And just patching that isn't going to stop you from bleeding out. Please let me help?"
Chromia hisses in warning, but that's all the protest she gives, pressing her purple-stained hand against the wound.
Crackshot sighs "You know if you DONT let him help, I'll radio Ratchet right now." he states, folding his arms
"There's a /hole/ in your armor," First Aid says. "And I can't tell from a scan if your energon line can be patched or if you actually need a new section grafted in."
Chromia gives both of them one final glare--she was at least hoping Crackshot would take her side--before sighing. "Fine." She'll admit the growing puddle of energon she's sitting in, both hot and sticky, is getting mildly annoying, at the very least. This does not stop her from giving both mechs violent waves of resentment, literally pouring off of her.
Crackshot steps behind First Aid at the glower
First Aid is too busy re-organizing the drawer that Chromia messed up in her quest for solder to notice, and turns back to peer at the armor plate again. "I need to take that off so I can see what the damage looks like underneath, alright?" He extends a screwdriver from one finger and uses it to detach the armor panel from Chromia's torso, exposing the damaged lines.
Chromia growls at the approaching screwdriver. "Don't turn my pain receptors off. Had that last time an' I hated the numb feelin'. Made me feel weak and helpless. Didn't like it." Her voice was mostly just a grunt and she briefly glances at Crackshot. "You're no help."
Crackshot replies "Jeez, get some ball bearings or something, you're whinier than a sparkling." with a shake of his head "Pain receptors won’t turn off ALL feeling. Just pain. "
First Aid gives Crackshot a slightly narrow-opticked look, but doesn't say anything. "This energon line definitely needs to be grafted, Chromia, and the coolant line is nicked, too. Are you sure you want your pain receptors on? There's no reason to hurt if you don't have to."
Chromia lets off a deep-throated snarl at Crackshot for his remark, upper lip curling over her teeth. "I want 'em /on/, First Aid. Either keep 'em on or don't do anythin' at all." It's not a request, but a demand--and a demand from a patient, no less.
Crackshot sniffs "Jeez, who put sugar in your gas tank.' he remarks, turning his back to head to a console
"If you're absolutely sure, then-" First Aid says, sounding worried. "I can turn them off later if you need me to." He turns and opens a drawer on the berth side stand, pulling out hose splice kits and clamps, then begins repairing the torn lines- Energon and coolant- by clamping them off, splicing in new sections, and wrapping the joins with nanite tape.
First Aid says, "You really should be on a drip- your coolant level is really low. We can do your scheduled maintenance while you're here, if you want.""
The pain is so strong that stars flash before Chromia's optics, chest arching up as it flares through her--a white hot bolt of lightning straight from her side. But she does not scream--won't scream--though her fingers clench into the berth hard enough for it to creak and bend underneath her touch. "What...whatever's necessary." Her voice is staticky and pitched higher than normal.
First Aid looks distressed. "Are you sure I can't turn your pain receptors off?"
"/Yes, I'm sure! Don't ask me again!/" Chromia's tone is biting.
"Alright, then." First Aid looks unhappy but continues splicing the lines and picks up a small container of solvent and a cleaning rag from the tool stand, gently cleaning congealed energon and coolant out of the wound.
The solvent is cool on the hot and injured lines and the struts in her abdomen relax slightly, frame visibly loosening. Can First Aid just keep doing that forever? Chromia's grip loosens on the berth and though her processor is fuzzy from releasing cyberadrenline to dull the onslaught of the surgical pain, the sharp, blinding flashes of static fade to reveal the fuzzy blob that is First Aid.
First Aid finishes cleaning out the wound and picks up a clean rag to clean the spilled energon and coolant off the armor piece that's sitting on the berth as well. "It'll just take me a few breems to patch this." He says after a careful examination to make sure that a patch won't decrease the plate's structural integrity, which would mean replacing it instead.
Chromia's body is shivering from the aftermath, adjusting to the quick change from agony to numbness, and there's a loud clattering echoing throughout the large med bay from where he struts are repeatedly striking the smooth metal of the medical berth. There are delicate sensors in her abdomen there, and damaged and unadjusted the air feels cold and biting and her teeth click against each other violently.
"I could just turn them down- not all the way off, just down?" First Aid offers, still turning the piece of armor over in his hands.
Chromia likes to believe she has no maternal instinct inside her whatsoever--that it's too far buried in her unused processor cache--but had she seen First Aid's absolutely pathetic face, she would have caved instantly. As it is, though, she can't, and it hardens her resolve. Teeth chattering, she replies, "N-no. F-f-finish the j-job."
"Please, Chromia, there's no reason not to- no one thinks you're less brave for it, and you're hurting-" First Aid's distress is clear in his voice.
First Aid's voice, on the other hand, is just as pitiful sounding. "F-fine. Bu-but j-just a b-bit." Inwardly, Chromia is cringing at her assent, but she just can't resist that voice!
Crackshot ponders this, and turns to say "Even Prime gets the pain toned down Chromia. Being painless isn’t something to FEAR."
"Thank you, Chromia-" First Aid removes another armor panel and uses a small screwdriver to turn the sensitivity setting on the closest sensory line down to 30. "How's that?"
Chromia's shivering subsides somewhat, though a faint clicking remains in the room. Her teeth, at least, have stopped clattering against each other completely. "F-feels n-numb. Dull-dull throbbing." Her voice however, is still shaking as she struggles to get the words out.
Crackshot shakes his head as he overhears this "What people will go through to look 'tough'. Eesh. Even PRIME gets his pain receptors turned off. There's nothing to be afraid of."
First Aid says, "I can turn it down a little further." He reaches over with the screw driver and drops the setting even further.
"I...didn'...say...that..." But it's too late. Chromia's body, taxed to its furtherest extent, and she drops offline.
Crackshot blinks at that "... well, that makes it easier. Maybe you should just always do that." he remarks.
First Aid looks worried and runs another scan on Chromia. "That shouldn't have happened."
First Aid sighs in relief as the scanner shows no major damage that wasn't already present, just a processor reset. He keys something into the medical record, and goes to get a transfusion kit, setting up energon and coolant drips before disappearing into the armor lab with the damaged armor plate.
Crackshot says, "So why DO people hate pain killers that much? It’s the first thing I ask when I get hurt...""
First Aid shrugs as he comes back in with the patched and repainted armor a few minutes later. "I don't understand it myself. It's hard to watch anyone in pain, though, especially when you know you can help and they don't want you to."
Crackshot nods "Maybe it should be a policy - come in, get scanned on the way in for damage and you can't do anything till you're fixed."
First Aid smiles slightly. "Maybe, but it's not fair to force people to take any treatment they don't want. You didn't like it when Ratchet got upset about your mods any more than Streetwise did when Ratchet wanted to scan him that first time."
Crackshot replies "That's because I didn’t HAVE any mods. If I blew my hand up again and refused treatment that'd be another matter."
Crackshot says, "how can we win the war if everyone's limping around half repaired?"
"Well, she's not going to be limping around," First Aid says. "I hope she stays out long enough for Ratchet to get a look at her, though- I'm not sure she'll listen to me if I ask her to stay."
Crackshot nods "Hopefully she does. He only gets angrier if you disobey him, and that's WORSE"
First Aid's visor flickers as he rolls his optics. "He's a very good medic, Crackshot- he doesn't like it when people get hurt."
Crackshot replies "I never doubted his medical ability. He's the best we have for a reason!" notes Crackshot "And I know he doesn’t. That's why I can't fathom why people want to make him more disliking."
Crackshot says, "It seems the logical thing to do would be to go, get fixed, shut up about it and then leave sooner than if one put up a fuss."
First Aid vents air. "Well, people aren't always reasonable when they're hurting." Aid examines the wound on Chromia's side again and opens the berth side stand to take out a tube of nanite gel, liberally spreading it over the patched lines.
Crackshot nods "I noticed. Did you want me to get the wet vac for that spill?"
"Do you mind? That'd be really helpful." First Aid smiles before turning his attention back to peering at the wound. Satisfied with the repair he's done, he reinstalls the armor plate and begins cleaning up the supplies he used.
Crackshot nods "The Roombabot will clean up the floor." he pulls out the portable wet vac, going to work on the spill.
First Aid picks up the data pad sitting at the head of the berth and adds his notes to Chromia's medical records.
Crackshot finishes sucking up the fluids with the thing and puts it away. He smiles as the Roomba beeps and polishes the floor "Kind of cute things. I always did find them a little unnerving. Worried about running one over."
Crackshot says, "I'd better get going now though unless you need me for more lackey work""
First Aid shakes his head. "No, thanks- I know it's not your job, but I appreciate it."
Crackshot smiles "Hey, no problem really. I wanted to help out."