| abstract
| - October 22, 2011, 4:45 PM (Repair Campus, Polyhex) --- Quickrazor watches his doors fly open as chaos ensues. He begins barking orders to the drones who seem to believe that duty is one long coffee break. "All right, slaggers, clear two.spots, one ready for surgery! I need a feed into that copter last cycle!" He gives a quick scan to both Vortex and Onslaught...the copter seemed to be by far the worst off, so he motioned a drone over and ibstructed it to monitor Onslaught's condition in real-time while he attempted to discover justwhat had happened here. Vortex quite obviously does not want to be here. He doesn't like medics, and he doesn't like being mended, and there's a sliver of armour handing off one of the rends torn by Sludge's teeth that's hitting one of his sensors and frag it tickles. His damaged sensors have shut themselves off, but that doesn't stop the undamaged ones from hurting. A lot. Still, he giggles quietly as he stares up at the ceiling, and every so often tries to heave himself off whatever it is he's lying on so he can escape. He doesn't succeed, he's lost too much by way of fluids. But that doesn't stop him trying. Onslaught groans in distaste. He really doesn't like medbay - this is time that could be spent doing much better things. He doesn't likebeing hurt, either, though. So he's stuck. But at least he's got Vortex there... okay, that's not reassuring at all. He isn't the fondest for medics he's not terribly familiar with, so he insists on sitting on a berth, watching the medical mech go about such duties. Quickrazor strides with purpose over to a supply cabinet, unlocking it with a databurst encoded with his own energy.signature. From it, he withdraws a small metalline vial. He shifts his left forefinger into a sgarp syringe and moves to Voryex's side, deftly slipping the point into a line on the mech's nech and releasing the contents. "All right, Vortex, hold still. That will relax you. What the frag.did ypu do, fight with Prime himself? Quickrazor's yelled orders at the drones is enough draw Knifepoint's attention from his work 'cleaning' the storage area, and he doesn't both to resist the urge to open the door leading into the main medical area to check. His optics widen slightly at the chaos that greets him before narrowing, and he huffs out of his vents, striding out into the medbay and running his scanners over the larger mech Quickrazor isn't dealing with. He pauses by a workbench to pick up several clamps before approaching the mech, deftly moving around the drones in his path. "Huh?" Vortex looks up, and tries to wrench himself away from the syringe. Fragged if he's letting anyone inject him with anything, not least a medic and ooooh yeah, actually that feels kinda good. "Dinobot," he says, sounding a lot more mellow than he did when he was giggling away quietly to himself. "Y'r all shiny." He cranes his head back, trying to see Onslaught. "You 'live too?" he manages, although it isn't quite the question he was trying to ask. Onslaught only gives the rotary a dirty look, even behind his mask and visor. "Yes, I am alive. Now start being unconscious, will you?" Quickrazor snorts. "Are you sensitive to drethelium, or are you naturally fragged up, copter?" As he says this, he takes the energon feed line from a drone and attaches it, beginning a deep scan on Vortex's frame. "You really are going to be a pain in my aft, Vortex...I'm not sure I even /have/ spare rotary blades. Weren't you.supposed to be /bringing/ that stuff?" He begins the arduous process of temp-patching the cooter's leaking chassis, partly because he needed it but also to avoid the mess. Vortex tenses, despite the relaxant. "No rotors?" Oh no, that does not sound good. "Fraggin' Dinobot," he grumbles. He sighs and gives up on being tense. "You c'n make a rotor, right?" Dimly, he registers that Onslaught answered him several astroseconds ago, but he can't remember what he said. "Did we kill any of 'em?" Knifepoint shrugs when his approach gets no response from Onslaught and drops the clamps on the berth, picking one back up as he examines the wounds more carefully. "Hold still." He orders, one hand tugging on part of the dented plating and the other working back to clamp off a damaged hydraulic hose. "You, prepare an infusion of hydraulic fluid." He snaps at one of the drones, pulling the hand that was in Onslaught's internals back out to reach for another clamp. Onslaught has no problem with the orders, but looks over at Vortex with a dimmed visor to answer. "Just the unimportant kind. No one of value was taken out, unfortunately. Or at least, I think so..." It was sort of hard to remember what had happened so recently. "I know I took out one of their minibots, but he looked like he was only in stasis." Quickrazor glances at Onslaught and...Knifepoint? Well, he is helping, not hindering, so Quickrazor decides that he's all for it. He turns his attention back to Vortex. "I can, yes, assuming you give me your personal specs." Quickrazor calls out, "Knifepoint, do you need access to restricted stores to repair him?" "That sucks," Vortex responds to Onslaught, before attempting to focus on Quickrazor. Vortex's optics flicker, the red light not especially strong. "You medics wan' everything," he says. "Took my pris'ner..." But he does allow his head to loll to the side, giving clear access to the medical port on the back of his neck. Knifepoint almost considers saying yes just for the access, but his pride kicks in. "Not unless hydraulic systems have been moved to the restricted store." He answers, shifting his weight to allow himself to reach further into Onslaught's chest cavity. He doesn't particularly care if it's uncomfortable or painful for his patient, more focused on stopping the multitude of leaks his scanners are returning. Quickrazor grunts, his fingers working in Vortex's internals now, cutting away shattered wiring and shredded plating. He could do more, now, since his other patient was being attended to. Quickrazor extends a cable, connecting to Vortex, hoping that this crazy mech wouldn't try anything stupid while they were templinked. Quickrazor flickers his optics in sheer annoyance. "No, Knifepoint, they are not..." He cycles aur through his vents, considering. "Vortrx are you felling any of tjis?" Flicking his visor off, Onslaught turns his helm back to the ceiling. There's not too much to worry about - medics are medics, they know what they're doing. He ignores any twinges of pain, but he knows most of his own damage is purely cosmetic and torn lines... At least, he hopes. Vortex groans, not at all happy with the weird sensation of someone else's hands in his chassis. "Uh-huh," he responds, although he's not about to admit to being in pain. "Why're you so shiny?" Quickrazor replies somewhat tetchily, "Because I was made that way?" Quickrazor takes pride in his appearance, really- more so now than before. He releases a bit of numbing agent within Vortex's chassis, right before removing a broken strut with a hollow *snap* The numbing agent does not go down well. "Wha' the frag is that?" Vortex snaps. He's a big, strong Decepticon warrior, what does the medic think he's doing numbing him up? For shame! "Hey, woah, the frag did /that/ come from?" His optics widen at the sight of the strut, and he forgets all about the numbing agent. Knifepoint rolls his optics at Quickrazor's response, biting back another smarmy comment toward the CMO and focusing instead on hunting down the last of the leaks. Luckily, through his rather invasive exploration, he's managed to confirm his intial scan results of only minor damage to the circuitry in Onslaught's chest, most of it focused in his charred hands and arms. Pulling back once he's satisfied all the leaks are clamped off for now, he takes the bag of hydraulic fluid he demanded from the drone, uncoiling the attached tubing and stabbing the needle into an exposed, undamaged line. Quickrazor smirks. "Because I'm doing /this/." He knew why Vortex asked, it wasn't because the medic thought Vortex was weak...it was because Quickrazor was about to do something that would likely cause a world of pain. Quickrazor delves three fingers into the copter's chassis, severing minor energon lines and nerve fibers at their source. The damaged relay unit is well and truly slagged- holes, slashes, and a crack in the center. He lays it on Vortex's chestplate and quickly summons a drone for a replacement part. "This /will/ hurt." Once the drone returns, Quickrazor abruptly severed all connections with an electropulse. Onslaught simply stares at the black that his offline optics give him, and thinks. That was a simple assignment that he couldn't complete. It was in the past now, yes, but still. It was a failure. Onslaught hates failure. Silently, he considers if maybe the Autobots forgot to clear out the abandoned convoys and they could go back... That probably wouldn't be happening though. Vortex lets out an abrupt high pitched screeching noise. Yep, that certainly hurt. He stares at the damaged relay laying on his chest. "I'm keepin' that," he announces. Then a short pause before, "Ons, hey Ons, why you so quiet?" "Because I'm not talking," Onslaught points out. Quickrazor chuckles darkly at the sound. Nothing quite like that...but he needs to get to work. He begins reconnecting what lines weren't shredded and replacing those that were, noting that there were several nerves that would have to self-repair over the next few orn. As soon as that's done, Quickrazor begins sealing plating with temporary metallomesh, for the shallow wounds, and scraping dried energon from the large ones in preparation for welding. "Vortex, do you use normal-grade plating or Seeker weight?" Knifepoint snorts at that, a smirk crossing his faceplates before he straightens fully. Visually examining Onslaught's hands for a few moments, he heaves air out his vents in annoyance and prods the large mech on a mostly-undamaged part of his arm. "Hey. Open your medical access port, I need to monitor your hydraulic levels and see how many of your sensors fried out from the heat." The explanation was an annoyance, but Primus knew how skittish some of the mechs in this army could be when he asked to get in their systems. As if he'd stoop to something like altering core code. Hmph. "Do I use what?" Vortex says. "I look like a seeker?" He doesn't exactly say the word with reverence, more like disgust. "I got mano, manoo... flyin'a bout stuff like you wouldn't believe. Dun need speed when you can turn on your own slaggin' axis." Quickrazor, it would seem, has accidentally hit upon a sore spot. This would never have happened without the relaxant. Obediently, Onslaught turns his helm towards Vortex, and reveals the medical port just under the flange of his helm. Still quiet, though, he activates his optics once more and looks critically at the dark rotary. Hmm... Quickrazor shakes his helm. "No, you /don't/ look like a Seeker. A Seeker would not have allowed herself to be used as a chew toy." He moves to another cabinet, this one unlocked, and retrieves several sheets of unworked armor plating, a dull grey in color. "You'll be grounded for two orn while I fashion new blades, Vortex, unless you can acquire them sooner. It takes me awhile." Grounded? "Oh no. Nonononononono y'r not grounding me, I'm not grounded, I got people to do and things to see, and I'm not stayin' in Polyhex!" He starts to struggle - weakly - and cranes again to try to look at Onslaught. "Hey! You got rank and slag, you tell him." "Medical staff ranks higher than me," he shoots back easily. "Surely you can find something to do while we're both stuck here. It isn't like I'm allowed to abandon you here, no matter how much I want to." Quickrazor shoves the injured copter down somewhat roughly. "Hold still, you ignorant flyboy, or else you'll bleed out on this berth...and I refuse to clean up the mess." Vortex goes immediately limp, as some rudimentary and stunted elemtn of his self-preservation programming kicks in. "You ain't?" Vortex says to Onslaught, the Kaon accent coming through very strongly for once. "Huh?" Knifepoint pauses at Quickrazor's very specific 'herself', cocking an optic ridge as he uncoils one of his connection cables. It's a bit of a stretch for him to reach the access port, but the cable is long enough that he can stand normally once they're connected. Dimming his optics slightly, he runs through the list of damages Onslaught's system provides him, pleased to see that the clamps are doing their jobs and the mech's hydraulic fluid levels are rising. Onslaught hates that accent - mostly because he has one just like it, except far more terrible. Hence why he talks in very sophisticated lingo most of the time. "No, I am not." Quickrazor begins removing shredded plating with a small screwdriver that did /not/ come from his fingers, unbolting the useless metal and setting it aside for later reclamation. "Vortex, I know how important it is to fly. However, I can't make the parts any faster. I'm a medic, not a miracle worker." A small pile of fragged-up copter plating almost seems to grow. Whatever messed Vortex up did one Pit of a job. Finally, the majority of the damaged metal is removed, exposing wiring to empty air. "I get to keep all that right?" Vortex says to Quickrazor. It'll be useful for intimidating people during interrogations. Then he glances over at Onslaught again. "Why not?" he says. "Wass goin' on?" Quickrazor offlines his optics for a nanoklik. "No, you most certainly cannot." "Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Vortex wails. "For frag sake!" Quickrazor resists the almost overwhelming urge to use his coding and send the copter into medical stasis. "Because it's a resource needed by the cause because mechs like you kerp getting their afts slagged by Autobots?" "Because, Vortex." He says in a tone that sounds oddly motherly - not that anymech would really notice - "Because." "This is my first time," Vortex grumbles. "Ain't done it before. Y'know I tore the chevron right off of Prowl's head right. Right? And then I got a look down the Prime's slaggin' own gun. And I didn't end up in medbay then." He huffs, but the action of additional air through his vents makes him cough. "Frag," he whispers, and glares at Onslaught. "Thatss not an answer." Onslaught says, "Yes it is, you just don't like it." "'s not an explanation," Vortex mutters. "Where's Soundwave?" Quickrazor exvents in exasperation. He sends a special series of codes through Vortex's med port, manually knocking the copter into stasis for the moment. He notes an odd vibration, then- Vortex and Onslaught's engines seemed unnaturally in tune with each other's. He noted it and retracted his cabling for now. "Onslaught? A personal question. Are you two bonded?" Knifepoint mutters to himself as the readings scroll past his optics, and he isolates the ones he needs. All the scans are coming back with mostly cosmetic damage, luckily; there are a few more hydraulic lines in Onslaught's hands that were worn thin by the heat and should probably be replaced, but otherwise it's just scorched plating and dents. "Alright. I'll need to form some specialized plating for your hands, so that I don't frag up your sensor readings in that area, but I should be able to fix your chest and arms as soon as our wonderful CMO clears me to." The last part is said in a sickeningly sweet tone, though there's no change in his expression. Onslaught only sputters. Quickrazor overhears Knifepoint and flicks his winglets in irritation. "Why would I stop you? You haven't fragged up yet." The Seeker /annoyed/ him, but an assistant was an assistant. "....No." He finally answers, his voice full of disgust. "No relation whatsoever." Though he was adamant on finding out why their engines were almost in time with eachother. He'll have to fix that. Soon. very, very soon. Knifepoint tilts his helm consideringly at Quickrazor's question, comparing the readings he's recieving from Onslaught to a simple surface scan of the mech in stasis. The matching engine frequencies earn a raised optic ridge, but other than that he doesn't much care either way. "Well, CMO sir, given that I'm only as 'assistant'-" And ugh, how he HATED that word. He'd spent more time as an 'assistant' than some mechs had even lived. "I have to get your approval before I can officially perform any repairs. I was just checking." He steps closer to Onslaught, the hand not covered in hydraulic fluid prodding around the dent in his chest. Quickrazor nods. "I ask because you're synchronized." Tirnimg to Knifepoint, snorts quite loudly. "I call you assistant because I have not observed your work before now. If you would stop being so Primus-damned defensive and open your slagging optucs, not to mention used the processor you wete sparked with, you would /realize/ that I support your being here!" Quickrazor continues working on the now-blessedly silent Vortex, deftly replacing plating and warped flexible tubing. Knifepoint bristles at Quickrazor's words but remains silent, reaching up to disconnect himself from Onslaught. Wings twitching in annoyance, he crosses the main room of the repair campus in several rapid steps and disappears into the storage area, returning about a breem later with an armful of plating and multiple lengths and sizes of replacement tubing. He dumps them onto the berth next to Onslaught, glaring at them with enough force it's surprising they haven't spontaneously combusted. Quickrazor exvents several times in.succession. "Knifepoint, if you know what to do, then slagging /do/ it. If you don't, then step back. It's that simple." Vortex's repairs are well underway, now- he'd remain here for at bare minimum the rest of the cycle, possibly two. "I'll consider those standing orders, sir." Knifepoint mutters, laying the parts out in an apparently random order that most likely only makes sense in his processor. Turning to Onslaught, he puts his hands on his hips, managing to force his expression back to neutral. "I need to get access to your internals, and this is going to hurt. I can reconnect and take your pain sensors offline, or I can go the easy route and just drop you into medical stasis, at which point you'll wake up totally repaired. Your choice." Quickrazor snorts at Knifepoint's sullen flippancy. "The sir is not necessary." Once again the silver-black-and-shiny form of the sleek glider-mech can be seen sauntering into the repair compound, making his way to the main bay. Seeing that it's busy doesn't really faze the mech, who lets himself in, but doesn't wanter too close to either medics hard at work. His places his hands behind his back and rocks on his heels. "Pardon me, when you have a moment, though I see things are quite busy right now." Knifepoint resists the urge to roll his optics again, still keeping his faceplates totally neutral as he waits for a response from Onslaught. "Just being respectful, sir." He deadpans, glancing over at Hookshot when the glider enters. He offers the other mech a quick wave before turning his focus back to his patient. Quickrazor actually laughs then. "Respectful, my silver aft!" Hookshot watches as some of the fluids flicks off of Knifepoints arm as he offers a quick wave and makes a noise from deep within his vocoder, tapping his foot, counting down for when she will come storming in after him. Or maybe not storming, but, unhappy nonetheless. But is she ever not unhappy? Hookshot smirks to himself and casts a glance over to Quickrazor, waiting patiently. "Medical stasis sounds fine," Onslaught pretty much mutters, and offlines his visor again. Quickrazor continues his work, noting Hookshot's arrival. He hoped that it would't distract Knifepoint too badly. "He's busy, Sparkles, but you can watch. Quietly." Nova Black follows Hookshot, still annoyed with his parting shot to her in the barracks. She's surprised when she realizes exactly where he's headed, and her wings flick with interest. She's been meaning to take Quickrazor up on that invitation to talk if the medbay isn't busy. If the medbay *is* busy, that's also fine -- she's been meaning to see for herself, if she can, just how skilled Quickrazor is. She doesn't personally doubt his ability, since Megatron himself appeared to vouch for it, but the more she knows, the more she'll have to say to those who don't like the side she chose. As she enters, she notices that the medbay is indeed busy -- both Quickrazor and Knifepoint deeply engaged in their work. She moves quietly off to one side, observing. "Actually, Quickrazor, I came to see if those parts were in?" Hookshot says his voice going lighter and tapering off at the end of his sentence. He glances behind himself as his mental countdown reaches zero, and timed it precisely with Nova Black's entrance. He smirks at her before turning his attention back to Quickrazor. Firestorm's expression is set in an unpleased grimace as she enter the medbay a short time after Hookshot and Nova, the femme rolling a shoulder with one hand on it. "Hey doc I..er.." She pauses when looking up to spot the two medics at their busy stations, one even arm deep in a mech. "Uhh.. just need my shoulder looked at when you get a chance." Wings twitch a little as she shift in her spt, giving a sidelong glance to Hookshot, observing the mech before scuttling off to the side with Nova, giving her a respectful nod, "Good cycle, Nova." Knifepoint nods, scooping up the materials on the berth as a drone approaches with a tray. Pulling out the connector cable again, he reaches up to plug into Onslaught's medical access port. "Alright. Lay down and I'll put you under; I'm not too enamored with the idea of trying to move you." He deadpans, motioning for the mech to do instructed. He mostly tunes out the new arrivals, instead flicking through the data he's recieving to ensure the clamps are still holding. Quickrazor watches the door open yet again, and exvents in annoyance...until he sees who it is. He almost drops his screwdriver in shock, and a small grin touches his lips. "Good cycle, Nova. How are you?" Then the door opens /again/, and Quickrazor hears the request and flicks his left winglet. "Stand in line." he says bluntly, answering Hookshot right afterward. "Talk to these slagged up mechs, Sparkles- they lost the shipment." Doing as he is told, Onslaught lays down, resting comfortably. "Please, make sure Vortex doesn't wake up before me." His tone is laced with concern and worry.... but not for the rotary, most likely meant for the medics. Hookshot crosses his arms over his chest as he glances over to the 'clagged up' mechs. "Oh sure, I imagine we'll have a lovely conversation. I just adore speaking with offlined mechs, they are always so much more pleasant that way," he responds facetiously. He raises his shoulders and then lets them sag, looking disappointed. However, he does shoot a knowing glance between Quickrazor and Nova Black. He contemplates asking Soundwave for a copy of the surveillance disks. Finally he turns to Firestorm, bowing his head in greeting and saying "I'm not sure we've met before. I am Hookshot. I'd say 'How do you do,' but I can see you are not in the best of conditions. A bit busy here, but worth the wait. Just ask your friend Nova Black." Nova Black nods to Firestorm. "Good cycle. I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?" She keeps her voice low, not wanting to interrupt Quickrazor and Knifepoint's work. Then Quickrazor greets her, and she winces. So much for inconspicuous. "Hey, Doc," she nods back. "I came because you'd asked me to a while back and I figured I shouldn't keep putting it off. But we can talk sometime later." Quickrazor asks Onslaught somewhat seriously, "Do I need to restrain him?" "Please," Onslaught stresses. Knifepoint cocks an optic ridge, glancing back at Vortex before looking down at Onslaught. "Barring the hydraulic lines, your injuries are almost entirely cosmetic. You should be done long before he is, unless there's some sort of complication. And if you're not, well... Not like /he'd/ know if we kept him out longer." He shrugs, waiting for the conversation to finish so he can go ahead and put the large mech into stasis. Quickrazor shrugs and retrieves a set of medical restraints, attaching them to Vortex and the berth with what looked like practiced skill. Firestorm shrugs her good shoulder to Nova, managing a mild smirk. "I've been alright. Mostly training and on scout duty. Hopefully I'll get back in on the good action soon." Her smirk brightens as she gives two fauz punches into empty space, though teeth clench and she reels to grab her shoulder from the pain. "Erf.. Fraggin' shoulder.." She grumbles softly before glancing back at Hookshot when he adresses her, snorting softly and introducing herself in return, "Name's Firestorm. Eh.. I just tweaked my shoulder is all. Not a big deal." Nova Black grins at Firestorm. "Oh, I know the feeling. I haven't been on nearly enough raids lately myself. Getting twitchy." Quickrazor shakes his head. "Vortex is stable for now...I should deal with...whoever she is...and then I will be free to speak with you. You are always welcome here." Quickrazor finishes the welds on Vortex's much abused plating, then, beginning to buff the rough edges into something not completely horrid-looking. Onslaught gives a heavy sigh, before nodding his helm. "Alright, put me under." Hookshot grins pleasantly at Firestorm. "Firestorm, ah, a pleasure to meet your acquaintence," Hookshot responds in a smooth tone. He glances over at Nova, then back to Quickrazor, then back to Nova again, then finally back to Firestorm. "Indeed, many are getting quite 'twitchy' here abouts. Well, glad it's only a tweaked shoulder and not something more uncomfortable. If I could assist you, I would, but as it is, I am not a medic." "Don't worry, we'll keep your little copter all tied up, promise." Knifepoint says dryly, sending the command to knock Onslaught into stasis before the larger mech can respond to that. He watches the system reports as each section goes down, nodding with satisfaction as everything settles smoothly. He finally turns to look at the newcomers, acknowledging Nova briefly before settling on Firestorm. "You. What'd you do to your shoulder?" He questions, recalling that from the snippets of conversation he actually caught. Firestorm's eyes Hookshot a little wearily as he speaks, but shrugs it off, rolling her shoulder again and giving a repressed grunt from the pain. "Hmf, one way you could help is if you can get me out of grunt duty and back on the field. Dunno if you can do that though." Wings flick up when Knifepoint speaks to her, crimson optics pinpointing on him across the room. "Tweaked something while training. Might have strained it." She had a habit of doing that, the femme sometimes going too far with her attacks. The seeker stands, moving over to the medic to let him have a look. Quickrazor nods. "It looks like he is handling her...and Vortex will not require my attention for at least a couple joor. Nova, would you like to go elsewhere?" "We could do that, if you like, Doc. Or I can come back later. I... had no intention of disrupting your work," Nova Black answers with a slight twitch of her wings. Hookshot crosses his arms over his chest. "I'll pass your desires further up the chain, Firestorm, but I cannot gaurantee anything," Hookshot responds obligingly, but then lets her be so that she may quickly have her should checked out. He steps back, and leers over at Quickrazor. LEEEEERS. Knifepoint isn't quite sure he wants to fully disconnect from Onslaught's systems; he's not reading any leaks but the fraggers can sneak up on mechs. He cocks an optic ridge at the conversation between Quickrazor and Nova, but frankly he doesn't care either way, not when he has a job to do. He runs a careful, intense scan over Firestorm's shoulder, waiting impatiently for the results. Quickrazor shakes his head, locking his gaze upon the femme. "You are not. Even I need a break sometimes...as do you." His wingleys twitch in sympsthetic respibse to hers. "Where would you like to ho?" Quickrazor eyes Hookshot. "What are /you/ looking at, Sparkles?" Hookshot just smiles in respons to Quickrazor's question, shrugging and saying nothing, although his face tells all. After all, it wasn't long ago that they were both furious that he would even suggest anything between them.... and now... Hookshot mentally pats himself on the back for another prediction come true. Firestorm simply waits, letting Knifepoint do his scanning, though she shifts on her feet and looks mildly impatient. The scan eventually finds the problem though, a bit of internal wiring jerked from their respective places, now hanging loose. "See anything?" The femme asks in a flat tone, arching a brow in the doc's direction. Knifepoint frowns as the scan results come back, and he huffs quietly out his vents. "You just yanked out some of your wiring. I can fix it in a few astroseconds." He answers, making a vague indication for her to sit on the edge of the berth, though he's careful not to dislodge the wire connecting him to Onslaught. With his free hand, he reaches into his subspace, pulling out a small wire-splicing kit and a microwelder. Quickrazor glares st Hookshot. "You know nothing, mech." Hookshot raises his optic ridges very briefly before letting them rest above his currently green optics, and continues to say nothing more, and is not convinced that he knows *nothing*. "Anyhow, if the parts aren't here, I have no real reason to linger. Tah-tah for now," Hookshot says as he turns to leave. Quickrazor exvents. "The Autobot forces confiscated the supply train." *What an annoying little /glitch/ of a glider.* he thinks. "Nova...may I meet you at the Tina later this cycle?" Nova Black's engines rumble as she hears Quickrazor mention what happened to the supply train. Primus-damned vermin Autobots. She nods to Quickrazor. "Sure. I'll meet you there." "Figures. Should've never thrown that punch so hard.." Firestorm gruffs, settling on the edge of the berth, wings drooping as the glow of her wing marks turns to a slow pulse. Optics observe Knifepoint's procedure with a bit of interest, al curious why he's hooked up like that. But the conversation of the other drives her gaze their way. "Bots did this?" She snorts and motions to the two on the medical tables. "Looks like they're starting to get some bearings." Hookshot pauses in the doorway, "Those pesky Autobots," he comments casually, and then resumes his exit, the doors hissing shut behind him, noting to himself to be at the Tina later this cycle before he has to leave. Thundercracker comes clomping into the repair campus, one hand clamped over the other forearm with an occasional drop of energon falling to the floor. The moment he's in the area though, he realizes the place is BUSY and slows to a stop. Maybe he should have just swiped some of those pieces of nanite tape like he originally wanted to do. Nova Black notices Thundercracker coming in, dripping energon, and decides it's as good a time as any to stop taking up space. She has what she was looking for anyway. With a nod to the room, she takes her leave. Knifepoint tunes out the conversation as he closely examines Firestorm's shoulder, optics narrowing as he opens the kit, pulling out a few short wires and setting to work. Reaching into the joint, he strips the ends of the dislodged wires, careful not to let the wires brush or arc. The work is slow going, given that he doesn't have the built-in tools most medics do, but it's effective, and he starts to splice in one of the replacement wires. Firestorm watches the others leave and grunts softly, relaxing while Knifepoint gets to work. "Why exactly are you hooked up to him like that, doc?" Her curious expression turns his way, optics glancing every now and then to follow the lines to the other end on the conked out mech. Somesort of life support? She never did understand medical stuff. Thundercracker's entrance forces her attention to him a moment though, the sight of dripping energon making her smirk a bit as she asks smoothly, "What happened to you?" "System monitoring. Easier than putting him out and hooking him up to a secondary machine." Knifepoint answers distractedly, connecting the second side of the wire and ensuring it was steady before pulling back. Firestorm's question makes him look up, then follow her gaze, and he huffs out his vents again. "Give me a few astroseconds to finish this up and I'll get to you too." He says, shifting his focus back to splicing the wires together. Thundercracker looks at Knifepoint, silently wondering the exact same thing that Firestorm asked, but then getting his attention drawn to the smirking Decepticon. He looks down at his arm then takes a step or two backwards. "Um, nothing. Nevermind. I'll just .... come back later." Firestorm's shoulder twitches when one of the wires is spliced back together, her lips straightening into a thin line, looking somewhat irritated at the small spasm. "Better to wait here than bleed out in another room. He'll be done in a second." She rolls her optics slightly at Thundercracker, wondering what has the mech so sure to leave. Knifepoint makes an annoyed noise, not looking away from his work as he works on the last wire. "Look, I'll be done in just an astrosecond, and this guy's stable." He says flatly, narrowing his optics and zooming in slightly on the wires. Frag this was annoying work... He'd never been fond of circuitry. Regardless, he finishes up quickly enough, pulling back and pulling a roll of insulating tape out of his subspace. He deftly wraps pieces around the new connections, making sure to cover all the metal, and nods in satisfaction. "There." Firestorm rolls her shoulder once everything is patched up, the femme standing from the berth to shift both shoulders. She extends her arms a few times and gives a few short jabs with a fist to the open air. A satified smirk concludes her test, Firestorm giving a nod to Knifepoint, "Thanks, doc. Feeling a lot better now." Thundercracker hesitates as he looks from Knifepoint to Firestorm and then finally relents, staying where he is to wait. It's not like he's about to die, over here. It's just an annoying stupid little wound even if nothing he tried would get it to stop dripping energon. Knifepoint nods, wings twitching slightly as he watches Firestorm test the repairs. "Don't press yourself too hard, the connections aren't fully solid yet, and I don't want to redo that." He warns, checking Onslaught's systems to ensure his hydraulic systems remain stable before turning to Thundercracker. "Alright, what'd you do?" He asks, motioning for the mech to come over to him so he can examine the wound. Firestorm nods, "Noted. You two have fun." She smirks toothily before giving a flick of her wings, pulsing marks turning back to a solid glow. "Gonna go grab a drink if you need me." And with that she saunters out of medbay, off to drink after a long cycle. Thundercracker steps over to Knifepoint with his hand still covering the wound. "I didn't do anything. 'Warp got it in his stupid head to try and ... well, he was just doing his usual stupidity." "Somehow I'm not surprised." Knifepoint deadpans, holding out the hand not connected to Onslaught for Thundercracker to place his arm on even as he runs a scan over the other seeker. "I'm amazed that mech's still alive. We should start charging him for the parts we have to use repairing his stupidity... Especially if the Autoslag are going to start raiding our supply convoys." He mutters, glancing at Onslaught momentarily. And yet again, those automated doors part and once again the streamlined form of Hookshot can be seen ambling towards the main bay. And yet, once again, his Decepticon sigil is nowhere to be seen on his chassis. Although pretty much the same paintjob as prior, there are a few stylistic etchings here or there. They may mean something, on the other hand, they might just be there to look pretty. They are faint, however, and only noticeable when they catch the light just right. Hookshot comes to a pause as he finds a clean and sturdy surface to lean against, watching the goings-on of the medbay. Thundercracker sets his arm on Knifepoint's hand, still covering the injury. He pulls his hand away a bit reluctantly to reveal a small but decisive gash in the plating on his arm, the delicate circuits and wires underneath pretty much intact as it seems the energon line there took the brunt of the damage. Knifepoint cocks an optic ridge at the wound, picking up one of the smaller, unused clamps from earlier and starting to seal off the energon line. "What the slag did he hit you with?" He asks, though the question is mostly rhetorical, and he glances around for something to wipe the energon off with. No reason for him to do this blind, after all. He spots Hookshot and shrugs minutely, figuring he worked as well as the drones. "Hey, Hookshot- grab me a cleaning rag." He calls out. Hookshot raises his optic ridges in seeming shock. He stares dumbly at Knifepoint and somewhat disgusted. Asking him to grab a rag? After this initial look of disdain Hookshot shrugs and glances around until he spots where they are placed. He grabs two, just in case, and walks over to Knifepoint handing him one. "Here you are, Pointy." "Uh..." Thundercracker hesitates, then admits perhaps a bit sullenly, "A knife. He was throwing them to practice shooting them out of the air." Knifepoint takes the rag from Hookshot with a nod of thanks, wiping away the energon from around the wound to get a better look now that it's not leaking as heavily. He stops at Thundercracker's explanation, looking up at the other mech in disbelief. "/What?/ Why in the name of Primus would he ever need to-" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "I wish I could say that level of stupidity would be unprecedented, but honestly, at this point, it's not." He mutters, turning his attention back to the stab wound. Thundercracker winces as Knifepoint wipes energon from the cut on his arm but otherwise doesn't move. "Well, that's 'Warp for you." Hookshot silently watches Knifepoint at work, his green optics shifting from patient to doctor, a taughtness about his cheeks that suggest a restrained smirk and giggle. "Indeed," he manages to say, and amusement is clear in his tone. "Ah, Primus help me, how I envy you having such an /interesting/ trinemate." He holds on to the second rag, hoping that Knifepoint doesn't hand the dirty one back to him. Knifepoint seems satisfied with the clean up job for now, and, instead of handing the rag back to Hookshot, he drops it on a luckless drone that happens to be passing by. Ignoring the way it squawks in surprise and annoyance, he picks up another small clamp, sealing off the leak from the opposite side as well. He examines the cleaned wound carefully- there doesn't appear to be any damage to the circuitry, just the energon line and the plating. "Alright, two choices. I can just slap some nanite tape on there, and it should heal up easily enough but not be quite as sound, or I can remove and replace the entire segment of tubing, which will take a slagging lot longer but will hold up better. You pick." Thundercracker looks at Hookshot and makes a face. "You want him for a week? I'll bet that could be arranged." He turns back when Knifepoint mentions options and squints at the now-exposed cut, considering the options. "I don't wanna make you have to do all that work right now." His optics stray to that line still tethering Knifepoint to the other mech. "So the nanite tape is fine." Hookshot smirks at the hapless drone and then glances back at the two. He was sure he had better things to do than play drone to Knifepoint, but as he expects Knifepoint not to interfere or impede his function, he won't distract Knifepoint from his. He does, however, hand Knifepoint the other clean rag in case he wants to wipe off at least the fresh energon from his hands. "Mmmmm no, I don't want him for a week. I was merely being facetious. Besides, black and purple? Passe! And his antics would get in the way of accounting." Thundercracker looks at Hookshot askance and just hmphs faintly. 'Warp, get 'in the way' of accounting? UNDERSTATEMENT! "Fine. But I am gonna tell him to practice with the knives somewhere else next time." Hookshot crosses his arms over his chest, puffing it out somewhat. "Is there something WRONG with accountants?" He then smiles, the facade of indignance dropped. "I am whatever I want to be when it strikes my fancy. I just can't settle on just one career when there are so many things to try. It's amazing what you learn about any organization, or even an individual, but where they put their credits." There is a brief pause before Hookshot has anything to say about Skywarp. "And they say my processor is glitched. Ah..... on a side note, I do have some experience throwing knives." Thundercracker looks at Hookshot again. "You do? You ought to offer to throw them for him. And then throw them AT him." He grins evilly at the thought of 'Warp becoming a pincushion. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with accountants. I didn't know you were one." Knifepoint deadpans, twisting the last layer of tape over the tubing and checking it thoroughly. "There- that should hold for now." He pauses at Thundercracker's comment, snickering. "Only if you don't make me deal with it. Though..." He glances over at Vortex. "We DO have restraints. I could always just use those." He shrugs, motioning the abused drone over. "Hey. Get me some more replacement plating so I can fix him up." The drone chirrs quietly, sounding almost annoyed, and hurries off to do as asked. Hookshot brings up a hand, which he quickly checks to make sure he didn't accidentally touch anything 'icky', and strokes his chin in thought, a faint smile forming. As his optics glance into the distance, the smile grows broader and broader, until he gives a little jerk of his head. "Amusing as it may be in theory, in practice I imagine I would get shot for doing that. I do not particularily look my best when I get shot, and I do like to look my best." He smiles and glances over aot Knifepoint. "Dearest, with my expensive tastes, is it not surprising I would plant myself in the middle of the ebb and flow of credits? Not that I would EVER embezzle funds from the Empire. But it is nice to make believe it is all mine." He adds a whistful sigh to the end. Thundercracker looks from Knifepoint to Hookshot and back, not really understanding the whole accounting thing and a bit hesitant to speak up and prove his ignorance. So he just looks at the taped energon line and watches the drone go to select some plating. Knifepoint snickers, watching the drone as well. "Well, darling, I'm sure you'll be that rich one day." He drawls, not looking at Hookshot as the drone returns with a small panel of seeker plating. Pulling out a small welder and resting it on his impromptu table (also known as Onslaught to some), he takes it from the drone and presses it against Thundercracker's arm. It's a bit larger than needed, but it fits the cut easily either way, and without warning the other mech he starts to weld it in place. Thundercracker has been a bit baffled by the conversation between the other two, so is startled by the sudden start of the welding being done on his forearm. He somehow (barely) manages to NOT flinch and try to pull his arm out of Knifepoint's grasp. "Geez. Warn me next time." Quickrazor stalks back into his medbay, a little smile evident on his faceplates. "Status." he virtually barks "Indeed, I shall..." Hookshot says, narrowing his optics for a moment or two. Yes. He will be rich... again. It will just take some time to recover all that he lost so long ago. He glances over when Quickrazor returns smiling, and greets it with a smirk and a leer of his own. Quickrazor snorts. "Sparkles, your prurient interest shall be the death of you one day." Thundercracker looks over his shoulder toward Quickrazor as best he can without moving his arm and risking making Knifepoint mess up the welding job, frowning slightly at the moniker 'Sparkles'. "The smeg?" he mutters to himself, though it's likely more than loud enough for the medic repairing his arm to hear. Knifepoint shrugs slightly at Thundercracker's request, not looking up as he hears Quickrazor's voice. "Doing just fine without you, sir. Fixed Firestorm's shoulder already; I'm almost done here, and then I'll get to work replacing Onslaught's wreck hydraulics." He reports dully, not responding to Thundercracker's comment on warning him, or the confused curse. Hookshot is not at all abashed by this observation of Quickrazors. "That may very well be. Death comes to us all, and if that's the way I go, WELL..." he trails off grinning with an even more lascivious expression. "Heh heh..." Hookshot places his hands on his hips. He then glances back at Knifepoint. "My, my, dearest, you do work hard. I was hoping you and I could have some alone time soon." Quickrazor nods in satisfaction. "Well done, Knifepoint. Why are you still uplinked to Onslaught, though? Has he been that unstable as to require direct monitoring?" Knifepoint resists the urge to roll his optics at Quickrazor's question, focusing on finishing the welding before responding. "I didn't get a chance to disconnect yet. There seems to be quite a few minor injuries in Polyhex today." He answers dryly, examining his work before straightening. "Aaaand done. Try not to be anywhere Skywarp when he has knives in the future." He 'advises' Thundercracker, glancing over at Hookshot with a smirk. "Sorry, darling. Duty is, sadly, more pressing." Hookshot crosses his arms over his chest and wears a pouty expression that is quite out of place with the angular and narrow structure of his face. "Of course. Duty ALWAYS comes first," Hookshot repeats sulkily as he moves away from Knifepoint, giving him only a view of his wingladen backside. "Guess I will just have to leave without saying goodbye." Skywarp clomps in. "TC, where are you? Seriously, how long does it take to get a little paint scratched fixed?" Quickrazor snorts. "Are you implying something, Knifepoint? /Out/ with it." Thundercracker looks at the completed repairs on his arm, then nods his thanks to Knifepoint, honestly getting a little weirded out by the conversation going on around and wanting to just get away. He takes two steps away from the medic and THAT'S when Skywarp shows up. Sighing air out through his vents, he walks toward his trine brother. "It wasn't just a scratch, 'Warp, and you know it." Knifepoint looks at Quickrazor oddly even as he makes a rude gesture at Skywarp. "I was implying Firestorm ripped wires loose and Skywarp shouldn't be allowed anywhere near knives." He says slowly, not entirely sure what the CMO is going for. Then he looks over at Hookshot's back, putting his own fake pout on. "Aw, darling, don't be like that." He says with a sigh of his vents, looking suitably dejected. "I'll make it up to you, promise!" Skywarp makes a face at Knifepoint and crosses his arms. "Yeah, well, why were you walking where I was throwing knives anyway?" Decepticons do not Apologize. Quickrazor exvents a gigantic sigh. He's feeling charitable. "Two joor. Now. Out of my medbay, you two." His expression is entirely odd and almost unreadable. Thundercracker replies to Skywarp, even though he thinks the teleporter's comment was aimed at Knifepoint. "You were throwing smegging knives in the HALLWAY, 'Warp!" "Well, I was there first. So it's really like it was a shooting range. Only for knives. Anyway, are you fixed?" That's ... actually sort of like an apology. For Skywarp. He leans over to look at TC's arm. Hookshot remains with his back turned to Knifepoint, using the unholy powers of SILENT SULK! That is until Quickrazor barks. He raises his optic ridges questioningly, mouthing the words 'who me?' at Quickrazor, also pointing to himself in case the medic is not an apt lip-reader. He doesn't really wait for a response, he doesn't need to, looking Quickrazo in the face tells him enough. Pivoting on his heel, he steps out of the bay, arms still crossed and nose up in the air. Quickrazor watches Hookshot leave and points at Knifepoint. "He's waiting. Report back after your...break." Thundercracker scowls at Skywarp, his hand moving to cover the just-repaired patch on his forearm without his realizing it. "Yeah I'm repaired, no smegging thanks to you, afthat." He's SO tempted to go tattle on 'Warp to Starscream, but knows that that'll just backfire on him anyway, so why bother? He starts toward the exit again, brushing roughly past Skywarp as he goes. Skywarp pivots on his heel to follow TC. "Aw, c'mon TC, it's not like your arm came off or anything, and they fixed it, right?" Knifepoint moves to disconnect himself from Onslaught, pulling the cable out and retracting it back into his wrist. He starts setting up the system monitors when Quickrazor's voice distracts him, and he glances over at the CMO with confusion. "Wait, what? I still have six joors left on-shift." After a few moments he shrugs, finishing the monitor setup and stepping away from Onslaught's berth. "Whatever you say. See you in two joors then, sir." He makes for the door after the other two seekers, fully intent on heading straight to the washracks to get the energon and hydraulic fluid off him. Hookshot taps his upper arm as he continues to stand with his arms crossed. However, when he sees Knifepoint leaving, he falls in step beside him, shrugging and chuckling about something. When they seem to be out of audio shot, he says briefly, "I'll be taking a vacation elsewhere... for my... ah, health, shall we say. Try not to kill the CMO while I'm gone." Quickrazor proceeds to clean up the medbay to.his rather obsessive standards. Knifepoint cocks an optic ridge, looking at Hookshot oddly for a moment before smirking. "Whatever makes you think I would kill our dearest CMO?" He asks, managing to fake a hurt tone at the 'accusation', in spite of his smirk never faltering. Laughin quietly himself, he actually starts watching where he's walking. "I won't. I can be a /very/ patient mech when I want something, Hookshot." "Shut up, 'Warp. And leave me alone." Thundercracker clomps toward the exit, as sullen and sour as he can possibly fake convincingly. He's really not THAT angry, but he takes every opportunity he can to shove consequences into his trine brother's face. Skywarp whines. "But I left you alone before and you walked into the middle of my throwing knife practice. C'mon TC, don't be mad, it was a slagging accident. Let's go get some rust sticks. You like rust sticks!" Hookshot shares a smirk with Knifepoint as they walk and talk QUIETLY. "I would imagine so. Well, I've spent enough time already just to give you forwarning. I need to finish my preparations and leave in a timely manner. I had prepared a long farewell speech to recite in front of people to their abhorrance, but, well.... I decided to forgo that step." Thundercracker just grumbles sullenly at Skywarp's attempt to make amends. Can't let him off the hook YET. He does slow down, though. Just a little. Quickrazor calls out, "Thundercracker. Did Knifepoint do a general scan for combat readiness?" Knifepoint snorts quietly, flexing his left hand. Ugh, he could feel the hydraulic fluid seeping into his joints. "Not exactly like you." He comments, voice mild and disinterested in spite of his curiosity. Hookshot wasn't exactly one to forgo dramatics when they were available. "Aw, so I /am/ special? How sweet." He snickers to himself, keeping his voice in the 'cooing airhead' tone for the whole sentence. "And energon goodies. I've got goodies too!" Skywarp offers. Hookshot shrugs nonchalantly. "It was a very LONG speech, and the cycle has not been obeying the schedule I laid out for it. So I must now depart." He nods his head and gives a very small wave, most of the motion at his fingers rather than his wrist, and starts to speed-walk away. Thundercracker stops and turns to look at Quickrazor, ignoring Skywarp's continued attempts to make amends once again. Give him one more chance to sweeten the apology, and THEN he'll start to 'forgive' the teleporter. "Uh... don't know, sir." "Teeeeeeeceeeeeeeeeeeeeee! What do you want, energon gummis? I can find some, maybe?" Skywarp manages an utterly ear piercing whine worthy of their trineleader. Knifepoint watches Hookshot go with raised optic ridges and a distinct feeling of confusion, but he shrugs both off easily enough. He glances down at his fluid-coated hands, curling and uncurling his fingers, and makes a face. "Ugh. That feels disgusting." Looking back up, he makes his way straight to the washracks, hands twitching and flexing the entire time. Thundercracker can't NOT react to that tone in Skywarp's voice. He cringes, his shoulders hunching and his wings pulling in before he turns to look at the teleporter. "All right, 'Warp, all right. So long as you QUIT trying to imitate Screamer. Smeg." Skywarp grins smugly. "Deal. But not ALL my rust sticks." Thundercracker waves a hand at Skywarp. "Yeah, yeah. Fine." He looks at Quickrazor again, to make sure he's okay to leave before departing. Don't want it said that he ran out on the repair staff. That's 'Warp's job. Quickrazor nods distractedly. "Go ahead, unless you want to help me clean this disaster area up. I'll never get to recharge at this rate. Seekers." At the last, he grins to himself. "Slag no, not like I made that mess. Besides, that's what you got drones for, right?" Skywarp says, edging closer to the door as if worried he may be put to work at any moment.... Quickrazor stops and thinks for a moment. "One thing. If I were to wish to procure a gift for a...friend, where is the best place im Polyhex?" Thundercracker looks ready to bolt, but looking around at the mess in the repair area, he feels bad just leaving, knowing he contributed to it... if indirectly. Of course, it just wouldn't do for him to admit to that openly, so he goes for a sneer worthy of Starscream. "Try Megatron's quarters. I dare you." Then he looks at Skywarp and tilts his head, indicating it's time for them to leave. Skywarp shrugs. "No clue. Pretty good rust sticks, wherever you got those, though." He follows TC. Quickrazor's systems stutter. Lord Megatron's -quarters-? She wouldn't want anything from /there/...at least, he hoped to Pit not. The rust sticks he thought he'd try, though. He ignores TC's obviously facetious comment and says "I will try that, Skywarp." Skywarp looks surprised, although he's mostly turned away from Quickrazor and it's mostly visible in the slight flick of his wings.
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