Drift (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sword_redemption) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-06-29 04:08 pm
sword_redemption) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-06-29 04:08 pm
Entry tags:
The ferocious medic stalks his prey....
Who: IDW!Drift and Prime!Ratchet
Where: In the Junkpile. The lonely, angsty Junkpile
What: A real medicberates checks over Drift
When: Post this , thanks tolike_a_bossbot for the teensy threadjack
Warnings: Drift's an idiot.
It would be nice to know, at least, if he wasn't contagious. Then, at least, he could stop worrying about Wing. Though, if Drift were being completely honest with himself, he wasn't looking forward to a visit from Ratchet.
Sure, this wasn't his Ratchet, but they were similar in a lot of ways. Especially the gruff, pushy, slightly scary ways.
Ratchet needed to lighten up. Positive energy! That's what they needed.
He could use that advice himself. Right. Positive energy. Optimism. He's got this.
He..hopes he continues to 'got this' as he waits for the other's arrival.
There's no use running from Ratchets. He's learned that much.
Where: In the Junkpile. The lonely, angsty Junkpile
What: A real medic
When: Post this , thanks to
like_a_bossbot for the teensy threadjackWarnings: Drift's an idiot.
It would be nice to know, at least, if he wasn't contagious. Then, at least, he could stop worrying about Wing. Though, if Drift were being completely honest with himself, he wasn't looking forward to a visit from Ratchet.
Sure, this wasn't his Ratchet, but they were similar in a lot of ways. Especially the gruff, pushy, slightly scary ways.
Ratchet needed to lighten up. Positive energy! That's what they needed.
He could use that advice himself. Right. Positive energy. Optimism. He's got this.
He..hopes he continues to 'got this' as he waits for the other's arrival.
There's no use running from Ratchets. He's learned that much.
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preypatients and making them accept treatment.Which is why it doesn't take very long at all for Ratchet to show up at the coordinates that Drift had provided. There's a bit of a dark cloud over his head, although he's reining in his bad mood for the moment, hoping that Drift is not going to be as hard to care for as certain other bots... and given that there is, in fact, a mech standing at the location provided, Ratchet has high hopes.
"Drift?"
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Right. Positive energy. Positive energy.
You're not going to die You're just going to...wander the Junk Pile forever. Alone. Until you become the kind of legend people use to scare the superstitious. It could be worse, right?
Wow, no, that sounded pretty bad.
As Ratchet rolls up, Drift takes a step back, hands out in warning, pointing to a puddle of where he'd been standing. "Please. Be careful."
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Indeed, the liquid in that puddle appears to be rust-red and, coincidentally, very similar in shade to the liquid dripping from Drift's optics.
Still, he shakes off any minimal discomfort he might feel (zombies are much more disgusting than this, and Ratchet's rumbled with an army of them) and comes closer.
"Let me worry about myself, soldier. Right now, the priority is your health."
He's within Drift's personal space now, medical scanner glowing blue as it zips up and down the Autobot's form. The readings that Ratchet is getting are... extremely odd.
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"Vector said he'd stopped it from getting worse. But he couldn't heal it."
He flinches as Ratchet approaches with his scanner and then holds himself rigidly still, afraid that if he moves too much, he might spatter his grossness on Ratchet.
"But if something happens to you, Ratchet...," He's trying to talk reason. Drift's a front-liner. There are hundreds--thousands--of his kind out there. And it's easy to fight and die. It's harder to heal. Ratchet, by any estimation, is more valuable than one mech with more swords than hands.
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"Anything could happen to me. That's not my choice." His eyes blaze as he looks Drift in the face. "What I do with my time here, though, that is. And I'll be damned if I let any comrade of mine liquefy to death."
Because Ratchet doesn't care that there are hundreds or thousands of Cybertronians out there. Each and every one of them is a unique individual, and the loss of even one is a failure on his part.
There's sheer contrariness in his expression as he pulls a swab-like appliance from his wrist and takes a sample of the rusty fluid on Drift's skin. Trying to get him to go away only ever makes him hold on tighter.
"Now tell me what this Vector said about your condition so that I have somewhere to continue his work from."
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Wow. You're so like his Ratchet it's even scarier that just being Ratchet is kind of scary.
He twitches from the swab. But no. Ratchet said he'd be careful. He had to trust the medic knew what he was doing.
"Vector said he'd never seen it. But his kind were immune. And the best he could do was stop it advancing."
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As Ratchet speaks, he slots the swab into another device, like a lock into a key, while quietly thanking Primus that he carries his emergency kit with him at all times. If he'd come through the Lambda without his tools, he'd have been useless... or at least, be putting himself into much more risk than he is currently. He glances up in surprise when he realizes who "Vector" is.
"Ah. So you meant Vector as in one of the Firstforged, not a mech from home?"
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"Yes. Sorry. Vector Prime. He can control time. At least that much."
He frowns, looking at the back of Ratchet's scanner, trying to think of anything else helpful. "They were saying it might be engineered. A biological weapon."
Is that helpful? He doesn't know. His job is to slice mechs up.
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Luckily, Ratchet's scanner takes that moment to ping, an overly cheerful sound, given the circumstances. Still, the lights that are popping up on its face -- mostly yellow with some flecks of green and red tossed in -- seem to calm Ratchet a bit.
"Well, it looks like Sir Vector managed to do more than just slow the disease. My scanner indicates that, while it's still going to be affecting your systems to an extent, your infection is not contagious anymore, even if it was to begin with."
What he doesn't say out loud is that his little scanner isn't nearly advanced enough to detect any hints of genetic engineering, so he's going to be using this sample to investigate further later. In the meanwhile, he reaches out to give Drift's shoulder a (hopefully) comforting squeeze.
"Looks like your self-imposed quarantine can end now, Drift."
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Like Jhiaxus and his combiner experiments.
He cranes to try to see the readout--one of those reflexive curiosity things, even though he has no idea how to red it, or what all the colored lights mean.
His shoulders loosen, with two sharp, pneumatic hisses, at the news, his optics closing briefly. He's not contagious. He couldn't pass it to Wing. Or anyone.
"Oh thank Primus," he breathes.
He doesn't care about the symptoms, himself. That doesn't matter.
Oh. Frag. And..., "thank you, Ratchet."
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His eyes narrow. "And don't think this means we're done here. You might not be contagious, but you're still sick, and until I can come up with a proper plan of action fixing that, I'm going to need to see you regularly."
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"What matters is that everyone else is safe." Namely Wing. But anyone else who might have stumbled across the trail of liquid rust he's left crisscrossing the junkpile.
"Pharma's working on it. He seems pretty sure he can make a cure." Or, well, Pharma's trying. As well as you can do science without hands.
Which is also his dodge: see? You don't need to be bothered with Drifts again. He'll be fiiiiiiine.
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"And I don't know this 'Pharma', but why don't you introduce the two of us?After all, two processors are better than one when it comes to things like this."
Calling your bluff, Drift, although his thinking is that Pharma might not exist rather than that Pharma has no hands.
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"Kind of hard to run a war and keep everyone safe, though."
"Pharma's from my world. In charge of a medical facility on Delphi. We were going to investigate when we...when I got this." He holds up his hand. "The whole station was infected."
He looks a little guilty. "We went there to help. Not to become problems."
It didn't work out that way.
"Pharma's with Liege Maximo, in his haven palace thing. He has a lab."
See? Everything's taken care of.
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Ratchet listens and nods at appropriate places.
"Hmm, well. I'll go meet him, then, and see what we can do."
The idea of a lab does intrigue Ratchet. Solus is a wonderful femme, but even if her forge were open to others to use, he's not nearly big enough to make it work.
"And don't feel guilty. Sometimes good intentions just lead to troubles." He sighs. This has obviously been a problem for him before
*cough*roidrageenergon*cough*no subject
"He needs the help. And the, uh, the hands."
Drift looks a little grossed out. "He lost his. Apparently. And he doesn't trust me in his lab."
He sighs.
"I know. I just don't like being an extra burden on those we went to help. It's worse than failing."
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"He lost his hands, and you're standing here, telling me with a straight face that by his efforts alone, this disease is going to be cured."
Drift, if you weren't so ill, Ratchet would have already beat you with a wrench several times over. As it is, he's extremely unimpressed.
"I need you to get this into your head, mech. No matter what the circumstances were where you came from, if you feel like you're in need of medical help at all, no matter how inconsequential it may be, you come to me. I will never be too busy and you will never be a burden."
Ratchet's hands have clenched into fists at his sides unconsciously from the fury of his emotion. He wants, no, needs you to take this to heart, Drift.
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"He, uh, he lets me help. Sometimes." Except when he kicks Drift out and Drift wanders the Junk Pile, 4ever alone. "And Liege loaned him an Acolyte."
The wrench-smacking might actually be called for at some point. Ask Wing how he finally got through to Drift.
He twitches, because, well, Ratchet sounds pretty angry.
"I will. But...where are you? I mean. You don't normally haunt the Junk Pile, do you?" Because he's looking around and he doesn't see a MARB.
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"Mmhm." Ratchet sets his jaw and crosses his (still fisted) hands over his chest. "I'm staying in Solus's Temple at the moment. It's quiet and safe, and she's been quite accommodating. You could probably move in with your own FirstForged, if you chose." He pauses, then scratches his head. "Alternately, I suppose you could even come to the Temple. I know I'd like to keep a better eye on you..."
The hope is that by giving Drift a more distasteful choice (aka: moving in with his medic), Ratchet can get him to at least agree to live somewhere with four walls and a roof.
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Wow, Ratchet, there's a tempting choice. Move in with you and a
probably crazyfemale or...something else.He'll take option B. Besides, he doesn't really do 'quiet and safe'.
"...I think maybe Pharma needs me."
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Yes always"Right. Your handless medic friend."
Ratchet hums thoughfully, suppressing a smug grin in favour of continuing to look serious and professional.
"Well!" He straightens, claps his hands together. "That sounds like an adequate arrangement for the time being!"
There's a bit of fang to his grin as he claps Drift on the shoulder, but it's not aggressive as much as it is a tiny reminder of a threat as he says, "I'll work on the sample I took to see if I can figure out a cure, but for now, I think we're done here."
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Why does that smile seem scarier than if Ratchet had frowned? It's like Ratchet's emotion settings are just a little bit off.
He nods, flinching, expecting the hand on his shoulder to squeeze harder. "I really appreciate it, Ratchet." Despite the fact you scare the slag out of him.
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Ratchet's emotional settings are fine-tuned in such a way as to inspire as much fear-of-the-medic (and cooperation) in his patients as possible. And he's had a lot of time to practice. His goodbye nod is similarly gentle in a vaguely terrifying way.
"Not a problem, Drift." He lets go of the other mech and steps back. "It was good to meet you."
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"So he can refuel himself. Without, you know, well...he didn't like me having to feed him."
You can imagine, if you've met Pharma, how fun that's been.