- Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
- Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
With Razr still curled up in his arms, Smokescreen had followed Axle during their silent trip from the Guardian all the way to the door of Wheeljack’s lab on the Ark-22. Once they had finally arrived at their destination, the field medic abruptly stopped and spun around, placing his outstretched hand on the rallybot’s shoulder. The question posed to the red and blue racer was one he had expected to be asked eventually, either by Axle or Wheeljack. Of course, the answer was a resounding “yes”, but Smokey never had a chance to say it before the black and green mech turned back around and entered the security code, granting them access to the lab.
Smokescreen simply smiled as Axle conceded that he already knew the answer to his own question before crossing the threshold and making his way towards the back room where Tracer still lay motionless on a berth. The diversion expert followed as he gently rubbed the top of the turbofox’s head with his actuators. Once the field medic had regarded the inventor with a curt nod and moved on to examine Tracer’s newly repaired optics, the rallybot approached the scientist and gave a friendly nod of his own. “Hey, ‘Jack, sorry I disappeared on you guys earlier. I had to retrieve Tracer’s little pet here,” Smokey apologized as he glanced down at Razr before returning his full attention to his friend.
“Ah, it’s okay, Smokey,” Wheeljack responded with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “We just don’t want you to overdo it, that’s all. You’ve been through a lot and have a whole new body to show for it. It’ll take time to acclimate yourself to a different frame even though it’s very similar to your old one. Not to mention your trinity organs need time to adjust, as well.”
“Yeah, I get what you're saying, ‘Jack. You did a real good job on my new body, by the way. I haven’t transformed yet to see my updated alt mode, but I’m sure it’ll fit my personality just fine.”
“Oh, it will, Smokes. Just don’t try transforming yet. Let your T-cog settle in to its new home for a while. Maybe another couple of cycles and you’ll be good to go.”
“No problem,” Smokescreen replied, rocking Razr gently in order to keep the little guy calm. “I doubt I’ll get out much right now to use it, anyway.” The rallybot paused and glanced over towards the back room where Axle was still examining Tracer. From the former street racer’s vantage point, he could see that the troubled femme was beginning to somewhat move around, a good sign that the aforementioned paralysis was starting to wear off. “So, ‘Jack, did you have any trouble fixing her optics?” Smokey asked as he returned his gaze to the inventor.
“It went okay,” Wheeljack responded with a deep sigh. “I don’t know if you’ve been told, but unfortunately Tracer was conscious throughout the entire procedure. Pain meds were out of the question so she felt everything I did to her. I tried to be as gentle as possible with her, but I'm sure it wasn't enough. Thankfully, I think I was successful in restoring all of the burnt out internal connections, and I also replaced both of her outer lenses. Plus, I used some Corrostop to try and get rid of those scorch marks from around her orbital sockets. I did a pretty good job, but some of the melted areas will need further restoration. Still, she looks way better than she did when you disappeared.”
“I understand. I’m sure you did your best,” Smokescreen said with a grateful smile. “And I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. There was no other choice considering the Syk could have reacted badly with any painkillers Axle might have given her. She needs to see, after all, so there was no avoiding what had to be done. Besides, if anyone is to blame for her current agonizing state, it’s that slagger, Oil Slick. He’s the bad guy here, not you, ‘Jack.”
“Thanks, Smokey. I appreciate that.”
It was then that Axle returned to the main lab area and told Smokescreen that the troubled femme was asking to see him. The diversion expert quietly nodded and moved away from his two comrades, walking into the back room where he found Tracer lying on the cold metallic slab. She was clearly in a lot of pain, but hopefully that would soon pass, allowing her to return to a more normal existence. At least, that is, until she needed her next dose of Syk.
Peering down at Tracer, Smokescreen cast her a warm smile and ever so gently took her hand into his own while still holding on to Razr with his other arm. “Hey there, sweetspark,” the rallybot spoke softly in a loving tone. “Look who I found.” Smokey loosened his grip on the turbofox, allowing the little guy the option to jump down and cuddle up beside his master once again. Whether her pet did so or not, hopefully Razr’s presence would help ease the drug-addicted femme’s suffering, if only a little bit.