It seemed right, but how could it be? She had never met this mech before yet he was familiar. She remembered the time in the bar, but he said that was their second meeting. When did they first meet? It was all so confusing, but she found it difficult to mistrust him…this Smokescreen.
Tracer kept her optics locked with Smokescreen
’s as the diversion expert tried again to convince her that she was, in fact, not in the asylum but that they were all on board some sort of space ship in the Sol System. It couldn’t have been true. There was no war…sure there was talk about it…rumors even, but there was no war. There was just the asylum and the endless “treatment sessions”. Tracer shook her head in rejection. “No. There’re only rumors about a war starting. I heard the orderlies talking…they say it won’t happen."
The blue and white femme quickly looked away and cast her optics to the floor. Again she shook her head. She then slowly took another look at both Wheeljack and Axle. They were still an orderly and Compulsor. “No. He’s the one who ordered the therapy…" She pointed an accusing finger in Axle’s direction and then quickly pointed to Wheeljack. "…and he’s the one that comes for me every day." Her attention snapped back to Smokescreen while squeezing his hand. “Please. Tell me you’ve come to get me out of here."
Axle let out a heavy sigh as he listened to Tracer’s reaction. He knew it was premature to believe that one story would bring her out of a drug induced hallucination. It seemed that it would have to run its course. Now, whether or not that would be a wise decision remained to be seen. One good sign, however, was that the scout was no longer struggling and fighting to escape. She seemed to have calmed down and quickly came to trust Smokescreen. Big tick.
After a few minutes of observation Axle leaned down again and whispered into Smokescreen
’s audio. “We’re going to have to let the hallucinogen run its course. The good thing…she trusts you and she seems calmer. Keep her talking. Maybe something will jar her memory."
He took a quick glance at the femme and gave her a small warm smile…it didn’t seem to go over well as Tracer flinched back sending the field medic a deep scowl. “I’d prefer not to tranquilize her if it can be avoided."
The black and green mech pulled away from the red and blue ‘Bot and stepped over to where Wheeljack was waiting. Tracer followed every movement "Compulsor
" made making sure that he remained in her line of sight at all times. When he stopped next to the mech she was introduced to as “Wheeljack” she carefully slid off the makeshift berth and worked her way behind Smokescreen. “They’re going to stick me in the quiet room aren’t they?"
>>"Axle! I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but I need your aft in here now!"<<
Axle had just opened his mouth to address the scientist when his comm line buzzed. The medic slowly ran his hand down the length of his face and let out a heavy sigh…it was Ratchet. He had hoped that he would have been able to spend just a little more time in the lab, but it sounded as though Ratchet was more frustrated than usual. Something happened. "'Jack
, I have to go. Something’s wrong…Ratchet just commed me…he sounds…I have to go." The slightly annoyed expression that had been on his face faded and was replaced by a worried look. “Keep me informed." He said just as he began to jog toward the door.