- Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
- Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Once the cranial scan had been completed, Smokescreen could immediately tell that Tracer was more relaxed than during the procedure. She had likely endured such a scan in the past and it did not bring about the desired results she had been hoping for. He could understand her apprehension, but it was still an important test to conduct in order to see exactly what damage, if any, had been done to her processor. More importantly, could that damage be reversed or was it permanent? Those were questions needed answering if he was to successfully get her off of the Syk and make her feel normal all the time without the need for some Decepticon-made narcotic.
“There, that wasn’t so bad was it?” The diversion expert flashed Tracer an even broader smile as he held on to her hand tighter than before. Her initial response was to compliment him on the great improvements he had already made in getting around on his own. Smokey may not be the most physically strong of the Autobots, but he was not one to be underestimated, either. “I’m making do, I guess. Still got a long way to go, though.”
Smokescreen’s smile then faded as Tracer told him how scared she was. He placed an arm around her shoulder and leaned in closer to her as she made him promise not to walk away no matter what the results of the scans revealed. The rallybot was a bit taken aback by her sudden worries regarding his loyalty to her. It was as if there was something more that she was concerned about besides just the Syk, itself. Perhaps, even now, there was still something that she was not telling him.
“Trace, of course I won’t walk away,” Smokescreen assured her as he squeezed her hand in return of her own gesture, trying to get the troubled femme to look him in the optics again. “What are you so worried about? I mean, if your processor does show signs of damage, I’m sure that Wheeljack and Axle have a way to repair it. They built me a whole new body, after all. I’m sure they can at least fix your head.” The diversion expert forced a slight chuckle as he attempted to comfort her. “Unless there’s something else. Is there, Tracer?”
Across the room, Wheeljack received the dual communications back from Axle, who was busy on the Guardian performing whatever procedures he needed to on Prowl. Maybe the field medic would do everybody a favor on both ships and upgrade the prick-bot’s personality chip to something more tolerable. It was unlikely, of course, but one could pray to Primus for the impossible. The mechanical engineer responded to the messages with a simple non-verbal acknowledgement before he turned his attention back to Smokescreen and Tracer.
“Well, Axle will be back with us in about two breems,” Wheeljack informed both of his comrades as he made his way over to the loving pair. “There won’t be any more scans right now, Tracer. The results were concerning, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t give you a prognosis. Once Axle arrives and reviews the findings, he’ll be able to explain things better than I can.”
“Come on, ‘Jack,” Smokescreen spoke up, not wanting to wait for two breems to find out what the problem was, and clearly there was something wrong for the engineer to not simple give them the results. “What did that scans show? You don’t have to be a doctor to see if there was processor damage or not. Spill it!”
“I really shouldn’t it,” Wheeljack countered, not wanting to upset either one of them, especially not the drug-addled femme.
As a result of the scientist’s refusal, Smokescreen let go of Tracer’s hand and moved towards the engineer, stumbling a bit in the short distance between them. “Tell us, ‘Jack!” The rallybot’s tone was one of growing anger, having risked everything for Tracer only to be made to wait for an important piece of information now by one of his closest friends and allies. “It’s not fair to make her wait! You found something wrong, didn’t you?”
“Smokey, you need to calm down. You’re going to tear a fuel line or worse.”
“I’ll calm down when you tell us the results,” the diversion expert retorted, not backing down an inch.
“Fine,” Wheeljack finally conceded, realizing that there was no other way to calm his friend down so that all of the progress Smokey had made thus far was not entirely undone by his own emotions. “The scans showed some slight damage to Tracer’s processor along with some signs of decay in her vocalizer and around her optics.”
“How much damage to her processor exactly?” Smokescreen pressed further.
“About 13% degradation to the right quadrant,” the mechanical engineer revealed, not wanting to speculate further. “But, that’s it. There are other readings here, but I don’t know what they mean because I’m not a doctor. Now, please Smokey, I need you to relax before you hurt yourself.”
Smokescreen let out a sigh and backed away, allowing himself to calm back down to normal parameters. His internal fans had kicked in for a brief time but were now quiet once more. At least, they were functioning fine. “I’m sorry, ‘Jack,” the rallybot replied as he returned to Tracer’s side and gripped her hand again. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay, Smokey. You’ve been through a lot lately. Why don’t you sit down and take a short break before continuing with your exercises?” Wheeljack suggested with a smile on his unshielded faceplate.
Smokescreen simply nodded and managed to hop up onto the makeshift medical slab directly next to Tracer. He sat there and continued to hold her hand, all the while wondering just how much this entire experience had changed him. Or perhaps it hadn’t changed him so much as helped him revert back to the way he used to be long ago. The rallybot hadn’t exactly been the most savory of characters back before the war broke out. Lying, cheating, breaking the rules - those were the things Smokey had abandoned for the most part after he joined the Autobots. Those traits served him well in utilizing diversionary tactics. Now, they were helping him again for a very different reason. Maybe that darker side to him was beginning to come to the surface again or already had.