- Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
- Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Another wave of disappointment washed over Smokescreen’s faceplate as Tracer told him that she could not remember the name of the Decepticon who had tried to recruit him so long ago. How could she have forgotten the one mech, a former Cybertronian racing champion, that the diversion expert had been a die hard fan of back then and who almost convinced him that the ‘Con way was the only way? The hallucinogen element in this batch of Syk was very strong, indeed, and it would take even more prodding from the rallybot in order to shake the memories from the troubled femme’s damaged processor. He had hoped that all this would have begun to wear off by now, but it appeared that there was no end in sight, not without the proper push back into reality.
Smokescreen kept a close optic on Tracer as she pulled away from him and moved back to the metallic slab where she sat down again. The diversion expert remained standing as he listened to her describe the screaming she had heard during her stay in the asylum. Smokey knew that it had been a terrible ordeal for her, but this just added a whole new layer to her suffering while incarcerated there. The rallybot wanted to say something but stopped when the hallucinating femme slid off of the berth and began to pace, continuing her descriptions of the screams and how she was told that they were normal and that she would adjust to them in time. Oh, how much Smokey wanted to go back in time and give those orderlies a real thrashing. He wanted to make them all pay for the tortures they had inflicted on Tracer when all she really wanted was to get some help and all they did was make things far worse.
The blue and white scout then moved in closer to Smokescreen and begged him to help her make the screaming stop forever. Tracer leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on the diversion expert’s lips, a gesture he returned to her before she pulled back and whispered to him how she had tried to make it stop before but that she had failed. She needed someone else to do it and that someone was the red and blue racer standing in front of her. Smokey had said he would do anything to help her and she took him literally at his word.
Smokescreen stared back at the troubled femme as she pleaded with him to end the screaming. At first he was unsure what exactly to do for her. Did she want him to remove her audio receptors or shut them down somehow? No, that doesn’t make any sense at all, the rallybot thought as his gaze remained fixated on Tracer’s desperate visage. After a few more astroseconds, Smokey finally understood what she meant by “make it all stop.” It wasn’t just the screaming that she wanted to stop. It was her very spark and thus her overall suffering. Doing so herself wouldn’t work, not in the asylum as the orderlies would get to her in time and repair whatever damage she had managed to cause. Tracer had no control over anything in that place, not even her own life.
“No,” the diversionary tactician replied with a shocked expression etched deeply on his faceplate. He took a step back from her as his mouth quivered with what he was about to say to her next. “Are you serious? You want me to end your life!? No! NO! I will NOT do that, Tracer! I will not! I can NOT!!” An emotional Smokescreen looked to the ceiling and then to the floor as he searched for the right words. He wanted to avoid calling her crazy or insane as that would only make things worse. Still, he needed to get through to her somehow and he needed to do so now.
Smokescreen returned his full attention to the troubled femme who was now asking him to extinguish her own spark. He moved towards her quickly and grabbed her firmly by the shoulder plates again. “Now you listen to me, Tracer, I will NOT kill you, not now, not EVER! Do you understand me?! I just got done risking my own spark to save yours and to help you beat this eternal addiction to Syk! Remember?!” The rallybot shook the troubled femme as he raised his voice so that she would be sure to hear him over some non-existent screaming. “Remember how I went down with you to Earth, the planet that we are currently orbiting? Remember how you went to see your dealer, Oil Slick, in order to get more Syk? Then I followed you and attacked him, stealing some of the drug before we raced back to the shuttle. Your dealer followed and my old body was decimated by his acidic chemicals. REMEMBER?! You came to my rescue and when we finally got back up here to the Ark-22, Wheeljack and Axle saved my Trinity organs and built me a whole new body from scratch. They’re NOT orderlies, they’re our friends! They helped us! I almost died for you, Tracer! I was willing to sacrifice myself to save you, so I’ll be damned if I help you to die!!”
The rallybot held firm to the troubled femme’s now shaking body, desperate to finally get through to her. “You will remember, Tracer! You have to remember! You will dig deep inside of your processor and pull out these memories that I know are still in there. Because death is simply not an option, Tracer! No way in the Pit! I love you too much and I refuse to harm you in any way, shape or form!” Smokescreen paused for a moment, allowing himself to finally calm down long enough for him to regain some semblance of composure. “Now, tell me the name of the ‘Con that tried to recruit me,” Smokey continued, this time in a whispered tone. “You know his name. Tell me what it is! Tell me that you remember not only that but everything else, as well!”
The computer console began to beep, drawing Wheeljack’s attention back to the terminal. After a moment of scanning the screen, the mechanical engineer saw exactly what he wanted to see. The automated system had granted the transfer requests for both Tracer and Smokescreen. They were now officially reassigned to the mad scientist’s lab until further notice, giving them all plenty of time to sort things out to everyone's satisfaction.
Good, now I can move on to more important matters, Wheeljack thought as he stood back up and made his way across the main lab to where the replicator was still sitting on one of the worktables. Considering the troubled femme’s adverse reaction to the reproduced Syk, it was now necessary to re-calibrate the amount of hallucinogen within the narcotic, lowering the levels to such a degree that would avoid a similar reaction with future doses. The white mech had to be careful not to lower the offending element too much or even eliminate it all together as that could also cause a negative reaction that could be just as bad as seeing things that weren’t there. The Syk still needed to keep Tracer’s underlying condition under control as well as her addiction for the time being. Altering the drug too much might decrease its effectiveness, causing her withdrawal symptoms to return much sooner than normal and possibly with greater intensity.
As Wheeljack began accessing the Syk ingredients that were stored on the replicator’s processor, the sound of Smokescreen yelling at Tracer drew the mechanic’s attention away from the device. “Now what?” The scientist muttered quietly to himself as he moved away from the worktable and over to the doorway that lead into the back room. ‘Jack stopped in his tracks as he listened to the red and blue racer tell the hallucinating femme that he would not assist in terminating her life before informing Tracer of all that he had sacrificed recently to help her. The rallybot was clearly desperate now, trying everything he could to make her remember that she was no longer in the asylum. Whether this more aggressive approach would work any better than previous attempts was yet to be seen. It was all that could be done at this point since she apparently wanted to kill herself, a likely byproduct of the hallucinogen.
Regardless, Wheeljack decided to keep his distance and let the diversion expert deal with the situation as he saw fit. Smokescreen seemed to know Tracer better than anyone and thus that made him sort of a de facto expert when it came to her well being. If the engineer’s help was required, he would certainly be there for his red and blue friend. Until that time, however, ‘Jack simply waited over by the entranceway with cautious optimism that the hallucinogen would finally start to wear off soon.