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Medical Bay - Private Room

"Twisted transistors! PRIME!" Jazz cried out, nearly jumping back as the Red and blue Autobot brought his energon ax down through Ratchet's shoulder. Whatever Ratchet wanted them to do wasn't working, or it sparked some kind of nerve within Prime, because this was not his kind of "freak out".

The black and white specialist retracted his right hand and switched it for his grappling hook, quickly firing the dart end at Prime's weaponized hand to at least try and keep him from taking another swing. With his free hand, Jazz also drew his photon pistol and took aim at the lost Supreme Commander, the gentle whirl of its battery pack charging a fresh shot rung in his audio receptors.

"Stand down, Prime! Don't make me pull this trigger! Cmon, this ain't you big guy!"

Medical Bay – Private Room

Ratchet fell with a scream, crumpling under the sheer force of the blow. Wrenching his axe free of the medic, Optimus turned his head toward the other one who spoke. Jazz. Something clattered to the floor beside him. The grappling hook intended for his hand.

The red energo-axe fizzled out as Prime withdrew it, plunging the room into abnormal darkness once more. This one threatened him with a weapon and had made moves to restrain him. This one and those aboard this vessel were his task.

”Continue, Optimus,” resounded the thought through his mind.

So he did.

More footsteps in the darkness with increasing frequency.

Drawing back a fist, Optimus reeled back as he charged, slinging his fist forward with all his might at Jazz. He would deal with those present and then retrieve the part of him that was missing. Something that had been ever present at his side since the war began all that time ago.

”HerePrime, youdropppedthis!” Blurred quipped in Optimus’s mind, carrying something in his arms.

Tracer’s Quarters

“Don’t hold her down like that.”

Smokescreen flinched when Velocity spoke those words and quickly moved back when she shooed his hands away from Tracer’s convulsing frame. “I’m sorry,” the rallybot replied as he wiped away a tear of energon from his cheek. “I was only trying to prevent her from injuring herself. I feel so helpless right now. I didn’t know what else to do!”

His subsequent answer to her question about what had happened seemed to be met with skepticism. Velocity’s optics narrowed on him and Smokey could clearly tell that she wasn’t completely buying what he had told her.

The diversion expert then flinched again when Velocity suddenly spun around and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Smokescreen, I need you to calm down. I am going to do everything I can to help her, but I need your help too. So calm down. For Tracer.”

The femme released him as Smokescreen took a deep intake of air before letting it out. “You’re right, Velocity. Losing control isn’t going to help the situation. She just means a lot to me. We go way back. We’re very close. I just want her to be okay. That’s all. I....”

“How long has she been like this? Since you called me?”

Smokescreen was interrupted by another question. The red and blue street racer thought for a moment. “About a breem, maybe a little less,” the rallybot responded honestly. “I called you right after Tracer began convulsing. I first tried some of the other medics, but I got no response. I didn’t waste time waiting. I just called you for help. Thankfully, you responded.”

The diversion expert then watched as Velocity took out a scanner and began monitoring Tracer’s vitals. “Tracer, if you can hear me, try to relax. Smokescreen and I are right beside you.” The blue scout did not respond nor did she even seem to hear what Velocity was saying to her. The convulsing continued for another few astroseconds before it suddenly stopped and Tracer’s entire body went completely limp, her optics going dark. The troubled femme’s vitals then began to drop rapidly.

“What’s happening?!” Smokescreen questioned as his spark was practically beating out of his chest cavity. In an attempt to try and remain calm for Tracer’s sake, the red and blue mech took another deep intake of air before moving closer to the seemingly lifeless femme, taking her hand into his own. “Tracer! Can you hear me? Tracer?! It’s Smokey. I’m right here. You’re going to be all right. Just hold on!”

The rallybot looked back at Velocity. “We need to get her down to the med bay now. I don’t need a scanner to tell me that she’s dying. I can carry her if necessary.”

Tracer’s Quarters

At the moment, Velocity cared little that she was interrupting Smokescreen’s tirade of apologies with questions. She was only interested in his short term answers. Finally, the convulsions stopped, but Tracer’s vitals took a plunge. Bad. Very bad. She needed to be transported to the medical bay stat. But in her rush over, she hadn’t brought any sort of stretcher. Stupid!

No time to dwell, Velocity transformed as Smokescreen looked back at her.

“We need to get her down to the med bay now. I don’t need a scanner to tell me that she’s dying. I can carry her if necessary.”

“We’ll have to make do without a stretcher. Load her onto me. Stay beside us in robot mode, make sure she doesn’t fall.”

Mess Hall

“Youknow, Hot Rod…it mightbe worthwhileto talkto Optimus once he’s feelingbetter. Justan idea.”

Hot Rod looked over at Blurr, knowing full well that the blue speedster was only trying to help. “I don’t know, Blurr. My problems might be something only Rung could sort out if he were here, of course. I don’t really want to bother Prime about this. He just came back from the dead, after all. The last thing he needs to hear about are my crazy delusions if that’s truly what they are.”

The flamed-covered Autobot paused for a moment, taking another gulp of his high grade. “And even after he’s all better, I doubt he’d want me telling him how I was too weak to fight the Fallen and how I allowed my fellow ‘bots to be harmed. I mean, I’m sure he’ll be filled in on all the gory details, if he hasn't already, but I don’t have to discuss it with him. Unless, he asks. Then I won't have much of a choice.”

The pink Cassettebot named Rosanna then began to speak about something unrelated, drawing Hot Rod’s attention away from Blurr. She spoke of a song she had written long ago and then proceeded to sing parts of it for them. “Nice song, but I think that I’m the craziest of them all. Heh.”

"I look forward to when this war is over. I just want to get back to my old life. I'm by no means a warrior. I'm an entertainer."

“The war will never be over as long as the Decepticons are around,” Hot Rod interjected plainly. “The hostilities between our two factions run too deep. It would take one side obliterating the other to end things. Either that or an outside party that could bring us all together again. Maybe someone....” The cavalier’s words trailed off as the images of those veiled mechs from his visions entered his head again.

“Come find us, Rodimus. Come find the light.”

Tracer’s Quarters

“We’ll have to make do without a stretcher. Load her onto me. Stay beside us in robot mode, make sure she doesn’t fall.”

Velocity acted quickly, transforming into her vehicle mode within the confines of Tracer’s habitation suite. “Got it,” Smokescreen replied as the diversion expert leaned over the troubled scout’s limp frame, sliding both of his arms underneath her. The rallybot then very carefully lifted her up, cradling her tightly for a brief moment before turning around and placing Tracer gently onto Velocity’s camien racer alt form.

“We’re all set,” Smokescreen said as he remained standing directly by Velocity’s side with one hand placed firmly onto Tracer’s mid-section to ensure that she didn’t fall off. The teal medical officer didn’t exactly have an ambulance mode, after all. “We need to hurry! Don’t worry about me keeping up. I can do it. Just go!”

Mess Hall:

Hot Rod's words echoed as he spoke. Rosanna knew how true they were, but at the same time she thought it fitting to bring another possibility to the table, but as she began to speak, Hot Rod began to seemingly wander in his mind, and had the same expression as before when he blacked out. Rosanna stopped before she started.

"Roddy," said Cliffjumper as he jumped up to grab Hot Rod's arm, "Come on buddy, don't give into it!"

"Dude, what if he's just zoning out?" asked Rosanna.

Cliffjumper sent a sharp stare at Rosanna before proceeding to ignore her question.

"I mean, maybe shaking every time he makes a weird look is not the way to go, Cliff," said Rosanna as she rolled her optics at the red Minibot.

Clocker began to speak up however, and spoke what Rosanna was previously thinking almost word for word.

"What if they destroy their own faction? With Megatron gone, I can imagine that there would be multiple tyrants fighting for the throne. Their lusts for power might just end up hurting them, and splitting their faction so that they are weaker overall."

Rosanna stared blankly at Clocker before then taking a huge slug of her drink.

"Kid, I underestimated you."

Rose then threw a few shanix towards Clocker before saying, "Here, buy yourself a drink."

Medical Bay

The trip to the medical bay was much longer than the one to Tracer’s personal quarters. Velocity couldn’t just peel out and take off with her patient unsecured and just sort of laying on top of her. She didn’t have that kind of alternate mode. Still, Velocity went as quickly as she could while allowing Smokescreen to keep up. He needed to steady her since Velocity could not do it for herself.

In time, they made it to the medical bay proper, but Velocity did not immediately stop. She led them to an unoccupied surgical suite, transforming as they arrived. She supported Tracer as she transformed, easing the femme up onto the slab and beginning to hook her up to the life support equipment. “Alright, alright, alright,” she muttered to herself as she turned the life support on.

Now that they had time, Velocity needed to figure out what exactly Tracer had taken in order to treat her. She took an energon sample, taking care to watch Tracer’s vitals stabilize. “Watch her vitals,” she ordered Smokescreen, “Let me know if there’s any change.”

Moving over to some diagnostic equipment, Velocity calmed her nerves and examined the sample. Hm. This chemical composition…it was similar, but…it couldn’t be. No, she couldn’t rule it out. Given its similarities, however, Velocity could prescribe a sort of general treatment. Moving back over to Tracer, she began setting up the necessary equipment. “Try to relax, Smokescreen,” Velocity added gently as she caught a glimpse of him as she worked, “She’ll be alright. I promise.”

Mess Hall

“I don’t know, Blurr. My problems might be something only Rung could sort out if he were here, of course. I don’t really want to bother Prime about this. He just came back from the dead, after all. The last thing he needs to hear about are my crazy delusions if that’s truly what they are.”

At that Blurr just shrugged. “I’msureOptimuswouldn’tmind, or blameyou. Butitwasjustasuggestion,” Blurr said, taking another sip of his energon. He was really beginning to feel more and more like his old self. Nothing like a brush with death to set you out of sorts. He was glad that he was feeling better. He could help Hot Rod better like this. “Imean…who can really saywhatits like to bepossessed? It’snotyourfault, Hot Rod.”

Having the sneaking suspicion that he was beginning to hurt more than help, Blurr took another quick sip of his drink. His attention shifted to Rosanna briefly as she chattered about something or other. A song. But she said something that resonated a bit with him. Yeah, he was an entertainer at spark but…

“Rosanna, thisis something Ikindafigured earlyon, but…” Blurr offered, “Trytaking why youdid whatyoudid before thewar and applyit to somethingyoucan be…uh…passionate! Aboutin thewar.”

He listened as Hot Rod offered his own thoughts on the war. Kinda grim, but Blurr pretty much agreed with his assessment. Too much bad energon. There was a brief moment with the Fallen where they’d acted in concert, but…hadn’t lasted. That truce, for all intents and purposes, was over. Hostilities would resume soon if they hadn’t already.

But Cliffjumper’s odd reaction made Blurr frown and look at Hot Rod. He did look a little spacy. Not enough for Cliff’s overreaction but still. Couldn’t be too careful. Agh! Blurr chided himself for that. He had to be supportive, not suspicious. Rosanna and Clocker offered further commentary, which caused Blurr to heave a sigh.

“Hoping thatthey destroy themselves isnice, but that’snever goingto happen,” Blurr said shaking his head, “Ifitwere that easy, war wouldabeen done longtimeago.” Leaning over toward Hot Rod, Blurr waved his hand quickly in front of the cavalier’s faceplate.

Mess Hall:

“Hoping thatthey destroy themselves isnice, but that’snever goingto happen. Ifitwere that easy, war wouldabeen done longtimeago.”

"I would agree normally, Blurr," started Rosanna, "But if I recall, Megatron was the one leading most, and taking part in it all at least during that whole time. Who knows who is doing what now, but I have a feeling that there are multiple who want the throne, and would do anything to get it. Case in point: Starscream, Shockwave, and maybe others like Scorponok."

She took another swig, and then set her chin in her hand. "The best way to start a Decepticon civil war is to take the one they respect out from under them. THEN they have no idea who to follow."

Mess Hall:

Brawn silently listened to what everyone was saying. He wasn't really paying attention to the topic, but he was getting a general idea: Hot Rod was dealing with something. Someone suggested that he see Optimus once he was feeling better, which sparked something in the brawler. Optimus wasn't well? Since when? What happened to him? Brawn thought about this for a second, racking his memories for anything about Optimus that wasn't normal. Nothing came up, so he resolved himself to head down to the med bay -where he most likely was- and see what's up. If something was seriously wrong with the Autobot-In-Chief, Brawn needed to know.

Brawn shifted in his seat, sitting up a little bit straighter. He looked at Roddy.

"Whatever it is, if anyone can give some advice on the situation, it'd probably be Prime."

Brawn wasn't much for offering advice, but that's all he had. Big issue? Go see Optimus about it. The guy had more sound advice than Brawn thought was possible.

Hot Rod’s Mind

Come find us, Rodimus. Come find the light. Salvation depends on it.

Those veiled mechs were there again as everyone in the mess hall disappeared. Ice and snow surrounded Hot Rod as he stood up from the non existent table and peered straight ahead. “Salvation? Whose? Mine?! Who are you?! Where are you?!”

There was no further response as the trio of figures became more and more obscured by the wind swept snow until they had disappeared all together. Hot Rod pressed forward through the white-out of the blizzard. “Come back! Tell me more! Tell me how to find you! I need to know! Please!”

Then, as if coming out of nowhere, something waved directly in front of the cavalier’s faceplate. It was very close, almost smacking him in his head.

Mess Hall

“Please!” Hot Rod exclaimed as Blurr’s hand waved in front of his optics. The flame-covered ‘bot jumped back in his chair, toppling backwards and onto the floor. Roddy quickly ascertained that the vision he was just having was now over. He was back in the mess hall with the others who were still sitting around the table, looking down at him with confused optics. Most mechs would be freaking out more if this had happened to them yet again, but Hot Rod was quickly becoming used to the visions he was seeing; perhaps, too used to them.

Regardless, just as long as no one else got hurt as a result, Roddy would just try to accept what was happening and move on. Of course, moving on was easier said than done. These visions were happening for a reason, and the cavalier needed to figure out what exactly that reason was and soon. Either he was completely crazy or there really was someone trying to communicate with him from somewhere.

“Well…that was embarrassing,” Hot Rod remarked under his breath but just loud enough for others to hear him. The cavalier picked himself up off of the floor and righted his chair back on all fours. The red and orange mech then sat back down, placing his hands on top of the table once more. “No worries, guys. Just another vision or whatever. Was I out for long? Did we start the card game yet? Heh.”

Hot Rod sighed, rubbing the sides of his head with both hands as a cranial ache began to take shape. Between the high grade he had ingested and all of these visions it was a miracle that his head was still in one piece and had not exploded yet.

Corridors

Smokescreen remained steadfastly by Velocity’s side as she carefully rolled out into the corridor in her alt mode. Tracer still lay motionless on top of the medical officer as the rallybot kept a firm but gentle hand on the blue scout’s midsection in order to keep her from sliding off Velocity’s racer form. Once in the hallway, Velocity picked up some speed, but did not go real fast so that Smokey could keep up with her.

“That’s good, Tracer. You're doing great, just hold on,” Smokescreen whispered to the troubled femme. A short distance behind, Razr had followed them out of Tracer’s quarters and was running after them as fast as his little turbofox legs could carry him. The rallybot glanced back at the small animal. “Come on, Razr! You can do it!”

As Velocity was forced to slow down for a brief moment when they came to and rounded a sharp corner, Razr managed to catch up. The turbofox swiftly leapt onto the camien’s alt mode in an attempt to cuddle up next to Tracer. However, there was clearly not enough room. “Come here, boy,” the diversion expert said as he reached down with his free arm and took hold of Razr, cradling the pet close to his body.

Medical Bay – Private Surgical Suite

Finally, after what seemed like several breems, Smokescreen and Velocity reached the medical bay with Tracer in tow. Wasting no time, the medical officer lead them inside and then into an unoccupied surgical suite, the door closing shut behind them.

Wiggling free of the rallybot’s grip, Razr jumped down onto the floor where he remained by the diversion expert’s left foot. The turbofox gazed up as Velocity transformed, supporting Tracer as she did. Smokey also gave support to the troubled femme as the camien laid the blue scout onto the med berth and quickly began hooking her up to life support machines.

“Alright, alright, alright.”

“All right?” Smokescreen said in a quizzical manner as Velocity took an energon sample from Tracer’s arm. “What’s all right? Is Tracer all right?”

“Watch her vitals. Let me know if there’s any change.”

The diversion expert nodded. “Okay, you got it, Velocity,” Smokescreen said as he immediately turned his attention to the readouts of the various medical equipment. “Her spark rate is very low, but it seems to be steady. At least it’s not dropping any more. Her other systems are also very low and some are still dropping a bit. Most are in the red. That’s not good.”

“Try to relax, Smokescreen. She’ll be alright. I promise.”

The rallybot took another deep intake of air before exhaling it, nodding in the process. “I’m trying. I really am.” Sensing Smokescreen’s sadness, Razr stood up on his hind legs, his front paws resting against the diversion expert’s left thigh plate, and began licking Smokey’s hand that was hanging at his side. “I know, boy. She’ll be okay. She has to be...” the rallybot said softly as he reached down and pet the turbofox’s head. “…for both our sakes.”

Mess Hall:

Again. This is never going to end. Hot Rod keeps blacking out. Maybe the best thing to do is ask him...

"What did you see?" Clocker asked without hesitation. The look of concern in his optics drowning out any sort of unintentional act of rudeness.

Mess Hall

“No worries, guys. Just another vision or whatever. Was I out for long? Did we start the card game yet? Heh.”

“Kindaconcerned about how…casual thisisbecoming foryou, HotRod,” Blurr commented, eyeing the cavalier with more than a little concern. “Maybeyou should gosee Ratchetor oneofthe other medics.”

The blue speedster implored him, gesturing with a hand. “Youknow thegame canwait, right?” Yeah, he was getting more than a little worried despite his efforts to just be a friend to Hot Rod. He was just recently the Fallen who tried to kill them all. If he was still feeling out of sorts, then…It miiiiight be the best course to go see someone about it. Preferably someone medically trained.

“Justwanna besure, youknow?” he offered.


Medical Bay – Private Surgical Suite

Velocity was beginning to understand more and more why Ratchet had the reputation that he did – of being a grump. It was distracting to have people crying over the patients. They were more hindrance than help. She tried not to let it bother or distract her, paying attention only when Smokescreen had something useful to say.

Moving back to Tracer’s side, Velocity began her preliminary treatment. Tubes connected to various ports on Tracer’s body filled with energon, moving the pure fuel into her system. Other tubes filled with energon stemming from Tracer’s frame. “I’m flushing her system,” she explained to Smokescreen, “Since I don’t have time to examine the energon sample, we’re going to brute force it. This should do it.”

Velocity watched Tracer’s vitals. They slowly began to improve. Rising and stabilizing at acceptable levels. Still. Velocity wanted to let the transfusion go for a bit before she merely put Tracer in a CR chamber to recover the rest of the damage. Still, she wanted to…have a look for herself.

Leaning over Tracer, Velocity readied a laser scalpel to take a look at damage to internal components. Hm…this was...But it couldn’t be. That would not be lying around a lab. Something was not adding up. “Smokescreen, Tracer wasn’t…addicted to anything was she?” Standing up straight and sending a hard look at the rallybot, she frowned, “Because this looks an awful lot like the effects of long term use of a circuit speeder.”

OOC: It’s been...yeah. Anyhow; if I got anything wrong let me know.

Medical Bay – Private Room

The searing white hot pain radiated through his now ruined shoulder joint as his body slammed into the floor. Ratchet quickly brought his hand up to the wound and made an immediate assessment...severed energon lines, the socket was a mangled mess which made the entire appendage useless, but he’d live.
Ratchet shifted and made to stand back up, to try to get Optimus’ attention but he was cut off by a small yellow blur.

“PRIME!”

Bumblebee moved between the Prime and their now downed CMO. The little mech raised his hands up in an attempt to draw Optimus’ full attention. He took a quick glance over in Jazz’s direction and sent a private transmission to the saboteur. >>”Jazz! Put your weapon down, please!”<<

“Optimus. It’s me, it’s Bumblebee. Come on, you know me. I’m no harbinger and neither are you.”

As he spoke Bee maneuvered himself a bit closer to the Prime. “We’re your friends, Optimus, we’re not here to hurt you. We want to help you. Please, let us help you.”

While Bumblebee kept Optimus somewhat distracted, Ratchet struggled to get on his feet. With his one good functioning hand wrapped around his shoulder joint, the CMO slowly made his way behind and just to the side of Bumblebee.

Without taking his eyes off of Bee or Prime Ratchet opened up a line with Jazz. >>”See if you can slip outta here and find Magnus. We may need his to take Prime down long enough for me to sedate him.”<<

Medical Bay

“You know, you would’ve made an excellent vessel for Unicron. You two are a match made in the Pit." 

It kept repeating over and over in his mind...a match made in the Pit. It was a horrible thought but maybe it was right too. Hex brought his hand up to his forehead and gave it a rough stroke. His head hurt and he was really, really confused.

He let his hand drop back down and took a look around the med bay. After the confrontation with Rodimus he made his way back to the berth he’d been perched on and sat back down.

With a small nod and slight smile Axle handed the datapad to the aid who promptly took off and back to work. With a low sigh the medic took a quick glance over his shoulder and focused on the little silver mech seated across the room. That little outburst between Hex and Hot Rod hadn’t come at a very good time. At least they had separated on their own ending with Hot Rod leaving with a group of mech and Hex heading back to the other side of the room.

“Hey.”

Hex’s optics remained glue to his hands, which he obsessively wrung in his lap. He finally looked up when another hand took hold of his and stopped his compulsive movements.

“D’you think he was right. About me I mean?”

Hex’s voice was almost too low for Axle to make out but he got the gist of it. He held his breath for a moment and let it out slowly before he finally answered.

“I think you both went through something no one knows anything about. I also know that I’m here if you need me.” Axle placed his hand on Hex’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I think the question you should be asking is if you believe he’s right.”

Hex slowly turned his eyes on his guardian and shook his head. “I’m not sure anymore. Maybe I was never really sure to begin with.” His shoulders slumped in defeat and his optics turned their gaze to the floor. “Everything’s just so confusing. I just want things to be...I don’t know...better.”

“Then make them better.” Axle watched Hex shake his head.

“I don’t know how.” Hex felt his chin lifted gently as he looked back into Axel’s optics.

With a smile Axle nodded, “You look like you could use something to drink. Maybe you should take a walk down to the mess hall and get something. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for there.” Without another word Axle got up and made his way to Brakeline who had his optics glued to the two.

His optics swung from the main door to Axle's back several times before Hex gingerly slid off the berth and onto his feet. He stopped in front of the door and chewed on his lower lip apprehension nearly taking over until he spotted Axle from the corner of his eye give him a nod.

Hex walked out and headed toward the mess hall.

Mess Hall

“What did you see?”

Hot Rod glanced over at Clocker, offering little to no expression one way or another. The cavalier could tell that the blue scout was only concerned for his well being. It was quite obvious by the look on his face plate. Still, Roddy was’t sure if he wanted to tell what he was seeing. Then again, what could it hurt?

“Well, Clocker, I keep seeing images of snow and ice and three mechs who I can’t see clearly. They’re just darkened silhouettes I can barely make out through blizzard-like conditions. They talk to me, call me ‘Rodimus’. They tell me to come find them, come find the light, find salvation. I’ve also seen some kind of ship, a frigate I think, also in the ice. I think it might have taken off from Cybertron a very long time ago. I saw a vision of that, as well. Now, it’s encased in ice somewhere. Maybe it crash landed, maybe it didn’t. I don’t know if that’s where those mechs are and they need help or what it all means. It’s very confusing.”

Hot Rod let out a deep sigh as he took another sip of his drink before placing it back down onto the tabletop. “It seems real. I feel the cold like I’m there. I can feel my joints freezing up as the bitter winds hit my body. There’s this sensation that it’s more than just a dream. I can’t put my actuator on it. Of course, it could also just mean that I’m completely crazy and need to be locked up. I hope that’s not the case. I don’t think it is. Regardless, I need to get to the bottom of it no matter what.”

“Kindaconcerned about how…casual thisisbecoming foryou, HotRod. Maybeyou should gosee Ratchetor oneofthe other medics. Youknow thegame canwait, right? Justwanna besure, youknow?”

The cavalier shifted his focus over to Blurr. “I appreciate your concern, buddy, but I don’t know what Ratchet or any of the other medics could do for me. I recently got a clean bill of health so I doubt they’d find anything physically wrong with me. And if it’s something mental then a mech like Rung would benefit me more. But, of course, he’s not here. Regardless, I believe I’m having these visions for a reason. That much I am sure of. I’ve just got to figure out what that reason is.”

Medical Bay – Private Surgical Suite

“I’m flushing her system. Since I don’t have time to examine the energon sample, we’re going to brute force it. This should do it.”

Smokescreen looked up at Velocity as he finished petting Razr. “Okay, whatever you think is best,” the rallybot replied, straightening himself back to his full height once more. Smokey remained still and observant as Lotty continued to monitor Tracer’s vitals, which appeared to be slowly improving. That was a good sign, one that made the diversion expert feel a bit more at ease. He’d feel even better if the troubled femme were to wake up and say hi. Of course, that was asking a bit too much at this stage.

Razr, meanwhile, remained steadfast by Smokescreen’s left leg, sitting quietly and leaning against the red and blue mech’s shin guard. Velocity then readied a laser scalpel and began to inspect Tracer’s internal components for any damage. “What do you see?” Smokey asked in a low tone, not wanting to be more of a bother than he already had been previously.

“Smokescreen, Tracer wasn’t…addicted to anything was she? Because this looks an awful lot like the effects of long term use of a circuit speeder.”

The diversion specialist’s optics widened as Velocity’s words and subsequent frown bore into him like a diamond-headed drill bit. She wasn’t stupid. Of course not. It had only been a matter of time before Lotty discovered that this was all more than met the optics. There was no way to hide the truth any longer. He had to tell her what Tracer was addicted to and how serious her condition really was. That much she needed to know, but not the rest, not about Wheeljack or Axle’s involvement and certainly not the stuff regarding Oil Slick.

Smokescreen let out a deep sigh as his optics gazed briefly down at the floor before rising back up to meet Velocity’s intense stare. “It’s not just circuit speeders. It’s…” the rallybot hesitated for an astrosecond. “It’s Syk. Tracer’s addicted to Syk and she has been for a very long time. She has a mental condition that adversely affects her mood. She can be very happy one moment and then severely depressed the next. The only thing that keeps her condition under control is Syk. There’s no other solution. She’s tried everything. Without that drug she can’t function properly. It’s all she has to feel normal.”

The rallybot paused for a moment as he considered his next words carefully. “Unfortunately, she ran out of real Syk and thus she’s recently been taking a synthetic version of the drug from a replicator, but it’s not as good as the real stuff. She’s had to take a lot more of it in order to feel better. She had taken three vials of synthetic Syk a few cycles ago and then she took another three just before I returned to her quarters. Clearly, it was way too much.”

Smokescreen sighed again before taking a few steps towards the medical officer. “I’ve tried to help her. I’ve tried to ween her off it, but it hasn’t work. We tried the synthetic route, but you can see how that turned out. I don’t know what else I can do for her.” Smokey shook his head, clearly frustrated by his failure to help Tracer.

The rallybot then focused on Velocity once more, a seriousness sweeping over his visage. “You have to promise me, Lotty, that you won’t tell anyone about this. Most don’t even know about Tracer’s mental condition let alone her addiction. Syk’s illegal. She could get into a lot of trouble and so could.…” Smokescreen stopped himself, almost divulging who else had been involved in all this. “Well, so could I, but I really don’t care about that. It’s Tracer I’m concerned about. She could wind up in one of those Garrus facilities if, say, Prowl ever found out. She’d go crazy in a place like that. It would make her condition so much worse!”

The diversion expert took another step forward, this time towards Tracer’s med birth. He placed a gentle hand on the troubled femme's shoulder plate before turning to look back at Velocity. “Please, promise me you’ll keep this between us. I'm begging you. Please!”

Mess Hall:

Clocker sat back in his seat and said, "Well Hot Rod, one thing I learned from listening to Rung is that the best sign that you're not crazy is if you wonder if you're crazy. It's when you insist you're not that becomes concerning."

"Sounds like a load of aft to me," said Cliffjumper before taking a huge slug of his drink.

Clocker rolled his optics, "Heh, maybe you need a psychologist then."

"Um, NO! I..." Cliffjumper slammed his fist on the table as if he was saying something, but couldn't get the words to come out of his vocalizer.

"Exactly," chuckled Clocker.

"AHH! Grr, whatever. Roddy, Blurr, everyone else, you guys wanna play 21?" asked Cliffjumper in attempts to divert the conversation, "It's a simple game, and it doesn't involve shanix. Usually it's a two player game, but the rules work just as well for multiple players. Looks like we have enough cards here, and enough number cards.

"Basically we all draw one card each that none of us see, and we go around drawing cards to place down upright for everyone to see. After everyone says they want to stay, all the faced down cards are turned up, and the mech with the closest count to 21 wins the round. Though, if one is above 21, and one is below, but they both are just as close to 21, then the one who's below wins. Sound fun? Since there's one card down, you need to sort of predict what it will be, and get as close to 21 without too much to take into account the face down card."

Cliff took the cards from the table that they never used because obviously, things were happening that made everyone not interested in starting the game at hand.

"We also can use some of the extra non-number cards for bonus cards mixed in, so if you draw one of those cards you get the ability to remove your last card, or take the last player's last card, or whatever. Just depends on what type of wild card you get. Just a matter of deciding which wild cards are which. You can also save those cards for later."

Cliff started looking at the variety of wild cards to decide what each one does, before then remembering...

"OH yeah, and if someone draws a wild card as their face down card, when it's turned up, it's automatically considered a 0 card."

Mess Hall

Snow and ice. Well, Blurr supposed that was better than flames and evil. But they did call him Rodimus. Which set off a little red flag in Blurr’s mind, but he tried not to listen to it too much. After all, light and salvation didn’t sound too bad either. Still worrying. Hot Rod just could not catch a break. And again Hot Rod shrugged off his suggestion to go see Ratchet, preferring to see Rung were he here. So visions for a reason. The reason seemed kind of clear to be honest. Go find them.

“Kindasounds liketheywant youto findem,” Blurr said, looking to Hot Rod, “Justsaying.”

Diverting some of his attention to Cliffjumper, Blurr shrugged, gesturing to Cliff. “Sure, whynot?”


Medical Bay – Private Surgical Suite

“It’s Syk.”

Velocity’s hand immediately went to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. Most of her actual reaction had been internalized because she did not want to risk upsetting Smokescreen. She had to be the professional one here. Still, the word that came to mind was “stupid”. Primus, help her. Velocity listened very patiently for Smokescreen to explain himself.

Apparently, Tracer had a condition that no medication could remedy other than Syk. My, Velocity had a hard time believing that. But she let him go on. Apparently, Tracer had found a way to get her hands on a synthetic variant. So someone else knew about this or was dealing it? Then, Smokescreen really did it. He asked her to keep it a secret.

Velocity tented her fingers thoughtfully. How to approach this. There was only so much she could do and keep feeling as though she were an actual doctor. Only so much and still feel like she still had her integrity. And he begged her, standing beside Tracer’s berth. Velocity set her brow into a hard line and crossed her arms testily.

“No,” she said, “I can’t. Tracer needs help. She needs real help, Smokescreen. Giving her Syk is just feeding the problem. It’s highly addictive, and it changes her physiology to need it. She is going to burn out if she keeps taking it. You don’t want that. The synthetic route only works when you’re strict, and you’re trying to ease her off of it.”

Velocity shook her head and sighed, looking to Tracer. De-tox would be best. Then finding a medication that actually worked for her condition that wouldn’t create this much of a dependency. Alternatively, there was always a surgical option with her processor, but Velocity wasn’t sure enough of her skills to even try to attempt that.

“Let me help you,” Velocity said, “I can get Ratchet and the others to help. Syk is illegal because it does this to those who take it.” She gestured with a hand to Tracer, “She’s more a victim than at fault. There are deals that can be made, I imagine. But if you want Tracer really and truly well, you’ll need to get her real help. Who else knows about this? I know you didn’t make synthetic Syk on your lonesome.”

Medical Bay - Private Room

The room went dark, abnormally dark once Prime withdrew his ax. Jazz's tactical visor began to scan the area, Optimus' silhouetted became highlighted in a bluish aura. The specialist could hear Bumblebee calling out from the other side of the room, though the situation at hand was deafening Jazz's auditory focus. He wanted to adhere to Bumblebee's advice, but the big guy just put his ax through Ratchet's shoulder playing! Before he could get another second to think, the red and blue Autobot launched a heavy fist towards Jazz, not holding back any of his strength. The attack bore a massive hole into Jazz's chest plate, caving in the front end of his carhood-chest. Jazz flew back until his body collided with the wall.

>>"I'm-I'm on it..."<< He weakly replied I the yellow scout, coughing up energon that immediately began to spew from his mouth and leak from the fresh wound. Though he didn't have any lungs, the pain could only be described as suffocating to him. He leaned over and slowly tried to crawl towards the doorway, one hand clutching his chest while the other clawed his way against the wall.

He stumbled against the door, trying to hoist himself up to the console. The door hissed open and Jazz fell into the med Bay proper, a gasp of expended gases and a small amount of energon escaped his mouth as his chassis collided with the floor.

"Magnus?! Wher-Where's Magnus?!" Jazz coughed as he struggled to get to his feet once more. His words were directed to no one in particular, but his optics could not locate the bulky commander anywhere remotely near by. Not seeing him anywhere nearby, Jazz struggled to open his comm unit.

>>"Magnus! It's-It's Opti-ah! Optimus! Get down here, quick!"<<

"Everyone! Go! Ge-Get out of here!" The specialist exclaimed, turning his attention to the rest of the med bay's inhabitants.

Medical Bay – Private Room

As his fist connected and crunched into Jazz’s chestplate, Optimus drew back to prepare for another strike when a shout distracted him. His jet black optics slid toward the source as he turned halfway. Ah, Bumblebee. His words fell on deaf ears as the Prime’s energon ax sizzled back to life. Lifting it high, he made to strike down at Bumblebee.

But.

For a split instant, Optimus’s optics flickered blue, breaking through the darkness as his ax diverted, slamming into the berth. In the next instant, they were dark again, and the ax retracted. He moved away through the darkness, grabbing what was taken from him earlier with a metallic rasp. His blaster. His head snapped to the door as it hissed open. The light from outside flooded the private surgical suite and a form was silhouetted in the frame.

Sending two shots at Bumblebee and Ratchet, Optimus stalked toward the door.

Optimus appeared out of the shadows behind Jazz as the operative struggled to stand, optics black as pitch. You know what you must do. Continue, Optimus Prime, echoed a voice in his mind. Optimus lifted his blaster slowly at Jazz’s back. There was a brief moment of hesitation as his optics flickered blue. But then.

He fired.

Corridor Outside the Mess Hall

The Corridor was relatively barren, save for a straggler here and there, and even they avoided him as he made his way to the Mess hall. He knew his reputation. There were very few, scrap that, there was no one with the exception of Axle that could even stand being in the same room with him.

The thought of how everyone perceived him gave Hex a hollow feeling inside.

He slowed his pace considerably as he neared the doors. Hex stopped in front of the entrance hesitating before stepping inside.

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. He’s not gonna want to listen to me, much less talk to me. Not after everything…

His thoughts trailed off. For a brief moment something inside of him grew cold. A feeling of contempt washed over him...but as quickly as it came it was gone.

Finally fining his resolve Hex squared his shoulders and stepped forward, the doors splitting before him.

Mess Hall

The doors shut and he stood stock still taking in all of the activity in the room. Several mechs were standing talking, drinks in hand. Conversations were held at higher than normal levels but nothing boisterous.

Hex caught sight of the person he’d come to see and carefully made his way over. He came to a halt directly behind Hot Rod and cleared his vocalizer in order to get the cavalier’s attention.

“Rodimus. Could I talk to you?” Hex lowered his optics before adding, “Please.”

Medical Bay – Private Surgical Suite

“No, I can’t. Tracer needs help. She needs real help, Smokescreen. Giving her Syk is just feeding the problem. It’s highly addictive, and it changes her physiology to need it. She is going to burn out if she keeps taking it. You don’t want that. The synthetic route only works when you’re strict, and you’re trying to ease her off of it.”

Smokescreen looked at Velocity with stern optics. “You think I don’t already know all that? I’m trying to help her but it’s very complicated. She’s been on this slag for a very long time, even before she came here to Sol-3 when the Guardian first arrived. We’d been apart for many vorns. We didn’t even know that the other was still alive until we found each other again here. It was after that when I learned about her addiction. She made me promise to keep it a secret and I agreed. I’ve been trying to fix her ever since.”

“Let me help you. I can get Ratchet and the others to help. Syk is illegal because it does this to those who take it. She’s more a victim than at fault. There are deals that can be made, I imagine. But if you want Tracer really and truly well, you’ll need to get her real help. Who else knows about this? I know you didn’t make synthetic Syk on your lonesome.”

The diversion expert shuddered at the mention of bringing in Ratchet. “No, not Ratchet! His poor excuse for bedside manner is not what Tracer needs, not now, not ever.” Smokescreen then glanced down at Tracer’s inert form, still keeping his hand gently on her shoulder plate as Velocity demanded to know who else was involved. The rallybot’s attention returned to the medical officer. “The synthetic Syk comes from a replicator that….Wheeljack gave to me. He knows about her condition as does...as does Axle. Axle knows. He examined her a couple of times. They’re the only ones, though, and they were just trying to help like I was.”

Smokescreen paused for a moment, removing his hand from Tracer’s shoulder. “You see, Velocity, it’s not just Tracer or I that could get in trouble. Wheeljack and Axle could, too, and I don’t want that to happen. That’s why this all needs to be kept between the five of us. I know I’m asking a lot, but please I….”

“Everyone! Go! Ge-Get out of here!”

The verbal warning had been muffled by the locked door to the private suite but, combined with the subsequent commotion and yelling that followed, it had been enough to draw Smokescreen’s attention away from the situation at hand. “Did you hear that?” The rallybot asked rhetorically as he made his way towards the door. “What’s going on out there?”

As he reached the door, the diversion expert peered through the small window that was at optics level. Through it he could see what was happening out in the med bay proper. “Dear Primus!” Smokey exclaimed in horror as he watched Optimus Prime stalk out of his own private room and shoot Jazz in the back! “No!”

Smokescreen spun around and rushed back to Velocity. “It’s Optimus! There’s something wrong with him! He just shot Jazz! I…I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to finish flushing Tracer’s systems and get her safely into a CR chamber ASAP!” The rallybot then hurried back towards the door. “I have to do something. I have to try and stop him, reason with him if I can.” Smokey glanced at Lotty again. ”Once I’m out there, keep this door locked. Understand? Don’t open it for any reason until the coast is clear! Not even for me.”

With those words spoken and not waiting for a response, Smokescreen unlocked the door and quickly exited the surgical suite.

Medical Bay – Proper

As the door to the private surgical suite closed shut and locked behind him, Smokescreen made his way cautiously across the room as chaos erupted all around him. Medics and patients ran every which way to avoid the crazed Autobot leader. The diversion expert, however, remained calm as he moved steadily towards the Prime.

“Optimus!” Smokey said in a careful tone as he stopped several feet away from his commander and long time friend. “Please stop! What are you doing? You shot Jazz, your friend! Please, this isn’t you. You’re Optimus Prime. You’re our leader! You’re one of the most caring and compassionate mechs I know. Remember? Remember our talks we used to have long ago?”

Of course, Smokescreen was referring to a time in vorns past when Optimus had asked the rallybot to help him better know and understand what his fellow Autobots thought of their leader. The diversion expert had always been a very personable mech that most other ‘bots enjoyed being around. So, it was rather easy for him to get close to his comrades and discover their true feelings regarding the Prime. Smokescreen then reported back to Optimus and discussed with him what the troops were thinking.

Now, Smokey was trying to help Optimus Prime in a completely different way. The rallybot slowly raised his arms up, showing his empty hands. “See? I’m unarmed. I’m not a threat to you and neither is anyone else here. Now, please put down your gun. You don’t want to hurt anyone. You’re just sick, that’s all. You’ve been through a lot. Let me help you, Optimus. Please let me help you.”

Medical bay – Private Room

Carefully Bumblebee eased forward, his hands held out, palms up, to show he held no weapons and thus remained harmless. Unfortunately the little ‘Bot did not get far as Optimus turned halfway and looked directly at him. As Prime’s ax blazed back to life Bee hesitated.

“Prime, please!”

The yellow ‘Bot’s optics narrowed as he noticed the color of the Autobot leader’s eyes briefly change. Just then his attention was drawn away and towards the berth that was now nearly cleaved in half. Bee cringed momentarily but quickly renewed his attempts to get through to his Prime.

“Optimus. This isn’t you. Please, listen to me. I want to help you. Just let m...”

Bee’s pleas were cut short as he slammed into the floor, hard. He rolled onto his back just as Ratchet ducked down low beside him. And the shot came.

“DAMN! I needed that!” Ratchet grit his teeth as he lifted his head to look at the smoldering monitor.

It was then that Bee realized it was the CMO who had tackled him to the floor in time to avoid getting blasted by Prime’s rifle.

“Thanks, Ratch. I owe you...big time.” He breathed.

The doctor grunted in pain as he shifted into a kneeling position. He hissed lowly as his hand pressed against the gaping hole in his shoulder. “I’ll add it to my list. Now come one. We need to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Ratchet rose into a low crouch, shifting slightly to one side before Bee appeared at this side to steady him. At that instant they witnessed Optimus take aim at pull the trigger on Jazz.

“NO! JAZZ!” Bumblebee started to move forward but was pulled back by Ratchet’s grip.

“Bee. No, stay here.” Once he was sure the little mech wouldn’t do anything stupid, Ratchet staggered away, making sure not to attract Prime’s attention, to one of the storage drawers. He motioned for Bee who moved to his side.

With a worried look Bee watched as Ratchet pulled out a syringe and gestured for a specific vial. “What’re you doing?” He took the tube and loaded the syringe with what looked like a blue liquid.

“We need to take him down. I’ve loaded this with enough sedative to knock out a gestalt. It should do the trick. At least until we can get him secure.”

Bee’s face scrunched up as he looked to Prime and back tot eh syringe. “There’s just one problem...” His optics focused back onto Prime. “How’re we going to get close enough to use it?”

Ratchet smirked as he opened up another drawer and pulled out a gun and loaded the syringe. “Won’t have to. We’ll just need someone with a steady hand and impeccable aim.”

Medical Bay Proper

"Everyone! Go! Ge-Get out of here!"

The steady noise of all of the monitors was broken with the shout from one of the private rooms at the far end of the med bay.

Axle looked over his shoulder and saw Jazz at one of the doors to the private rooms struggling on the floor. Instinct took over as he dropped his datapad and ran toward the downed special agent. Axle stopped short as he noticed another, much larger, figure looming just inside the door frame.

The medic took several steps back as the shot rang out. “Jazz!”

-----------

“Come on Vee, you’ve got to beat this.” Brakeline laid his hand on the shoulder plate of the comatose nurse and gave it a gentle squeeze. Vee’s surgery had been successful but he hadn’t woken up. All of the readings he and Axle had taken revealed the cause. Unfortunately there was nothing they could do...it was up to Veneer himself to make that finally connection.

"Everyone! Go! Ge-Get out of here!"

Brakeline looked up and watched in horror as Jazz desperately tried to stand while an ominous figure appeared and took aim.

“Oh slag!” He took cover behind the berth Veneer was laid out covering his head hoping he would not be the Prime’s next target.

Mess Hall

“Well Hot Rod, one thing I learned from listening to Rung is that the best sign that you're not crazy is if you wonder if you're crazy. It's when you insist you're not that becomes concerning.”

“Well, that’s good to know, I guess,” Hot Rod responded to Clocker with a brief smile before Cliffjumper inserted his own opinion. Needless-to-say, he wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he wanted to play a game called 21 and went on to describe the rules to everyone.

“Kindasounds liketheywant youto findem. Justsaying.”

The cavalier turned his attention over to Blurr and cast him a deep frown. “Well, thank you, Captain Obvious. I got that much out of it. But, why me? What reason is there for these visions to come to me? What makes me so damn special? And who are they and what is this frozen ship I keep seeing? These are questions that need answering.”

Once Cliffjumper had finished explaining the rules of the game he wanted to play, Hot Rod glanced over at him. “Fine. Deal me in.”

As the flamed-covered mech waited for his cards to be dealt to him, the doors to the mess hall opened, allowing a silver-colored ‘bot to enter. With all of the commotion in the room, Hot Rod did not even notice the individual make his way over and stand directly behind him. The sound of someone clearing their vocalizer made Roddy perk his head up slightly. Then…

“Rodimus. Could I talk to you?…..Please.”

That voice. Hot Rod recognized that voice. And it called him Rodimus. Why did it call him Rodimus? Only the visions in his head referred to him by that name, as did the Fallen, but this was not the Fallen speaking to him right now. Was this another vision? Was he hearing things?

Unfortunately, no. This was not just another vision. It was something worse.

“Hex?” Hot Rod said stoically as he spun around to face the silver mech that had treated him like slag earlier. The cavalier then stood from his seat as he wasn’t about to have the likes of Hex look down at him. “You want to talk to me, huh?” For a brief astrosecond, Hot Rod considered telling him to go suck a tailpipe, but decided not to. It would only incite the little fragger to be nasty again and possibly even cause a fight. Instead, Roddy decided to hear what Hex had to say. “Okay, fine. Talk.” The red and orange Autobot remained standing by the table, his arms crossed over his chest plate as he peered down at the young troublemaker.

Mess Hall:

"Actually Roddy, you only get one card faced down. Then we all take turns drawing a card. Here's your card. Be sure to not look at it." said Cliffjumper as he then handed out everyone else's cards as well, "It's a multiple round game. How many rounds are we thinkin?"

“Rodimus. Could I talk to you? Please.”

Sickening. That's all Cliffjumper could think of. The little amount of time he saw Hex before was more than the red Minibot needed. Then the fool decided he was special enough to come chasing after them to "chat" with the guy he just insulted deeply? How pitiful.

"Don't buy em a drink. I smell trouble all over this fool." Jeered Cliff across the table.

"Rodimus"? wait, that's... that's what Hot Rod said was the name he heard in his visions. Wait this... is strange.

"Rodimus? Who's Rodimus?" asked Cliff to Hex in a prodding tone. Needless to say, this Hex fool had something either up his proverbial sleeve, or that time hanging out with his buddy the Fallen had given him some time to let his mind loose to whatever demonic garbage that "one of flame" was jabbering. Though, it could just be me wanting to insult this idiot more and more.