by Gatkowski » Wed May 01, 2013 4:22 pm
- Motto: "Victory needs no explanation, defeat allows none."
- Weapon: Nuclear Charged Fusion Cannon
Med Bay
He makes decisions based on his emotions. Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you. But for a medic it can be very dangerous.
'Can be risky, yeah,' Remington said, 'but I could tell you the story of how 'Retta hauled my aft out of a danger zone on nothing more than her whim that she didn't want to see me dead, so I have little against compassion.'
As First Aid led her on, they arrived in front of a row of CR chambers. The silent hisses of circulatory systems greeted them as the bubbling, gelatinous liquid inside the tanks was being constantly refreshed. Visible to naked optic only at full zoom-in, nanite machines performed the minutiae work of restoring the individuals contained in stasis in each tank to operational condition, rebuilding damaged sections of their frames at a near-molecular level after the majority of surgical work had been completed by the medics. It was a completely automated process, but time-consuming. 'Lying on the convalescent beach', as grunt slang came to call it.
I think you two working together would do him some good. He’d get a chance to interact with someone other than his ward. Who happens to be the main source of his distractions.
Remington spared First Aid a glance of mild bafflement under a raised optic-ridges before turning her attention to the datapad brought up before her optics.
'Source of distraction how?' she asked. This Axle was turning out to be an odd figure. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Anyone who saw Beretta, or Primus help them, Ingram for the first time, wouldn't have thought differently about them.
Something caught Remington's attention on the datapad.
'Aid...,' she said as her optics narrowed. She brought a digit up to point out the line in the data she was looking at. 'Aren't these spark emanation signatures a little faint for someone supposedly nearing full recovery?'
Corridors
'Optimus Prime, huh...,' Glock mused upon the mention of the allegedly greatest mech ever to bear the Autobot crest. It appeared her newfound companions weren't quite willing to even consider the notion of him being permanently lost, though his disappearance was quite factual.
'Never got touched by the guy,' she then said, with a bluntness typical of her regarding matters she didn't really care about. 'I think I may have seen him once, but only from a distance. Beretta's all over him, though. She met her on several occasions.'
Things are pretty bleak right now actually. What with Howlstrike's decapitation and the huge influx of wounded into the medical bay earlier.
Of that, Glock only noticed the increased activity on board the ship. She didn't pay it much mind though, mostly guard duty and training so that she would't go to rust filling her schedule.
The seemingly ever-cool Steeljaw began to growl in upset at the mention of this mech, Howlstrike. Strange. He composed himself quickly.
We cassettobots are a closely-knit team. Rewind and Eject monitor frequencies while my function is to track down a quarry, and Ramhorn's function is to destroy anything that gets in the way. He has a few anger management issues sadly. I would advise you avoid him, Miss Glock.
Glock grunted. 'Reminds me of someone on our own team, only it's not anger management but discipline...' she said, but didn't want to reveal the irony of talking about herself.
I am certain that Blaster would be flattered to know that you and your comrades enjoy his broadcasts, Miss Glock. He was talking about doing another broadcast before he was called away to the Ark-22 for whatever reason.
'That'd be great. Nothing like a little rock 'n' roll to shake things up,' Glock nodded, amused. One of the few things she developed a certain liking to during their undercover time on Earth. That and car races. This latter a main cause for a number of cranial aches for Beretta.
'While he's away, though, care to fill me in on the matter of this fellow... Howlstrike, was it?' she asked. If it was some shipwide rumor, she had heard nothing of it. But seeing how swiftly it shook Steeljaw out of his collected demeanor, it ought to have been something serious.
Mess Hall
Wow. What a commotion. And they hadn't done anything yet. Blurr was already cranial over heel compartments and nothing short of a stungun could make him stop. Ingram just loved that. When things were happening. Just like when she was brawling with someone, someone strong enough to stand up to her blows but they would give in in the end. She could go a tremendously long way before she would be bested. That moment, when push came to shove and she was the one braking the standstill and pushing the opponent.
'A'right gang, let's go,' she said, her vocalizer bursting with enjoyment. She grabbed the nearest mech of the gathered bunch, which incidentally happened to be Blurr and began to nudge him towards the exit. A nudge, of her caliber, usually meant the one on the receiving end needed their balance skills to stay on their feet. Without her realizing or intending any harm, of course.