#Scraplette writes

[scraplette]

Abandoned

Rating: PG

Continuity: IDW Transformers

Characters:  Tailgate

Warnings/themes/Notes: None. Enjoy :)

Tailgate passes the time whilst waiting for the rescue team that is most definitely coming for him. No doubt!

Ao3 linkage

In his short life, Tailgate had learnt two very important things about the Mitteus Plateau.

Firstly, and probably most importantly, don't use the plateau as a short-cut. Just don't. The second- which only really applied if you were daft enough to ignore the first rule – if you should find yourself trapped in one of the plateau’s many pitfalls, DON'T try to free yourself. Better to wait for rescue than risk burying yourself further.

Tailgate heaved a deep heavy sigh. “Not like I could climb out, anyway,” he muttered, staring mournfully at his ruined legs.

But hey, that's okay! He wasn't all that worried. After all, he was a vital cog in the Ark 1 machine. They couldn't launch without him or his valuable skill-set. For example, what if one of the filters in the energon dispenser nozzles was clogged? In a worst case scenario the dispenser could overheat, causing a system wide failure that could take hours to repair, basically delaying the launch. What were they going to do if he didn't show up on time? Replace him? Unlikely!

He'd only been on the job for a week but his Supervisor already thought he was the best waste disposal unit he'd ever seen. Apparently, no one could clear out a service duct as fast or efficiently as Tailgate. His spark warmed at the remembered praise. It was almost like he was forged for this very mission.

So, there was no way they'd just leave him out here. Not a chance.

That just meant finding a way to pass the time until rescue came... Which was easier said than done. Tailgate didn't know any songs. Nor did he have any books loaded onto his internal database- truthfully, the only thing he'd ever read had been that old psychology magazine he'd flickered through in the break room -his options for entertainment were severely limited.

All he had was his thoughts. So, leaning back against the oddly warm cave wall, Tailgate imagined how his rescue would play out.

Careful hands will pull him up to the surface, where the rest of the Ark 1 crew are waiting for him, including Nova Prime himself. He'd be brought before the stoic Prime. And while the Prime must always remain impartial, he'd momentary put that aside so he could embrace Tailgate, welcoming him with solemn grace as their crew mates loudly celebrated his safe return. Okay, okay, maybe the Matrix bearer showing up just for him was a bit of a stretch. Still, it was a comforting thought.

His busted chronometer made it difficult to accurately judge the passage of time, but he could still see the sky through the hole made by his initial fall. It was still dark out. Dawn was probably still a few hours away.“Yeah, plenty of time,” he reassured himself, looking up at the small circle of night sky above. “They won't abandon me.”

[swordshade]

Tagged by @scraplette, Sorry if the formatting ends up weird. I prefer to do these on my laptop but it’s broken at the moment, so mobile it is.

Rules: answer all questions, then add one of your own

Coke or Pepsi? Coke.

Disney or Dreamworks? Disney.

Coffee or Tea? Tea, though the kind i like is cold and mixed with so much fruit and sweetener it barely qualifies.

Books or Movies? Books, unless the story was planned as a movie from the start

Windows or Mac? Windows.

DC or Marvel? Marvel for movies, DC for animated tv, and it depends on who’s writing for live-action tv and comics.

XBox or Playstation? Xbox, mostly cause that’s where my friends are. I also prefer tge control layout, and usually use an XBox gamepad even for my few PC games.

Dragon Age or Mass Effect? Mass Effect. I like the universe a lot more and the characters slightly more.

Night Owl or Early Bird? Night Owl, to the point of inconvenience for myself and others.

Cards or Chess? Cards.

Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla, unless the chocolate is just chocolate and not chocolate flavored.

Vans or Converse? There are few things I care about less than shoes.

Preferred Inquisitor? Adaar, specifically Lady Adaar when voiced by Sumalee Montano.

Paragon or Renegade? Paragon on the whole, though there are a few quests that are exceptions, I take a lot of combat interrupts, and Han'Gerrel has yet to make it through a playthrough unpunched. (Stop shooting at Shep and his Space Wife, you bosh'tet!)

Star Wars or Star Trek? Star Wars, but only slightly. Both are good.

Binge or one episode at a time? Binge.

Studio Ghibli or Makoto Shinkai? Ghibli.

Republic or Empire? Republic morally, but Empire has better style and tech.

Heroes or Villains? My favorite characters tend to be heroes and anti-villains, but you need to have solid characters all over the spectrum for a good story

Notebook or PC typing? No real preference. Unless notebook means an actual notebook, in which case I always prefer typing.

Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter? Lord pf the Rings

Sci-Fi or Fantasy? Sci-Fi or Urban Fantasy. Or both at the same time, that’s always fun.

Vampires or Werewolves? Werewolves. Lot less weaknesses and extra hassles to deal with most days, plus eating people is optional rather than a requirement.

Autobots or Decepticons? Autobots

I’m going to add: Preferred role in team games? Personally, I usually go for tank. I like being right in the fight/on the objective, and being the wall in between damage and my team. Plus I have a few friends who go medic/support, and they can do that job much better when at least one person is actually trying to protect them instead of just getting the most kills. Whether I’m actually GOOD at it depends on the game.

Tagging @sassy-xelor, @corrupt-end, @pithyrhyme, @eclipse-strider, @austiness, if they want. Or anyone else that feels like it. No pressure.

[scraplette]

Details

Rating: General Audiences

Ao3 Linkage

Archive Warning: Mentions of canon typical violence but nothing graphic.  

Characters: Ratchet, First Aid

Summary: In the aftermath of the Red rust virus, ratchet asks a favour of First Aid. However, before anything can be done a few details need to be discussed.

Notes: I think enough time has passed for me to post my story featured in @projecttfzine. It was such am honour to be included in this book featuring so many talented artists and authors, and all for an excellent cause.

Whether or not you believed in Primus or the idea of intelligent design, there was no denying that Ratchet's hands were a work of art. Trained at the prestigious Iaconian Academy of Science and Technology, he'd gone on to hone those skills on and off the battlefield for untold millennia, earning the distinction and honour of being the only medic to save the lives of multiple Primes, whether they deserved it or not.

Medics, Autobot and Decepticon alike, traded whispered tales about Ratchet and his fabled hands. And while not all of them were true each and every story was told with equal amounts awe and respect, and often with a generous dose of fear.

Which was why First Aid couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You want your hands removed?”

Ratchet, as if he'd been expecting this reaction, sighed. “I know I'm practically falling apart but my vocoder is still in good nick.”

First Aid's visor flickered wildly as his mind raced for something to say. Unfortunately all he could manage was a spluttered, and thoroughly uninspired “But they're you hands!”

“Indeed they are. So, I think I get a pretty big say in what happens to them.”

“There are treatments we can try-”

“Don't.” First Aid flinched. “Neither of us are idiots. And neither was Pharma. Say what you want about him but I can't deny he made himself quite an effective virus...”

If First Aid was intimidated at all by Ratchet's heated scowl then he wasn't showing it. He stepped up beside the medical slab and took a gentle hold of one of Ratchet's ruined hands. Despite his earlier mention of possible treatments he knew, deep down, that Ratchet's hands were beyond saving.

The once vibrant plating was now a faded grey, criss-crossed by jagged cracks. He stroked his thumb oh so carefully over the back of Ratchet's palm but even that gentle movement caused flecks of rust and faded paint to peel and flake, and fall silently onto the medical slab. It was almost enough to make First Aid weep.

Not trusting his own twitching grip, First Aid lowered the hand back to the slab. “If we'd only gotten the vaccine sooner.”

Ratchet snorted and First Aid looked up to catch the briefest flash of a bitter smile. “Please, my hands were already on their way out. Pharma's bug merely sped things up.” he pulled he hands into his lap, resting them across the tops of his thighs.

Something seemed off. First Aid had been a doctor for many years. From general practice right through to battlefield medic, he had the unfortunate duty of breaking bad news to a great many patients. Everyone reacted differently. Some raged against the prognosis. Others pleaded, hoping for some sort of mistake or clerical error. Then there were those who accepted the news with nary a reaction, as if their spark had already extinguished, leaving nothing more than fumes to propel their failing frame.

But Ratchet was reacting with his usual gruff and snark. No raging, pleading or terrible silence.

First Aid's visor narrowed as he fixed the CMO with a searching gaze.“I must admit,” he began, easing into conversation with as much tact as possible. “I'm surprised at how well you're taking this.

“Well, I've always been a bit of a pragmatist. Looking forward and all that. Plus, it won't really be an issue once you replace these useless lumps for Pharma's.” First Aid didn't react but the sudden tension in his frame was hard to miss. The older medic huffed. “Oh, don't give me that look. It's not like he'll be needing them any more,” he tried to cross his arms across his chest but gave up when his hands awkwardly bumped against each other, settling instead for resting them in his lap again.

“Tha- That's not the point!”

“It's not?

First Aid blinked. “Okay, in a way it is. But a procedure like that requires two medics.” he paused, waiting- hoping - for a reaction from Ratchet. None came. “I'm just a nurse...” he admitted, suddenly unable to face the other bot.

Obsessive compulsive tendencies. The words still stung even when voiced in the privacy of his own thoughts. First Aid knew the reasons for his odd behaviour- and would take that secret with him to the Allspark - but he couldn't blame Rung for his final diagnosis or the resulting demotion. He'd been so quick to accept Springer's mission. But while he had the skills necessary to check the damaged Autobrands, he'd lacked the subtlety needed to carry out such a task unnoticed. No, First Aid had no one but himself and his own starstruck eagerness to thank for that.  

A gentle nudge against his forearm pulled First Aid back to the present. “I head about your demotion,” the older bot said with surprising gentleness. “As Autobot CMO I think I can probably do something about that...” he let the promise hang tantalisingly but First Aid was hesitant to reach for it just yet.

First Aid went still, again. “Why me?”

Ratchet shrugged. “I got my reasons.”

Goodness, that didn't sound ominous at all. “Do I get to hear these reasons?” He raised an optic ridge.

“Maybe later,” Ratchet said, putting a stop to any protest First Aid might have had with a single look. “Right now, you and I need to go over some details.”

First Aid frowned. “We do? It's a fairly simple procedure.” So simple in fact, that First Aid was certain he could do the operation with his hands fused together. Next to basic maintenance and minor Nucleon poisoning, it was the most common injury type that the Delphi facility dealt with.

Ratchet nodded, obviously agreeing with him. “True, but you worked closely with Pharma for a number of years. Before we do anything I need to know you're comfortable with this.”

Although said with that same gentleness from earlier, First Aid still visibly flinched at Ratchet's words.

Was he okay with this? Limb recycling was a common practice but it was usually done with the patient's prior consent. Something Pharma doubtfully had time to give as he'd plummeted to his apparent death. If nothing had happened. If Pharma's deal with the DJD, and the Virus had been nothing more than a nightmare then yes, First Aid would've had some doubts about this procedure. But it had happened. Pharma, through an act of sheer desperation, had doomed them all. Killing his patients and then, in a final act of cruelty, mutilating their cooling frames for their Tcogs, all so a sociopathic monster could get his latest fix. It made his inner most energon boil knowing that someone he'd once respected and admired had let him down so spectacularly.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. “I... Ratchet. May I speak frankly for a moment?”

There was a short moment of silence. First Aid wondered if he'd someone offended the other medic and was about to apologise when Ratchet finally responded. “I'd prefer it. Go on.”

Although he'd been permitted to speak First Aid had to push down the sudden rush of anxiety that filled his spark.  If it weren't for Ratchet, and the other members of this Lost Light crew, things would've gone a lot differently. No ifs or buts. Everyone would be dead, with only his encrypted patient data floating about the subspace network as a vague clue to the truth.

The last possible thing he wanted to do was offend Ratchet. He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I mean... I might have worked with Pharma but you...” Dammit! Just say it! “You were his friend. I think? He used to talk about you. A lot, actually.”

Ratchet was famous for his sharp wit and just as deadly temper. So First Aid braced himself for a cutting rebuttal. Instead, he heard a sound so rare that many doubted it even existed. Ratchet laughed. “Ha! Did he now? How many of those times started with the phrase 'I'm a better medic than Ratchet and here's why'” his voice took on an haughty edge in a near-perfect impression of Pharma's former speech patterns.  

“Not all of them...” First Aid said, meekly.

“Yeah. I thought as much.” Ratchet smiled but it didn't quite reach his optics, which had dimmed to a dark blue.

Again, he wondered how Ratchet could remain so calm when faced with such a personal betrayal. “I'm sorry, sir.” he apologised.

“Don't be. I appreciate your honestly. It's something we're in short supply of these days.” Ratchet sank into the medical-grade padding with a deep sigh. “My hands are failing. And while it doesn't change what he did, Pharma was a great doctor. It seems a shame to waste a perfectly good pair of hands, especially if I can do some good with them.” There was a tightness to his expression as he frowned. “Something good needs to come from this...”

First Aid, not trusting himself to speak, could only nod in silent agreement.

The sombre silence was broken by an abrupt snap and then a plink as something hit the floor. Looking down, First Aid vents stalled. “Is that...?”

“Yes, that is my index finger.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we should push forward that surgery time. Hm?”

“Ah, yes. I think that's a good idea.”

[scraplette]

Rating: General Audiences  Archive Warning: Category: Gen  Fandom: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), MTMTE Characters: Tailgate (Transformers), Cyclonus (Transformers)