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fandomweekly2021-11-22 08:59 pm
autobotscoutriella) wrote in fandomweekly2021-11-22 08:59 pm
Entry tags:
[#116] We'll Be Just Fine (Transformers Bayverse)
Theme Prompt: 116 - First Aid
Title: We'll Be Just Fine
Fandom: Transformers Bayverse
Rating/Warnings: PG / Implied violence and unpleasant medical procedures
Bonus: No
Word Count: 966
Summary: In the wake of their near-death experiences, Blackout tries to patch up himself and Scorponok.
Scorponok chittered in protest and nipped at the hands reaching for it, scattering sand everywhere with a thrash of its injured tail. Blackout shook his head, letting the drone go. "You're going to have to let me patch you up eventually."
The scorpion drone flicked its damaged tail and burrowed halfway under the sand, leaving its back half sticking out. Blackout sighed and sat back, wincing as the movement jarred tattered, bent rotors.
Both of them were in terrible shape. Salt water and battering equatorial sunlight had expanded on the damage done by enemy gunfire, leaving both rotorflier and drone with burnt-out nanites and rust patches on top of open wounds. It was no wonder Scorponok didn't want to be handled, but if the injuries weren't cleaned and sealed, the damage would start to eat into delicate systems. They'd survived the elements, but rust was a tougher enemy.
Of course, Blackout reflected, looking up at the empty blue sky, the Autobots were likely to hunt them down and kill them long before the rust ever did if they didn't find some kind of shelter soon.
"Come on, Scorponok." Blackout dusted sand off the scorpion's head. It promptly burrowed deeper. "Get outta there. We need to go."
Scorponok hissed, uncharacteristically hostile. Blackout grimaced and pulled his hand back. "All right, fine, I'll start with my plating and get back to you."
He needed a medic. They both did. Blackout had a basic field kit and some experience using it, but serious injuries - like the ones that chewed through his hip joints, chest, and rotormount - were best handled by someone with training. But the only medics he would have called without hesitation were a few galaxies away at best, assuming they weren't currently dead and rusting, and the day he trusted Scalpel with his drone would be the day he gave up the right to call himself its caretaker. So he scrubbed rust away from his own scars, muttering curses, and tried to remember what order he was supposed to use the different medical implements in.
"Hope the rest of the 'Cons got off easier," he muttered, half to himself and half to the drone. It was a distraction from the pain. "If Scalpel's still around, maybe they're at least in one piece."
That was assuming Scalpel hadn't ended up at the bottom of the ocean. Blackout couldn't remember who the diminutive medic had been attached to before they launched their attack. If he'd been riding with Bonecrusher, he was long gone.
"Not gonna think about it." He redoubled his efforts to get a particularly stubborn patch cleared off one rotor. What he meant was not thinking about Megatron, because that way lay horrors he wasn't prepared to face. "You and I are gonna patch ourselves up and get back to the others, and if they're not in any better shape then maybe we go hide out on our own for a bit."
Scorponok chittered, though it didn't come out from under the sand. Blackout got the impression it liked that idea.
"Not making any - " He broke off, swearing, and paused to get his equilibrium back. "Any promises. We're not going anywhere until you let me patch up your tail, anyway."
Scorponok made a distressed chirrup. Blackout sent it a quick recall ping, though he didn't expect it to listen. "Can't put you back in your cache until I clear up that rust. Your self-repairs will add more metal on top of the rust and then I'll hafta replace the whole tail, and you think I got the spare metal for that?"
He wasn't sure why he was arguing with the drone. He was perfectly capable of hauling it out and fixing it, and he might have to. But something - maybe the fact that the Decepticon forces on this backwater planet had been cut in half, maybe the sudden reversal from victory to defeat, maybe their dual near-death experiences - made him want to convince Scorponok to work with him. They'd worked well together for years, but they hadn't been in a spot this tight in years. Scorponok had gotten used to being autonomous, and Blackout wasn't inclined to take that way if he didn't have to.
Finally, he had cleared up enough of his injuries that he couldn't put off dealing with Scorponok any longer. "All right. Fine. You let me patch up your tail, and you get this." He fished a small piece of solid energon out of subspace, the bright blue crystal glittering in the sunlight. It wasn't much of a loss - even melted down it wouldn't have been enough for a full ration - but he hadn't planned to use it for bribes. "What do you say?"
Scorponok's sensors were good, even when it was buried halfway into the sand. The drone popped up, optics scanning from the energon treat to the wirecloth in Blackout's other hand.
"It'll be quick. I promise," Blackout said, and the drone finally complied and skittered over to his side.
Its tail was in better shape than he had expected. The dry desert air must have kept it from rusting immediately, giving the drone's self-repairs time to kick in. It still wasn't a pleasant procedure, but Blackout made it as quick as possible and gave Scorponok the energon bit the moment he was done.
"You're gonna be fine." That statement was more optimistic than Blackout felt. Scorponok burrowed into the sand again, this time right under his left leg, and pinged a reassuring note.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We're both gonna be fine." Blackout dusted the last few traces of rust off his hands and stared out at the unending ocean, separating them from the rest of the Decepticons. "We'll be just fine."
Title: We'll Be Just Fine
Fandom: Transformers Bayverse
Rating/Warnings: PG / Implied violence and unpleasant medical procedures
Bonus: No
Word Count: 966
Summary: In the wake of their near-death experiences, Blackout tries to patch up himself and Scorponok.
Scorponok chittered in protest and nipped at the hands reaching for it, scattering sand everywhere with a thrash of its injured tail. Blackout shook his head, letting the drone go. "You're going to have to let me patch you up eventually."
The scorpion drone flicked its damaged tail and burrowed halfway under the sand, leaving its back half sticking out. Blackout sighed and sat back, wincing as the movement jarred tattered, bent rotors.
Both of them were in terrible shape. Salt water and battering equatorial sunlight had expanded on the damage done by enemy gunfire, leaving both rotorflier and drone with burnt-out nanites and rust patches on top of open wounds. It was no wonder Scorponok didn't want to be handled, but if the injuries weren't cleaned and sealed, the damage would start to eat into delicate systems. They'd survived the elements, but rust was a tougher enemy.
Of course, Blackout reflected, looking up at the empty blue sky, the Autobots were likely to hunt them down and kill them long before the rust ever did if they didn't find some kind of shelter soon.
"Come on, Scorponok." Blackout dusted sand off the scorpion's head. It promptly burrowed deeper. "Get outta there. We need to go."
Scorponok hissed, uncharacteristically hostile. Blackout grimaced and pulled his hand back. "All right, fine, I'll start with my plating and get back to you."
He needed a medic. They both did. Blackout had a basic field kit and some experience using it, but serious injuries - like the ones that chewed through his hip joints, chest, and rotormount - were best handled by someone with training. But the only medics he would have called without hesitation were a few galaxies away at best, assuming they weren't currently dead and rusting, and the day he trusted Scalpel with his drone would be the day he gave up the right to call himself its caretaker. So he scrubbed rust away from his own scars, muttering curses, and tried to remember what order he was supposed to use the different medical implements in.
"Hope the rest of the 'Cons got off easier," he muttered, half to himself and half to the drone. It was a distraction from the pain. "If Scalpel's still around, maybe they're at least in one piece."
That was assuming Scalpel hadn't ended up at the bottom of the ocean. Blackout couldn't remember who the diminutive medic had been attached to before they launched their attack. If he'd been riding with Bonecrusher, he was long gone.
"Not gonna think about it." He redoubled his efforts to get a particularly stubborn patch cleared off one rotor. What he meant was not thinking about Megatron, because that way lay horrors he wasn't prepared to face. "You and I are gonna patch ourselves up and get back to the others, and if they're not in any better shape then maybe we go hide out on our own for a bit."
Scorponok chittered, though it didn't come out from under the sand. Blackout got the impression it liked that idea.
"Not making any - " He broke off, swearing, and paused to get his equilibrium back. "Any promises. We're not going anywhere until you let me patch up your tail, anyway."
Scorponok made a distressed chirrup. Blackout sent it a quick recall ping, though he didn't expect it to listen. "Can't put you back in your cache until I clear up that rust. Your self-repairs will add more metal on top of the rust and then I'll hafta replace the whole tail, and you think I got the spare metal for that?"
He wasn't sure why he was arguing with the drone. He was perfectly capable of hauling it out and fixing it, and he might have to. But something - maybe the fact that the Decepticon forces on this backwater planet had been cut in half, maybe the sudden reversal from victory to defeat, maybe their dual near-death experiences - made him want to convince Scorponok to work with him. They'd worked well together for years, but they hadn't been in a spot this tight in years. Scorponok had gotten used to being autonomous, and Blackout wasn't inclined to take that way if he didn't have to.
Finally, he had cleared up enough of his injuries that he couldn't put off dealing with Scorponok any longer. "All right. Fine. You let me patch up your tail, and you get this." He fished a small piece of solid energon out of subspace, the bright blue crystal glittering in the sunlight. It wasn't much of a loss - even melted down it wouldn't have been enough for a full ration - but he hadn't planned to use it for bribes. "What do you say?"
Scorponok's sensors were good, even when it was buried halfway into the sand. The drone popped up, optics scanning from the energon treat to the wirecloth in Blackout's other hand.
"It'll be quick. I promise," Blackout said, and the drone finally complied and skittered over to his side.
Its tail was in better shape than he had expected. The dry desert air must have kept it from rusting immediately, giving the drone's self-repairs time to kick in. It still wasn't a pleasant procedure, but Blackout made it as quick as possible and gave Scorponok the energon bit the moment he was done.
"You're gonna be fine." That statement was more optimistic than Blackout felt. Scorponok burrowed into the sand again, this time right under his left leg, and pinged a reassuring note.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We're both gonna be fine." Blackout dusted the last few traces of rust off his hands and stared out at the unending ocean, separating them from the rest of the Decepticons. "We'll be just fine."