Log Title: Hospital Visitors Characters: Goth, Khamsin, Ghost, Deathsaurus, Windblade, Dust Devil, Delusion, Discretion, Bulwark, Banshee, Jazz, Backblast, Spike, Cerebros Location: Valvolux Medical Center - Valvolux Date: 5/14/2020 TP: Peace In Our Time TP Summary: People come to visit Goth and Khamsin while their recovering, Bulwark comes in and repairs the two infull, if not making them better then they had been before... As logged by Goth
Dust Devil sighs, "I normally face problems straight on. But...Jazz has been mad at me. It just feels like I screwed up."
Khamsin nods slightly and exhales softly while pushing himself to sit up again, because laying down is for suckers...apparently. Or he's just that restless. "And did you? If you did, then you did. If not, then speak your case but be at ease with what transpired."
Deathsaurus is guarding Goth. Or at least he was before he passed out himself. Hes crouched next to him like a big kaiju gargoyle, his head resting on his knees, wings limp. His wings twitch as he hears voices.
Hospital curtain had been pulled around Goth's berth loong ago last night, but Des kinda gives away whos there, big Kaiju and all... A number of Life support systems have been set up, clearly attached to Goth behind that curtain... There's a 'clicking' sound as something comes online, followed by the low hum of fans.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> So last night.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> It wasnt a dream was it
< irc.dal.net> <Voidwalker> nope..
Dust Devil frowns and tries to figure where he might have gone wrong.
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> My dreams are usually more digitized so no.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Not unless this is the kind of dream that leaves your body stuffed up.
Khamsin looks over at Dust Devil a moment before again reaching up to wipe the corner of his mouth clean. "Something to think on, then..." He glances at the sounds behind the curtain and just furrows his brow, but otherwise remains quiet.
< irc.dal.net> <AreaFiftyFun> it was not a dream
< irc.dal.net> <AreaFiftyFun> you did make quite a first impression though
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> Im sorry.
Deathsaurus is perched like a giant mechanical gargoyle next to Goth's bed. His head is resting on his knees, his wings droop a bit and his optics are offline. He must have fell into an exhausted sleep just like that the night before. Hes sneding and recieving radio transmissions but otherwise, just an immobile warrior covered in energon thats mostly his own.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> I can't stay long. Systems are telling my I shouldn't be online. ANyone need anything of me before I shut down?
Plasma Rifle. .ZZzzZZZzzZZZZ.... locked magnetically to some point on Deathsaurus as the operative parses and compiles data.
Theres the sound of some sort of l.e.d? coming oneline like a Tv turning on, followed by a heavy, raged cough and wheezing, something sounds like it snaps before that clicking stops and a fan engages properly, Goth's voice can be heard. "Wh.."
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> Irksome kaiju.. We should not be here.
< irc.dal.net> <AreaFiftyFun> you should power down if you aren't supposed to be online!
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> He needs me here guarding.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Valvolux can take care of itself. You're no good as a guard if you're barely online.
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> Too aggrieved to speak politely to you but here we are. And this will take the explaining.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> I just need to shut off my optics for five minutes then I'll move allright?
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> Get on a berth, I can't carry your giant aft.
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> I'll don the guardian role.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> Right here. Energy levels are too low to move.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> Its not the first wall I've recharged against.
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> Well if you wake strapped down, you were in the medics way.
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> Allright. watch them a bit. Leave if you have to. I'll be joining you in five...
< irc.dal.net> <Gardener> <disconnects>
Ghost launches herself away from Deathsaurus, transforming to give the Destron a narrow optic'd glower. "Fine. Stay there and rest. I'll watch."
Deathsaurus tries to move but his systems aren't having any of it. His wings shive and he shuts back into recharge mode. His body isnt giving him much of a choice.
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> <reconnects>
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> .... --- .-- / .-.. --- -. --. / .-- .- ... / .. / --- ..- - ..--..
TRANSLATION: HOW LONG WAS I OUT?
Dust Devil frowns as he hears the additional voices and lifts his head some, Hissing in pain.He's got a cloth over his optics. "What's goin on
Khamsin flicks his ears again and looks towards the source of the voices, taking a good moment or two to just gather up what reserves he does have and drops down to his feet. Much like when he'd ventured to where Dust Off was at, it's unsteady stumbling across the medbay supported by whatever he chances to get a hand on as he takes a look at...well, it's a sight, that's for sure. "Just relax, Dust Devil. Nothing's going on."
Goth's ears twitch lightly at the voices, he's finally able to open his optics partly, none of his other bio-lights have come on, just his optics, which don't look like their fully there, it takes him a few minutes to processes the voices before his moves his helm lightly towards the direction of one. "Kh...a..m?" He asks. It's easy to tell where he was wounded as they have 'healed' over with twisted jagged malformed metal that formed... well all but some puncture wounds that look like they half-healed, followed by what looks like where someone /tried/ to repair him and made it worse.. most this has been patched over properly.
Ghost gives Deathsaurus now recharging form a narrow optic'd glower before she looks around, wings snap-twitching behind her in agitation. The operative folds arms across her chest, settling herself next to Goth's table with a stern air about her. She remains silent for some time, but when she speaks, the charred femme's voice is a papery-rasp of a whisper, "Khamsin's on a med bearth, Goth. Do try to stay still as you look like absolute slag." Ghost adds as she glares at Khamsim, "Or he was..."
Khamsin looks from Goth to Ghost...a brief glance given to Des. "You do not need to stay here." He coughs softly before moving to collapse himself into a nearby berth and steady himself a bit. "So...did the Decepticons get what they were after? And...how far set back is the city in recovery now?"
Goth grunts and there's the sound of loud whining from one of his locked up servos before the cracking of.. metal or was it plastic? shearing off and allowing the joint movement once more, doesn't come without a yelp of pain from Goth though, who vents out rapidly, there's the sound of loos liquid falling. He'd let out a grunt as he tries to clear his voice box. "Y-You.. Are you.. ookay?"
Ghost chuff-snorts air out of her intakes, wings continuing to fglick-twitch with irritation even if her mood is not entirely reflected in her voice. "I'm afraid that I /do/ need to stay here, Khamsin." She remains unmoving by Ghot's medtables side. "Being that I do not know what /exactly/ the plans were, I am not able to give a definitive answer if the Decepticons retrieved whatever goal they had set."
Dust Devil is quiet as he listens to the exchange. Right now he's not in an especially good position to mouth off.
Khamsin gives a slight nod as he mutters. "Well...I suppose we shall see what's left, then, won't we." He narrows his optics slightly before giving a light shake of his head. "As long as the foundations are there for something that Altihex can use for recovery...then I will at least be at ease with the undesireable outcome of it all. Though, I seem to recall explosions... The labs were not destroyed, were they?"
Goth keeps silent for a moment as he listens to Khamsin's grilling of Ghost... Really no choice honestly, he was too weak to say much else, still, hearing Khamsin active and awake was enough to help calm Goth down emenssly, the noise from his flame lowering.
Ghost intakes, then ex-vents a large rush of air in a deep, strut-achingly tired sort of sound. Brows lift and she dim-flickers optics with a shake of her head, an optic-roll as it were. "Do find yourself someplace to sit lest this one." she nods her head at the quiet yet moving a bit Goth on the table she's guarding. "Rattles himself into further distress while trying to track you. If you.." tone drops, papery-rasp painfully polite, "be as so kind, that is." She studies Kham a moment before replying to one of the myriad questions he's posited. "I believe the structure is present but may have some damage to the defenses." A shake of her head, frowning now, "However the data appears to have been destroyed or damaged. There was.. an apparent self-destructive sequence activated. And an unscheduled system ejection."
Khamsin gives Ghost a nod. "I see. Very well, I know who I need to speak to, then, to begin rebuilding what needs be rebuilt." He looks at the berth he's seated in before giving Ghost a soft chuckle. "And...believe me, right now I'm in no position to be moving around too much either. Valour turned those guns on me before they were destroyed...and had a fine time with his blade at my expense. Something seems to flash across his features, a thought, but it's brief. "Those within the labs were paranoid. It's a shame they had to be re-introduced to Cybertron in the manner they were." He looks over at Goth and then just nods some... "I should rest, though...before the staff here follows through on their threat to use heavy restraints to keep me down."
Goth's ear flicks as he smiles over at Khamsin weakly. Goth, stress himself out into a coma? Nooooo... (Anyone that knew him, yes, yes he totally would.) He looks heavily out of it, but.. he does relax.
Ghost's silvered lavender optics dim and darken as some missive reaches her. Frame language goes on alert: Wings arching so tips are aggressively over her shoulder, panels segmenting and rasping against one another. "Just because you think someone may be out to get you does not mean that they are not." is her soft reply.
Khamsin smiles slightly. "Oh, I know someone is out to get me. The shadows harbor no shortage of such things. I'm surprised everyone doesn't live that way." He shrugs. "I simply focus on what needs be done...and try to do such to the best of my abilities." He frowns, getting that tell-tale taste in his mouth and pauses to clean the energon forming at the corner... "Hmph. But, yes...I'll have to try and, at the very least, see if anyone within those labs is open to reviving them proper..."
GAME: Goth FAILS an ENDURANCE roll of Average difficulty.
Goth after a moment attempts to push himself up upright at the least, but his frame isn't having it, pretty much setting off one of the medical alarms in his attempt... Causing him to grumble out in frustration. "Stupid.. old frame.." he grumbles and sighs. "Lo siento.."
Dust Devil is fighting a processor ache as he lays there with the cloth on his head. So it's hard to say if he's awake or not. Mostly he's just laying listening to those around him.
Ghost looks at Goth, then the recharging Deathsaurus, before flicking attention to Khamsin, "We appear to share some similar thought processes then." She slowly relaxes back down. "I should return to Trypticon now." she murmurs.
Khamsin nods. "Indeed...perhaps we can discuss some matters further when time -and security- permit." He coughs and looks over at Goth as the alarms go off... "As for you... rest. No need to push yourself any further for now. Just recover, hmm? That way I can comfortably do the same."
Goth's ears fall back and he puffs a cheek at Khamsin, but.. he settles down compliant. "Si.." he rasps before huffing out but smiles weakly. Y..You should.. rest too.."
Ghost's expression remains alert as she gives a nod of her head, "Yes.. as -security- permits." She turns on a heel, wings locking into 'seeker' standard position, departing medical itself.
Ghost has left.
Khamsin gives a nod. Or, he thinks he does. It's more a slight movement of the ears. Whether it's at Goth or Ghost is up to debate, though...he seems content to just rest where he's at.
Goth lies there quietly, before he glances to Khamsin. "Te quiero..." He'd say, before closing his optics and taking another weezy vent as he tries to calm down.
Delusion enters the guest room with the high value patients and looks about. "Khamsin's in recharge, mm? I suppose news of the city can wait." She examines the other people in the room, seeing who's active now.
Windblade arrives not too long after Delusion, staying in the main part of the medical center as she tries to question the personnel there on where Goth was being kept.
Goth is awake, barely, but he's awake, seems his moving set off one of the medical alarms and he looks annoyed, his optics are rather distant, only his optics on, bio-lights off, some fans running, the nurses and doctors there on hand last night have patched up Goth and got him stable enough and on life support where he'd nod die on them before someone could get to him.... the grosely repaired metal still visible.. An ear twitches over at the entrance of the others... Deathsaurus, also injured, is nearby resting near Goth like a guard dog.
Dust Devil raises a hand to his face and tries to peek out from under the cloth and makes a face before quickly clamping the cloth back down.
Delusion leans against the wall. "Altihex is a mess. Between Astrotrain, Snarl, and Blockade they fragged quite a few buildings to some extent. The labs are damaged, too, but it's less obvious as to how. Presumably Dust Devil or Khamsin may know more, there." She shakes her head. "The damage isn't as bad as what they did to Valvolux last time this city was invaded, but then, they didn't have the time to really work Altihex over. Nor did anyone sabotage the refinery like they did here. I still wouldn't recommend anybody going back with less than a full team, both security and construction."
Spike walks in with Cerebros...veeeeery quietly.
Dust Devil, Goth, Khamsin, and Deathsaurus are all in a private ward at the moment. There's a city guard at the door, less to keep the injured in and more to keep any possible saboteurs out. Though at the moment, the injured are -very- injured and probably shouldn't leave in anything other than medical transport.
Goth lies there in silence with dim optics, staring at the ceiling... Longest he's been on since last night, though there are sounds of struggle... He tries once more to push himself to a sitting upright position, careful not to knock loose any of the life support.
Dust Devil frowns, "Not sure who all is awake in here....but guess the bots are gonna send in a medic ta help with repairs."
Delusion nods even though Dust Devil's optics are covered. "I suppose I should step out and see who, then." She leaves the room.. and sees that there are multiple Autobots in the Medical Center who might be considered 'medics'.
Spike climbs up to Dust Devil's table and brings out his tools. A sad express is on his face from both failing to save the city and seeing so many in the repair bay. "Heyah..."
GAME: Goth PASSES an ENDURANCE roll of High difficulty.
Goth lets out a grunt of pain as he gets himself upright sitting up, he pants heavily.
Delusion looks back inside. "Are you sure you want to be moving?" she asks Goth. "Also, is there a particular medic you trust to work on you?"
Goth's ears fall back. "..No.." He says rasply. "..I've.. not had a.." he'd cough. "preferred medic.. in.. millions of years.." He'd frown.
Delusion hmms. "Unfortunately, most of the ones in this facility aren't going to be crazy enough to try to work on you beyond getting you stable. Since you're in our town and you're not actively dying, we're not going to let anybody work on you that you don't approve of. Let's hope there's at least one or two out there."
Goth frowns. "Their... dead.. or cons.." Goth wheezes out. He then points to Khamsin. "Not... well, or.. up-to-date.. to do it.. anymore." Khamsin had been Goth's medic for so long, he had to others.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Sup.
Delusion tips her head to the side. "Would you accept assistance from a neutral? I can see if Bulwark's available. I can't think of many who'd be able to handle the crystallization issue you seem to be having."
Goth pants. "..S..So long as I am not to.. be used as an /experiment/ or.. my s..systems used to create others.. then.. y..yes." He says wheezing once more, he's unable to stay up and lies back down. "Or.. tortured.." he adds tiredly.
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> I can tttttype on here nowwwww.
Goth then pauses. "C..crystallization?" he asks confused.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Glad to hear it!
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> Almost.. tttired.. hurts..
< irc.dal.net> <Purple Sigil> We are still offering medical relief to Underwood.
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> in.. valvo...lux..
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Good. Relax, Underwood, you're safe. Deathsaurus got you and Khamsin and... not sure who else there.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Whirlwind, for one, not sure about anyone else.
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> Some shiney and myself.
< irc.dal.net> <Purple Sigil> My medics tell me that you have more than superficial wounds to worry about.
Delusion waves at Goth's torso. "I'm not sure what it is, but the large jagged pieces of metal forming in your body aren't exactly normal functioning." She smirks. "And you'll find that the people around here frown on experimenting on people without their consent."
Ghost has arrived.
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> almost.. died...
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> I think most of us do. That Con sniper's a hard-hitter.
< irc.dal.net> <Purple Sigil> Any information on that sniper would be appreciated.
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> Nightshade.. bitch.
< irc.dal.net> <Purple Sigil> That's a good start.
Goth takes a moment and ahs. "...Ah, not crystal.. broken self-repair.." Goth explains tiredly. "Abnormal.. regentive properties.. was broken, now.." He'd tap at the deformed metal.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Yup, that's the one.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> Smart. Fast. Multi-mode weapon of some kind... I got shot at by a laser, an incendiary grenade, and some sort of plasma.
< irc.dal.net> <Dr. Asshole, MD> She's got stealth capabilities of some kind.
< irc.dal.net> <Purple Sigil> We will have to look into it.
Ghost steps back into the medical facility, pausing at security to sign in as 'Ghost, Guardian of Trypticon' and naught else. Once she's given the go back, she follows the instructions to a t, making her way back to the secured ward, footfalls heavy, expression grim.
Delusion nods to herself. "Well, you're in luck. He's available." She leans against the wall of the secure ward. "The influx of temporarily refugees has had him a bit busy coordinating the construction crews and everything."
Goth nods lying there, optics still dim, he vents out heavily as he coughs violently again, to tired to clean the energon form his lip. "...Make sure.. Khmasin's repaired first.." he'd wheeze, and glance over to Ghost.
< irc.dal.net> <Voidwalker> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDtOBleHo5w
Bulwark has arrived.
Ghost's footfalls take her into the secured area and the operative makes her way closer to Goth's med-table, assuming an 'at-ease' with hands clasped behind her at the small of her back. Wings tip and lockdown as she settles herself to. well guard really.
< irc.dal.net> <Domina> Guten abend
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> Domi..
< irc.dal.net> <Domina> Undervood, hallo!
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> .. / .- -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- / .. / -.-. .- -. -. --- - / -.- . . .--. / - .- .-.. -.- .. -. --. / --- -. / .... . .-. . / .-.. .. -.- . / - .... .. ... --..-- / . ...- . .-. -.-- - .... .. -. --. / .... ..- .-. - ... / - --- --- / -- ..- -.-. .... .-.-.-
TRANSLATION: I AM SORRY I CANNOT KEEP TALKING ON HERE LIKE THIS, EVERYTHING HURTS TOO MUCH.
< irc.dal.net> <Domina> Mein gott it has been so long since my morse lessons let me vork zat out...
< irc.dal.net> <Domina> Ah... vhere are you?
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> ...- .- .-.. ...- --- .-.. ..- -..- / .... --- ... .--. .. - .- .-..
TRANSLATION: VALVOLUX HOSPITAL
< irc.dal.net> <Domina> Er... varn zem, air deploy drop capsule inbound from Trypticon. It is not hostile, unt I cannot request permission vithout undue suspicion.
< irc.dal.net> <<Underwood>> .. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. --..-- / .. / - .... .. -. -.- / - .... . -.-- / -.-. .- -. / ... . . .-.-.-
TRANSLATION: I WILL, I THINK THEY CAN SEE.
< irc.dal.net> <Arbiter> Will do Doina. Arbiter is on location as well.
Goth glances over to Ghost and tilts his helm lightly and then to the dominicons in the room. "Think.. Banshee is coming.."
Delusion rubs at her faceplate. "Something is, anyway. Since when did people forget we can just be called?"
Ghost gives a tiny shrug of shoulders, "I think we're at a new level of paranoia." she rasps softly, tone dry.
Goth nods in agreement with Ghost. "Radios.. not safe.. They can hear.." Goth states, a light gesture too his ears.
Bulwark steps into the medical center and moves confidently through it's interior until he reaches the guard on the private ward for Khamsin and Goth. He doesn't offer any words as he opens the door and steps inside, making sure the door is shut behind him.
He looks over those inside the room until his optics settle on Delusion. "Who is it that needs tending to first?"
Goth pauses in thought and glances over. "...She's.. a friend, safe.." Goth adds on before he optics over to Bulwark.
Delusion arches an optic ridge. "Curioser and curioser." She nods to Bulwark. "I'll step out and see who's knocking on our door." She heads into the hallway. It's not like anybody's likely to try anything with him there.
Ghost remains as she stands, near Goths med-bearth, at an easy at-ease. "I do believe the Cityspeaker Banshee was to arrive, madame. There was a.. missive but I do not know the intent entirely." she directs those paper-rasped words to Delusion. Silver hued optics focus on Bulwark, a mechanism she does not know, remaining on alert.
Banshee has arrived.
Banshee arrives via a drop-pod from Trypticon. Considerately, however, she's chosen the kind which comes apart harmlessly quite high up, intended for deploying Seeker triunes, but today it's got just the one occupant - Banshee, in her robot mode because there's no way on Cybertron her altmode would survive this. She's got to burn her heel-jets most of the way down and she still has to land in a three-point crouch to bleed off the last of the energy. She signs herself in at the desk, and then enquires as to the location of Goth and Khamsin. No doubt Delusion will be informed of her presence not long after her arrival!
Windblade is sitting off to one side, reading through a datapad as she waits quietly in the reception area of the medical center.
Goth's ear twitches, he at least knows the voice, his vision is still very hazy, his sensors where not not operating at full, very dim green optics move up at the blurry figure he sees. "Hm...?" Both Khamsin and Goth are in very rough shape, Who's worse is... up for debate.
Delusion nods to Banshee and then to Windblade. "Two cityspeakers here.. on titan business, or visiting the sick?"
Banshee looks over to Windblade. "Ah, hallo Vindblade." She says pleasantly. She looks over at Delusion with a smile. "Visiting zer sick. In zis muddy, ugly var, I find myself vith friends on all sides of the lines zese days."
Windblade looks up a bit at Banshee's arrival and nods in greeting, "I came to check on Goth.. wanted to see his condition and make sure my repairs held long enough."
Bulwark ,makes his way over to the medical beds and begins to scan Goth and Khamsin in turn. "You will recover in time, so I will see to you shortly," he directs towards Goth, "your friend here isn't so lucky..."
Bulwark begins carefully examining Khamsin's frame, noting the injuries. dents, rents, and something else. The leader sized mech retrieves his own set of medical tools, a set that looks well kept and cared for, if not more than a bit older in style. This doesn't phase him and he gets straight to work, carefully removing damaged armor plates, sealing lines, and replacing damaged and, in some cases, destroyed components with a practiced hand and ease of motion.
>> Bulwark finishes the repairs on Khamsin. <<
Ghost inclines her head politely to Banshee as she enters but remains as she set herselt, simply watching alertly.
Delusion nods. "They're back in the protected ward." She waves to the staff and gestures for Banshee and Windblade to follow her. "It may be a bit crowded with you two in addition to everybody else."
Goth nods, glad that Khamsin's dealt with first, closing his optics, trying to relax, knowing his lover was tended too first, and in safe hands. "Thank you.." he states as he struggles to stay awake, letting the life support systems do most the work. His ears twitch at each little sound, somewhat looking forward to Banshee visiting, he'd not seen or spoken with her in sometime.
Banshee nods and follows "I'm small, it's no big problem." She chuckles, following Delusion. She nods to Ghost as she walks in, looking around to find herself a place out of the way to stand. "Goth, hallo." She says, with a smile.
Goth glances over to Banshee, his biolights are out, his optics dim, his.. injuries look weird, as there is mutilated and twisted metal jutting outward, it also looks melted and stuck together to undamaged parts of his frame, there is a set of puncture wounds that look partly like the rest, partly not, covered in patches and that's just the outside... He's on life support, which is pretty clear by the machinery and on an energon drip. Deathsaurus is also sleeping nearby his berth like a guard dog and covered in energon not his own.. Fact it's all Goth's. Goth takes a wheezy vent and smiles up at her, hearing her voice. "Hello.. Sorry we.. had to meet up like this.."
Windblade locks the datapad down as she stands up and follows along behind the two, stopping near the door so as not to fill the room even more as she peers inside and waits till things are a bit calmer before she says anything.
Bulwark goes about his work, the number of worn, damaged, and outdated parts only increases every few kliks. He doesn't look up at the newcomers; just muttering various things about 'outdated this' or 'destroyed that' and 'completely unacceptable subsystem designs'.
Delusion also takes up position at the door. She's mostly here as security rather than a medic or friend. She can hear what's going on well enough from here, and besides, she trusts Bulwark to handle most emergencies himself.
Banshee watches, blinking softly. "Hello Goth... don't worry. It's not exactly your fault." She shrugs a little. "How are you feeling?" A pause. "Other zan ze obvious, of course."
Goth falls silent a moment, trying to think how to respond to that... He chooses to lie. He chuffs. "Not the.. first time I've been near death. I'll.. be fine." He nods and glances over to KHamsin and Bulwark, he looks /very/ relieved. knowing his mates frame and internals are being properly updated now, feeling partly guilty he couldn't finish the parts he'd been making for him. "...Are you doing.. well in this... insanity?" he asks.. His Decepticon emblems noticeably gone.
Ghost slides a foot backwards as the room fills, the operative frowning a moment before she triggers a sequence that fanfolds her wing panels into themselves, settling under housings paralleling her spine to reduce the amount of space she is taking up. Another step backwards so she's as against a wall as she can be yet remain close to Goth's medtable. Hands remain at the small of her back, clasped beneath two hilts that are now exposed. A deep ex-vent and she once again grows motionless.
Windblade listens for awhile but eventually she simply nods and turns to go, heading for the exit to the medical center.
Banshee nods, quietly. "Ja, all sings considered." She says. "Trypticon is enjoying space. I think he likes not feeling gravity, ja? So much mass, it veighs him down so to speak." She chuckles.
Dust Devil raises his head as he hears people moving around. A slight frown appears on his face.
Windblade has left.
Bulwark removes a part that may have been an actuator, motivator, or some kind of linkage in the past. Now it appears to be a piece of fused metal and wires. Another shake of the head and the more replacement parts go back into Khamsin.
"Good.. I am.. glad, he is happy." Goth would then cough roughly. "I'm.. sorry, for thee.. worry." He'd say, clearing his voice box. "...Thank you.. for coming.. missed your.. company." He glances over to Ghost, his vision maybe blurred, he can still see her movement though.
Delusion leans enough into the room to look over at Ghost. "Still wearing white?" she asks softly.
Ghost lifts a brow, attention shifting to Delusion before she nods, voicing in a soft whisper-rasp, "Indeed. Clean slate and all."
Banshee quirks a brow at the 'wearing white' question bot shrugs. "I find I have friends on all sides in zis var. Of course I'm going to visit." She smiles.
Dust Devil pipes up, "Who is wearing white?" His curiosity piqued
At least Dust Devil has been trained to be a good patient <or else> by Ratchet.
Delusion raises both optic ridges at Ghost's answer and hmms. "Are you officially jumping ship, or staying with the Empire?" Shrewd optics are intent, watching Ghost's every movement.
Goth can't help but smile at that. "Wish.. we'ed had.. a chance to do those.. singing lessons." He gets out. "Fear maybe.. a bit before.. we can do that." he rasps.. Though Delusions question causes Goth to pause and look down at Deathsaurus. "...He's.. left."
Ghost tips her helm slightly, words selected as carefully a a man picks out an engagement ring, "I have few remaining ties that bind me. Duty, Justice.." Pause and a thin not-smile, "Vengeance." All matching the colors picked out against her paint scheme, even blistered as it is from an explosion and an internal overheat.
Banshee glances to Ghost a moment with a nod. She looks to Goth. "Zere vill be time." She says, softly.
The flow of parts out finally stops and instead it's just new pieces getting put into Khamsin. Bulwark is certainly focused and his movements familiar and steady when the new parts are places and integrated into the existing systems.
Delusion smirks. "I see." Then she shrugs. "So long as someone isn't attacking our city, they are free to visit. Well, except Starscream."
GAME: Ghost FAILS an INTELLIGENCE roll of Very High difficulty.
GAME: Goth PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Immense difficulty.
What Goth can kind of fuzzily make out is that a fair number of the parts Bulwark is putting into Kham are being produced straight from subspace, and look to have been custom made for Khamsin's frame. They look ideal from what Goth would know to fit with his systems.
GAME: Goth FAILS an ENDURANCE roll of High difficulty.
"Is Star...scream.. really welcomed.. anywhere?" Goth asks with a weak roll off his optics, and smiles at Banshee.. his ears droop though as he glances back to Bulwark and Khamsin, he tries to think, has Banshee met Khamsin? as he tries to recall it starts to send his systems into another crash tat was going to knock him offline again.
Banshee chuckles at that comment, and then blinks as readings as they start to spike. "Er... somevun?" She says, indicating the readouts. "Is zat graph supposed to be jumping up unt down?"
Ghost gives a small smirk in return, "I had not intended on visiting quite so soon. Circumstances.. plans.. change." she murmurs. Gives a shrug, "I don't find him quite as annoying as I once did. Inconsequential and ineffective to spend time on such things."
Delusion nods, tipping her head to the side. "I don't bear -quite- the grudge Illarion does, but she gets to say who's allowed in or not." She points over her shoulder at Deathsaurus. "Do you find -him- annoying?"
Bulwark begins placing fresh armor plates onto Khamsin; protecting the newly rebuilt systems and sub-systems.
The machines start to blarr in a panic and one of the doctors comes over and stabilizes him after cursing out. "6th time he's done that since coming in, least its starting to become further spread apart." They give Banshee an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry about that ma'am, give him a few moments to let his system reboot."
Ghost hmms, looking over at the passed right out Destron. There's a flash of something across her face before she shakes her head, "That one.. exasperates me." low sigh from intakes, "And is why I am here." She tenses as Goths equipment alerts, fingers tightening against one another at the noise.
Banshee nods to the medics as they come in to help Goth through the reset, nodding softly. "He got messed up pretty bad, huh?" She says, looking over at Deathsaurus. "Trypticon considers him a friend, I think. Or at least, likes his shape." She shrugs a bit. "But yes. He is exasperating."
Bulwark turns and gently moves the doctor out of the way with his hands and size. "I'll take care of this," he says unhurriedly. There's a bit of a momentary protest until the doctor realizes who it is and steps away from Goth's bed.
Bulwark looks down at Goth more closely this time and reaches out to begin removing any obviously damaged panels; carefully testing ang gauging external and internal systems damage. With the patient prepped he gets to work.
>> Bulwark finishes the repairs on Goth. <<
Delusion nods. "He's a terrible officer," she says of Deathsaurus, her voice lightly touched with humor. "Will the rest of his team follow his lead in this whole affair?"
Banshee chuckles, softly. "He's a leader. Taking orders grinds at him, eats at him like tinvorm." She observes. "Unt he sinks he can do better zan Megatron."
Ghost grows motionless, taking a moment to cycle through errant memory flashes in her archives before, "Uncertain. I did witness his second delivering a dressing down. However I do not know enough to make a determination one way or the other." She peers at Banshee, "Yes.." Fond smile lightening her features, "Trypticon does seem to have some affinity for him."
Dust Devil vents softly as he's ignored and just tries to focus on relaxing.
Goth mutters out as he slowly starts coming back online groggily, muttering vering things in a language not native to earth or Cybertron.
A frown crosses Bulwark's face and he begins removing more, undamage pieces of armor until he finds... something. The mech begins working, removing highly damaged and corroded pieces that were clearly not visible beneath the 'newer' pieces of armor. "Hasty, messy work..." The mech mutters as the various pieces are extricated from Goth, a smaller pile than what there was for Khamsin, but larger than one would expect after being worked on overnight.
Banshee looks over at bulwark. "As... far as I haff gathered from zer gossip, emergency lifesaving surgery as zer patient dies on zer table is rarely neat." She says, softly. She looks to Ghost. "How about you, how are you faring?"
As Bulwark begins working on Goth, Ghost shifts, stance tensing as she refocuses her attention, alert now with optics narrowed only just slightly. "I don't see how the relationship would be more complicated. Polyhex is part of the Decepticon Empire, after all." is her response, tone thoughtful. A pause, then her ever so careful response to Banshee, "Operating within established parameters, ma'am."
Delusion smirks. "Oh, yes. In a logical world, everybody would act in their best interests and be perfectly predictable at all times, and Polyhex would not be in question. Unfortunately, we don't live in such a world and never have."
Goth keeps muttering as his optics slowly boot. "Where...?" He asks, not aware he's being worked on.
Bulwark holds up a charred and melted mass of wires and metal to Banshee. "I was referring to this. It predates the most recent repairs by quite some time." The unknown part get placed back on the pile as the voids start getting replaced with brand new pieces.
"I had to turn off most of your sensing abilities; otherwise this would have been most unpleasant. Just lie back and I will be finished with your repairs shortly."
GAME: Ghost PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of High difficulty.
Banshee looks got Ghost. "Zat's not what I asked." She says, gently "I can get zer big guy to get you a lift if you need vun." She looks over at Bulwark and blinks. "Oh."
Ghost chuffs softly, "I have no concerns about Polyhex. What will be, will be." Attention remaining on Goth as he is worked on but replies to Banshee, "It is the answer you will get at this time, ma'am. It is a truth. I /am/ operating within well established parameters."
Goth mutters again and glances up and nods lightly muttering in his native tongue again which is strange mix of neo-cybrex and ancient cybertron. "...Chela.. says hello.."
Delusion walks over to where Dust Devil is. "So, young Devil. What exactly did you do to yourself this time?"
Banshee frowns softly. "Don't call me ma'am, Ghost. Ve serve Trypticon - as equals. I am not asking as superior officer, verdammt, I am asking as a friend." She says, quietly. "I von't push any more, but... you know where I am, ja?" She pauses, looking to Goth, then Deathsaurus. "I'm going to spend zer night in Valvolux... I'll come back tomorrow... call me if you need somevun to talk to, ja?" She says to Ghost.
The repairs on Goth go much quicker than the did with Khamsin as the damage wasn't nearly as extensive, even with the unexpected damage. "Shall I tell, Solus you said that?" Bulwark asks as he nears the end of the internal work.
Ghost inclines her head at Banshee, shifting her stance only slightly as she reclaps hands behind her, switching which hand is atop the other. "Not certain of the equality, but as you say. Should circumstances dictate, I will reach out, yes."
Banshee smiles, softly. "You keep him safe. I keep him sane. You are also a lot more experienced vith him - in many vays, you are /my/ superior, in matters relating to him. Guten nacht." She says, softly, turning to depart.
Goth's optic glides up to look at Bulwark, before saying something in that native tongue of his, before it processes he's speaking in that. "..Si...?" He sounds confused.
Bulwark chuckles quietly, "I will then." After all of those bits and bobs are secured the armor plates are put back, or replaced. Those practiced hands making short work of it, and finally Goth has his senses returned to him. "There, good as new," he offers, "though I'm not certain all of your sun-systems will be back online immediately. They were simply non-functional as they were, but given it some time and they will work."
Ghost's optics flick to Banshee departing before looking back at Bulwark repairing Goth. The operative shifts again, expression shading carefully blank as she mulls words over before speaking in that papery-rasp, "Vor entye. For what you have done here, sir."
Delusion looks over the room, its two worst-off inhabitants much improved. "Thank you for stopping by, Bulwark," she says politely. "I believe I'll head out, myself, but I'll be back later to check on things." She nods to Dust Devil and Ghost as well before heading out.
Goth mutters closing his optics, letting most of his systems boot properly, fans and other things clicking onward and starting to operate properly, blue bio-lights flick on before the slowly dim to a dark red, Goth's optics brighten, his ears flick and go through a routine of resettling themselves, Goth clears his voice box and lets out a vent. "...That's better." he says clearly, finally. "Thank you.."
"Gar're olarom, both of you" Bulwark answers. "Get your rest. I'm sure you will have more visitors before too much more time passes. I may come by and check on you in the next cycle; if you are still here. Of course I am also easy enough to find out in the city as well." With that he turns and makes his way towards the door.