Nano: Daily update
The two Esprit spun round and round. Squeals of delighted laughter coming from the dancers as they slid over the loose sand, tires unable to gain purchase. Their momentum threw up hefty amounts of grit and dust, spewing it over the mechs watching.
Wheeljack’s hoarse laughter joined their squeals. He plowed through the small dunes, fishtailing and spinning, and having a grand old time. The Lancia just loved the opportunity to show off, whenever you could drag him out of the lab, that is. But yes, he did love his stunt driving. Careening about, out of control, waiting for that right moment to turn the wheel just so, and zip the way you need to go.
The twins spun to a stop next to Sunstreaker’s legs, kicking up dirt and dust over his paint job. Much to his disgruntlement. They transformed, laughing as the golden warrior scowled and swore at them. They skipped out of the reach of his grasping hands and waggled their doorwings at him.
“Wheeljack, what are you doing?” Ratchet’s voice snapped over the comm. The CMO loved to watch Wheeljack perform, but he hated having to deal with the results. “You’re going to hi-“ An aggravated sigh hissed out of the ambulance’s ventilators.
He slogged out into the loose sand, wincing at the feeling of grit clogging his joints. He righted the slightly crumpled rally vehicle, shaking his head. “’Jack, are you all right?”
“Izza’ you Greengear?”
“I think it’s time to go back to the base, Wheeljack.”
“Ookay, Rhinestone. You know you look an awfully lot like Ratchet today.”
The CMO twitched. “I’m going to dismantle you when you recover, you know that right?”
The Lancia chuckled. “You sound like him, too, slag he’d be mad at me right now.”
“I’ll have you know, he is mad at you.” Ratchet groused. He settled the Lancia onto firmer ground. “Can you transform?”
The inventor chuckled, parts sliding and moving until he wobbled on his legs. Ratchet looked him over, fingers running over the dents and dings, feeling for any breaks in the armor.
“Next time you’d better look out for that cliff face. Did your processor reset yet?”
The blue vocalizers flashed. “Yeah. Ow, that was painful.”
“Let’s get you into the medbay, I want to make sure none of the damage was permanent.” The CMO slipped his friend’s arm over his shoulder.
Rhythm appeared at Wheeljack’s other side, her purple optics dancing. “What were you paying attention to that you didn’t see those rocks?”
“Other things,” the inventor replied simply.
“Other things have door wings, by any chance?”
Wheeljack slid a glare at the ambulance, accepting the shoulder Rhythm offered. “Femmes are designed to distract a mech’s processor,” the inventor grumbled at the CMO.
“Dancers are designed to distract anyone’s processors,” Ratchet snapped back.
Rhythm, completely oblivious to the exchange going on over her head, ran a critical optic over the Lancia’s smashed chest plate. “That was actually kinda awesome.” Her optics glinted merrily, doorwings twitching.
“Awesome?” Ratchet snarled.
“Felt awesome,” Wheeljack groaned.
“Awesome?” Ratchet repeated, glaring past Wheeljack at his nurse-in-training. “Let’s see how awesome you think it is when you’re the one hammering out the dents.” The CMO paused in actively scanning Wheeljack to focus on his assistant. “And why are you running so hot?”
Rhythm blinked at him for a moment. “It’s fragging hot out, that’s why.” She glared back at him and Wheeljack leaned away as much as he was able.
“You’re running too hot, Rhythm. Why didn’t you say anything?” Ratchet cast his scan at the other twin. “Both of you are running hot!” He waved at Hues, who still taunted Sunstreaker.
The red-orange femme gestured rudely at the Lamborghini before she sprinted over. The buzz of a communiqué rang in his audios.
Hues flashed her optics and frowned at the CMO. “We’ve always run hot during the summer cycle.”
Ratchet glowered at nothing in particular. Rhythm did smoke a little after their run in with Starscream a few months back. “I want to look into it. Medbay, now.”
Hues whined, her doorwings drooping despondently.”Really?”
“Yes, I’m not going to have you over heating, playing foolish games.”
The femme reluctantly waved at the mechs who had replaced the Lancia and Esprits on the sands. Ratchet and Rhythm supported Wheeljack all the way to the medbay. They helped him onto a gurney and Rhythm started unlatching the damaged panels.
Ratchet took her shoulders and pushed her toward another berth. “First Aid can do that Rhythm. I want you and your sister to power down to cool off. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll be looking at you both.”
The Esprits rolled their doorwings at him, but obediently slid onto the berths and cycled off. First Aid slipped in beside his mentor, unlatching the rest of the panels.
Ratchet watched him work for a short breem, before he moved over to the cabinets, pulling down what he would need.
“Are they overheating?”
“Yes,” Ratchet paused to glare at his apprentice. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened.” It was not a question.
First Aid ducked his head. “I found Rhythm treating Hues a few weeks ago. They wouldn’t tell me what was wrong and left soon after. I could smell smoke, though.”
Ratchet turned to place the full weight of his glower on his apprentice. “Why wasn’t I told of this, ‘Aid?” The CMO checked to ensure the twins were offline.
“It seemed innocuous enough at the time, Ratchet. I didn’t think Rhythm would endanger her twin. Sunstreaker and Siders have always come to you when they’re worried about the other. If it was a problem, I thought she would mention it.” The junior medic tossed the damaged panels to the side. The medbay filled with the harsh clangs and scrapes of metal striking metal. “I know you’ve walked in on Rhythm repairing Hues, but no matter how much you yelled, you never told her not to.”
“I didn’t tell her not to, because I wanted to know what she was using. I do not want her creating makeshift tools, or worse stealing mine.”
The two medics worked silently for a long moment, until Ratchet called for his apprentice. He gestured at a small piece of machinery. “It’s hard to believe they’re as old as they are when they act so young. It’s no wonder they’re overheating. This thing’s still set for Cybertron temperatures. I don’t have the tools to reset it either. They’ll need a completely new one.” The CMO sighed. “There are days I hate this planet.”
First Aid chuckled softly and went to retrieve two of many spare thermal regulators. Earth had hotter temperatures than Cybertron normally did. It had a bad tendency of blowing their regulators on a regular basis, as they were not set to deal with hot and humid climates. Wheeljack was still trying to come up with a solution to the problem. In the meantime they kept a good amount of spares, especially in the summer months.
It really, really sucks.
I wanna write Prowl and Sideswipe. ;.;
Wheeljack’s hoarse laughter joined their squeals. He plowed through the small dunes, fishtailing and spinning, and having a grand old time. The Lancia just loved the opportunity to show off, whenever you could drag him out of the lab, that is. But yes, he did love his stunt driving. Careening about, out of control, waiting for that right moment to turn the wheel just so, and zip the way you need to go.
The twins spun to a stop next to Sunstreaker’s legs, kicking up dirt and dust over his paint job. Much to his disgruntlement. They transformed, laughing as the golden warrior scowled and swore at them. They skipped out of the reach of his grasping hands and waggled their doorwings at him.
“Wheeljack, what are you doing?” Ratchet’s voice snapped over the comm. The CMO loved to watch Wheeljack perform, but he hated having to deal with the results. “You’re going to hi-“ An aggravated sigh hissed out of the ambulance’s ventilators.
He slogged out into the loose sand, wincing at the feeling of grit clogging his joints. He righted the slightly crumpled rally vehicle, shaking his head. “’Jack, are you all right?”
“Izza’ you Greengear?”
“I think it’s time to go back to the base, Wheeljack.”
“Ookay, Rhinestone. You know you look an awfully lot like Ratchet today.”
The CMO twitched. “I’m going to dismantle you when you recover, you know that right?”
The Lancia chuckled. “You sound like him, too, slag he’d be mad at me right now.”
“I’ll have you know, he is mad at you.” Ratchet groused. He settled the Lancia onto firmer ground. “Can you transform?”
The inventor chuckled, parts sliding and moving until he wobbled on his legs. Ratchet looked him over, fingers running over the dents and dings, feeling for any breaks in the armor.
“Next time you’d better look out for that cliff face. Did your processor reset yet?”
The blue vocalizers flashed. “Yeah. Ow, that was painful.”
“Let’s get you into the medbay, I want to make sure none of the damage was permanent.” The CMO slipped his friend’s arm over his shoulder.
Rhythm appeared at Wheeljack’s other side, her purple optics dancing. “What were you paying attention to that you didn’t see those rocks?”
“Other things,” the inventor replied simply.
“Other things have door wings, by any chance?”
Wheeljack slid a glare at the ambulance, accepting the shoulder Rhythm offered. “Femmes are designed to distract a mech’s processor,” the inventor grumbled at the CMO.
“Dancers are designed to distract anyone’s processors,” Ratchet snapped back.
Rhythm, completely oblivious to the exchange going on over her head, ran a critical optic over the Lancia’s smashed chest plate. “That was actually kinda awesome.” Her optics glinted merrily, doorwings twitching.
“Awesome?” Ratchet snarled.
“Felt awesome,” Wheeljack groaned.
“Awesome?” Ratchet repeated, glaring past Wheeljack at his nurse-in-training. “Let’s see how awesome you think it is when you’re the one hammering out the dents.” The CMO paused in actively scanning Wheeljack to focus on his assistant. “And why are you running so hot?”
Rhythm blinked at him for a moment. “It’s fragging hot out, that’s why.” She glared back at him and Wheeljack leaned away as much as he was able.
“You’re running too hot, Rhythm. Why didn’t you say anything?” Ratchet cast his scan at the other twin. “Both of you are running hot!” He waved at Hues, who still taunted Sunstreaker.
The red-orange femme gestured rudely at the Lamborghini before she sprinted over. The buzz of a communiqué rang in his audios.
Hues flashed her optics and frowned at the CMO. “We’ve always run hot during the summer cycle.”
Ratchet glowered at nothing in particular. Rhythm did smoke a little after their run in with Starscream a few months back. “I want to look into it. Medbay, now.”
Hues whined, her doorwings drooping despondently.”Really?”
“Yes, I’m not going to have you over heating, playing foolish games.”
The femme reluctantly waved at the mechs who had replaced the Lancia and Esprits on the sands. Ratchet and Rhythm supported Wheeljack all the way to the medbay. They helped him onto a gurney and Rhythm started unlatching the damaged panels.
Ratchet took her shoulders and pushed her toward another berth. “First Aid can do that Rhythm. I want you and your sister to power down to cool off. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll be looking at you both.”
The Esprits rolled their doorwings at him, but obediently slid onto the berths and cycled off. First Aid slipped in beside his mentor, unlatching the rest of the panels.
Ratchet watched him work for a short breem, before he moved over to the cabinets, pulling down what he would need.
“Are they overheating?”
“Yes,” Ratchet paused to glare at his apprentice. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened.” It was not a question.
First Aid ducked his head. “I found Rhythm treating Hues a few weeks ago. They wouldn’t tell me what was wrong and left soon after. I could smell smoke, though.”
Ratchet turned to place the full weight of his glower on his apprentice. “Why wasn’t I told of this, ‘Aid?” The CMO checked to ensure the twins were offline.
“It seemed innocuous enough at the time, Ratchet. I didn’t think Rhythm would endanger her twin. Sunstreaker and Siders have always come to you when they’re worried about the other. If it was a problem, I thought she would mention it.” The junior medic tossed the damaged panels to the side. The medbay filled with the harsh clangs and scrapes of metal striking metal. “I know you’ve walked in on Rhythm repairing Hues, but no matter how much you yelled, you never told her not to.”
“I didn’t tell her not to, because I wanted to know what she was using. I do not want her creating makeshift tools, or worse stealing mine.”
The two medics worked silently for a long moment, until Ratchet called for his apprentice. He gestured at a small piece of machinery. “It’s hard to believe they’re as old as they are when they act so young. It’s no wonder they’re overheating. This thing’s still set for Cybertron temperatures. I don’t have the tools to reset it either. They’ll need a completely new one.” The CMO sighed. “There are days I hate this planet.”
First Aid chuckled softly and went to retrieve two of many spare thermal regulators. Earth had hotter temperatures than Cybertron normally did. It had a bad tendency of blowing their regulators on a regular basis, as they were not set to deal with hot and humid climates. Wheeljack was still trying to come up with a solution to the problem. In the meantime they kept a good amount of spares, especially in the summer months.
It really, really sucks.
I wanna write Prowl and Sideswipe. ;.;