Fic Dump Part the Second!
Here's a new set of ficlets up for your viewing pleasure. The first is from a fic trade I did with Shades. We each wanted to see a Papa!Ratch ficlet and so what better way to see one besides doing it yourself? This is my side of the trade.
“What?! Are you insane?”
“No, Ratchet, please listen,” Prowl tried. “It’s truly quite extraordinary. He’s already up to Level Eight.”
“You work him until he’s killed!” the mech raved. “How is this in any way ok?!”
“It’s only temporary paralysis. It’s perfectly safe.” Prowl didn’t think he needed to remind the CMO of this; he’d designed the paralyzing bolts himself. “Besides, he’s having fun. Look.”
Ratchet did look then, optics narrowed to fine slits. Where most would say that the doctor played favorites among his many creations, few knew the truth. All those created under his hands had the same level of devotion, protection, and dare he admit, love. Primus pitied the poor fool who came between him and his creations. It would be safer to take on a mama bear.
Streetwise wasn’t yet two weeks old, and it seemed Prowl wanted to begin his training already in the form of this farce of a game. The rules were simple: survive for ten minutes. Prowl designed this game himself and filled it with all the gadgets Wheeljack and Ratchet could provide. Each time 10 minutes had elapsed, the game would evolve into something more deadly.
It was game designed to be impossible to beat. Prowl had designed fifty levels so far, and no one had ever gone beyond thirty five.
“At the rate he is progressing, he should be able to beat Grimlock’s score within a week or two,” Prowl went on to explain, pride in his voice. “Do you see, Ratchet? He doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He never fails the same way.” His ivory fingers pointed at the sparkling through the observation glass as he ducked and turned and danced his way through the level. “I’ve been observing him for quite some time and the way he adapts to each situation is quite unique. He will continue at this same pace until his energy reserves are completely depleted.”
“Listen to yourself, Prowl, this is a two week old sparkling you’re talking about!” Ratchet failed to see anything ‘remarkable’ about working a mere infant to exhaustion. Nevermind that he was created in an adult shell, his mind was still that of a newly sparked child. Still learning, still observing the world around him. He shouldn’t be subjected to this yet. “You promised me three months.”
The 2IC regarded his CMO with a softening gaze. “I know I did, Ratchet. And trust me that all five will have their three months to be sparklings. He does not see this as training, he sees it as a game. I would not be having him do this if he didn’t want to. Not yet.” He returned to watching as Streetwise maneuvered his way through a maze of scrap and debris, evading an enemy droid. “The true training will be much more rigorous than this.”
Ratchet snorted, optics never leaving the child. “You’re turning him into a workaholic just like you… fragging perfect.” Only he could say such things and get away with it.
Prowl merely smiled softly, some pride in his voice. “He will succeed where we have failed. Is that not the purpose of a new generation? I have great faith in the young one. He will be a valuable asset to myself and to Jazz. To all of us.”
“Tch… you talk about him like he’s yours,” the medic grumbled, not afraid to admit he was rather possessive about the new group himself.
“He shall be part of a sub-unit under my command,” Prowl said, giving him a sideways glance. “Ratchet… he isn’t yours either. Do you remember what we talked about before their commission? About getting too attached…”
“Don’t wanna hear it, Prowl.” That was that, as far as Ratchet was concerned. Yeah they’d talked about it, didn’t mean he agreed with it. He didn’t care about the odds of their surviving past a vorn. Those five were his; they were the result of his hard work and his own two hands putting them together. He’d written the prayer for First Aid himself and gone with Wheeljack to pray for the rest. He’d placed each sparkling within their shells. Streetwise was as much his as any of them were.
And Streetwise had just fallen, paralyzed in the pretend death of the game.
“That’s enough!” Ratchet announced, reaching over his Vice Commander and shutting the game off. Ignoring Prowl’s protests, he strode into the room and scooped up the young Protectobot. Already he was starting to recover from the bolt, but he remained as he was. The sparkling was trembling, and Ratchet could feel the heat radiating off his body. Another run and he might have seriously overheated his systems.
“Primus, kid,” he sighed. “Don’t overdo it. There’s plenty of time to get through the levels.”
“But… I wanna try again,” Streetwise said, looking up at him with dim optics. “Let me go back?”
“Not a chance.” Ratchet carried him all the way back to the sparkling’s quarters where he looked him over for any damage caused by the overheating engine. Fortunately there was none. He’d just put this young one together… he didn’t want to have to see his innards again so soon. Not over something as needless as a training session.
Streetwise sighed and rested his head against Ratchet’s chest, even after they’d gotten to his quarters. “Did I do ok, Aaji?” He and his brothers still used the term they’d picked up from Wheeljack. A Cybertronian term that roughly equaled ‘father.’
The medic felt his anger melt in the face of the sparkling’s innocent question. He was tired and overheated, yes, but no real harm had come to him. Ratchet had a feeling that this one would be constantly getting into such situations and resigned himself to worrying over the stubborn sparkling. “You did just fine, kiddo,” he said, a small smile peeking through as Streetwise shifted his weight so he was more comfortable resting against the elder mech. His head lay on the medic’s chest, quickly slipping into a deep recharge, tired and soothed by his creator’s presence.
For a moment Ratchet considered the merits of moving and letting the sparkling recharge on his own, but then thought better of it. The Protectobots had just recently gotten their new quarters and weren’t yet used to recharging with no one nearby. Besides, he was rather comfortable. With the young one tucked in close and safe, Ratchet felt his head starting to droop. Soon after he joined the sparkling in the land of dreams, leaning back against the wall. He wouldn’t mind the cricked neck that would arise from this; he was perfectly happy right where he was, protecting the little one even in sleep.
These next few are small snippets I wrote about a character named Chimera, who I created based on rping with Shades (who I still blame for this.) We're working on a larger fic about this. Basically, and without giving too much away, First Aid was taken by one of Ratchet's rivals who wanted an apprentice of his own. He was able to twist him into becoming Chimera, a mech who didn't care about his patients, and who would experiment on them if it meant fulfilling his curiosity on a subject. Eventually Ratchet was able to get him back and bring 'First Aid' back to the forefront, but Chimera remains as a sort of 'separate alternate personality' that crops up from time to time.
Scalpel
They were talking back and forth, Ratchet at Hot Spot's head and First Aid at his chest. The young Protectobot leader had been overeager to jump into the fray as usual and was paying for it now.
The medics joked with each other, gentle barbs and quips that reaffirmed a previously strained apprenticeship. The wounds were not serious, just tedious, and offered good exercise for the younger medic who’d been over a year absent from the theater floor. Ratchet had missed his gentle companionship and didn’t regret ending the probation.
Now and then he looked up to check on First Aid’s progress. It wasn’t until the fifth time he’d done so that the CMO noticed something off. His grip on the laser scalpel… it wasn’t wrong, just different from usual. The thumb was curved in more… the forefinger straightened. His optics had darkened a shade behind his visor; a sign of fatigue. Or of something else, as Ratchet knew from experience.
Suddenly the thought of that scalpel in First Aid’s hands frightened him.
Ratchet moved faster than the Chimera. The scalpel sank only into exposed palm and not spark, two shouts of dismay filling the room where moments ago held laughter.
Truth
He struggled against the bonds that Ratchet used to keep him to the berth. The way the CMO was glaring at him, so full of loathing, only fueled the Chimera’s anger. He spat as he struggled, hissing out the secrets of his former self. And he enjoyed watching that gaze of hate turn to shock. Then fear. Then anger. And then finally to pain.
Deep in the furthest corner of the Chimera’s mind, First Aid quietly wept.
Wake Unto Me
The young mech was awake but he’d yet to activate his optics. Shame rushed through him as he recalled the ridiculous display he’d put on the previous evening. Mindscape had been nothing but kind to him and here he was treating the poor scientist like a criminal… all on Ratchet’s word.
First Aid could see now that what Mindscape wanted wasn’t to hurt anyone… he just wanted answers. What harm was there in studying already dead bodies? Just last night the Seeker was able to use a dead femme to answer a question the younger had had for years. All in the span of moments.
Perhaps that was why the young Autobot had reacted like he did… It was so easy, why hadn’t Ratchet ever shown it to him? Why did Mindscape see so much promise in him and Ratchet so little? Why afford so much love and devotion toward the only father he’d ever known when he would only ever be a silly student… mediocre and worth few kind words.
Even now, the thought of turning on his teacher to join a mech he hated was frightening. Yet… perhaps Mindscape was right about that as well and it was time he stopped playing the obedient puppet and stood on his own.
Mindscape was sitting near a messy energon-soaked berth, cradling a mug of low-grade when his young guest walked in. After the previous night, the green scientist was beginning to despair ever turning the little Autobot into a proper student. The chains weighing him down to his silly so-called family and the useless Oath were too heavy.
Yet as he watched First Aid enter, he saw… something that hadn’t been there before. A… hunger. A desperate and wild hunger that burned through the visor and which could only be fulfilled by the knowledge Mindscape offered.
No… this was not First Aid at all.
“Well now, my Chimera,” he purred with approval. “Come take a seat. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”
Dinner
It hadn’t taken as long as he thought it might to earn her trust. But then, sparklings were always so much more trusting than their elders. The universe had yet to be cruel to them. All of them learned in time. He’d been no different from her, once. He too had been an innocent.
“Tell me again where you’re from?” the Chimera asked, using the sweet and unassuming voice of First Aid, a mech long dead.
The soothing tone worked, as it had so many times before, and the little femme looked up at him. “Oh… Seraph an’ me live on Danae VI. Or we did… then everyone got sick.”
Chimera nodded, already knowing this. A refugee colony. It had been interesting to see the effects a simple engineered virus could have on a whole isolated community. Yet this child and her creator hadn’t gotten sick… and now Mindscape and Chimera were trying to find out why.
“Tell me about yourself,” he encouraged as she took a tentative sip of the energon he’d brought her. The little one had been told by Seraph not to accept anything their captors gave her, but Kerub was so undercharged, and this gentle red and white had been nothing but kind to her. The energon flowed smoothly down her parched throat. Seraph had gone away a few hours ago with the mean green and white Seeker… surely she would never know if Kerub had just a little bit…
So she spoke. She told Chimera all about the village where she was built, the wildlife and plants Seraph showed her. Her friends. What she wanted to do once she was given an adult shell…. All these things the little one talked about until she had nothing left to say and her optics grew dim.
Chimera smiled behind his mask as the drugged energon took effect at last. She’d prattled on far too long for his liking, though she did give him much of the background information they’d been lacking. The rest of the knowledge the little femme could provide him… well, that was now all for the taking, wasn’t it?
Hehe and now back to write for my alphabet meme!
“What?! Are you insane?”
“No, Ratchet, please listen,” Prowl tried. “It’s truly quite extraordinary. He’s already up to Level Eight.”
“You work him until he’s killed!” the mech raved. “How is this in any way ok?!”
“It’s only temporary paralysis. It’s perfectly safe.” Prowl didn’t think he needed to remind the CMO of this; he’d designed the paralyzing bolts himself. “Besides, he’s having fun. Look.”
Ratchet did look then, optics narrowed to fine slits. Where most would say that the doctor played favorites among his many creations, few knew the truth. All those created under his hands had the same level of devotion, protection, and dare he admit, love. Primus pitied the poor fool who came between him and his creations. It would be safer to take on a mama bear.
Streetwise wasn’t yet two weeks old, and it seemed Prowl wanted to begin his training already in the form of this farce of a game. The rules were simple: survive for ten minutes. Prowl designed this game himself and filled it with all the gadgets Wheeljack and Ratchet could provide. Each time 10 minutes had elapsed, the game would evolve into something more deadly.
It was game designed to be impossible to beat. Prowl had designed fifty levels so far, and no one had ever gone beyond thirty five.
“At the rate he is progressing, he should be able to beat Grimlock’s score within a week or two,” Prowl went on to explain, pride in his voice. “Do you see, Ratchet? He doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He never fails the same way.” His ivory fingers pointed at the sparkling through the observation glass as he ducked and turned and danced his way through the level. “I’ve been observing him for quite some time and the way he adapts to each situation is quite unique. He will continue at this same pace until his energy reserves are completely depleted.”
“Listen to yourself, Prowl, this is a two week old sparkling you’re talking about!” Ratchet failed to see anything ‘remarkable’ about working a mere infant to exhaustion. Nevermind that he was created in an adult shell, his mind was still that of a newly sparked child. Still learning, still observing the world around him. He shouldn’t be subjected to this yet. “You promised me three months.”
The 2IC regarded his CMO with a softening gaze. “I know I did, Ratchet. And trust me that all five will have their three months to be sparklings. He does not see this as training, he sees it as a game. I would not be having him do this if he didn’t want to. Not yet.” He returned to watching as Streetwise maneuvered his way through a maze of scrap and debris, evading an enemy droid. “The true training will be much more rigorous than this.”
Ratchet snorted, optics never leaving the child. “You’re turning him into a workaholic just like you… fragging perfect.” Only he could say such things and get away with it.
Prowl merely smiled softly, some pride in his voice. “He will succeed where we have failed. Is that not the purpose of a new generation? I have great faith in the young one. He will be a valuable asset to myself and to Jazz. To all of us.”
“Tch… you talk about him like he’s yours,” the medic grumbled, not afraid to admit he was rather possessive about the new group himself.
“He shall be part of a sub-unit under my command,” Prowl said, giving him a sideways glance. “Ratchet… he isn’t yours either. Do you remember what we talked about before their commission? About getting too attached…”
“Don’t wanna hear it, Prowl.” That was that, as far as Ratchet was concerned. Yeah they’d talked about it, didn’t mean he agreed with it. He didn’t care about the odds of their surviving past a vorn. Those five were his; they were the result of his hard work and his own two hands putting them together. He’d written the prayer for First Aid himself and gone with Wheeljack to pray for the rest. He’d placed each sparkling within their shells. Streetwise was as much his as any of them were.
And Streetwise had just fallen, paralyzed in the pretend death of the game.
“That’s enough!” Ratchet announced, reaching over his Vice Commander and shutting the game off. Ignoring Prowl’s protests, he strode into the room and scooped up the young Protectobot. Already he was starting to recover from the bolt, but he remained as he was. The sparkling was trembling, and Ratchet could feel the heat radiating off his body. Another run and he might have seriously overheated his systems.
“Primus, kid,” he sighed. “Don’t overdo it. There’s plenty of time to get through the levels.”
“But… I wanna try again,” Streetwise said, looking up at him with dim optics. “Let me go back?”
“Not a chance.” Ratchet carried him all the way back to the sparkling’s quarters where he looked him over for any damage caused by the overheating engine. Fortunately there was none. He’d just put this young one together… he didn’t want to have to see his innards again so soon. Not over something as needless as a training session.
Streetwise sighed and rested his head against Ratchet’s chest, even after they’d gotten to his quarters. “Did I do ok, Aaji?” He and his brothers still used the term they’d picked up from Wheeljack. A Cybertronian term that roughly equaled ‘father.’
The medic felt his anger melt in the face of the sparkling’s innocent question. He was tired and overheated, yes, but no real harm had come to him. Ratchet had a feeling that this one would be constantly getting into such situations and resigned himself to worrying over the stubborn sparkling. “You did just fine, kiddo,” he said, a small smile peeking through as Streetwise shifted his weight so he was more comfortable resting against the elder mech. His head lay on the medic’s chest, quickly slipping into a deep recharge, tired and soothed by his creator’s presence.
For a moment Ratchet considered the merits of moving and letting the sparkling recharge on his own, but then thought better of it. The Protectobots had just recently gotten their new quarters and weren’t yet used to recharging with no one nearby. Besides, he was rather comfortable. With the young one tucked in close and safe, Ratchet felt his head starting to droop. Soon after he joined the sparkling in the land of dreams, leaning back against the wall. He wouldn’t mind the cricked neck that would arise from this; he was perfectly happy right where he was, protecting the little one even in sleep.
These next few are small snippets I wrote about a character named Chimera, who I created based on rping with Shades (who I still blame for this.) We're working on a larger fic about this. Basically, and without giving too much away, First Aid was taken by one of Ratchet's rivals who wanted an apprentice of his own. He was able to twist him into becoming Chimera, a mech who didn't care about his patients, and who would experiment on them if it meant fulfilling his curiosity on a subject. Eventually Ratchet was able to get him back and bring 'First Aid' back to the forefront, but Chimera remains as a sort of 'separate alternate personality' that crops up from time to time.
Scalpel
They were talking back and forth, Ratchet at Hot Spot's head and First Aid at his chest. The young Protectobot leader had been overeager to jump into the fray as usual and was paying for it now.
The medics joked with each other, gentle barbs and quips that reaffirmed a previously strained apprenticeship. The wounds were not serious, just tedious, and offered good exercise for the younger medic who’d been over a year absent from the theater floor. Ratchet had missed his gentle companionship and didn’t regret ending the probation.
Now and then he looked up to check on First Aid’s progress. It wasn’t until the fifth time he’d done so that the CMO noticed something off. His grip on the laser scalpel… it wasn’t wrong, just different from usual. The thumb was curved in more… the forefinger straightened. His optics had darkened a shade behind his visor; a sign of fatigue. Or of something else, as Ratchet knew from experience.
Suddenly the thought of that scalpel in First Aid’s hands frightened him.
Ratchet moved faster than the Chimera. The scalpel sank only into exposed palm and not spark, two shouts of dismay filling the room where moments ago held laughter.
Truth
He struggled against the bonds that Ratchet used to keep him to the berth. The way the CMO was glaring at him, so full of loathing, only fueled the Chimera’s anger. He spat as he struggled, hissing out the secrets of his former self. And he enjoyed watching that gaze of hate turn to shock. Then fear. Then anger. And then finally to pain.
Deep in the furthest corner of the Chimera’s mind, First Aid quietly wept.
Wake Unto Me
The young mech was awake but he’d yet to activate his optics. Shame rushed through him as he recalled the ridiculous display he’d put on the previous evening. Mindscape had been nothing but kind to him and here he was treating the poor scientist like a criminal… all on Ratchet’s word.
First Aid could see now that what Mindscape wanted wasn’t to hurt anyone… he just wanted answers. What harm was there in studying already dead bodies? Just last night the Seeker was able to use a dead femme to answer a question the younger had had for years. All in the span of moments.
Perhaps that was why the young Autobot had reacted like he did… It was so easy, why hadn’t Ratchet ever shown it to him? Why did Mindscape see so much promise in him and Ratchet so little? Why afford so much love and devotion toward the only father he’d ever known when he would only ever be a silly student… mediocre and worth few kind words.
Even now, the thought of turning on his teacher to join a mech he hated was frightening. Yet… perhaps Mindscape was right about that as well and it was time he stopped playing the obedient puppet and stood on his own.
Mindscape was sitting near a messy energon-soaked berth, cradling a mug of low-grade when his young guest walked in. After the previous night, the green scientist was beginning to despair ever turning the little Autobot into a proper student. The chains weighing him down to his silly so-called family and the useless Oath were too heavy.
Yet as he watched First Aid enter, he saw… something that hadn’t been there before. A… hunger. A desperate and wild hunger that burned through the visor and which could only be fulfilled by the knowledge Mindscape offered.
No… this was not First Aid at all.
“Well now, my Chimera,” he purred with approval. “Come take a seat. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”
Dinner
It hadn’t taken as long as he thought it might to earn her trust. But then, sparklings were always so much more trusting than their elders. The universe had yet to be cruel to them. All of them learned in time. He’d been no different from her, once. He too had been an innocent.
“Tell me again where you’re from?” the Chimera asked, using the sweet and unassuming voice of First Aid, a mech long dead.
The soothing tone worked, as it had so many times before, and the little femme looked up at him. “Oh… Seraph an’ me live on Danae VI. Or we did… then everyone got sick.”
Chimera nodded, already knowing this. A refugee colony. It had been interesting to see the effects a simple engineered virus could have on a whole isolated community. Yet this child and her creator hadn’t gotten sick… and now Mindscape and Chimera were trying to find out why.
“Tell me about yourself,” he encouraged as she took a tentative sip of the energon he’d brought her. The little one had been told by Seraph not to accept anything their captors gave her, but Kerub was so undercharged, and this gentle red and white had been nothing but kind to her. The energon flowed smoothly down her parched throat. Seraph had gone away a few hours ago with the mean green and white Seeker… surely she would never know if Kerub had just a little bit…
So she spoke. She told Chimera all about the village where she was built, the wildlife and plants Seraph showed her. Her friends. What she wanted to do once she was given an adult shell…. All these things the little one talked about until she had nothing left to say and her optics grew dim.
Chimera smiled behind his mask as the drugged energon took effect at last. She’d prattled on far too long for his liking, though she did give him much of the background information they’d been lacking. The rest of the knowledge the little femme could provide him… well, that was now all for the taking, wasn’t it?
Hehe and now back to write for my alphabet meme!