Business as Usual

[Deleted]

Characters: Flatline, Open
Location: Nemesis medical bay, Operation room
Content Warnings: Slight gore, mentioned medical experiments
Plot Summary: Flatline is having a typical day in the day of a Decepticon medic, musing about past experiments while in a dark energon haze.

[Deleted]

Flatline ignored the pain cries of the massive tank Vehicon, welding an open wound shut that he had received from a cave in accident. It was the fourth one he had to repair from someone being careless and not checking the integrity of the energon mine. Go figure the Vehicons didn't think straight. But then again, they didn't always have the brains of anything but the basic concerns and sometimes others displayed some form of intelligence of mind of their own.

"Oh quit your gripping. If one of you had remotely thought to check the cavern's integrity none of you would have been here in the first place." Flatline grumbled, his normally ruby-red optics flash an eerie vibrant purple, transforming his hand back to normal from its welding torch, "Couldn't have maybe numbed it? Something other than going right into it?!" The Vehicon growled, less than pleased with the painful removal of debris and gravel in his wounds. But the deathly glare Flatline gave him quickly shut him up. And well, a quick glance at the companions he once had that now lied on other operating tables, some spare parts extracted from their very bodies, was another quick reminder to not press his luck.

Once the hulking Vehicon was gone, Flatline turned his attentions towards the deceased miner class that remained lifeless husks. "Hmm, maybe we should consider making their shells a lot stronger." Flatline muttered, walking over to begin extracting spare parts and biotech for later operations.

But, he did ponder the thought of testing such a thing on one of the minor Vehicons. It was not like he hadn't experimented with new frames on regular Cybertronians, but these soldiers were simple drones, well beneath the major concern of the main Decepticon force. They were cannon fodder, workers to be used when necessary. But, if they wanted a greater success with energon mines, and avoiding this particular problem, making the miners a bit more durable might prove to be beneficial to the cause. 'I'll have to speak with Megatron about experimenting with the idea sometime.' He thought to himself, giving little concern for the delicate work and the energon splatter that followed.

"Always a big mess."

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Tarn walked down the halls of the Nemesis at a leisurely pace. He'd been in the middle of one of his recent runs to Earth when he'd felt that all-too-familiar grind of his T-Cog shuddering to a halt, having transformed for the last time. At least he'd been in bipedal mode this time. There had been a few instances were he was, quite literally, stuck in his alt mode until Nickel got to him. It was a bit awkward...

Speaking of Nickel, he hadn't been able to find her on the Peaceful Tyranny...he supposed she must have wandered onto the Nemesis. He hardly minded. As long as she wasn't in danger, he saw no harm in her wandering about among the faction. If any of the other Decepticons crossed her...well, assuming they survived her wrath at the initial outburst, they would have the Decepticon Justice Division to deal with. They were all particularly protective of their small medic.

He turned the corner and strode into the medical bay, the door hissing open before him. In one servo he held a replacement cog, one taken from the supply taken from their various prey. Traitors, unlucky Autobots and Neutrals, it didn't matter. As long as they had a functioning T-Cog, Nickel could recycle it and have it ready to store away until he had need of it. He did prefer that she be the one to perform the replacement, as he trusted her. But, in her absence, he would have to make due. He doubted any of the medics on board would purposefully sabotage him, after all.

Not seeing anyone within the main room of the medical bay, Tarn paused, unwilling to go wandering into one of the operation rooms, just in case someone was being worked on. That would be terribly rude.

"Is there anyone available? I am afraid I have need of some assistance."

He did not shout, he simply raised the volume of his voice enough that it could be heard throughout the bay.

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Flatline scowled behind his face guard as some energon and other fluids splattered onto the face cover, making him grumble under his breathe. This was one downside to being a medic, having to deal with the mess. Dead or alive, simple wounds, it mattered not, there was usually some form of clean up. The vibrancy of the purple in his optics became even stronger in his annoyance, which had already been triggered with his irritation at the stupidity of the Vehicon miners.

Though, he paused when he heard a smooth voice suddenly speak, having been far too caught up in his procedure to extract spare parts to have realized someone had come into the medical bay. For a moment, Flatline just listened for someone to respond. He wasn't entirely sure if Breakdown or Knock Out had returned to the main area of the medical bay in the time he had been working in the operation rooms. But, after a few minutes, he heard no response. Seems he was covering some of the procedures for the day, "Could use a change of pace today." He muttered under his breathe, retracting the tools into his fingers before grabbing a clean rag and wiping his face guard then his hands from the drying energon and other fluids as he stepped over to the door of the operation room which hissed as it moved aside.

Greeting him was someone he knew only by reputation and description, but have never seen in person. This was the commander of one of the deadliest squads in all of the Decepticon army, Tarn of the Decepticon Justice Division. 'Something interesting for once.' He thought, but curiously observed the t-cog in Tarn's hands. A t-cog replacement operation, now that was something he had not done since the gladiatorial fights in Kaon.

"Tarn, been a while since such a decorated officer of the Decepticons graces the medical staff with his presence." Flatline greeted with a quick bow of his head as he approached the much taller yet equally well-armored mech. "Well, unless you're Starscream, then you'd probably be here every other week." He commented, seeming to show little concern in speaking so ill of a commanding officer, but then again, it was Starscream. He wondered if anyone liked the Air Commander. Regardless, that wasn't quite the concern for the present, the mech turning his currently glowing purple optics to the t-cog. "Need a new t-cog huh? Giving me something interesting to actually work on for the first time in a while." Not since those two Seekers had crash landed, Spacewarp and Blackbolt.

And luckily, they had more than enough available space to get the operation under way. "Shouldn't take up too much of your precious time." He assured him, holding out a hand for the t-cog and mentally going through the tools and procedure in his processor.

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Tarn turned his faceplate toward the door as it opened, taking in the doctor who stepped through. He had been in the middle of something, that much was visible. In Tarn's line of work, he was all-too used to the purple remnants of Energon. Though the doctor's faceplate and hands were clean, there were still the tell-tale speckles that would have been left by a splatter, barely visible. He felt a certain respect at that. The bot wasn't squeamish, then.

He gave a formal nod of greeting, an inclination of his head and brief shuttering of his optics. He'd never met this doctor, but, he was well-versed in the Designations of all currently living Decepticons. He regularly reviewed the manifest, ranking and reranking based on ability. He was able to put a name to a face, simply accessing his internal databanks and running a brief facial recognition.

"Doctor. A pleasure. I hope that I have not come at an inopportune time."

He didn't particularly care if he had, but, it was unseemly to be impolite.

"Yes, our second-in-command is not one who inspires much...respect in his actions," his tone was dry, almost dismissive.

Underneath that tone, however, he felt a brief smarting of anger. How desperately he desired to kill Starscream, the traitor who should have been the most loyal. The Seeker had been, at one point, added to the List...and then removed at Lord Megatron's request. The DJD, of course, had acquiesced without hesitation. But, Tarn knew he wasn't the only one who was baffled by the decision. The bumbling would-be leader could surly be replaced...and this universe's Starscream was, in Tarn's personal opinion, even less capable than his own. Still, he was forbidden from touching him. It was vexing, to say the least.

Flatline's question drew him out of his ire. He didn't so much as glance at the replacement as he extended his hand to give it to the doctor.

"Indeed, I do. And, please, I am in no rush. Take what time you need."

Tarn was very used to the procedure of T-Cog replacement. In fact, if he could maneuver it properly, he thought he may very well be able to do it himself. But, due to positioning, that would be a risk he'd rather not take. Better to let practiced hands work rather than attempting things on his own. That was why there were medics, after all.

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"Not at all." Flatline assured Tarn, carefully taking the t-cog before turning to grab a medical table. "Quite frankly, nothing that is overly concerning. Just harvesting spare parts, replacement biotech, the works. Never know when our mindless drones will need replacement parts, those that survive that is, or any of our main forces." Flatline said with a shrug, gathering some necessary hand-held tools, while some he could use from his built-in extensions.

Though without looking up, he gestured to an unoccupied medical berth, "Though, by all means, make yourself comfortable. We'll get started soon." Flatline suggested, placing the possible necessary tools on the table before bringing the table over near his current patient, laying the t-cog down on the available space.

Although he paused for a moment to consider Tarn's remark on Starscream. So, even those on the DJD held no love for Starscream. That brought some possibility that indeed no one cared for the Seeker much, especially not with his high and mighty attitude he had had going on for some years now. It was a wonder that the Seeker had to be repaired so often or ever made it through his wounds. 'Must be tougher than we give him credit for. Only thing that probably works for him is his tenacity.' Flatline mused to himself, turning his full attention to Tarn at last as his optics began to return to a normal color, the edges tinged with ruby red once more but still that vibrant purple in the middle.

"Before we start, would you like to be put under temporary sleep for the procedure or just numbing the area?" Flatline inquired. Although he had no qualms in going right in to do the procedure, there were some patients he didn't test, and this was one such occasion. But after a moment he added, "Or shall we dive right in?"

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Tarn gave a single nod of gratitude before moving to the indicated medical berth. He perched on the end, hydraulics hissing loudly as his bulk settled. Likely, he would need to lie back for ease of access, but, he would do so when it was time. It wasn't like him to simply lounge back and wait.

His optics swept disinterestedly over the gathered tools. For some, watching a surgeon lay out those things used to cut into the body was a disturbing thing. Tarn saw far more frightening on a daily basis, and he was not stranger to surgery. His face had been reconstructed twice, after all, the second time accompanying the reconstruction of his body itself. And then there was the matter of his addiction. He regularly underwent this very procedure. Which was why, when Flatline questioned his preference on how they would progress, he chuckled.

"Do not waste supplies on me, doctor. I am not adverse to pain," he replied, "Please, proceed."

With that, he would settle on his back and hook his left arm under his head to expose his side, which was by far the simplest way to get to a t-cog. Tarn would know, as many as he had extracted. The sheer number had left a great deal of room for...experimentation. The thick armor plating below would slide away to reveal the thinner plates beneath. A rather prominent weld scar told the story of how many times this procedure had been done.

"I confess that I am glad to find a surgeon who is not the obnoxious red medic," he said, conversationally, "I'm not certain I would deal well with his...personality quirks."

Tarn had yet to meet Knockout in person, but Kaon had been most forthcoming about him.

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"You just made this procedure ten times easier." Flatline chuckled a little himself, because normally the procedure took longer when he had to put a bot under. Some form of anesthesia could take time depending on the bot and the frame type, so he was often left in an awkward position to wait for the bot to relax or fall asleep. At other times numbing did just as good, although that didn't stop some patients from squirming and he had to hold them down to work.

Once Tarn's outer plating had slid back, Flatline was quite surprised to find such a prominent welding scar. More so because he rarely saw such a scar near such an important piece of their biotech. It didn't take great skill to know Tarn had had this procedure done numerous times before, which begged the question of why. Upgrades gone wrong and being rejected by the t-cog? T-cog problems in general? Perhaps an addiction? Primus only knew it could be a number of explainable things, something Flatline was all too curious to ask about.

Surprise passing, Flatline turned his gaze to the table before grabbing the scalpel, turning back to Tarn and beginning to cut along the welding scar, no doubt what had been done countless times before. "I think you learn to tune him out after a while." Flatline said with the faintest shrug of his shoulders, optics focused in moving the plating to reach the t-cog. "Then again, I suppose when you work with someone for a little while you learn to just know when to listen and when not to. Think it was the same thing back at the Kaon gladiator fights, can't tell you how much practice I had just tuning out the non-sense drivel." Flatline shook his head at the memories, putting aside the scalpel as his secondary pair of hands worked on removing the t-cog, which had seen better days.

Taking the old t-cog in one of his main hands, he examined it carefully, trying to determine the problem, maybe hoping to avoid further complications. But, upon closer inspection, it seemed the t-cog was just burnt out, overused. "Addicted to transforming I see," Flatline observed, grabbing the newer t-cog and replacing it with the old one on the medical table. "Kind of a dangerous addiction Tarn, even for someone of your skill and prowess." Flatline told him, figuring the commander knew that all too well as Flatline began putting the new one in place. But, there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

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Tarn settled on the operation table, mentally braced for the familiar cut of the scalpel. He hummed in response to the medic’s observation about his coworker, somewhat distracted by the feeling of his plating being shifted aside. It was always an odd feeling, to have another’s servos inside him. That was why he rarely allowed anyone but Nickel to perform the procedure. Someone may take the opportunity to sabotage something else while digging about within his components. He doubted Flatline would do so, however. The surgeon struck him as one who was more interested in self-preservation than removing the ‘monster’ who stalked traitors.

“The pits of Kaon?” he asked curiously, “Did you serve in a medical capacity there as well?”

Now this was interesting. Tarn considered himself something of an expert on their leader’s life and work, and his time spent as a gladiator was one of the most pivotal in the shift of power on Cybertron. Hearing that Flatline had been connected to the gladiatorial fights sparked his interest.

That interest was only mildly overshadowed by annoyance that quickly gave way to amusement. This medic obviously had no issues in speaking his mind. An admirable quality, as long as he didn’t speak to the wrong bot. Fortunately, Tarn was hardly going to put him on the List for his warning. It was unlikely that the words were born out of true concern, but, it was part of the job to tell a patient when the behavior that led to their visit was dangerous.

Tarn was well aware of what his addiction could cause. But, he was beyond those repercussions. When a new t-cog was needed, he would replace it. He had spares, and had no issues in acquiring them. He also had a medic who knew his body perhaps better than he did himself. He remained still as Flatline’s servos again went to work in his side, replacing the burnt out cog with a new one. A deep chuckle rumbled from his vocalizer.

“Perhaps. But, it has not been detrimental thus far.”

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Flatline briefly paused in his work when Tarn asked about his medical stint in Kaon, merely nodding slightly before he continued. "Initially, I did things legally in Iacon, working alongside some of the greats in the field, Ratchet, Pharma, and a few others. Until the Prime before Optimus decided to put a clampdown on the caste system." Flatline snorted in disgust then. "Set up shop in Kaon, ended up joining the medical staff in the gladiatorial pits for body modification, repairs, the works. At least in Kaon, I was free to continue my career and my side hobby rather than being resided to my "role" in life."

To be honest, Flatline was surprised Tarn showed any bit of curiosity towards his previous work. Ordinarily, few showed any interest in the Decepticons of where one came from or what they had previously done. You did your job and that was it, nothing else was ever needed. Luckily, Flatlne had just been right to the point for the most part, because his wasn't exactly worth noting.

After a bit more rummaging in Tarn's inner workings, making sure everything was connected the black and smokey gray mech took a half step back while taking out a scanner from his subspace. "Alright, just making sure everything is in proper order..." Flatline ran the scanner beam over the area a few times before the beam disappeared and gave him the okay that everything was indeed flowing. T-cog Tarn had wanted in seemed to be accepting his body just fine, the energon was flowing, and there was no glaring warnings that something was out of place. "Alright, just about done." He informed the DJD commander, stepping over once more and grabbed a medical welder, as his free hands carefully closed the plating before he welded the plating closed, making the scar fresh once more.

"Thus far huh?" Flatline said as he looked to Tarn's masked face, "I'll admit, by now, most with your addiction would have way more problems than a burnt our t-cog Tarn." That was another thing Flatline had noticed. Despite the different t-cogs and who knew what else Tarn had undergone over the years in terms of making himself combat ready he seemed in pretty decent shape, if even in pretty excellent condition. In fact, as per habit, Flatline gave a full body scan on Tarn, part of protocol even after certain surgeries. Yea, there was nothing much of note popping up. "For a death squad commander, you take pretty good care of yourself, and whoever you have as your usual medic has done wonders."

Placing the scanner back into his subspace, the bulky medic soon stepped back and moved the table aside, "Aside from that, you're welcome to get up now. Everything is in working order."