highflygingcon

[highflygingcon]

Human!former Maker!

//Couldn't get it to finish/save, so have the UI in front of Trojan being annoyed by you interrupting their union mandated break.

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Sighs and flicks a switch on D.R.O.N.E.s console.

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👀👀👀 "Murder charge, you say?" 👀👀👀

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"Single MILFS in your area? Don't mind if I do."

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Trojan, how many times have you had to pull something phallic from another bots valve or aft?

"As a professional, I am not permitted to share my patient's medical history. ... However, I will state they never do it again. Most bots tend to agree with my point of view when they realize they don't have a spike or valve to speak of." Trojan explains with an almost cheeky smile.

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How many of the following does your muse appreciate on Valentine’s Day? II Bold for yes, strike for no, italics for take it or leave it

sexy lingerie / candy hearts / a huge bouquet of flowers / a single red rose / romantic dinner at home / romantic dinner at a restaurant / valentine cards / chocolate boxes / candles / rose petals / sex dice / sex cheques / wine / netflix and chill / romantic music / jewelry / cuddly toys / balloons / love notes / romantic movies / marriage proposals / perfume / cologne / chocolate covered strawberries / feeding each other / eating off of each other / day trip / weekend away / naughty texts / sappy social media posts / sharing a bath / sharing a jacuzzi / hand made gift

Stolen from @faultfindingfirebot

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"Don't." Trojan replied, turning away. "Better yet, do not acknowledge you saw me."

Post war, Trojan had a spicy relationship with the new medical board. While it was true they knew of Trojan, and that keeping them on as a doctor would be a boon to Cybertron. ...They were also a Decepticon, and by that measure, a criminal of war.

So, they left. Practicing medicine in the stars, away from the world they watched grow. A world they, and their former team, had kept from collapse so many times. A old dog allowed to wander out, with the hopes it never came back.

And in that journey, they learned a lot. The solution they suggested came from a little old lady on Earth they had the pleasure of meeting. Heatwave often had to help her with her cat out of a tree. Trojan observed her removing rust and other mineral buildup from metal using the same solution.

"Yes, well.. Things changed, obviously enough." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone as he watched, wings slightly lowered as his dermas tugged into a frown. Ratchet had the ideal position while he was left to keep the turbofoxes away and protect his subordinates while becoming a twisted reflection of himself.

He fell silent as he observed, not even flinching from the sight of the needles. It wasn't like he had anything left to lose, so he had no fear of anything anymore. His tense frame began to relax as the stiffness was eased by that lubricant, listening to the prescribed solution. Why hadn't he thought of that..?

"I suppose I should thank you." Once he was finished being tended to, he flexed his digits and let out a small sigh of relief at how much easier they were to move.

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"You two were always joined at the stabilizers." Trojan commented, opening up the panels within Pharmas palms. Their visor lit up, glyphs and sensors flickering back and forth as their vision honed in on problem spots.

They kept silent on his belief in sins and penance. Ironic as it may be for him to say such things next to one old enough to have met the original thirteen. Trojan wanted to keep that information close to the spark. All that was known publicly these days was that they were a member of the Rescue corps, a Decepticon, and a damn good medic.

Everything else does not matter.

Their left servos digits opened up, revealing a set of very familiar needles. Mnemosurgeon needles. But they were not aimed for Pharmas helm. Rather, they gently placed each needle on different joints. Using their right servo, they fed medical grade lubricant down the hair-thin needles, and into his joints.

A tool of oppression, being used for healing, as it was intended. "Soak twice a day in a citrus and sodium bicarbonate solution for fifteen clicks. It will not fix you, but it will help with the pain."

"I did! I took care of myself as much as I did my patients! These bricks were forced on me as penance for my perceived sins." His anger was starting to rise, jet wings flaring up.

His engine growled as Trojan took his servos, glaring at them but not pulling away. "These were Ratchet's.." His growling died down as he glared at those servos, hatred simmering in his EM field. So much went wrong that he had no choice in yet he got so much of the blame..

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"Well, maybe, if you newsparks worked as hard on yourselves as you did on your comrades during the wars, you wouldn't have these issues, would you?" They snapped back, wriggling their own servos.

Their own gears grinded at the words coming from their mouth. True, Pharma was an annoying brat, and, from what they heard, had not improved really. But... that was no excuse to be a petty little aft about it.

"Hold still." they grunted, gently trying to move Pharmas servos into a more workable position. "Maintaining these are not easy."

“I was good at my job, you decrepit bucket of bolts. Only reason I can’t continue my practice is because, well-“ Servos were lifted, digits creaking and joints grinding as he tried to move them. Not his original servos.

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"Have you ever tried being good at your job?" Trojan coming out swinging at the guy they only remember as an annoying freshman in medical school.

Who does he have to bribe seduce to get his servos in some circuits?

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The femme giggled, idly rolling back and forth. "You're the one who called for help identifying an 'unknown, highly reactive material'." She paused, grunting, "Oh, no, never mind. Ultra Magnus sent this." Firecracker almost sounded disappointed, digits folding over themselves as she continued to read the report aloud.

"Anyway, red crystals, similar to energon in structure, but a distinctly different color, and.... a quote from someone saying they could feel it in their teeth?" She tilted her helm, antennae flicking back and forth.

Firecracker had a few reputations. Some found her annoying and hard to work with. Others called her professional and loyal. Some going as far to say they owe her their sparks for getting them out of a tight spot when it came to explosives.

And then there were the reports added much later that specified her becoming irate for being mistaken for Blurr in the reports, and her 'credit being stolen'.

Prowl said he was sending a professional to help Rodimus out. But something felt off the moment the 'helps' shuttle docked on the Lost Light, and no one was inside. Before the Captain could say anything, a wall of force blew past him. A red streak, moving faster than he could blink, rushed through the ships halls. Tire screeches, screams of fear, and suddenly the red form of a small velocitronian stopped feet away from him. "Hel-LOOOO and you are welcome. I've already scanned the entire ship, found four-hundred and fifteen hairline faults, sixty-eight flickering bulbs, seven slackers not doing their assigned duties, Whirl thinking he can get away with graffiti, and two-thousand five-hundred and ninety-two instances of unsafe storage of potentially explosive material." the pint sized femmbot with wheels for feet and large almost pigtail-like antennae coming from their helm handed Rodimus a dataslate with all the details. Firecracker, a known problem former stunt racer before the wars. [@highflygingcon]

Oh, this was just what he needed. A more hyperactive and easier to miss version of Ultra Magnus. When the newcomer returned to him, he stared down at her with an expression that showed just how thrilled he was with her examination of his ship. When she presented the Prime with the datapad, he plucked it from her servo and passed it off to Magnus, who was no doubt glaring holes into the back of his helm at shirking his duties right in front of the Enforcer. "Right, thanks or something."

After handing the datapad off, he pressed his servos together and took an in-vent before pointing his joined digits at the femme. "Remind me why you're here?"

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Heatwave was quiet, resting against Trojan’s leg and massaging a large servo with his smaller ones.

“You don’t have to take on the world alone.”

Trojans plating puffed up at that comment. Hard to play coy when the one with his helm in their lap was so direct. They offlined their optics, searching for yet another way to escape the cyber-elephant in the room.

But the mech had effectively cornered them. Their work for the day done. No reports to their superiors to make, no requisitions to fill out that would once again go ignored.

Their servo flexed around Heatwaves, Trojans grip gentle, but firm. "Little Flame, your spirit reminds me of Blastburn, my teams leader. And she once said the same thing to me. By the time the Rescue Corps had formed, I had already seen two civil wars. I saw her merely as some child playing hero, but a useful tool." They paused, opening their optics.

"But... she earned my respect, as have you. Blastburn was everything the corps code stood for. And, I began to notice the damage it did to them. As any medic worth a scrap would. When I chastised her for acting as if the world would burn should she relax her vigilance for a nanoclick, do you know what she said? What she called me?"

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Trojan grunts audibly. They treat everyone as a client, these days. Ever since their team was 'decommissioned' as the official records state. 'Died in the line of duty', in the more flattering reports.

They do not want a new team. As much as their spark aches for it. To feel useful again. To care for something so small--

Trojan snaps themselves from their thoughts. They cannot go there, they can never go back to how things were.

[highflygingcon]

(from @float-like-a-dragonfly)

"I won't be of any help."

The words come out harsh. Irritated. Dragonfly glares down at her hands, each half-curled as if to hide their claws.

Hands taught to kill, not to heal. She can't pretend otherwise.

"Sure you won't." Trojan replied, sarcasm painting their tone. "I remember when Alkaline abused his power as a Senator to reassign me to the newly formed Rescue Corps. Before then I had only worked on ...specific types. And if I can learn to operate on someone half my size, I think you can assist in keeping others alive while they wait for me to have free hands."

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How big that spike though?

"Small, leave me alone."

"......But, for the purposes of documentation. It would be on the larger end of what is considered standard for someone of my size class." They paused, realizing this would probably not satisfy. "About four and a half feet soft."

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"Little Flame is going to need that jaw trick if they want to achieve their fantasies with me." they say, staring down at their own crotch-plate.

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"Absolutely none of you could take me."