Nexus. Sign area and Hormah's sanctury. Sinking Rat.

[random_xtras]

((Continued from here.))

Ravage: *sitting on the sanctuary doorstep, watching the whales fly over*

Rattrap: *comes up to the sanctuary with Boxcutter, who is holding a large grey mouse limp in his arms* Hey, Ravage, Hormah still in 'er room?

Ravage: *perks his ears and looks at the little Maximal* Yes, she is. Are you back so soon?

Rattrap: Naw, was takin' a break t'explain th' Nexus to Boxcutter. 'N look what wandered in. *stands on his tip-toes and reaches up to rub the rat's ears* Looks like I finally got onna dem alternates I been hearin' so much 'bout. Thing is, he's got a wicked virus.

Ravage: *ears flatten and his expression goes grave as he stands* Please to come inside. I will talk to Hormah. *turns and darts through the door, leaving the dead jackrabbit he'd been playing with*

Rattrap: *follows along with Boxcutter, giving his alt a worried look*

aRattrap: *very still, even his whiskers are limp*

Ravage: *comes to the start of the hall* Bring him.

Rattrap: Whaddoes it look like we're doin'?

Boxcutter: *gives Rattrap a little nudge with his foot and looks down at him*

Rattrap: *scowls back up at him, then rolls his eyes and sighs* We're comin', we're comin'. Sheesh.

Dinobot: *looks up from where he's sitting on a table in the far corner of the room as they enter, his crimson optics watchful*

Hormah: *moving stuff aside from the foot of her bed* Bring 'em here. Lessee what's purdlin' 'em.

Boxcutter: *gently sets AltTrap down before Hormah, then runs a hand down his back. He might not be his Rat, but he was a Rat none-the-less*

Rattrap: *hops up on the table next to Dinobot* Heya' Scalebelly.

Dinobot: *looks at his friend, and then back to the three on the bed as his brow ridges draw together in concern* Hello....

Hormah: *scanning her patient and deedling fervently under her breath as her expression drops into a scowl*

Rattrap: *dangles his legs over the edge of the table, his hands clasped in his lap* Docta', Docta', tell me th' news. Am I gonna make it?

Hormah: *quietly* You are. Dunno 'bout t'is un, t'ough.

Rattrap: *purses his lips*

Boxcutter: What's wrong wit' 'im, Doc?

Hormah: T' virus's done burnt 'is systems out. 'N it's after affectin' 'is spark, too. *gently smooths the draggled fur, then starts and looks up as the sounds of a screaming catfight come from the front room* What t' @#$#$@?

Dinobot: *starts to go, but then remembers himself and scowls*

Bocxutter: *looks down at the alternate Rattrap, a low hurm rumbling in his chest*

Rattrap: *scowls at the sound, tilting his head towards it* We got unxepected visitors or somethin'? Don' dey know a me is dyin' in 'ere?

Hormah: She knows. She's after lookin' fer 'im.

catfight: *dies down to vehement and vicious Predacon cursing in a husky little alto voice*

Rattrap: She?!

Hormah: Bring 'er here, Ravage!

cussing: *coming closer, till Ravage appears in the door with a fluffy little spotted wildcat held securely by the back of her neck*

Ravage: *jumps up on the bed and offers the cat to Hormah, who takes her carefully. The old Decepticat then leaps over by Dinobot and Rattrap and crouches, his tail twitching slightly at the tip as he licks a gash on his chest*

Rattrap: Dat's her? A cat? Oh, fer bootin' up cold, I must be outta my processa'! *throws his hands in the air, shaking his head*

Hormah: *shakes the cat and then gives it a flick upside the head* Shut t' @#$@#$@# up, b'y. T'at ain't gonna help 'im none.

cat: *hisses and twists, but then goes still and lifts her chin*

Hormah: Good. *sets her down by the ailing Rattrap* Now, who're ye 'n what're ye t'ink ye're doin' attackin' me sanctuary guard?

cat: Rumor, terrorize! *folds up into a shapely little femme with wide golden optics and a heart-shaped face which is full of defiant protectiveness* I'm responsible for this Maximal. I need to bring him back to his ship.

Hormah: *quietly* Ye do t'at 'n he'll die even quicker.

Rumor: *freezes, her optics flashing* What?

Rattrap: *mouths "terrorize?", both his eyebrows shooting up. The alternate really did come from some weirdo world*

Boxcutter: *grunts* 'E needs a new shell, fer startas. *places a hand on the alt!Rat's head* Dis one's failin', an' s'gonna take 'is spark wit it if we don' do somethin' quick. *looks over to Hormah* Me 'n Ransack, we cin t'row one t'getha' right quick.

Dinobot: *very quietly* I think I know that voice....

Hormah: *frowns* T' bad code'll jes' spread outta 'is spark 'n hit t' new shell, b'y.

Boxcutter: Huurm. Hadda feelin' ya'd say dat. Was worth a shot.

Rattrap: $#!@! If only we had a real medic! Frag it, I'd settle even fer Tarantulas.

Hormah: *stink eye* I IS a medic, scrap head. *turns back to Boxcutter* Ye thinks ye could t'row t'gether a life support pod, b'y? I ain't got one t' here.

Rattrap: *eeps* S'rry...

Boxcutter: *snorts at Rattrap, then nods to Hormah* Sure thin'. It'll only take a nano. C'mon Ransack, we got woik ta do.

Rattrap: *huffs and slides off the table, grumbling* Should update yer RAM while we at it. Least den, you cin rememba' my name.

Boxcutter: Well, maybe if y'din't change it so much, brat. Now move yer slaggin' tail. Cain't do all th' woik 'ere myself.

Rattrap: Yeah yeah.. got parts in my room... *leads Boxcutter to his room so they can work on the pod*

Dinobot: *slips down and follows, still frowning as he searches ancient memory files. He's still missing a few parts and a lot of his plating, but he's able to move slowly*

Rattrap: *glances over his shoulder when he hears Dinobot's footsteps and stops, turning to face the larger mech* What's up, Scalebelly?

Dinobot: *quietly* That femme....

Rattrap: Y'anno 'er?

Dinobot: I knew... one like her. *still searching files*

Rattrap: *hurms, crossing his arms over his chest* Somethin' on yer mind 'bout 'er, den? Should I keep an eye on 'er?

Dinobot: *face lowered as he frowns uncertainly* I'm trying to remember....

Rattrap: *reaches out and pats Dinobot's shoulder* Don't strain yerself, buddy. I was gonna keep an eye on 'er anyway. Dis may be th' Nexus, but I still don't trust Preds. If y'remembah, jus' say somethin'.

Dinobot: *soft growl and an absent glance at Boxcutter*

Boxcutter: *taps his foot impatiently, but says nothing*

Rattrap: *ignores him* Anything else on yer mind, Choppa'face?

Dinobot: Hrrrm... many things. *frown deepens* She was sssomeone important.

Rumor: *in the room they've left, softly reciting Shakespeare to the ailing Rattrap* To sleep, perchance to dream....

Rattrap: *grunts* We'll see 'bout dat.

Boxcutter: Person'ly, I could care less 'bout th' femme at dis point. Cin we hurry it up so I cin take care'a th' sick rat 'r what?

Rattrap: *rolls his eyes* Yeah yeah... Y'wanna come watch, Dinobutt, or 're ya gonna go relax wit' Hormah more?

Dinobot: I'm coming.

Rattrap: Coo'. *turns and starts heading towards his room once more*

Dinobot: *following at his slow pace, and then suddenly* ...I mentored her.

Rattrap: .... *groans* Great.

Dinobot: *frowns as they enter Rattrap's room* Great?

Rattrap: *waves his hand dismissively* She's gonna be a femme-version a' you. S'jus' what I need runnin' round. No offense, Choppa'face, but... yeah. Cin see what I see in 'er already.

Dinobot: *looks around and smiles just slightly as he sees the tyraborg bits* She rrrn was not like me. She spoke of honor, but she was a... ninja.

Rattrap: Hn, dat so? *smirks and glances at Dinobot* Hey, next time yer out, d'ya mind gettin' me more a' dem hollowed out claw things? Been tryin' ta fashion 'em inta explodin' bullets fer th' gun.

Boxcutter: *just shakes his head, moving right for the pile of scrap metal and parts that've collected in the corner of Rattrap's room* Y'gonna keep yer mind on bidness, 'r y'gonna jus' chat 'way while yer back dere dyin', Ransack?

Rattrap: *razzes Boxcutter, but scurries over to the parts like a good 'bot*

Dinobot: *settles on the floor to sit and pulls his blanket around himself more closely* Ask Blackout.

later

Rattrap: *leads Boxcutter back into Hormah's room several hours later, the larger mech carrying what looks like the inside of CR chamber. It's not meant to encase a mech, but has a padded seat and various cables for hooking up and supporting a 'bot* Hey Hormah, where y'want dis thing?

Hormah: *quietly from where she's still sitting on the bed* Up here, b'y.

Rumor: *sitting with the sick Rattrap's head in her lap. The little mech's been transformed now, and he's laying very still*

Boxcutter: *hefts the lifesupport system onto the bed, then hops up himself and sets about hooking alt!Rat up*

Rattrap: *scampers up after him, pausing when he sees the other mech* Cheese, did I really useta look like dat?

Boxcutter: *swivels his optic around to 'smirk" at Rattrap* Dis is more 'r less th' Ransack I remembah seein' last. Y'was more boxy at th' time, an' less fuzzy, but dis is it.

Rattrap: *shakes his head* Man, what a strange life I've had dese last few years...

Hormah: Easy, b'y. Don't go wrenchin' t' cable outta Rumor 'r Rat. Bot's after havin' enough damage.

Boxcutter: Hey, I don' tell y'how t'do yer job, y'don' tell me how t'do mine. *glares at Hormah, very strongly tempted to be a bit rougher on the alt!Rat. Unfortunately, she's right, and he grumbles as he gently plugs him in*

Hormah: *just as carefully unhooks her patient from Rumor's systems as soon as the CR machine has him* Easy, old timer. I's yer friend.

Rumor: *unshutters her optics and makes a small, quizzical cat sound*

Rattrap: Mornin', sunshine. *waves at her, giving her half a grin*

Rumor: *blinks and sniffs the air slightly, then goes wide-eyed and looks up at Hormah*

Hormah: Yeah... some freaky. He's how yer Rat would'a ben if t' story'd gone different.

Rumor: *frowns as she studies Rattrap* *very quietly in her husky little voice* He's not my Rattrap.

Rattrap: He ain't?

Rumor: *shakes head* He belongs to himself. And Primus.

Rattrap: Ehn... *looks over at Dinobot* Translation, please? I don' do dis cryptic stuff.

Hormah: He wasn' talkin' 'bout ownin' 'im, b'y. He was after talkin' 'bout how ot'er Rat here calls ye 'is pussycat.

Rumor: *startled, but not unpleased expression*

Rattrap: Yer Rumor, ain'cha? He kept askin' fer ya when we found 'im. You an' Choppa'face.

Rumor: I am. *looks down at her partner turned patient and frowns* Only me and Dinobot? Not Rhinox?

Hormah: *scowling thoughtfully as she looks at her patient and consults with Primus on what she should do*

Rattrap: *shakes his head, shrugging* Not dat I remembah. Said he had ta get back an' check in, though, or somethin' like dat.

Rumor: *quietly* He calls him 'Lardbutt'.

Rattrap: Lardbutt? Now, I admit, Rhinox was pretty chunky, but I gotta give 'im more respect den dat!

Rumor: Rhinox refers to himself as old and fat. *moves closer and tilts her head, trying to hear if her Rat is running*

Rattrap: *shakes his head, one hand scratching the back of his neck* Think I like th' world I came from betta', even if Megs did mess it up somethin' weird. *tilts his head to the side* Think he did mention Lardbutt once. Mostly jus' asked fer Fluffy, Rumor, 'is pussycat, an' Choppa'face.

Rumor: *nods* He's been having nightmares that something happened to Dinobot or Rhinox. *not commenting on the 'fluffy pussycat' bit*

Rattrap: Cuz'a dis virus Codeak brough from Cybertron?

Rumor: *nods, her optics going back to her partner's face*

Hormah: *frowning hard* Ye lot know anyt'in' 'bout Minicons? How we ain't got no set spark 'n all that slag?

Rattrap: ...Yer gonna turn me inta a Minicon?

Hormah: No. I's needin' t' basics 'o a shell fer a Minicon. *hand to her chest* Enough t' keep 'im runnin'.

Boxcutter: Y'want I should build 'im a shell?

Hormah: I kin give ye specifications. He ain't done growin'. But I can't use my fancy stuff while he's t'ere inside 'o my shell. *too focused on her work to realize that Boxcutter probably has no flipping clue what 'he' she's talking about*

Boxcutter: *stares at her blankly for a moment, then looks down at Rattrap.

Rattrap: I think she means her kid, Vecta' Prime. She's got a spark buddin', an' she can't fix th' otha' me up wit' 'im in 'er.

Boxcutter: Ohhhh... Oh, dat's easy. I cin do dat, 'specially if y'got tech specs laid out fer me. 'Course, I need a assistant... *meaningful look at Rattrap*

Rattrap: ...Ya don' mean... *gulps, then groans when Boxcutter nods* Fiiine. I'll go get 'im.

Hormah: *gets her datapad* Ben designin'. 'N I'd help too, but I gotta stay by Rat here. *deedles a few curses* Here. Leave out t'is, t'is, all t'is here, t'is. *gives him the plans and specs for a bare bones shell about as big as she is*

Rumor: *frowning from Boxcutter to Rattrap* Wait, what are you talking about?

Rattrap: *plugs a few coordinates into his PINpoint, then glances up* You'll see. *grimaces, then 'points away*

Boxcutter: Ransack's good fer makin' gadgets an' doin' basic repairs, but I need a specialist. He's jus' gone ta Betacron ta pick up Clokwerk, onna my otha' brats. He designs custom shells fer artists an' bureaucrats. *looks over the plans Hormah's provided, muttering to himself* Yeah, dis shoul'nt be too hard.

Hormah: He's after bein' more Bulk t'en I is. But he's still got more like t' Minicon life force t'en a spark. *circles some parts on the diagram that accompanies the stats* 'N we's needin' it as quick as we kin git it. *hand to her chest again, her face troubled as she thinks of having to choose between her creation and the ailing Rattrap*

Rattrap: *suddenly reappears, holding onto the arm of a bronze bot made entirely out of gears, cogs, and springs. A round, thin, beetle-like shell rests on his back, and his face resembles a theater mask, white and blank with deep, black optics* Got 'im, geezer.

Boxcutter: *nods to the two mechs* Great, y'bring parts?

Clokwerk: *holds up a storage cube* Everything. Should be. To specification.

Hormah: 0.o Slag. He's even sketchier 'n Vector Prime. *yes, she knows that particular mech pretty well*

Clokwerk: *sniffs* Vector Prime. Wishes. He was this. Exquisitely constructed.

Boxcutter: Y'cin be a snot later, Clockwerk, we got work ta do. *grabs the ring on the back of Clokwerk's neck and yanks him up, making the smaller mech yelp and collapse into his shell* We cin use yer room 'gain, Ransack?

Rattrap: Yeah, go fer it. Jus' get 'im outta my sight.

Clokwerk: *ticks* I dread. To see. The state. Your quarters. Are in. Ransack.

Dinobot: *looks up from the corner by the pile of tyraborg parts as they come in, his optics weary but watchful*

Boxcutter: *drops Clokwerk carelessly, the odd mech folding out and landing gracefully on his feet.*

Clokwerk: *looks around, ticking in annoyance* Ransack's. Hoarding tendancies. Have gotten. Worse. I see.

Boxcutter: *grunts* It's got its uses. *takes the storage cube from Clokwerk and hands him the plans.* Dis is what we're buildin'.

Clokwerk: *lets out a little chirp, optics widening* Oh! A Minicon! I have. Never built. One of. Those. Before.

Dinobot: Hhhalf Minicon.

Clokwerk: *ticks at Dinobot* Minor details. Are. Irrelevant. *kneels down before the storage cube and starts pulling out parts, comparing them to the plans*

Dinobot: *growls* They are far fffrom irrrelevant. *optic narrows* Or minor.

Hormah's voice from the other room: Rat, ye wanna grab Dinobot afor 'e eats t' snot?

Rattrap: *whines loudly* I don' wanna go near th' snot! He's creepy!

Ravage: Do not fear, mouse. I have this. *stalks in with tail in the air and gets the damaged mech across his back, then stalks back out still exuding that exquisite snottiness that only a cat can do*

Clokwerk: *ticks his disapproval, but focuses on building the shell, following the plans closely. Just because he's a snot, doesn't mean he can't follow directions*

Ravage: *comes back into Hormah's room after laying Dinobot down in one of the other rooms. Jumps up on the young servant's berth and sniffs at her before giving her a gentle kitty kiss on the side of the head*

Hormah: *kneeling with her head down, talking to her son and her maker. Doesn't notice her minion*

Rumor: *restlessly pacing across the end of the berth, her fur patches floofed*

Rattrap: *pats Hormah's shoulder* Don' worry, Hormah. Clokwerk's a snot, but he's a snot fer a reason. He's good at what he does.

Hormah: *muffled* Primus wouldn'a brung 'im here if he weren't after bein' able t' do 'is job. Jes' gotta pray ot'er Rat kin hold on t'at long.

Rattrap: *nods* Don' worry, us Rats're notoriously hard t'kill. *gives her a reassuring smile, then walks over to Rumor* Yer gonna wear out th' berth, sweetheart.

Rumor: *gives him a serious look, her face still but her optics bright with concern* *and then continues pacing*

Rattrap: *snickers, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his hips to the side* He ain't gonna die.

Rumor: Then why's the priestess worried?

Rattrap: *looks over at Hormah, frowning* She's tryin' ta take care 'a three people, at th' moment. She's stretched a lil' thin.

Rumor: *quietly but intensely* Then she should tell me what I can do to help.

Rattrap: Cin y'do repairs?

Rumor: *pauses her pacing to check on her partner again* *shakes head* The basics.

Rattrap: We got dat covered. Yanno anything 'bout buildin' shells?

Rumor: *shakes head again*

Rattrap: You a spark surgeon?

Rumor: *frowns deeply and once more shakes head*

Rattrap: Den dere really ain't much y'cin do besides sit tight. Wanna go play a video game or somethin' t'keep yer mind off it?

Rumor: *turns away, ready to pace again* He's my responsibility. And... my creator's friend.

Rattrap: An' dere ain't nothin' y'cin do fer 'im right now. S'betta' t'stay outta th' way an' let th' experts do dere thing.

Rumor: *hunkers by her partner and frowns into his face, then looks at Hormah and settles down in a similar position*

Ravage: *watching from the table in the corner*

Rattrap: *grunts* 'm goin' ta find Choppa'face. All dis drama's makin' me edgy.

Ravage: He is in the room across the hall. *lowers head and curls tail around feet*

Rattrap: Thanks. *jumps off the bed and heads across the hall* Heya, Choppa'?

Dinobot: *lifts his head slightly from the right hand berth* Hrrm?

Rattrap: You sure th' pussycat's jus' yer apprentice?

Dinobot: *frowns down at him* Why?

Rattrap: She said dat her rat was her creator's friend.

Dinobot: *lowers head and frowns at ceiling*

Scarecrow: *unfolds and offers Rattrap a hand up onto Dinobot's berth*

Rattrap: *snerks a little, grabbing Scarecrow's hand and climbing up onto the berth* S'funny though. Why's he sick but not her, if dey're from th' same 'verse.

Dinobot: *quietly* Not funny. Rrrumor has had this virus already.

Rattrap: So she's immune?

Dinobot: *nods, his expression stoic as his optics look at faded and half forgotten files*

Rattrap: Whaddabout us? Should me an' Hormah an' Boxcutta' be worried 'bout catchin' it?

Dinobot: No. The rrrn Anti Violence field is strong here.

Rattrap: But it's a virus, not a weapon, right?

Dinobot: .... It is a virus. But it was ussed for a weapon once. *remembering*

Rattrap: Is dere otha's in dere 'verse who might have it?

Dinobot: Anyone on Kaon at a certain time... if they hrrn survived.

Rattrap: Kaon?

Dinobot: It wasss a Predacon colony. *more quietly* A sssecret one.

Rattrap: Hn, no wonda'... But I've got. Er... A me's got it. Dat means it got outta Kaon. Who's Codeak?

Dinobot: A Maximal. In my rrreality he wasss known for being fair. He also mentored Optimuss Primal.

Rattrap: She said he was th' one who brought th' virus.

Dinobot: *shakes his head slightly to say he doesn't know* In my own reality Kaon wassss laid waste. There were no survivors. And those who had tesssted the virus decided that it was, rnnnn, too dangerous.

Rattrap: *snorts* Th' name Rampage mean anythin' t'ya?

Dinobot: *turns head just enough to look at him* This was a Predacon experiment.

Rattrap: Hey, chill, Shredderhead. *holds up his hands placatingly* Meant nothin' by it, jus' sayin'... Figger anythin' th' Maximals kin come up wit' is sparkling's play next t'yer guys's %@#$-ups.

Dinobot: *gaze returns to the ceiling* I rrremember now.

Rattrap: *sits down next to Dinobot, leaning lightly against him* Wanna talk?

Dinobot: It will not bring her back.

Rattrap: Nothin' eva' bothas ya, does it?

Dinobot: *optics absent as he looks back in time* I mourned. And then I locked the filesss away ssso that they would remain uncorrupted.

Rattrap: *looks down, folding his hands in his lap* What's th' point a' keepin' a mem'ry if y'ain't gonna access it from time t' time?

Dinobot: *shrugs* Sssome part of her wass being preserved.

Rattrap: Were y'two close?

Dinobot: *mouth twitches* She bore part of my own basssic programming and part of my ssspark code.

Rattap: *rolls his eyes* Yeah, but were y'close? Like.. yanno... us.

Dinobot: ...She was not ssso rude.

Rattrap: *sticks his tongue out at Dinobot* Somebody hadda keep yer ego in check, Lizardlips.

Dinobot: She wasss... good at that.

Rattrap: I was referin' ta myself, Fossilbrain.

Dinobot: *tiredly* I know.

Rattrap: *pouts* Y'don' like me diggin' at'cha no more, do ya?

Dinobot: *blinks at him. It's clear that he's barely keeping his optics open*

Rattrap: *frowns* Choppa'face? Y'feelin' all right?

Dinobot: *quietly* Tired. The, rrrn, venom hasss not quite cleared my sssystems yet.

Rattrap: Oh. Ehn... sorry fer keepin' y'up den. I'll... go play Rock Band or somethin'. *moves to slide off the berth*

Dinobot: *looks him right in the eye* I wish that my... daughter... might have known you, reprobate though you are.

Rattrap: *smiles back at him* Hey, don't take it so bad. Looks like she's my girlfriend in at least one 'verse out dere.

Dinobot: *slight smile in return* Indeed. *then sighs and slips into recharge*

Scarecrow: *tucks blankets around him better*

Rattrap: *glances at Dinobot over his shoulder one last time, then sighs and walks from the room, heading down the hall to the rec room*

((Co-written with slaggin_preds Continued here))