Home is Where the Hatchet Is: First Impressions pt 2
Title: Home is Where the Hatchet Is
Chapter 2: First Impressions Pt 2
Author: Velvet_Infinity
Warnings: Cursing
Chapter Rating: Pg-13
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Chapter 2: First Impressions Pt 2
Ratchet knew the moment he’d met them that they were going to be trouble. He hadn’t been there for the initial physical, but the evening he’d spent repairing the crimson mech, Sideswipe as he remembered, had told him enough. He’d seen it in their optics. Ratchet had always prided himself on the ability to judge a persons character after an initial meeting. And what he had gotten from his initial meeting of the Twins was that they were going to cause him a lot of processor aches. Goody. Primus just absolutely adored him, didn’t he? Pushing the immediate sarcasm aside, the Chief Medical Officer brought up first Sunstreaker’s and the Sideswipe’s service and medical records, displaying them on his terminal as he went over last evening’s results on Sideswipe’s side and arm.
Ratchet wasn’t terribly surprised by what he read. The mechs had a reputation among former bases and squads as unpredictable, violent, disrespectful, troublemakers, etcetera….. The list went on. Sunstreaker, the golden twin, was known to be terribly vain and antisocial, as well as violent. He made a habit of sending comrades to the medbay with or with out all limbs attatched. Short temper, slightly over possessive and believed to be completely mentally unstable. Surprisingly, the Autobot CMO found he had to disagree with that sentiment. While it had rang true that Sunstreaker was more likely to result to violence when he felt threatened, he wasn’t unstable. Not from what Ratchet had seen at least. Then again, he hadn’t had the chance to check Sunstreaker’s CPU himself, but he was fairly certain that, mentally, Sunstreaker was all there. If just slightly over enthusiastic. And maybe, just maybe, more than a little suicidal. Okay, he could see where ‘not all there’ could be drawn from.
Sideswipe on the other hand, had been describes as overly cheerful, with a morbid sense of humor. Odd choice of words. The crimson mech was reckless, much more disrespectful than his younger twin and had a devious streak that could circle the planet. Twice. Well wasn’t that just dandy? There were numerous listings of him being thrown in the brig for ‘not-so-innocent’ pranks that had resulted in mechs ending up recharging on a medical berth for the night as well as immediate disrespect for orders or insubordination. His favorite tool of use was the jetpack he had strapped to his back, described as charging into battle with a war cry that threatened that of Ironhide’s. that remained to be seen. As far as the medic knew, nobot submitting these reports had actually met Ironhide before.
It didn’t help that most of the prank incident reports seemed to be from the medics at the previous bases. Ratchet could only conclude, in a completely logical, Prowl-esque way, that Primus officially took joy out of making his lifecycle miserable. His conclusion was strongly supported when he read into the two frontliers’ medical records.
It was his professional opinion that the medics that had treated Sunstreaker and Sideswipe up to this day were complete idiots. There were several reports stating that one or both twins acted with unneeded violence in normal situations, such as one hovering over the medics treating the other looking intimidating, or threatening words when somebot came too close when tensions were wound high. And according to their professional opinions, both Twins needed to see a psychiatrist. It was glaringly obvious that none of the so called ‘medics’ had ever read up on split spark twins.
Granted, there wasn’t much to begin with, but what there was should have explained at least most of what the medics had encountered. It was apparent to Ratchet that the over-protectiveness and aggressive possessiveness (huh, say that ten times fast) of each other was a common split-spark Twin trait. A split-spark was known to be two halves of a full spark, split just before the need to be transferred from carrier to protoform arose. It was only natural that twins should feel the need to guard and protect their other half. In every case study, it had been proven that should one twin offline, the other quickly followed. So it only made sense to watch the other’s back, lest the other perish as well. The problem lay in the fact that because of already established bonds, it was difficult to get twins to interact outside of their twin bond.
The medic sighed heavily and shut down the warrior’s medical records to pull up last cycle’s diagnostics. A few were scheduled to come back for post-surgery or battle checkups, but overall, there had been a record low in the ‘major injuries’ department. Even after a huge facedown with the Decepticon heavy-brigade warriors. The worst had been the red twin, Sideswipe, and if his brother had not dragged him in…… Ratchet shut down that line of coding before it fully processed. The worst had not happened. Sideswipe had not perished on his med-table like so many others before. Sideswipe was…… Supposed to have been here several kliks ago.
Ratchet’s optics narrowed to lighted slits and he raised a hand to activate the base wide communications protocol when the door to his domain slid open and the very mech he’d about to yell for came strutting into the room. Now that he had the time without the others spark threatening to gutter out on him, Ratchet decided that the frontline warrior was exceptionally good looking. His face was well formed, cobalt blue optics set over high cheek structures with a well proportioned nasal. The helm wasn’t blocky, nor sleek, but an alluring yet curious combination of both with audial horns that reminded the CMO vaguely of a painting he had once seen on organic cultures… A dev-something or other. The cocky grin, although hard and distrusting to trained optics, further cemented the idea in his processor. And that honestly made him dread what the future had in store for him that much more. He didn’t need another Tracks. Really.
‘Primus, whatever I’ve done to frag you off, I’m sorry already!’ The silent, semi-prayer was the only apology Ratchet was willing to give at the moment before it was down to business.
“You’re late.” Ratchet groused, transferring Sideswipe’s scans to a portable pad. He didn’t notice the hard edge of the grin slip into a confused and slightly surprised frown.
That… was not the first thing Sideswipe had expected to hear. ‘Still alive, are we?’ or ‘Primus! Why couldn’t you have made my life easier and NOT shown up!?’ were more or less what he was used to. Sunstreaker had been the receiver of far less kind comments. This mech though… he looked honestly upset that the crimson twin had not shown up on time. Weird…
His musing was cut short by an impatient voice.
“Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation?” He cast a glance into the scowling features of the CMO. “Hop up.”
The red and white mech gestured to a medberth, one cherry hand sitting on an equally cherry hip which was canted to the side in his impatience. He was holding a pad in the hand that he had used to motion Sideswipe forward and to the berth. Sideswipe felt an optic ridge rise of its own volition. Brave, this one, ordering around a warrior that tore live mechs apart for a living. Brave… or stupid. Maybe, even both. After all, stupidity was known for making mechs do brave things. Primus only knew how many times he and his brother had been accused of just such a thing as stupidity.
Deciding to humor the poor, delusional mech, the crimson twin crossed to the berth with a steady gait, building enough momentum in his stride to slide a short ways across the surface a little. The resulting screech of metal against metal had the medi-bot cringing slightly, much to his satisfaction. The surprisingly clear crystal blue optics narrowed at him.
“Do not do that again.” The warning was growled. Sideswipe merely grinned.
Ratchet ignored the cheeky warrior with a scowl as he set to work, checking the welds he’s placed and seeing if the plating had set and could be repainted and finished. Of course he’d have to buff the welds flat first, but he got the feeling that neither Twin would appreciate that from him. So after making sure that nothing was going wrong, everything had set and was ready for repainting, Ratchet crossed to his drawers to retrieve the necessary scanner to check Sideswipe’s internal diagnostics.
The medic paused after opening the drawer and stood there staring at it. It was… completely empty. “Huh.”
“Something wrong, Doc?” Sideswipe’s voice asked from behind him.
Ratchet ignored him and opened another drawer. And another and several more. No, everything else seemed to be where it was supposed to be. So where the frag were all his scanners?! Well, all his hand held scanners were missing. Maybe Wheeljack had taken them… Or one of the Aides had misplaced them. He would have to check. Later. For now, he simply did not have the time and he turned back around with a highly unamused frown on his white faceplates. He stalked back over to the perplexed looking Sideswipe, but ignored him other than to order the frontliner to ‘lay the frag down’.
So he didn’t have his hand helds at the moment. At least there were the standing scanners. He would have to directly uplink those to Sideswipe’s systems, via cable, but that was fine with him.
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“Alright you cretin! You’re good to go!” Ratchet grumped. “And send your brother in here.”
Sideswipe once again looked surprised. “Why?”
“Because I need to give him his physical.”
Now there was a curious frown on the frontliner’s faceplates. “We already had them. When we first got here.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t here.” Ratchet said in a matter of fact way. “I’d feel much better if I checked over everything. Especially seeing as you, your brother and a few others were assigned trainees when they examined you.”
“What do you care? The doc in charge still cleared us.”
“Did he check you over as well?”
“Well, no, but-“
“That fragger! When I get my servos on him…..” There was an ominous promise in the incomplete sentence. Ratchet sighed quickly reigning in his temper before explaining to the thoroughly confused twin. “It’s true that the only way trainees ever learn is hands on experience. However, I can’t count the ways something can go wrong merely because a rookie overlooked something that seemed inconsequential at the time. And Overscore knows that! The fragger should have checked you over as a precaution…. So I’ll be doing that in his place.”
“Is that why this check-up took so long? Because you tied it in with a physical?” Sideswipe asked incredulity.
“Yes. And you’ll want to buff those welds flat before you repaint, unless you like looking like you’ve been through a shredder. Now send your brother in.”
There were few moments of Sideswipe just looking at him with disbelieving optics. Then he snorted and mumbled ‘whatever’ before hopping down from the medberth and stalking his way to the door.
“Oh and Sideswipe…” The red twin paused at the door to give the medic a curious look. “If I don’t see him in here with the orn, I’m holding both of you to a ‘negligence of duty’ charge. I hear the brig is a nice time of place this time of the cycle.”
Sideswipe gave him a hard look before he scowled and nodded with a sharp jerk and then he was gone. Ratchet decided that perhaps he had been too overdramatic at the beginning of the cycle. That had gone rather well. Absently, he replaced Sideswipe’s diagnostics with Sunstreaker’s, preparing for the golden twin’s check-up as well. He scrolled through the information he had before cycling his optics closed and then open again, hoping he had read something wrong. Flicking down the report further, Ratchet frowned. He re-booted his optics once more. Surely, surely that couldn't be right.
For this particular report mentioned grave injuries to Sunstreaker. A broken helm fin, wiring ripped out on his left flank, a leg twisted and in danger of being completely severed. And yet, Sunstreaker was listed as having being treated as one of the last mechs. That couldn't be right. Surely any DECENT medic would know that those injuries could be potentially life threatening and would have attended to them right away.
Quickly pulling up other files from that particular battle, Ratchet was stumped. It was one of the Twins first battles with the Autobots, and there had not been too many injured. In fact, Sunstreaker's looked the most life threatening by looking at the words on the terminal. Why then, would he be treated last?
It was like something fell into place in Ratchet's processor.
It was the beginning of the distrust that the Twin's felt for medics. It explained their behaviour towards him when they came in.
The realization wanted Ratchet to both rage and feel pity for the Twins. Such twin bonds were rare and they were often misunderstood. With a low growl, Ratchet promised himself that in his med-bay, all would ALWAYS be treated equally. Even twins.
Before he could work himself into a proper fit of rage, something crashed loudly behind him, startling him. He spun around, ready to jump at his attacker, but found nobody behind him. He glanced around cautiously before noticing something on the ground a few feet away. It was one of his scanners. One of his handheld scanners. Slowly, with a sense of horrible foreboding, the medic tipped his head back. There, apparently adhered to the ceiling of the Medical Bay, were all five of his handheld scanners.
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“What was that?” Perceptor asked in curiosity, his helm swiveling to the door of Wheeljack’s lab after the echo of the wordless noise died away.
Wheeljack merely grinned behind his mask plate, remaining hunched over his project. “That, my fine fellow, is the shriek of the wild Hatchet.” His grin widened. “Looks like just another normal day on the Ark.”
Chapter 2: First Impressions Pt 2
Author: Velvet_Infinity
Warnings: Cursing
Chapter Rating: Pg-13
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Chapter 2: First Impressions Pt 2
Ratchet knew the moment he’d met them that they were going to be trouble. He hadn’t been there for the initial physical, but the evening he’d spent repairing the crimson mech, Sideswipe as he remembered, had told him enough. He’d seen it in their optics. Ratchet had always prided himself on the ability to judge a persons character after an initial meeting. And what he had gotten from his initial meeting of the Twins was that they were going to cause him a lot of processor aches. Goody. Primus just absolutely adored him, didn’t he? Pushing the immediate sarcasm aside, the Chief Medical Officer brought up first Sunstreaker’s and the Sideswipe’s service and medical records, displaying them on his terminal as he went over last evening’s results on Sideswipe’s side and arm.
Ratchet wasn’t terribly surprised by what he read. The mechs had a reputation among former bases and squads as unpredictable, violent, disrespectful, troublemakers, etcetera….. The list went on. Sunstreaker, the golden twin, was known to be terribly vain and antisocial, as well as violent. He made a habit of sending comrades to the medbay with or with out all limbs attatched. Short temper, slightly over possessive and believed to be completely mentally unstable. Surprisingly, the Autobot CMO found he had to disagree with that sentiment. While it had rang true that Sunstreaker was more likely to result to violence when he felt threatened, he wasn’t unstable. Not from what Ratchet had seen at least. Then again, he hadn’t had the chance to check Sunstreaker’s CPU himself, but he was fairly certain that, mentally, Sunstreaker was all there. If just slightly over enthusiastic. And maybe, just maybe, more than a little suicidal. Okay, he could see where ‘not all there’ could be drawn from.
Sideswipe on the other hand, had been describes as overly cheerful, with a morbid sense of humor. Odd choice of words. The crimson mech was reckless, much more disrespectful than his younger twin and had a devious streak that could circle the planet. Twice. Well wasn’t that just dandy? There were numerous listings of him being thrown in the brig for ‘not-so-innocent’ pranks that had resulted in mechs ending up recharging on a medical berth for the night as well as immediate disrespect for orders or insubordination. His favorite tool of use was the jetpack he had strapped to his back, described as charging into battle with a war cry that threatened that of Ironhide’s. that remained to be seen. As far as the medic knew, nobot submitting these reports had actually met Ironhide before.
It didn’t help that most of the prank incident reports seemed to be from the medics at the previous bases. Ratchet could only conclude, in a completely logical, Prowl-esque way, that Primus officially took joy out of making his lifecycle miserable. His conclusion was strongly supported when he read into the two frontliers’ medical records.
It was his professional opinion that the medics that had treated Sunstreaker and Sideswipe up to this day were complete idiots. There were several reports stating that one or both twins acted with unneeded violence in normal situations, such as one hovering over the medics treating the other looking intimidating, or threatening words when somebot came too close when tensions were wound high. And according to their professional opinions, both Twins needed to see a psychiatrist. It was glaringly obvious that none of the so called ‘medics’ had ever read up on split spark twins.
Granted, there wasn’t much to begin with, but what there was should have explained at least most of what the medics had encountered. It was apparent to Ratchet that the over-protectiveness and aggressive possessiveness (huh, say that ten times fast) of each other was a common split-spark Twin trait. A split-spark was known to be two halves of a full spark, split just before the need to be transferred from carrier to protoform arose. It was only natural that twins should feel the need to guard and protect their other half. In every case study, it had been proven that should one twin offline, the other quickly followed. So it only made sense to watch the other’s back, lest the other perish as well. The problem lay in the fact that because of already established bonds, it was difficult to get twins to interact outside of their twin bond.
The medic sighed heavily and shut down the warrior’s medical records to pull up last cycle’s diagnostics. A few were scheduled to come back for post-surgery or battle checkups, but overall, there had been a record low in the ‘major injuries’ department. Even after a huge facedown with the Decepticon heavy-brigade warriors. The worst had been the red twin, Sideswipe, and if his brother had not dragged him in…… Ratchet shut down that line of coding before it fully processed. The worst had not happened. Sideswipe had not perished on his med-table like so many others before. Sideswipe was…… Supposed to have been here several kliks ago.
Ratchet’s optics narrowed to lighted slits and he raised a hand to activate the base wide communications protocol when the door to his domain slid open and the very mech he’d about to yell for came strutting into the room. Now that he had the time without the others spark threatening to gutter out on him, Ratchet decided that the frontline warrior was exceptionally good looking. His face was well formed, cobalt blue optics set over high cheek structures with a well proportioned nasal. The helm wasn’t blocky, nor sleek, but an alluring yet curious combination of both with audial horns that reminded the CMO vaguely of a painting he had once seen on organic cultures… A dev-something or other. The cocky grin, although hard and distrusting to trained optics, further cemented the idea in his processor. And that honestly made him dread what the future had in store for him that much more. He didn’t need another Tracks. Really.
‘Primus, whatever I’ve done to frag you off, I’m sorry already!’ The silent, semi-prayer was the only apology Ratchet was willing to give at the moment before it was down to business.
“You’re late.” Ratchet groused, transferring Sideswipe’s scans to a portable pad. He didn’t notice the hard edge of the grin slip into a confused and slightly surprised frown.
That… was not the first thing Sideswipe had expected to hear. ‘Still alive, are we?’ or ‘Primus! Why couldn’t you have made my life easier and NOT shown up!?’ were more or less what he was used to. Sunstreaker had been the receiver of far less kind comments. This mech though… he looked honestly upset that the crimson twin had not shown up on time. Weird…
His musing was cut short by an impatient voice.
“Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation?” He cast a glance into the scowling features of the CMO. “Hop up.”
The red and white mech gestured to a medberth, one cherry hand sitting on an equally cherry hip which was canted to the side in his impatience. He was holding a pad in the hand that he had used to motion Sideswipe forward and to the berth. Sideswipe felt an optic ridge rise of its own volition. Brave, this one, ordering around a warrior that tore live mechs apart for a living. Brave… or stupid. Maybe, even both. After all, stupidity was known for making mechs do brave things. Primus only knew how many times he and his brother had been accused of just such a thing as stupidity.
Deciding to humor the poor, delusional mech, the crimson twin crossed to the berth with a steady gait, building enough momentum in his stride to slide a short ways across the surface a little. The resulting screech of metal against metal had the medi-bot cringing slightly, much to his satisfaction. The surprisingly clear crystal blue optics narrowed at him.
“Do not do that again.” The warning was growled. Sideswipe merely grinned.
Ratchet ignored the cheeky warrior with a scowl as he set to work, checking the welds he’s placed and seeing if the plating had set and could be repainted and finished. Of course he’d have to buff the welds flat first, but he got the feeling that neither Twin would appreciate that from him. So after making sure that nothing was going wrong, everything had set and was ready for repainting, Ratchet crossed to his drawers to retrieve the necessary scanner to check Sideswipe’s internal diagnostics.
The medic paused after opening the drawer and stood there staring at it. It was… completely empty. “Huh.”
“Something wrong, Doc?” Sideswipe’s voice asked from behind him.
Ratchet ignored him and opened another drawer. And another and several more. No, everything else seemed to be where it was supposed to be. So where the frag were all his scanners?! Well, all his hand held scanners were missing. Maybe Wheeljack had taken them… Or one of the Aides had misplaced them. He would have to check. Later. For now, he simply did not have the time and he turned back around with a highly unamused frown on his white faceplates. He stalked back over to the perplexed looking Sideswipe, but ignored him other than to order the frontliner to ‘lay the frag down’.
So he didn’t have his hand helds at the moment. At least there were the standing scanners. He would have to directly uplink those to Sideswipe’s systems, via cable, but that was fine with him.
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“Alright you cretin! You’re good to go!” Ratchet grumped. “And send your brother in here.”
Sideswipe once again looked surprised. “Why?”
“Because I need to give him his physical.”
Now there was a curious frown on the frontliner’s faceplates. “We already had them. When we first got here.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t here.” Ratchet said in a matter of fact way. “I’d feel much better if I checked over everything. Especially seeing as you, your brother and a few others were assigned trainees when they examined you.”
“What do you care? The doc in charge still cleared us.”
“Did he check you over as well?”
“Well, no, but-“
“That fragger! When I get my servos on him…..” There was an ominous promise in the incomplete sentence. Ratchet sighed quickly reigning in his temper before explaining to the thoroughly confused twin. “It’s true that the only way trainees ever learn is hands on experience. However, I can’t count the ways something can go wrong merely because a rookie overlooked something that seemed inconsequential at the time. And Overscore knows that! The fragger should have checked you over as a precaution…. So I’ll be doing that in his place.”
“Is that why this check-up took so long? Because you tied it in with a physical?” Sideswipe asked incredulity.
“Yes. And you’ll want to buff those welds flat before you repaint, unless you like looking like you’ve been through a shredder. Now send your brother in.”
There were few moments of Sideswipe just looking at him with disbelieving optics. Then he snorted and mumbled ‘whatever’ before hopping down from the medberth and stalking his way to the door.
“Oh and Sideswipe…” The red twin paused at the door to give the medic a curious look. “If I don’t see him in here with the orn, I’m holding both of you to a ‘negligence of duty’ charge. I hear the brig is a nice time of place this time of the cycle.”
Sideswipe gave him a hard look before he scowled and nodded with a sharp jerk and then he was gone. Ratchet decided that perhaps he had been too overdramatic at the beginning of the cycle. That had gone rather well. Absently, he replaced Sideswipe’s diagnostics with Sunstreaker’s, preparing for the golden twin’s check-up as well. He scrolled through the information he had before cycling his optics closed and then open again, hoping he had read something wrong. Flicking down the report further, Ratchet frowned. He re-booted his optics once more. Surely, surely that couldn't be right.
For this particular report mentioned grave injuries to Sunstreaker. A broken helm fin, wiring ripped out on his left flank, a leg twisted and in danger of being completely severed. And yet, Sunstreaker was listed as having being treated as one of the last mechs. That couldn't be right. Surely any DECENT medic would know that those injuries could be potentially life threatening and would have attended to them right away.
Quickly pulling up other files from that particular battle, Ratchet was stumped. It was one of the Twins first battles with the Autobots, and there had not been too many injured. In fact, Sunstreaker's looked the most life threatening by looking at the words on the terminal. Why then, would he be treated last?
It was like something fell into place in Ratchet's processor.
It was the beginning of the distrust that the Twin's felt for medics. It explained their behaviour towards him when they came in.
The realization wanted Ratchet to both rage and feel pity for the Twins. Such twin bonds were rare and they were often misunderstood. With a low growl, Ratchet promised himself that in his med-bay, all would ALWAYS be treated equally. Even twins.
Before he could work himself into a proper fit of rage, something crashed loudly behind him, startling him. He spun around, ready to jump at his attacker, but found nobody behind him. He glanced around cautiously before noticing something on the ground a few feet away. It was one of his scanners. One of his handheld scanners. Slowly, with a sense of horrible foreboding, the medic tipped his head back. There, apparently adhered to the ceiling of the Medical Bay, were all five of his handheld scanners.
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“What was that?” Perceptor asked in curiosity, his helm swiveling to the door of Wheeljack’s lab after the echo of the wordless noise died away.
Wheeljack merely grinned behind his mask plate, remaining hunched over his project. “That, my fine fellow, is the shriek of the wild Hatchet.” His grin widened. “Looks like just another normal day on the Ark.”