If it's not one thing, it's another

[chatter_bot]

He pulls a grenade from subspace and balances it in his hand, his targeting array automatically finding the best place to lob it for the most damage.  His thumb brushes the trigger and he offlines his optics.

Shots continue to tear past his head, his doorwings twitch, threatening to unlatch from his back and give the ‘Cons a target, and with a

Comments

[1st_aid_kit]

*In the Med Bay, First Aid is sitting on the edge of the counter, lost in thought. The sudden explosion sends a shudder through the Ark and is enough to shake the human off the table enitrely.*

*He yelps as he falls, arms instinctively going to cover his head...*

[cmowithahatchet]

[Comm:Blaster] Copy. Just get someone down here who can help us with damage control if you can. [/comm] *carries Bluestreak down the hall to Medical, putting him down on the closest berth and giving him an inital look over* Fraccking hell, only you can manage something on this scale, Blue.

[chatter_bot]

*Bluestreak twitchs and moans softly when Ratchet lowers him to the berth.

*When Ratchet looks at him, he'll see Bluestreak's familiar paint job, silver armor and red limbs and red chevron over same youthful face, though under the soot, his face is tired and sad looking. He still has doorwings, except they're smaller and more flexible and can be locked down or held out in the more familiar manner. This Bluestreak, though, has a completely different alt mode. He's smaller, more compact, built for speed and maneuverability.

*His damage is confined to his back, paint scorched, some melting of his armor but easily repaired.*

Lazy player is lazy

*Hound trotted along behind Ratchet, his curiosity nearly overwhelming. He watched his friend bounce against Ratchet's back and wondered what was going on with everybody.

*Back at the med bay, he climbed up on an empty berth to watch Ratchet.*

[cmowithahatchet]

*murmurs softly as he works to repair the worst of the damage, recognising the changes and really hoping this (re)introduction will be better than Sideswipe's* Easy Blue, easy, you're safe now in Medical.

[chatter_bot]

*Bluestreak shook his head slowly, his audios still ringing from the explosion. His head throbbed and his optics felt like they'd been sandblasted. Someone was touching him.* I...I'm alive? *His voice came out hoarse and he cleared his vocalizer.* Must...be. Hurts too much to be dead.

[cmowithahatchet]

*nods to himself, when they can talk they're not too bad, and when they're not too bad they're well enough to be yelled at* You're slagging lucky you weren't blown into bolts and cinders by that little stunt! What the frack were you thinking, setting off an explosion in the slagging ARMOURY!

[chatter_bot]

*Bluestreak's optic flashed on in shock when he heard Ratchet's voice. He squeaked, terrified by what he saw and tried to escape by scrambling backwards off the berth.* I am dead, I am dead, Primus, I don't want to be dead!

[cmowithahatchet]

*lunges to hold him still* Frag it stop squirming! You'll rip your welds open again and then -I'll- quite happily kill you!

[chatter_bot]

*Bluestreak gasped and tried to fight Ratchet off.* No, you're dead. Don't touch me.

[cmowithahatchet]

Stop slagging moving! *growls and getting fed up with it all, tries to press the neural over-ride on the back of his neck, under his helm, to make him lie still*

[chatter_bot]

Noooo! *He thrashed his head to avoid Ratchet's hand but couldn't and suddenly found himself helpless on the berth with a ghost standing over him looking more scary than when he was alive.* Please. I'm sorry I threw the grenade, I didn't know I was here...it was an accident...they were trying to kill me...now I'm dead... *he babbled incoherently for a bit longer before running out of steam and falling silent. Now he just stared wide opticked at Ratchet.*

*Hound watched in stunned silence as his friend freaked out. He hadn't seen this kind of behavior since he'd first met the young gunner.*

[cmowithahatchet]

*stares at him for a moment, visibly perplexed, then speaks, his prior vitriol gone* You really think I'm dead, don't you? *sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose* I'm not dead, and you're not dead, not in this slagged up universe anyway. As far as I can tell, bits of different dimensions have all been glued together and none of them really fit.

[stealthy_lion]

*Steeljaw followed the rest of the party back to the medbay, Beachcomber sitting on his back with his little paws in his mane. Entering, he stretched out in a corner and watched Ratchet work on Bluestreak.

He was almost dozing off when Bluestreak's yelling made him raise his head with a start. He got to his feet, watching... then, when Bluestreak started to fail, he let out a loud roar to try and make him freeze*

Be quiet! No one's going to hurt you!

[chatter_bot]

I don't know what you're talking about. You've been dead for vorns. I saw your body and Prowl's and Ironhide's and Wheeljack's. Primus, I'm talking to a ghost. *His voice starting rising in volume again until the roar of a lion of all things echoed loudly in the room and he let out a small shriek and obeyed, shutting his mouth with a click.*

*Beachcomber stood up on Jaw's back and tried to see.* He's terrified, Jaw. Though you may have got him to shut his mouth.

[stealthy_lion]

*to Beachy* Yes, that was the main idea...

*He padded softly over to Bluestreak and looked into the mech's optics with his bright amber eyes*

listen to what you're told, Bluestreak. There aren't any ghosts here.

*He studied the mech a little more then turned to look at the meerkat*

Does he look like a Minibot to you?

[chatter_bot]

*Bluestreak flinched when the large lion peered at him. He offlined his optics and nodded as best he could.* No ghosts just talking lions. I'm not dead, I'm crazy. Just like everybody tells me. I didn't believe them but I do now.

*Beachcomber climbed up onto Jaw's head and looked Bluestreak over.* He does look like a minibot. Very interesting. He's never been a mini in all the time I've known him...