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| - Crackshot comes into the room. Rolling carefully he was pulling a trailer of supplies and parts for the wounded. He wasn't the strongest of mechs, but he was doing his best to help out as the streetcar rolled through, careful to attend the speed limit as he pulled up to the ICU building Shark follows some moments later, apparently he got drug into helping with medical supplies as well as he pushes in another trailer. "When Starfire and Jade get to ordering parts... I tell you mech.. they get down to it. Remind me nod to give the former access to my line of creds... or I doubt I've have a retirement plan for when this war is over and done." Crackshot chuckles, turning his signal on to pull into the loading bay "I feel the same way. Though at least we know it wouldn’t be wasted, right?" Hammerstrike had been comfortably seated in the recovery lounge down the hall. He didn't seem to be visiting anyone, and his repairs were completely finishes, so his presence there is not quite apparent. Regardless, the large boxy mech is there, and he slowly raises to his feet from where he had perched himself sometime prior. He exits the lounge and ambles at a slow, easy pace. Upon noticing Shark and Crackshot making some deliveries, he nods politely to both of them, but has better manners as to not intrude on their conversation uninvited. Besides, his optics quickly glance around as if searching for something or someone. Shark hmms softly and says, "Nah." then nods to Hammerstrike, "You just volunteered to help with unloading, that is if you are feeling up to it." the toothy mech grins. Crackshot carefully unhitches from the other trailer, transforming moments later as he chuckles at Hammerstrike "Do you think Ratchet would yell at us after he's fixed up if we put him to work already?" he asks Shark playfully Hammerstrike straightens up, coming to an abrupt halt when Shark speaks. There is an expression of bewilderment for a brief moment, then his face sobers to its usual expression, or lack thereof, and he nods the affirmative. Knowing Shark is his superior, he complies without hesitation. "Just tell me where to put what," he intones. Ratchet is lying on his ventral panels on one of the med bay berths in the emergency ward. He's missing several panels, and the exposed transducers make him hiss at the sensation of airflow over their exposed surfaces. He's had to deal with this a few times before, but somehow he always wipes this part out of his memory banks. Shielding is a blessing often taken for granted, he notes to himself as he twitches. Shark smirks to Crackshot, "I answer that with this question, does he know where to land his wrenches when he throws them at you?" placing the brakes on the trailer to keep them in place, "Let the doc rest up. Not like the femme medics cannot handle things while he's out eh?" he notes, then a nod to Hammerstrike. "Luckily for us all this med bay is well organized." First Aid is machining a piece of Ratchet's damaged armor, filing off the layer of melted cog alloy and ruined paint before wiping it down with solvent and returning it to the table where the rest of Ratchet's armor is still stacked and awaiting work. He eyes the strange Autobots a little curiously as he picks up another piece of armor and starts to work on it. "And color coded!" adds Crackshot "Red stuff goes in red marked bins, blue stuff goes in blue marked boxes... unless you're monochrome. " A pause as he looks at Hammerstrike, opening up his trailer "are you?" Shark gives First Aid a look a moment, remember their last little.. ahem.. meeting. He doesn't say a word to the mech, just picks up a box and moves it over to the storage area before he opens it up. "Monochrome? Pit slag on that I say." Hammerstrike remains unfazed by the light teasing and picks up an armload of blue boxes and quietly heads to where they ought to be put. "No." is all he says in response to Crackshot's question. He sighs inwardly, and decides perhaps it would be best to say more and be more conversational. "I can tell red from blue... but telling cerulean from azure is more of a femme's talent," he adds chauvinistically. Finished putting away the supplies he returns to grab more, but pauses a moment to glance over at Ratchet and First Aid, seeing that there is still a lot of work to be done. There is a subtle shudder before he begins to grab more boxes. Crackshot blinks at that and bristles a little. He glances to Shark and shrugs as if to say 'hey, what's with that?' before picking out a few boxes himself. He pauses as well as he sees Ratchet twitch "Ratchet?" Still twitching. Actually, he hasn't held still on the berth for close to the past hour. He knows why -- self-healing isn't exactly lightning fast, and repair to sensory trunks and lines... well, itches. He mutters obscenities as his left hand scrabbles under his right arm. Just mend, already, slaggit! "What do you want?!" he asks, irritably. Shark ooos softly to Hammerstrike, "You don't have a femme do you mech cuz if you did she'd so slap you upside the helm for that remark.. even if you were right." he notes with a grin, he busily unpacks the box in front of him and puts away as he goes. "Speaking of femmes... Crack.. you still swooning over that... satellite?" he asks with a smirk and a definite teasing tone. Then a beat before he shakes his head at the mech bothering the resting medic, "You just asking for a wrenching. Don't say I did not warn you cuz I've seen that mechs accuracy for myself. He took down Jazz with one fragging wrench throw." Crackshot sniffs a little "I still spot her each night in the telescope when we have the spare power for it. Still out there. And I'm not-" he jumps back as Ratchet suddenly speaks "... I wanted to say I hope you get well soon... " but Sharks' warning was in his ears. First Aid returns with another machined piece of armor and sets it on the other completed plate, picking up a third and fourth to cut down on the number of trips he has to make back and forth and still eying the Autobots with curiosity. Ratchet blinks at the quiet greeting. He's not sparkless, no matter what anyone says, although he's hardly in a chatty mood. "Well... thanks, kid," he says as he eyes the cabinets around the room with increasing interest. Hammerstrike continues to diligently put away supplies as Shark continues to dish out the teasing in equal portions to all present... except for the neutral. "Indeed," is his response to Shark's remark about having a femme, but he doesn't elaborate or seem bothered. His gaze travels over and rests on First Aid for a few moments, catching one of his curious glances towards him and the others. He arches an optic ridge questioningly, but says nothing and gets back to work. Crackshot frowns and states "I'm Crackshot, not kid." he states simply, still holding the boxes in his hands. Ratchet turns to regard Crackshot. "How many vorns, again?" he asks in a low voice. Crackshot says, "Enough of them." Crackshot adds "Besides, its quality over quantity." Shark shakes his head at Crackshot, "You my friend are a sad mech. Sorry if that hurts ya, but it's the truth. The truth stings." he notes. Then a glance at Hammer, "So I hear through the rumor mill you tangled with the black seeker femme again. I think she must like you. But then I always sort of thought that Rogue liked me cuz of all the times she targeted me. And when I say 'like' I mean 'wants to send you to the smelter after she's gutted your insides out' sort of like." He glances over at Ratchet a moment, then a chuckle. "Getting yourself deeper in the slag there Crack." The medic can't quite stand it anymore, and Crackshot seems a viable excuse. Ratchet rolls himself off the berth and shrugs his shoulders a little -- it'll have to do, Primus, I need some coolant there -- and slowly makes his way over to the mech, in all his unarmored glory. Ratchet is annoyed. "All right, Crackshot," he says, his voice still low, "let me tell you about quality over quantity. When you spend as many vorns as I have as *quality* time picking out the *quantity* of shots you military types like to lay into other mechs' bodies, you can tell me about quality and quantity. Got me, soldier?" He twitches. Must not rub that arm... Ratchet glowers with a huff of air. Crackshot glances to Shark, and frowns. Then he looks back to Ratchet "I've compared two million pictures of a star system mere seconds apart looking for differences in light quantity that could tell me if there was a world around that star. If a picture is shoddily taken it could waste a lot of time... but I imagine it’s not the same." he states simply, calmly as he nods "Get well soon... sir. " he then turns, moving quickly away to put the boxes where they belong. Hammerstrike finishes unloading one of the boxes, letting a decent sized pause pass after Shark's comments before even acknowledging them. "She is a soldier. I am a soldier. We are bound to fight," is his terse remark. He goes silent, his gaze shifting over to Ratchet as he lets into Crackshot. However, he doesn't let the rising tension slow his work. He gives Crackshot just a slight tilt of the head as he quickly busies himself with his task. First Aid wipes down the plate he's working on and finds a rough spot, putting it back onto the wheel to grind it down a little bit more, watching the interaction but unable to hear anyone over the noise of metal being ground down. Shark just grins in a 'told you so' sort of way, then moves over to the trailer he pushed in to get another box from it. He looks to Hammerstrike and nods, "She out with a grounder among your ranks you know. So says the rumor mill anyway. Was close with him. Might have a thing for grounders. So you better watch your back Hammer. Might wanna just watch all around yourself actually. Femme seekers are a curious lot, trust me I would know after all the times I got my skid plates kicked by Rogue." Shark your ranks=their ranks Hammerstrike was setting something on a shelf, and his hand lingers there longer than necessary. Finally he cranes what constitutes as a neck and stares at Shark for a long time, his white face devoid of expression as usual, but there seems to be something vaguely grim in his countenance. After a weighted pause he finally intones, "Thank you for the advice, sir," and finishes with his current box. He glances back at the trailer, and after a moment of hesitance, goes back to work. Ratchet's optics continue roving the room for something he could co-opt to make his return to health less miserable. He approaches the nearest drawer and picks up a pipe brush, and experimentally tries applying the bristles to his side... only to have the thing bend and become useless. He swears and moves on to another cabinet, keeping an eye on First Aid and the others amidst his other distractions. Crackshot goes back to work simply, his mood having darkened a little bit as he puts boxes away a little more roughly than usual. First Aid finishes the plate he's working on and returns the pair he's been working on to the table where Ratchet was, picking up the last three plates from the incomplete pile. Shark hms to that reply, "What's with this sir stuff? I'm not Prime." he mutters and shakes his head as he unpacks the second box busily, "And Crack, don't think I don't notice the audibility of how you are closing those drawers mech." he notes, then a glance at Ratchet again, "Ever think of giving a class in creative cussing doc?" a flash of a toothy grin given. Crackshot glances to Shark a little, then shrugs "I am a little agitated. I just don’t take it out on others." he explains to Shark, closing the next one more notably soft. Hammerstrike takes a box from the depleting bundle and quickly and efficiently puts away the contents, not saying anything more to Shark, imagining his question not really demanding an answer. After finishing this box, he moves closer to First Aid rather than return directly to the trailer. "First Aid, correct?" Ratchet grunts as his fingertips dig in alongside an actuator above his elbow. "Ages of experience, Shark," he says distractedly as he hunts for a spray bottle of coolant. He flexes his damaged arm in frustration. Something... anything! "Right. I'm Lifeline's apprentice. You're Hammerstrike?" Aid asks. Shark moves to his trailer to fetch box number three. "Sir.." he murmurs with a chuckle, just finding it amusing as all get out. Then a nod to Ratchet, "Need something there doc? You look a bit.. perturbed." he notes. Then he pauses a moment and grins belatedly, "Oh ouch I just got that underhanded little jab at my expense Crack, slag mech you hanging around me too much." Hammerstrike gives a quick nod of his head in confirmation. He pauses a moment, glancing back at the trailer, then back to First Aid. "You performed bravely out there, doing what you could to stabilize Ratchet in the heat of battle. I just wanted to say this to you," Hammerstrike declares before turning to get back to work lest Shark have to remind him there's still supplies to be distributed. Crackshot blinks and looks up and over at Shark, startled 'My...Jab? Oh! It wasn’t intended for you. But thanks? " he grins a little, relaxing as he chuckles. Ratchet winces as he tries poking a pair of forceps into the cabling of his neck. Just... wiggle... ahh! He revs his engine in frustration at Shark's remark, but he'll take what he can get. He yanks the forceps by force of will and stretches his arms at his sides. "Shark, do you have a manifest for the shipment you have?" he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Did we get any coolant sprays?" First Aid looks embarrassed. "Er, thanks?" He says quietly, after a second, and turns back to the plates he's working on. The sooner he gets these done, the sooner they can be replaced on Ratchet's arm, leg, and side. Shark smirks at Crackshot and gives him chuckle, "Sure, act all nonchalant about it." he murmurs then searches around his box and finds what the doc wants. He walks over and hands it to him, "Feel free to look it over doc. Pretty sure if Starfire missed something that Jade caught it. That is Jade gave a turbo rat’s behind about doing her work that is." he notes sardonically.. even a bit snarkily. Hammerstrike dims his optics for only a moment and returns to his assignment, having nothing more to add. Ratchet accepts the spray and takes only a quick glance at the contents listing before he offers up a silent thanks to Primus and an audible thanks to Shark. "If the supplies get here and there are staff to use them, I'll roll with it," he says. "But they'd better put them to good use. Thanks, Shark." He beats a hasty retreat to apply the coolant to his frenzied wiring. Shark inclines his head, "Not me that made that order, just me and Crack helping out the femme medics by unloading the stuff when it arrived. Reminds me, I should buy that shuttle neutral a ener-beer next time I see him in the El Sleazo." he notes. "That mech knows his stuff!" Crackshot finishes unpacking his trailer and closes it up "There we go. Everything should be stocked up now. Lifeline returns from having gone back to Cubicron to check on things, and is of course surprised by how much has changed in the time she was gone. Crackshot comes back into the ICU building now "Hrm... Too bad Wheeljack isn’t here." First Aid brightens up to see Lifeline back and waves with a rag in hand, wiping down the last machined piece of armor with solvent before returning the pieces to the table with the rest of Ratchet's armor that has had the melted cog alloy machined off it. Hammerstrike returns to the trailer, only to see that, at last, everything had been cleared and put away. Hammerstrike gives another polite nod to Crackshot and Shark. He looks like he is about to say something, when his attention is diverted by the arrival of Lifeline. He offers her a polite nod in passing, and then turns to Shark. "Is there anything else you wish me to help with while I am on light duties?" Crackshot moves to another station instead now, opening up a few cabinets to look for something. Shark continues on his unpacking and placing things, "Heya doc." is offered to Lifeline as she arrives. A little flash of teeth given. There's not much sense in hobbling away to his office, only to come back to the berth to have his armor replaced. Ratchet gingerly picks himself up onto the slab and sets to work applying the glorious spray to itchy sensors. The first shot is always a jolt, but he's soon a happy bot... and his fans slow to a quiet whirr. He offlines his optics as he works the fluid into his wrist. Lifeline waves hello back to First Aid and walks over to him to ask quietly, "What's been happening here?" Crackshot hrms and frowns a little bit as he continues to hunt "Did they move them? Green things go into the GREEN cupboard. Bah." he grumbles and starts to dig around. First Aid says "Not a lot, but I finished up the armor and it should be ready to reinstall." He picks up the plates on the table and reexamines them, checking his own work. "The cog alloy came off pretty easily, but I had to grind the armor smooth in some places and it took most of the paint with it, so I stripped them the rest of the way down." Shark looks up at the question, "Possible. A medic that cannot find stuff when they need it is a unhappy one. This set up looks more arranged toward type of part in numerical order or something like that.. maybe I should ask Starfire how she came up with this. That is if she actually did it. I'm starting to suspect Jackie had something to do with the whole organization idea." Crackshot states "ITs the system we use Shark. Color coded so people don’t need to read. Its Autobot Regulation." he explains to Shark. "We even did it in the science department. Ratchet's attention begins to resurface in time for him to hear rummaging in the med bay cabinets. His engine revs... now what?! "Move what?" he asks with some asperity. Shark tsks softly at Crackshot, "Autobot regulations.. pit slag mech... are you really going to pull that on femmes cuz I sure am not going to do so." he snarks softly, moving to unload the last of the boxes in his trailer. "My face is ugly enough thanks to pulling stuff on femmes, so thank you but so not going there. But if you wanna, go right ahead and join the ranks of the facially disfigured eh?" Lifeline nods to First Aid, then looks at Shark and Crackshot as their conversation gets her attention. "Wait, stop. Crackshot, is that how the parts are organized now?" She's already starting to glower a little bit. Crackshot says, "The Spectromotic calibration meter." he explains. then he looks at Lifeline in surprise "... That's how it was always supposed to be... its why the labels are all color coded like the cabinets... isn’t it?" Crackshot suddenly looks uncertain. First Aid straightens up and pulls himself together- he's a lot more confident when assisting than doing repairs on his own, but the armor pieces *are* finished and Ratchet would probably just as soon have them back now than wait. "Ratchet, if you're ready, I can reapply the armor panels on your other arm and leg." Ratchet looks up at First Aid's announcement. "Yes, absolutely, this armor needs to go back on," he says, tossing the can of coolant into a berth side drawer. "I've had it with operating without it," he mutters. Lifeline shakes her head slowly, walking over toward the non-medics so that Ratchet won't feel the need to step on himself. "Crackshot, a medic's storage is sacrosanct. you do NOT mess with it, no matter HOW it is organized. Even if it is NOT organized. Now put back everything you've already touched. Satisfied that there is nothing left for him to do here, Hammerstrike leaves the repair Depot as unobtrusively as possible. Crackshot states "I assist with the storage and maintenance of the tools, Lifeline. It’s how I help out. In return, I'm usually allowed to sign out some pieces of equipment." he explains to her, but his hand was paused... torn it seems between his crush and what he was told he could do. Shark shakes his head at the whole situation and continues with his unpacking and putting stuff where it looks like it should go. Not too hard to look at shapes, sizes, colors and such and match them up with what's in the boxes really. "You know that its more than just one medic here using the storage right Lifeline? Each could decide they want to organize it one way, then the other changes it." he notes and shrugs. "Maybe should a docs meeting to agree on how this storage is laid out." "Hold still then, please?" First Aid picks up the plate that goes on the underside of Ratchet's right arm- the top plate wasn't damaged enough to need machining, although it could use a coat of paint, like most of Ratchet- and snaps it into place, checking to make sure that the catches latched back into place properly with a flat tool of some sort. Ratchet grunts as the plate snaps into place, then swings his arm experimentally to feel the sealed volume of his arm moving. "Nicely done," he notes simply. "Not everyone figures out the snaps the first time." Crackshot wavers a little bit, then carefully rearranges the items "Anyways, what I wanted to sign out isn’t in here. so I'll just get it next time." he adds to placate her. Lifeline looks at Shark as if he's just said something not terribly bright. "What makes you think they haven't already done exactly that?" She glances toward Ratchet then looks at Shark and Crackshot again, almost a silent threat to make sure they're not doing something they shouldn't be doing. Crackshot wavers a little bit, then carefully rearranges the items "Anyways, what I wanted to sign out isn’t in here. so I'll just get it next time." he adds to placate her. Shark replies simply, "Cuz I'm dating a medic that's how I think it's not happened already." First Aid waits for Ratchet to stop moving before he picks up the next piece of armor, the plate that goes on the back of his upper arm. "A lot of Lifeline's clients need armor work, so I get a lot of practice." Aid fits the piece of armor carefully into place above the elbow joint and hears the catches engage, although he double checks them again- armor coming loose at the wrong moment could be a huge problem. Ratchet nods and stretches his arm to the side for possibly easier access to his side. "If only everything ended up just being armor work," he notes to himself. He sighs and focuses his gaze on the floor. Crackshot writes a note and leaves it on that cabinet a little bit, his mood having gone back to neutral once more. Lifeline ohs at Shark and holds up her hands as if to say she's not getting any further involved. They're on their own if they do something there that makes Ratchet angry. She turns and walks back over to the aforementioned medic and First Aid. There are four panels left on the table- three pieces of body plating and one that fits onto the front of his upper leg. First Aid takes one of the body panels - the smallest of the three- and fits it back into place on Ratchet's side. The back clicks into place but the front edge doesn't catch. "Hmm." He pulls it back off to examine the latch components on the plate itself and then the ones on Ratchet's side, trying to determine if it was the latches that were damaged or if he simply didn't line them up correctly. Shark finishes his unpacking and glances at the gesture from Lifeline. He just gives off a soft vent, takes the brakes off the trailer and pushes it out of med bay without a word.
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