3: Silly
"Um, Ratchet?"
Ratchet looked down from the console to where Nic stood in the entrance to the med bay and turned around to face her in clear surprise. "What happened to you? I knew it was storming outside, but..."
Nic pushed her dripping hair back and inwardly winced at the trail of rainwater she'd left all the way from the gate. She was soaked through; though her leathers shed water nicely, the underlying shirt and jeans were uncomfortably cold and wet. "I'm okay, I just took a tumble into a puddle-- it's Whiplash, though. I think he's hurt."
Immediately Ratchet made his way towards the door. "What happened? Where is he?"
"He-- ack!"
A three-fingered metal hand wrapped over her head and gave it a playful shake, sending her stumbling back and forth. "Rye lam tine, Pick! Where whiz row heed new lee Hatchet."
"Whip, cut it out!" Nic ducked out of her partner's reach and took shelter behind one of Ratchet's legs, even as she automatically ran his utterance through her Whip-to-English translator. "You are definitely not fine!"
"What in the Pit...?" Ratchet had to physically restrain the smaller robot as Whiplash swayed in with another abortive grab at Nic. A grab that would have netted him a handful of air in any case. Whiplash rocked back on his feet, toes skittering to maintain his balance. And he giggled.
"What happened?" Ratchet asked, directing the question down at the human hiding behind his foot.
"Hit fuzz must a finer flip clover come cower pines," Whiplash said, waving dismissively. And nearly off-balancing himself again. "Pie ham junctioning formally!"
"There were some power lines down just outside town," Nic clarified. "He ran right over them."
"Oh, Primus." Ratchet reached for Whiplash, only to have the scout dance nimbly out of reach and giggle again. Nic fought back the urge to giggle herself; she'd never heard such a ridiculous noise from any of the robots-- a human-like chuckle, or their warbling version of laughter, yes, but this was practically a schoolgirl titter!
"He's been like this the whole way back," she said instead, and tried to explain the details to Ratchet as the medic attempted to corral the teetering scout. He had managed to swerve and tip over just before hitting the downed lines, dumping Nic onto the roadside but failing to avoid it himself. The next thing Nic knew, there'd been a shower of sparks, a startled mechanical screech, and then there was Whiplash crouching over her, obnoxiously tapping her helmet and babbling giddy nonsense. Convincing him to return to vehicle mode had been... fun... and getting him to stay that way the whole trip back through the canyon roads had been like herding ferrets. And all in a good heavy downpour just to make things interesting.
"I doubt he's sustained any notable damage," Ratchet told her, managing to snag Whiplash by a wheel. The medic wrangled the protesting scout into the med bay proper. "A minor electrical charge is relatively harmless. His processor's just misfiring; it creates a sensation of euphoria and disorientation."
Nic blinked. "He's... high?"
"Dye gam lot!" Whiplash blurted indignantly. "Lie dam fort, hut sue bar mortar." And he rounded on the nearby wall and began chattering in broken Cybertronian, apparently telling it the funniest damn robot joke ever.
"How, uh," Nic coughed, trying desperately to keep a straight face, "how long is this little trip going to last?" Privately she wondered if she was now going to have to watch out for an electricity habit-- would she need to check his quarters randomly to make sure he wasn't hoarding frayed extension cords, car batteries and jumper cables?
"Unknown." Ratchet turned and entered a few commands on a nearby console. "It'll wear off on its own, which could take hours, or I can induce recharge until his processor restabilizes. Either way, he's off duty for the rest of the day."
Whiplash, finding the wall to be a poor conversationalist, peered owlishly over his shoulder at Ratchet. "Sky hue hot feed cue surcharge."
One of the smaller chambers at the back of the med bay opened. "In you go," Ratchet said. "It'll be much faster this way."
Whiplash shook his head and ambled for the doorway. "Row. Calving run."
Ratchet's vents gave an audible huff. "That is an order, Whiplash."
"Kite sigh tiny petal bass!"
"Whiplash--"
And the fastest Autobot currently on Earth took off. Nic was trying, really trying to keep her composure, but at this she utterly lost it, and fell against the wall crippled with laughter.
"Prowl is going to love this," Ratchet muttered, no doubt already on the comms to the other Autobots present on base.
From further down the cavernous hallway, the sound of clanking metal echoed back to Nic.
"Whiplash?!" The startled exclamation was one part Sam, one part Bumblebee.
"Tumble-ski! Sag! More bit!!"
Author's Note 4.20.08: Whiplash in his full-blown aphasia is hilariously fun to write. He is actually saying things, if you're wondering.
