Title: Mainframe IV
Rating: T
Mainframe literally dragged himself into his lab - too impatient for the security doors to open fully- and slapping the override panel repeatedly until the doors began to reverse direction, closing on the several inches that they had spread. In the dim lighting he stormed over to the main terminal, stripping off pieces of the too-large tuxedo as he went, plugging into the security system and browsing through the live footage. He saw as Alpha Trion's limo drew away from the building, mercifully taking along with it the ancient autodog, though the relief was bittersweet. What a nightmare the evening had been, Mainframe shivered in remembrance.
Too many 'bots, so much noise and activity. His fuel tanks had roiled so heavily that every time his mouth parted slightly, the cocker collie was certain he was going to purge over someone or something- and the notion that being sick would indubitably only draw more attention to the short mech only further fuelled his anxiety. Alpha Trion had noted that he'd fainted at least three times throughout the three cycles he'd been ripped from his lab, one of those times during the business meeting with some out-of-city clients. As if making a fool of himself didn't already burn Mainframe inside and out, he then had to hear the mayor's recount of the entire affair, complete with sly insults and threats to remove him from his position.
Mainframe would have liked nothing more than to feed the self-righteous autodog a mouthful of slag.
Instead, the programmer stood before his desk, trembling from helm to pede with a toxic blend of fear, anger and humiliation while he hissed out a series of hateful words beneath his intakes. Not even the sanctity of this precious place could soothe the tension shooting across his neural net like lightning at this moment. Wired, Mainframe began a wild pacing through his lab, pausing periodically to flip switches, tap at casings, wiggle cords and generally move items an inch or so out of place, before returning them to their usual spot. He was just passing the spare desks, shifting storage boxes back and forth, when he heard something skitter along the table top with the last box he moved. Ears flattened after the initial sound startled him, the cocker collie cautiously began to peer through the shadows for the mystery item. Optics flared as they landed on a small USB a short klik later, a nervous servo snatching it off the far side of the table.
What was this? Mainframe looked the device over critically. It didn't appear to be any of the standard issued ones for the Science Department, and it certainly wasn't any of the several that he had special-ordered for himself. So how had it gotten into his lab?
Curiousity was growing; fear taking a back burner to all other things. Padding back to the main terminal, the programmer reached over for his tablet, double-checking that it was fully charged and taking a moment to disconnect it from the Science Department's network. Curious or not, he was not about to be so foolish to allow some unknown USB have access to the department's main database. Once he was sure all sensitive data was removed, Mainframe plugged the storage device into his tablet, watching as a virus scan processed on the screen; finding nothing, the notification disappeared, all action halted for a few astroseconds as the USB's files located the most suitable platform to load up on. A gasp of surprise escaping as his favourite script screen launched, transforming into a sound of awe as a wall of coding began to fast track down the small monitor, reflecting brightly in the watcher's reverent optics.
xxXxXxx
It only took a couple orns before boredom got the better of Streetwise again. He slipped out of Wrecker's headquarters while Soundblaster was busy trying to round everyone up for another dull, weekly status update, taking the subway to Iacon's downtown centre. The cyborg strutted up out of the underground with a pep in his step, drawing a few more optics than the norm with every eager bounce of his tail. It was always fun to aggravate the tightly-wound kittycon but today's little rebellion was made all the more sweeter by his newest target, hidden away in the very building that the akita was heading for now.
"Good afternoon," Streetwise called out to the security desk cutely.
One of the guards jumped to his pedes as the white mech hurried past, a servo on his taser gun. "Hey, wait! You can't just-"
"Naw, let that one go," his partner said, grabbing the other guard's arm. "He's the one that's got that crush on Mainframe. He won't cause much trouble- or at least, nothing that won't be hilarious to watch later on the feed."
"What? He's here for Mainframe?! How did the shut-in get the attention of that fine-looking-"
The elevator doors shutting interrupted the rest of the guards' conversation, allowing Streetwise a moment to chuckle. The new mech's disbelief in his wish to see the programmer was a lovely bonus to an already perfect orn. And such a great question, as well! Even if the cyborg didn't find picking at the cocker collie's delicate nerves an absolute delight, just putting his presence in the other's bubble for all the double-takes and envious glares it would draw would be enough to please the akita. It was a special kind of joy to whittle at other bots' easily offended sensibilities. But Mainframe was a different case- Streetwise honestly wanted to stretch out the time spent between the both of them, not just push the shy mech past his limitations for the sake of a selfish pleasure. Perhaps that was wrong of him, the white mech mulled, leaning against the elevator wall.
At the very least, he was sure that Yoketron would have a few specific words about it.
Well, the old autodog could chastise him if and when he found out about his inappropriate activities.
A short bell announced his stop; onlining his optics, Streetwise stepped off the lift, heading down the hall to the only other door on the far end. His smile unfurled -sensual and excited- as he drew to a pause before the heavy blast doors, a servo resting on the metal. He could sense the presence of one, little spark on the other side -like a burning star in a sea of darkness. It was nice to know that Mainframe did not deviate from his own expectations. "Hello, Mainframe," the akita chirped, turning his attention to the corner camera with a smile and a wave as it turned in his direction. "How are you doing this orn?"
No reply came, but really, Streetwise knew he wasn't going to get one.
"Well, I happened to be in the area and I thought I might stop by and check up on you," he continued without prompt, turning and pressing his back to the door. A casual enough of a motion, but he made sure he arched just enough to help highlight the curve of his frame, from exposed neck cables down to his long legs, while his optics remained fixed on the camera's tiny lens. "You know, you really know how to stick a thumb in a 'bot's memory. I've been pondering you often- especially since the gala. I don't think your suit was quite the right fit. Did you borrow it from a friend last minute? It did have the negative effect of making you extra adorable."
The camera lens whirred softly as it zoomed in; Streetwise took that as his cue to turn bodily towards it, shoulder still touching the door and a hip cocked outward while his servos tucked behind his back. "Well, I hope that your business was successful, in either way. I didn't linger too long after -not really my type of social environment. I prefer smaller gatherings and familiar faces to over-waxed strangers and their pretentious egos." The akita paused, startled by the little truth that he had let slip in forgetful vexation. Shuttering his optics, he smiled warmly at his faceless audience again, smoothing a wrinkle in his shirt. "I did make sure I paid a generous sum to the charity before I went. I hope it's put to good use. Anyhow, the weather is nice out today. Did you see? If you haven't eaten yet, maybe I could treat you to a little lunch? There's a restaurant next door with a quaint patio. Or perhaps a coffee is more your stride? We could take a stroll around the centre or even sit in the park while you drink. I'm sure your plating would appreciate a touch of sun colouring."
That finally drew a response from the hidden cocker collie. Laughing in the ringing echo blast of a horn, Streetwise pushed himself off of the office doors gracefully. "Okay, okay," he acquiesced, "Not this orn then. You take care now; I'll stop by to see you again when I'm next in the vicinity."
The cyborg didn't bother looking back as he headed for the elevator; he knew he was being watched, the same as before, via an easily hackable device and a flimsy belief of protection. It would take no effort to flash back to the blast doors and wrench them aside for his entry... but like he had mentioned to only himself, Mainframe was different. No point scaring the poor shut-in past the point of no return. Waving one last time at the nearest camera, Streetwise boarded the elevator, staring at the buttons for a moment before he pressed for the floor two levels down. After all, nothing else was happening this orn, why waste the opportunity to have some more fun?
"Hello Wheeljack!," the akita chirped loudly, marching into the lab without a care in the world. A curse sounded immediately, followed by a small implosion, the entire lab filling with smoke. Waving away the pink cloud with a wrinkled olfactory sensor, Streetwise watched as two others coughed and shook at the clouting smoke wildly; finally cycling clean intakes a couple kliks later, rubbing the last of the fog from their optics as it dissipated into nothing.
Helm cocked, the white mech studied the third autodog curiously -red, little thing, performing every action with careful reservation- returning his attention back to the bulldog before either noticed his intense scrutiny. "My apologies, Wheeljack," Streetwise spoke up, two helms turning in his direction, "I didn't realize that I was interrupting a delicate... experiment? I just stopped by upstairs and thought I'd pop in and say hello before I left."
"O-oh, hey Streetwise," Wheeljack started awkwardly. "Oh, um, ya visited Mainframe? Yeah, no, that's cool. I mean, I did invite ya down for a talk whenever ya swung by again," the engineer added in response to the cyborg's words, bending to retrieve the shattered pieces of his machine, "You end up talking to the door again?"
"I did," the akita sighed wistfully.
"I do not understand," the smallest autodog said, speaking his words directly to the bulldog. Streetwise glanced at the border collie from his peripheral; it did not escape his notice how the third mech was deliberately ignoring his presence. "Mainframe does not shut down clients so rudely. At the very least, he has always messaged the appropriate offices to collect any potential applicants if they should come seeking information before they are officially approved."
"Eh, well, you see Perceptor, our friend Streetwise here isn't exactly a client..."
Optical sensors converted from standard visual input to transorganic scanners, pulling data in quickly than swapping back to first mode before the expended energy could put a heavy strain on his subpar frame. So he hadn't just imagined the slight tension in this 'Perceptor's' silhouette; the red mech was clearly territorial of Wheeljack -even if just a fraction- and his spark trembled with tiny bursts of fear and jealousy. It was so hard to stamp down the smile that wanted to bloom across the cyborg's mischievous face.
"He is not a client?," Perceptor responded, his well-maintained monotone cracking just a tad with a sudden, perceived affront, "Wheeljack, clients must receive special access permissions to be brought on any of the individual floors; in most cases, that still does not allow them the right to step into the various labs. Without permission or admin pass, this autodog is in clear violation of every one of the Department's policies. Mainframe will be extremely cross at your deplorable negligence to uphold the safety and security of our sensitive workplace as you encourage this civilian's actions to come and go as he pleases."
Oh, Primus! Streetwise nearly shoved his fist into his mouth to silence the boisterous laugh that wanted to follow that statement. A civilian? Him?! He'd never had the pleasure of having that term used in regards to his person. Wheeljack pooled all of his charcoaled fragments into a messy pile, grabbing a handy rag to wipe his servos as he looked toward the other scientist.
"C'mon, Percy... He..." The engineer grunted, casting a quick, apologetic look in the cyborg's direction. "He's not going to steal a bunch of tech or codes or something," Wheeljack stage-whispered to the border collie, "He kinda has a crush on Mainframe... and I thought it'd be sorta funny to watch the agro squirm about 'cause of a suitor. I mean, c'mon, how often can you say anyone is actually interested in him?"
Streetwise didn't know whether to be insulted or smirk when Perceptor finally deemed to send a glance in the akita's direction, albeit a subtle, scowling look of distrust. "This is still highly inappropriate and I disapprove of you tormenting our coworker this way," the scientist clipped sternly as he faced the engineer again.
Wheeljack scratched the back of his helm, shoulders sagging with shame. "Ah, Percy..."
So, the red mech's concealed affections were also replicated in the bulldog's spark. A cold finger pressed into the cyborg's own spark, gears and electronic receivers beginning to frost over as the ice spread through his energon lines. This game was getting dull. "Well, clearly I'm cutting in on some important work," Streetwise said, crossing the room quickly and resting a servo delicately on Wheeljack's arm, to the border collie's muted outrage, "I tried my best to speak to Mainframe, but as I'm sure you already know, he didn't want to open the door for me. Could you kindly remind him of my offer for lunch or coffee? I'm not sure he heard... And if he's honestly that disinterested, perhaps you could have him tell me? An email works just as well."
The akita drew a slip of paper from his pocket, slipping it into the sooty chest pocket of the engineer's lab coat.
"Oh? Uh, sure!," the stout mech replied, oblivious to the scientist's slowly flattening ears. "That mean you're heading out already, Streetwise? We didn't exactly catch up."
"Regrettable, I know," Streetwise lied. Boring couple banter wasn't exactly what he'd call riveting. "Next time, for sure. Goodbye!" Sliding the border collie a pointed look, the cyborg let his returning servo slide lightly across Wheeljack's chestplates before he pivoted smoothly on his pede and headed for the exit with a heavy swing to his hips. Scans registered an energy spike from the reserved Perceptor's spark and that brought a taunting smile to the white mech's face. Some 'bots were just too easy.
Still... This was not how Streetwise anticipated his meeting with Wheeljack would go. No thanks to the shy, little scientist, the cyborg was without both a fun companion and a free-speaking well of information. It looked as though he would have to pay the security desk a visit before he departed.
xxXxXxx
No one would leave him alone!
Mainframe grumbled irritably as he reached across his desktop, clicking on yet another flashing alert, typing in some nonsensical reply just so he could dismiss the annoying interruption. He was returning to his tablet when the computer bleeted with a second notification. A growl escaping this time, the cocker collie snapped his optics up to the terminal, shuttering them stupidly as his processor sluggishly absorbed the information typed on its face. The network was chiming to update the programmer on the nightly shift change... but when had that happened? Rubbing at his suddenly tired optics, Mainframe tapped at the keyboard, alarmed to see that it was five orns after the gala night.
Had he really been holed away in his lab for that long?!
The red mech tried to reflect on his activities, but found that his memory archives were spotty at best. He vaguely recalled the beguiling akita standing outside of his office doors several times (no doubt having deceived his gullible staff with further tricks) trying to coax the programmer out of his safe haven, followed by a barrage of emails -some about work, others about the wily stranger- all demanding Mainfraime's interjection on issues he found beneath himself. If he had slept, he had done so unwittingly and in the very seat he had occupied continuously; the empty cracker packet crumpled under his chair indicated that the short autodog had found a way to slip some sustenance into his fuel tanks in between his work. Mainframe supposed he should have been concerned... After all, he'd become so enthralled by the mysterious code that had shown up in his lab unexpectedly, enough to lose track of more than forty-eight cycles, but honestly, what was a orn or two? The programmer usually got swept up in his work any time a new or interesting project found its way to his desk, and had lost a number of cycles while busy in the past. This was all normal behaviour.
Now that he wasn't glued to his tablet though, the exhaustion walloped Mainframe in the back of the helm; a processor ache settling in as his frame started silently screeching for some mild energon and a long-overdue trip to the washroom. A shower and a change of clothes would be a good idea also, the cocker collie noted with a disgusted wrinkle of his olfactory sensor. Leaving the tablet charging in its stand, Mainframe slowly trudged out of his office, cursing the fact that he couldn't renovate to allow a private washrack inside of it. Computers and moisture did not mix. The Science Department was dead silent as the red mech headed down to the engineering labs, as well it should be in the early cycles of a new morning. If Mainframe found anyone outside of the few patrolling security guards, and possibly Cosmos, the introverted autodog would be very cross indeed. Nothing made Mainframe happier than to have nearly the entire building to himself once everyone else had vacated and some orns he hurried the others' exit out all the quicker; it certainly didn't help that his territorial attitude was also legally supported by the labour board's policies and regulations. To him, the Department and its server room was his real home- not the two hundred and fifty square footage rental that he burned money on every month but barely stayed in. And he looked forward to clambering into his little, camping cot he had hidden away back in his lab, as soon as he got some proper fluids into his tanks and a decent scrub down.
Did he still have a spare set of clothes tucked away behind the extra bottles of antibacterial and alternate cleansers in the first aid supply closet?
Too busy pondering, Mainframe didn't notice a slender frame walking up towards him until the ghost slipped in behind the cocker collie as he strolled casually into the engineering lab's chemical hazard spray room, the door closing on the pair.
"My, it really is true... You've made quite the home out of your workplace."
The programmer whirled around jerkily, optics taking in the sight of the lovely akita smiling at him mischievously, before his knee joints collapsed beneath him suddenly and everything else faded to black.
xxXxXxx
Well, wasn't this a familiar scene.
Streetwise hummed softly, looking down on the unconscious Mainframe resting in his lap, his white fingers stroking at curly ears as he studied the poor mech's peaceful face. The weight of the other's helm on his thighs was comfortably solid and warm, a feeling that the akita was growing accustomed to. If he wasn't careful, he'd crave to have this sort of arrangement every orn, but enjoying the several kliks of contact this very moment surely wasn't a crime, correct? Just as the cyborg was mulling over having his lap used as a pillow daily, the mech beneath him began to stir. Fingers paused in their stroking, the white autodog smiling sweetly down on his victim as grey-blue optics began to online.
"Hello again."
Mainframe tensed immediately, all his limbs snapping towards his torso like a startled hermit crab about to curl into its shell. The sight caused a giggle to slip out from Streetwise's vocalizer, and in response to the sound, the cocker collie jolted upright. His motion was too chaotic for he unbalanced himself at once, twisting in the fall and slamming back against the cyborg, servos and face planted against the mirthful akita's chest. A flush of arousal hit Streetwise as Mainframe noticed the precarious position he had landed in; scrambling in panic before pushing on the white mech's shapely bust to get away in a last ditch effort.
He waited until the programmer had skittered back several paces, leaning casually where he still sat, helm canted as he smirked at the introvert. "There's no need to be shy," he said coyly, "You can touch me as much as you'd like, I don't mind. In fact, I'd be happy to encourage it."
Magenta pooled across Mainframe's entire face -even his ears!- at the akita's words. The cyborg felt his valve ripple at the visual confirmation; the cocker collie could huff about and hide away and pretend as though other people were not worth his time, but he could not deny that he found Streetwise attractive -whether consciously or subconsciously. Rising to his pedes, Streetwise made certain to silence any further chuckles as the red mech slammed himself back against the shower tiles. Oh, but what a challenge that was.
Collecting the bag he'd set down while he tended to the programmer's earlier faint, the cyborg began to pull out items one by one, setting them on top of the emergency first aid cabinet in the spray room. He heard, rather than saw, Mainframe's sputtering as the white mech drew out the cocker collie's personal clothes from the bag. "Oh," Streetwise said, glancing up, his optics freezing the smaller autodog in place, "I asked around the building the last few orns about you, seeing as how you were so busy. Everyone was so helpful -one mech even gave me a spare to your apartment! I was surprised to hear that you rarely spent time there, but I get the appeal of roosting in your office. Keeps you nearby at all times, plus, less travel time!"
"Anyhow, I decided to go to your place and collect some fresh clothes for you," the akita continued, dropping his gaze and allowing his companion freedom to move again. He listened as the programmer shuffled back and forth in jittery fashion, as wound up as a cornered mouse uncertain if he'd escaped the hunter's attention or not. Trying not to let show how much he enjoyed Mainframe's discomfort, Streetwise lifted his helm and smiled kindly again at the red mech, setting the last of the clothes on the cabinet. "I also got you something to eat. I figured you probably haven't a decent meal in a couple orns, what with how busy you are, and I'm sure you have nothing on hand to cook with. Is there even a stove anywhere in the Department? Well, this is fresh, still warm and I double-checked to make sure you weren't allergic or adverse to anything in particular."
The cyborg pulled a tinfoil-wrapped container out of the bag last, his chestplates swelling an inch with pride. There was nothing sexual in the response this time; he honestly felt giddy to have created a scrumptious smelling dish, having never really had a need to do so before hand, and he hoped that the complicated recipe would be just as enjoyable to eat as it was for Streetwise to make. Setting it beside the clothes -yet with plenty of surface area so that it wouldn't accidentally fall- the white mech returned his attention to his companion, beaming as he approached the shower controls.
"Obviously, that can be eaten later. First, we need to get you out of those grubby clothes and all washed up! Allow me to just set the perfect tem-"
It happened so fast as to be almost missed entirely: as his palm closed in on the switch panel, an arc of electricity erupted from the seams, shooting right into Streetwise's servo and zapping up his arm. The bolt of mech-made lightning shook his neural net, honing in on each piece of tech along the path to his spark chamber, piercing them with a thousand, little slivers of energy until it felt like his whole frame was being electrocuted. A sharp yip escaping, the akita managed to yank his deadened arm away from the shower control before anymore of his internals could be set aflame, clutching the shaking limb to his side.
"I-i... I should let you h-handle the rest," he mumbled out in a hurry, turning and fleeing through the engineer labs.
Fearful optics followed the white mech's disappearing frame, Mainframe wringing his servos in worried confusion. That loud cry sounded like it was made in pain... but what could drive the smile from that beautiful face and replace it with a nervous grimace? His fidgeting intensifying, the cocker collie glanced at his clothes and the home-made meal that Streetwise had brought him, the queasy sensation in his fuel tanks writhing harder.
xxXxXxx
This certainly threw a wrench into all of his plans.
Streetwise lay hunched over the desk tiredly, visual pixels breaking down around the edges of his optics as he worked. His arm was spread out before him, split open and all the pieces pulled apart as far as they would go. The energon line, the only truly transbiological component remaining in the limb, branched out like a plant root, sewn intricately into titanium piping and a few other deactivated combat components. The main conduit glowed incandescently in pink as energon flowed back and forth, and to a lesser degree, so too were the capillaries illuminated that weaved tightly around the replaced piping. But those that were interlaced into his more mechanical apparatus were grey and shriveled... and after that unexpected electrocution in the Science Department, they were looking even more black and lifeless than before.
"Well, that will appease Yoketron I suppose," the akita vented to himself weakly.
A morbid though, of course, but any news about his weapons array further decaying and becoming obsolete was always good news to the other Wreckers. Never mind that it came at a great cost of suffering for the one who was literally hardwired into the tech.
That wasn't the reason for this current dissection though, Streetwise reminded himself, putting down his tools for a moment so he could rub at his failing optics. The shock from the shower panel had been so sudden and ten-fold what most others would possibly feel -it could have meant that the wiring in the controls were dangerously in need of fixing or something about the cyborg's mostly tech-ridden frame had caused the hazardous surge of energy. And if it was something about his mechanical components, like the autodog thought, which piece exactly was drawing out such adverse reactions from household tech?
He sat, staring into his arm's open circuitry for a long while, before throwing his helm back and groaning loudly in frustration. This wasn't getting him anywhere! None of the blackened, dysfunctional pieces of weaponry were going to give Streetwise any answers now that they'd been fried to further uselessness, and the cyborg only had enough understanding of the transbiological to know that his energon lines were operating at reasonable levels. He'd just wasted cycles trying to solve this new predicament on his own, and all he had to show for it at the end was a bunch of sooty internals and a still numb arm. Picking up a set of tweezers again, the white mech began to move everything -piece by tiny piece- back into their designated spots, flexing his fingers after each component was returned. Thankfully, the electric shock had left the limb inoperable for only a couple cycles; digits could move again, and his wrist was able to rotate as well, though the movements were still limited and alarming slow to take place.
Streetwise frowned. There was no way he'd be able to continue seeing Mainframe like this and it was dubious Ratchet could solve his paralyzed arm within one appointment.
A beep echoed out loudly, disturbing the akita from his thoughts. His servo swapping tools for his cellphone, the cyborg scrolled through the message screen with a thumb, feeling himself cycle an intake in relief. Brainstorm would be back tomorrow morning; the trio's meetings could resume.
And with any luck, the Wrecker scientist would know how to return full functionality to Streetwise's arm again.
xxXxXxx
"Streetwise! You're late to the party!"
The akita chuckled richly as he entered the room, opening his arms to hug the scientist that bounded toward him excitedly. Brainstorm, in an oddly jovial mood, squeezed the cyborg as best as he could, nuzzling the other's shoulders while they were close.
The cyborg allowed it, his heightened sensors picking up a familiar smell. "Hmm... You smell like leather and massage oil, Brainstorm," he noted, smirking as the tervuren pulled away.
"Oh, yeah. Got back this morning, jumped home through a handy-dandy portal and Chromedome ran me ragged for a few cycles. I was actually looking forward to getting some sleep," the teal mech confessed, tone growing irritable for a moment, "But then Soundblaster called and nagged about Yoketron 'demanding I run through some diagnosis with Streetwise as I've been out of town for a while and Ratchet can only do so much.' So I threw back an energy drink, or seven, and here I am! Exhausted, wired and surfing on a wave of dopamine!"
The vet, at the mention of his name, began grumbling loudly on the other side of the room, setting out tools beside a steel medical slab. "Are you done catching up now?," he growled out. "It's late and, sooner or later, someone will need to get back into the morgue to transport bodies."
Streetwise smiled as Brainstorm groaned dramatically, marching across the hospital's cold storage room and yanking his own set of materials from a garishly yellow briefcase. "Why exactly are we meeting in the morgue anyhow? What's wrong with one of the exam rooms upstairs?"
"He," Ratchet informed, pointing at the cyborg seating himself on the examination table, "Is supposed to be a shadow government agency secret! I can't exactly have some poor civilian seeing what Streetwise really is; I don't feel like having Soundblaster ringing my phone off the hook with petty complaints. And considering you only gave me a cycle's notice, there was no way I was going to get access to Mainframe's lab. It's after midnight- no one is at the Science Department!"
The akita decided not to correct the labrador's misinformed assumption.
"So we can just walk in!," Brainstorm returned.
"Brainstorm!"
The tervuren partially shuttered his optics, shaking his helm at Ratchet's back mockingly as the vet turned away to collect a file folder. He handed the scientist the thick folder when he turned around, glaring at Brainstorm's overly innocent expression, before picking up a pocket-sized ultrasound scanner and flipping it on.
"How have you been, Streetwise?," Ratchet asked, starting up at the cyborg's shoulder and slowly descending downwards. "I haven't seen you in a while, not since your neural net was still bothering you. How is it, by the way?"
"Ah, well," Streetwise shrugged casually, ignoring Brainstorm's look of confusion, "My neural net hasn't been a pest since you administered that painkiller, but I'm afraid my arm is causing some trouble now." He held up his injured arm, trying to make a fist and only managing to curl the fingers halfway. Mobility had definitely decreased since he'd done his own prodding.
"Holy slag, Ratchet," the teal mech exclaimed, pulling out a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. "What did you do to him! Streetwise, how long has it been like this?"
"Now, now," the cyborg interjected in amusement, before a fight could break out between the offended vet and the frowning scientist, "This paralysis only happened in the last twenty-four cycles. Ratchet is not at fault; honestly, Brainstorm, Ratchet is quite the accomplished vet."
The labrador mumbled an embarrassed 'thank you', giving the tervuren a pointed look. Brainstorm ignored it, peeling Streetwise's shoulder plating back and disconnecting the arm from the rest of the neural net. It made his limb go immediately numb, leaving only the sensation of energon pumping into a seemingly empty receptacle, which honestly tickled a little. The akita watched for a moment as Brainstorm opened up the rest of his arm, tackling the interior with tools, before he turned his face to Ratchet again.
"Other than this," he chuckled, smiling brightly, "I've been great, actually."
"Yes...," the vet started hesitantly, "You seem... more talkative..."
"Uh, we'd call that happier, Ratch," the tervuren piped up. "But I bet you don't really know what that feels like. Though, you are in a super chipper mood, Streetwise. What have you been up to while I was out of town?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?," the younger autodog smirked playfully.
"Oooh... Sounds like a new toy. This one a keeper? Or we just in for a few pumps and then roll off?"
Streetwise laughed richly at Brainstorm's questioning, the pair too involved in their conversation to notice the frown forming on Ratchet's face. "You know me so well, Brainstorm," the akita replied. "A 'pump and dump' is too simple for this mech, though. No, I'm having too much fun just poking at him, whittling him away; I want to stretch out the taunting for a while before I take him to the Well and back. Maybe I'll keep him around after. He's not shown me any reason thus far why he can't keep me entertained for a long time."
Brainstorm whistled incredulously. "No kidding, huh? Mech... That would be something! Bet Blades will throw a huge fit though," he pointed out, snickering, "It's kinda amusing how much he thinks your valve is his own property, even after he decided he didn't want it no more."
The cyborg pressed his lip components together tightly, a spike of ire making itself known at his brother's name. "If he tries to stick a knife into my mech, I will break every pipe in his frame -family or not," he noted firmly.
The tervuren chuckled again, pulling away from the other mech's arm, snapping the pieces back in place as he finished. Once he had stepped back to put his tools away, Streetwise tested the limb; fingers flexing and wrist rolling normally again. "I have no doubt you will. Hey, I heard he finally hooked up with First Aid. Think your baby brother is going to be popping out another sparkling?"
Ratchet's frown deepened behind them. "Brainstorm..."
"Well-," Streetwise started, beginning to lose his good mood at the thorny turn in conversation.
"That would make two incestuous new sparks born into your family," Brainstorm commented. "But hey, you'd be the first to break the cycle if you think the new toy is good enough to mix CNA material with. What is the fresh mech like anyhow?"
"Brainstorm...," the vet grumbled louder.
The akita glanced momentarily at Ratchet, perplexed at his dark face, before answering the teal mech. "Well, to put your silly conspiracies to rest, it is an autodog -nothing for you to taunt Blades with, I'm afraid- and he actually is an intellectual, not a fighter or a jock."
"Really?!," the scientist gaped, somewhat horrified by the news. "I was sure you'd have found some jacked out sport nut to wrap around your finger. But a nerd... You better hope your CNA holds dominant, otherwise you're gonna have a bunch of boring, little bookworms running around."
"Hm. Maybe my next one will be a gym-fanatic, just to make you happy, Brainstorm." Doubtful, Streetwise knew. Fitness nuts were the dullest ones to play with. But Mainframe... Well, let's say that the tervuren's talk of sparklings had aroused the akita's interest. The idea of carrying a sparkling with the cocker collie's imprint was warming his interface array to life.
"Brainstorm."
"Good! I'd hate for you to waste a perfectly good tank on defective material," Brainstorm replied, poking Streetwise's abdomen. "Ain't that right, body? You want the best material to stitch a new spark out of, don't you! Yes, you do!"
"Who says I'd stop at one?," the cyborg smirked.
"Now that would be lovely! You and Divebomb could start a competition to see who could build the biggest homestead of sparklings! I'd love to see Soundblaster's reaction once you start toting a massive tank full of bornling," Brainstorm added excitedly, "And we could document the whole thing; call it 'Dawn of the-"
"BRAINSTORM!," Ratchet roared, cutting the scientist off as he threw a scanner at the teal autodog's helm. "SHUT UP!"
"Slagging pit, Ratchet!," the Wrecker yelled back, dodging the projectile. "What the frag is your problem!? Me and Streetwise were just having a pg-rated conversation. You against a modest chat between friends?!"
"Indeed, Ratchet," Streetwise spoke up, his lip components pulled down in displeasure at the labrador's reaction. He was used to violent outbursts, working with the Wreckers, but the older white mech's attitude was uncalled for. "I understand that my medical state isn't up to normal standards, but I'm not looking to possibly start a family any time soon. That can come after my treatment -and only if I have a 'bot that I can tolerate sharing a sparkling with."
Ratchet stared at the akita for an awkward moment, his jaw clenched tightly before he shook his helm, looking away. "...waiting won't make things better...," he mumbled.
The hesitant words were rife with pity. At the sound, Streetwise felt both his confidence and ire drop away, his optics flared in sudden fear. Even Brainstorm had picked up on the peculiar tone in the vet's vocalizer. Looking from the frozen cyborg and back to Ratchet, the tervuren closed the distance between the pair, grabbing the white mech's arm. "What the slag are you talking about?," he hissed in demand. "Ratchet, you're supposed to report every-"
The labarador shook his companion off, glaring into the other's face with sad optics. "It's not my fault that Yoketron decided to send you off, without leaving me with a proper liaison to turn my findings over to! I've been doing the best I can while you've been gone, but I can't fix the machine part of him... a-and, it's what's killing him, Brainstorm..."
"We know that already. That's why Yoketron wanted you and me to tackle this together. We-"
"No, you don't understand! Fraying sensors, deteriorating transbiological mass, corroding spark casing-"
"What," Streetwise snarled, rage sparking as the others continued to whisper amongst themselves while he just sat there, left in the dark, "is wrong with me?! ANSWER!"
Brainstorm looked over a shoulder contritely, Ratchet offlining his optics as he vented heavily. When he onlined them again, an ocean of sorrow met the cyborg's inquisitive watching, filling his spark with a writhing terror once more. "You... I-it's," the vet started slowly, balling his fists at his side, "E-even if we can stop you from dying so q-quickly, you... your reproduction tanks have been hit hardest; they're severely damaged. There's maybe a couple weeks... a month... before you are completely sterile. I-i'm sorry."
Brainstorm paled at the revelation, turning his horrified expression towards the younger autodog. "O-oh Primus... Streetwise... I d-didn't -All t-that talk of s-sparklings, I-i-"
His felt like his chest was being crushed. The akita shuttered his optics and suddenly he was out of the morgue, racing down the streets of Iacon, pistons activating one by one to carry him faster and faster through the dark, empty roads and alleys of the ignorant city. Not even his screaming neural net could force his pedes to slow down on his sprint to nowhere.