Updated - 17~07~2022
I'm sorry for the delay. I would have published earlier, but, I've been sans Internet for almost 2 weeks. On the bright side, I have an announcement to do about it.
The fact that I couldn't post next chapter granted me some time to give it a second thought. More ideas came to me, and naturally, I ended up writing more than expected. So this story will no longer have three chapters as planned. It will probably have four or five.
Don't know when will I update, but I hope it's soon.
Enjoy!
3
Both medics advanced slowly through the corridors, heavy ladder on shoulder. Knockout's audio receptors were lowered down, and his mouth had long become no other than a thin bent line on his pure white face, clear signs of his annoyance. He huffed for the umpteenth time in that short walk. Why did he had to undergo such unfair predicament? It was an unforgivable offense to his flawless finish!
The stroll was taking longer than expected, and their cargo got heavier at each step. He wasn't sure how much more would he had to endure, and when his hopes and his strength were beginning to falter, the hall finally came into view. His feelings lightened in relief at the mere sight of it, knowing his torment would be soon over.
They stepped into the large stance with the Autobot logo on the centre, and as soon as they did it, all the attention from their earthling teammates was dragged to themselves, curious eyes setting onto the ladder they were transporting.
Miko was the first one jumping off the box she was sitting on and running towards the handrail, a mix of excitement and curiosity deep within her eyes. The boys followed after her not a moment later, though taking their time to join her, notoriously suffocated.
The three of them looked like they'd tried battling heat with improvised paper fans, made out of roughly folded notebook pages. Still, none of them looked like they had the upper hand on that fight. Yet, that was about to change now their backup had arrived.
Knockout's disinterest gaze moved in the kids' direction, instinctively reacting to their chatter, when he caught a glimpse of azure that wasn't there before. It hadn't taken him more than a glance to know to whom that unmistakable shade of blue belonged.
The younger medic's spark picked a faster pace, pulsing hard in his chest. The remaining annoyance traces immediately banished to give way to uncertainty. The femme had her back still given to them, but wouldn't be long until she set optics on him and he definitely didn't want her to see him in that way.
His optics quickly darted around the place, his mind already rushing to figure out what to do. It wasn't until his gaze fell upon the ladder itself that he came up with that brilliant idea. It could work, so he didn't think it twice.
The crimson mech immediately grabbed a firm hold onto the rusty ladder and straightened up all he could, unintentionally making Ratchet stagger due to the mass displacement. He then boastfully puffed all his armor plates and shamelessly swaggered with his best smirk on face, never minding the white and orange medic who was fighting not to lose his grip on their cargo.
Knockout received an unfriendly silent inquire from the older mech in front of him, who was looking at him askance, but the former Decepticon had other things in mind to really pay him any attention. Anyway, it didn't take him long to understand the reason why of his sudden behavioral change, what got him rolling his optics in exasperation. How could it be so difficult to complete a simple task when this mech was around?
The azure commander's gaze finally met that of the crimson medic's and stared into him for a brief instant, before she diverted it. Just the intensity of her look had managed to take his vent away, as his expression had turned into pure absorption. The stare lasted just a fraction of a click, but for him, it felt like a lifetime.
The loud clank of metal meeting concrete brought Knockout back to reality. The much older doctor had just dropped the ladder down on the floor, and, following his lead, he did the same, lowering it down. Once free, he immediately proceeded to dust himself off, glad that rusty thing was no longer in contact with his precious finish.
While the former 'Con was busy trying to look his best, Ratchet studied the situation before him for a moment, slowly drawing a conclusion of how should he proceed. He revised the tools he had and grabbed the ones he believed he would need. Satisfied, he turned at his younger colleague.
"Knockout." Ratchet called out. The crimson mech parted his optics from his forearm, distrustfully looking at his superior.
"Yeess?" The former Decepticon inquired, a dubious tone in his voice.
"I just determined where the ladder should be placed for me to access the vents." The white and orange medic stated.
"And?" He raised an opticbrow, shrugging his shoulder.
"That you will help me with it, chop-chop." He ordered firmly, gesturing with his servos.
Knockout would have complained, but, remembering the commander was in the stance, he composed himself and obeyed without muttering a word. Ratchet had to admit it felt strange to have the former Decepticon so complacent, but he contented knowing his collaboration would speed things up.
Both medics positioned and dragged the thing up to the exact location the old mech had chosen. The white and orange medic pressed a button on the lateral, and the ladder unfolded itself, reaching effortlessly the desired height. They carefully rested it against the wall, and Ratchet checked the stability.
"Anything else?" Knockout asked with faked politeness, hoping the old cranky model would let him go already.
"The ladder will wobble." Ratchet informed, frowning seriously as he had noticed the structure was considerably unstable. "It shouldn't take me long, but I'm not taking risks." He turned to face the younger mech, looking at him from helm to pedes while he made some estimations. "With your complexion and your natural weight, it should be more than enough to hold the ladder in place while I work up there. Will you be able to fulfill the task?"
"Huh! Don't really trust me, do you, Ratchet?" Knockout sarcastically mocked, granting him a tricky smirk. "Don't worry, I won't move until you're safely back on the ground." He singsonged, innocently. The crimson mech received a helm shake from the white and orange mech, but he decided not give into his provocations.
"Make sure you keep your pedes against the base and your servos at the rails so that it doesn't move." The chief medical officer instructed, directing him a distrustful look. Said that, he began climbing up the first steps.
"Sure! Just do it quickly." The former 'Con's reply was swift, carrying that mischievous hint that characterized the mech. "I really don't wanna have your rear in sight more than necessary." He added, gaining a sharp glare at his comment.
The elder mech escalated up to the vents, while the younger one had a strong grip on the base, resting his own weight on it to avoid it moving. Ratchet checked first the uppermost one, and saw the blades weren't moving a micron. He ran a quick scan, but he saw no damage in the pieces. He then descended a pair of steps and checked the vent right below. The second one was moving some air, but the revolutions of the spin where times slower than what they should. He repeated the scan, and got the exact same result, what disconcerted him further. What could be causing such disfunction?
The old mech brought his data pad, and consulted the blueprints of the hall, hoping he could get some more information to work with. It took him barely few breems, until he pondered the idea that the malfunction might have originated somewhere else. Perhaps it weren't the vents themselves but the circuitry connected to them. He searched for the fuse box by glancing around, and noticed the relatively small grey casing next to him. He could reach it effortlessly by extending his arm to the left, so he decided to try fix it from there.
Ratchet carefully retrieved the lid, and studied the content thoroughly. There were some human sized cables and fuses that where in deplorable state, deteriorated over the years. Repairing them would require the ability and expertise of a surgeon. Fortunately, he was a doctor with the required skills to perform such delicate procedure. He smiled, preparing his instruments. It was nothing he could not repair.
