yrindor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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writetomyheart2019-10-30 08:18 pm
yrindor) wrote in writetomyheart2019-10-30 08:18 pm
[Team Three] Reflex
Welcome to the new round, Team Three! If anyone needs to contact me, you can DM me here or on Dreamwidth (yrindor there as well), or find me on Twitter (@yrindor).
And with that, I'll start off this round with some Robots taking a night off.
Megatron slammed open the door to his quarters, startling Minimus Ambus from where he had been engrossed on Megatron's recharge slab with the latest annual report and general update of the Cybertronian Institute of Standards.
"Watch the door," Minimus said absently. "You are barely under the allowable maximum force to be exerted on doorframes in the living quarters of this ship as laid out in General Regulations volume two, part four, section thirty-six, paragraph 3a."
"I know, Minimus. That was intentional," Megatron snapped, slamming the door behind him with the exact same force.
"Rough day?" Minimus asked, setting aside his data pad and shifting closer to the wall to make room.
"What do you think?" Megatron said. He rubbed at his face, trying to loosen up joints that had been locked in one position for too long. He should ask someone to check on the temperature control system on the bridge; the oil in his joints didn't used to seize up so badly.
"What happened?"
"Drift thought he saw Pharma and sliced clean through a door before realizing it was First Aid trying to carry too many boxes at once. Ratchet's with First Aid now; he had to sedate him before he hurt something. In the chaos, Brainstorm "fixed" the door. You can decide if it meets regulation tomorrow; for now, it'll keep the airlock intact overnight. Oh, and did I mention the Perceptor destroyed most of the targets down in the firing range? According to Brainstorm, he's having nightmares about Overlord again."
"You know what you could use? A night off. I know there are at least three new poetry anthologies you haven't had a chance to read yet."
"There are reports that need my attention, Minimus. And as both the highest ranking and the first individual on scene after today's incident, I'm responsible for that writeup as well."
Minimus waves his own datapad. "I see all of your reports, Megatron. You have nothing requiring attention in the next twenty-four hours, and don't try to pretend you need to work on your incident report, which per regulations, you have twenty-four hours to submit after an incident causing localized damage to one to three rooms and/or non-life threatening injuries to no more than two crew members. I received the notification for the submission of your report three hours ago; you have forty-eight hours from that time to submit the full writeup. I also took the liberty of triaging the outstanding reports in your queue and closing those that did not require any further reply. The annotated list is pinned at the start of the queue."
"Always get ahead when possible," Megatron countered. "Otherwise a major incident arises, and then all of your reports are late."
"Twelve hours, Megatron. Take a few hours now, get a solid eight hours of recharge time, and go back to everything tomorrow. I never thought I'd say this, but in the words of our esteemed captain, "You need to reflex more," or whatever the word was."
"I do not need to rela--" Megatron began, but his jaw locked halfway through the sentence. He tried to cover the stutter with a cough, but it was clear Minimus wasn't fooled for a second.
Minimus reached up to run his hands over Megatron's face. "As I was saying," he said as he worked his fingers into the seams of Megatron's armor, "you need a break. You could use some maintenance on this too. When was the last time you had anyone tune up your joints? Under the standard servicing guidelines, oil in all joints should be replaced at least once every twenty-four months. Twelve to sixteen months for high-use areas, which would include your jaw by the way. I don't have to ask Ratchet to know it's been significantly longer than that."
"It's just. fine." Megatron muttered.
"Now where have I heard that before? Ah yes, from a certain stubborn medic, usually just before he whacked himself on the wrists with a hammer. Don't pretend you weren't just about to hit your jaw until it loosened up, Megatron. I saw your hand move."
"So noted. I'll talk to Ratchet tomorrow if he's free. Happy?"
"It's a start. Now give me your datapad; no more work tonight."
"Where are you going?"
"First, to give you this," Minimus said, handing over an old datapad he'd borrowed from Perceptor. "All of your unread poetry books, and nothing else. No network connection either; I had Perceptor remove the chip."
"Accepted, with thanks. And second?"
"Second, to change. Ravage, you come out too. I know you're in there," Minimus said as he began removing his armor. "And bring the blankets too; it's a fire hazard to leave them in there."
Ravage poked his head out from an air vent. "You're no fun. It's so much comfier with blankets; it gets cold in here."
"Join us down here, and you could have Megatron and blankets."
Ravage's reply was unintelligible around the blankets in his mouth, but he jumped down from the vent and padded over to the bed. Megatron shifted, and he tucked himself into the hollow at Megatron's side.
Minimus joined them, curling up under Megatron's other hand.
"You know, this isn't half bad," Megatron said a few minutes later as Ravage purred contentedly beside him.
Minimus chirped in agreement and was rewarded with Megatron scratching behind his ears.
He opened the door to Megatron's berth, datapad ready and questions on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short before he could get the first word out. Megatron reclined on his recharge slab with a datapad of poetry in front of him, though he didn't appear to be reading it. His optics were half-hooded as he stroked Ravage with one hand and a silver turbofox with the other.
Rodimus smiled, raising a hand to his mouth before he could squeak.
He slipped back out of the room and eased the door shut. His questions could wait until morning.
You're up![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thesecretdoor
And with that, I'll start off this round with some Robots taking a night off.
Megatron slammed open the door to his quarters, startling Minimus Ambus from where he had been engrossed on Megatron's recharge slab with the latest annual report and general update of the Cybertronian Institute of Standards.
"Watch the door," Minimus said absently. "You are barely under the allowable maximum force to be exerted on doorframes in the living quarters of this ship as laid out in General Regulations volume two, part four, section thirty-six, paragraph 3a."
"I know, Minimus. That was intentional," Megatron snapped, slamming the door behind him with the exact same force.
"Rough day?" Minimus asked, setting aside his data pad and shifting closer to the wall to make room.
"What do you think?" Megatron said. He rubbed at his face, trying to loosen up joints that had been locked in one position for too long. He should ask someone to check on the temperature control system on the bridge; the oil in his joints didn't used to seize up so badly.
"What happened?"
"Drift thought he saw Pharma and sliced clean through a door before realizing it was First Aid trying to carry too many boxes at once. Ratchet's with First Aid now; he had to sedate him before he hurt something. In the chaos, Brainstorm "fixed" the door. You can decide if it meets regulation tomorrow; for now, it'll keep the airlock intact overnight. Oh, and did I mention the Perceptor destroyed most of the targets down in the firing range? According to Brainstorm, he's having nightmares about Overlord again."
"You know what you could use? A night off. I know there are at least three new poetry anthologies you haven't had a chance to read yet."
"There are reports that need my attention, Minimus. And as both the highest ranking and the first individual on scene after today's incident, I'm responsible for that writeup as well."
Minimus waves his own datapad. "I see all of your reports, Megatron. You have nothing requiring attention in the next twenty-four hours, and don't try to pretend you need to work on your incident report, which per regulations, you have twenty-four hours to submit after an incident causing localized damage to one to three rooms and/or non-life threatening injuries to no more than two crew members. I received the notification for the submission of your report three hours ago; you have forty-eight hours from that time to submit the full writeup. I also took the liberty of triaging the outstanding reports in your queue and closing those that did not require any further reply. The annotated list is pinned at the start of the queue."
"Always get ahead when possible," Megatron countered. "Otherwise a major incident arises, and then all of your reports are late."
"Twelve hours, Megatron. Take a few hours now, get a solid eight hours of recharge time, and go back to everything tomorrow. I never thought I'd say this, but in the words of our esteemed captain, "You need to reflex more," or whatever the word was."
"I do not need to rela--" Megatron began, but his jaw locked halfway through the sentence. He tried to cover the stutter with a cough, but it was clear Minimus wasn't fooled for a second.
Minimus reached up to run his hands over Megatron's face. "As I was saying," he said as he worked his fingers into the seams of Megatron's armor, "you need a break. You could use some maintenance on this too. When was the last time you had anyone tune up your joints? Under the standard servicing guidelines, oil in all joints should be replaced at least once every twenty-four months. Twelve to sixteen months for high-use areas, which would include your jaw by the way. I don't have to ask Ratchet to know it's been significantly longer than that."
"It's just. fine." Megatron muttered.
"Now where have I heard that before? Ah yes, from a certain stubborn medic, usually just before he whacked himself on the wrists with a hammer. Don't pretend you weren't just about to hit your jaw until it loosened up, Megatron. I saw your hand move."
"So noted. I'll talk to Ratchet tomorrow if he's free. Happy?"
"It's a start. Now give me your datapad; no more work tonight."
"Where are you going?"
"First, to give you this," Minimus said, handing over an old datapad he'd borrowed from Perceptor. "All of your unread poetry books, and nothing else. No network connection either; I had Perceptor remove the chip."
"Accepted, with thanks. And second?"
"Second, to change. Ravage, you come out too. I know you're in there," Minimus said as he began removing his armor. "And bring the blankets too; it's a fire hazard to leave them in there."
Ravage poked his head out from an air vent. "You're no fun. It's so much comfier with blankets; it gets cold in here."
"Join us down here, and you could have Megatron and blankets."
Ravage's reply was unintelligible around the blankets in his mouth, but he jumped down from the vent and padded over to the bed. Megatron shifted, and he tucked himself into the hollow at Megatron's side.
Minimus joined them, curling up under Megatron's other hand.
"You know, this isn't half bad," Megatron said a few minutes later as Ravage purred contentedly beside him.
Minimus chirped in agreement and was rewarded with Megatron scratching behind his ears.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He opened the door to Megatron's berth, datapad ready and questions on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short before he could get the first word out. Megatron reclined on his recharge slab with a datapad of poetry in front of him, though he didn't appear to be reading it. His optics were half-hooded as he stroked Ravage with one hand and a silver turbofox with the other.
Rodimus smiled, raising a hand to his mouth before he could squeak.
He slipped back out of the room and eased the door shut. His questions could wait until morning.
You're up
thesecretdoor