Code: RED ALERT

⚕ -||“Oh! Why yes, of course--please, do come in.” Red Alert moved away from his workstation, somewhat startled by the visitor, but not completely thrown off; such was the nature of his work. Gesturing towards a seat in front of his desk, he pulled out a datapad and launched the work console, a simple smile on his face. “So, the subject of frame changes is quite broad, but--let me introduce myself first. I am Red Alert, Chief Medical Officer of the Autobots. What may I address you as, hmm?”

 » Oh, okay I suppose that is fine « ‘Right then’ was rather sudden, but Wheatbee was not really one to tell them that they couldn’t come to the base; that would have been Reuse’s call if he didn’t wish for them to gain entrance.

The place where Red Alert would have arrived was the main hallway leading from the entrance of the base to a pillow strewn common room that looked as if a very small someone had been rearranging pillows/cushions in different configurations. And of course there may have been other such things as random leaves, tracked in dirt, sticks, small stones, etc in the main hallway that spoke of many exploratory trips to the island above and had been collecting in random piles nearer to the entrance and less pronounced the further one went into the base. Basically, the little monochrome bot had had stowaways on his frame that had followed him back to the base.

⚕ -|| As his pedes touched the floor, Red Alert was immediately hit by a sense of deja vu; he had been here before, hadn’t he? The hall seemed intensely familiar, as though it hadn’t been touched or cleaned in ages. He stepped around the bits of organic debris, likely tracked in from outside, and set his sights on a dimly-lit area ahead. Before him was a sort of gathering room, its floor strewn with pillows and even more organic bits. 

     “Er... Wheatbee?” he called out, not sure whether the young mech was somewhere in the pile or not. “It’s me, Red Alert. Are you... are you here?”

It was over-all a quiet day. No one had called nor had anyone really struck up a conversation with him. Not that Scattorshot minded, after all this was a medical institution, and the silence let him hear his own thoughts. It was nice. Yet at the same time it wasn’t.

His mind swam with the thoughts of the most recent events. He wasn’t there by choice, but because he was in dire need of it not too long ago. A small ache in his side, and left leg reminded him of it. 

He was snapped out of his own thoughts by the voice of the medic pushing his hover chair. 

“Yeah.” he replied as he slightly drummed his fingers against his good leg.  “Can’t say I miss the gun fire but it’s weird not to hear it all the time.”

⚕ -|| “Oh, I can definitely agree with that. Gunfire means problems--usually ones that lead to mecha stopping into my medbay. I suppose that sort of meeting isn’t going to be as common as it once was. You’re a, ah, very good example of that, my friend.”

     Red Alert’s vocals were teasing and kind, though he wasn’t sure how Scattorshot would react to it. Neither one was much of a conversationalist, but they had become rather close over the last century--at least, he thought they had. After the mech’s accident it had felt natural to return to Cybertron with him, rather than allow someone else to care for the damages. Perhaps it was years of commaradery speaking, but after so long, he couldn’t imagine things any other way.

The little monochrome bot had to stop and actually think about how long it had been since he last saw or spoke to Reuse; and the number his processor came up with didn’t exactly seem correct. 

» If my memory files are correct, about 2 ½ years? «

Had Reuse really been gone that long? Why hadn’t he noticed long before now? That HAD to be incorrect and perhaps he was looking at the wrong data file.

» I’m still learning my internal systems though, so I might be mistaken because it does not seem as if it has been that long « Wheatbee picked his head up from the pillow he had been flopped upon and made a confused expression. Wait… Red Alert was coming to the base?  » Okay? When? «

⚕ -|| « Two and a half... » Had Wheatbee really been left alone for that long? Red Alert froze in his tracks, considering the notion. While the smaller mech was by no means foolish, he was inexperienced and knew very little about how to actually live as a Cybertronian--he relied on others for help at this point in his life. And for quite a bit of time, to his human-spawned existence at least, he had been alone.

     Well, this medic was not going to stand for that.

⚕ -|| Highly-polished floors seemed to glow from the lights that shone above, remaining in such a state even as the two large mecha passed over it. The CMO pushed a hovering seat in front of him down the hall, an old friend perched comfortably in it. At least, he hoped the other was comfortable; much had happened in the past few deca-cyles, and he was hesitant to say that even he was relaxed in any way.

⚕ -|| If he was Red Alert’s son, he wouldn’t be doing those things.

     « Optimus is a Prime, Anonymous; he is more qualified to make choices for his own life than anyone else is, and he deserves a great deal of respect for the work that he does and the painful decisions that he must make to ensure our livelihood. All I do is patch him up when he gets back, and maybe tease him a bit if necessary. While we may be good friends, and I care deeply for him, it would be incredibly unprofessional of me to tell him what to do; he is my commanding officer, after all. If he asks for my advice, I give it--but ultimately, his choices are his own, and I respect and honor them just as I do him. I’m sure he appreciates the concern, but please, do keep your little black visor out of it. »

☀️ ;; Now why would he do something like that? Red Alert, there are free energon goodies to be had. Just be glad he’s refueling in some way.