In These Hands

Found

"Upper Kaon." It was the third time Ratchet said it, as if he couldn't believe his own voice. With a shake of his helm and an impressed smile on his lips plates the medic continued to lay out his tools, categorizing them by importance and frequency. "No doubt these instruments will look like protoform toys up there. But . . ." Wrapping them securely and stuffing them in a case, he then reached over toward a servo-sized box. His collected funds. "I don't see why I can't browse the shops. An octo-steel grafter would be nice. And a thermal weld needle."

The laughs that came from Megatron's chassis always sounded pleasant. And he was full of them today as he stood checking his plating and hydraulic pressure. "I stand the one invited to a match in the upper levels, yet you're the most enthusiastic."

Ratchet scoffed. "And you aren't? They constructed a brand new coliseum just for these upcoming games. The crowds that it'll gather. It's going to be stocked full of nobility. You do well enough, and you'll really make a name for yourself."

"My pedestal is already a height here," Megatron reminded.

"But this is upper Kaon, Megatron," Ratchet replied back. He was standing now, red hands on red pelvic plates. "The exposure's really going to ramp up your revenue." Not that Ratchet's ever traversed Kaon's level districts, but, assuming most city-states were similar, he could rest assured his assumptions were correct.

With a hum, Megatron mulled over Ratchet's visions. Nodding, he motioned toward the doctor. "Same goes for you?" With a few taps on his datapad, Megatron monitored the lineup for the scheduled fight. "Hydrau, Showdown; they're some high profile gladiators. Who knows, you may get a chance to repair them."

"Or, it'll be you." Ratchet snickered to himself, ignoring the way the silver mech frowned. "No, I'll be at the shops. I'll make sure I'm there after the fight, just in case, but I'd rather stay far out of the limelight." As if to verify his point he picked up his cloak, the tacky thing.

It was Megatron's huff that pulled Ratchet's attention back toward him just in time to see those red optics roll. "Are you going to hide under that thing forever?"

"As long as my reputation precedes me, yes, I will," Ratchet stated as-matter-of-factly, leaving hardly enough room for argument. He stood in further silence, wrapping himself up and taking hold of his tool case. He moved to the door, stopping only to look back at his companion with expectance.

Megatron was still for a moment, observing, processing. When he approached he didn't motion to leave, instead he looked at Ratchet and asked, "Did you really do it?"

There was a slight waver in the color of Ratchet's optical panels, but within the next moment, the medic's guard and field rose. He shifted if only to slide further out the doorway.

"None of that matters anymore." Ratchet's movement down the stairs left no opening to delve further into said topic. Megatron was polite and kept the silence to uphold the peace between the both of them as they made their way up from the sub levels, even though both knew that a time needed to come where it all could be laid out and understood and accepted. Ratchet just wasn't ready.

Ratchet was, however, ready to explore upper Kaon. The moment they stepped off the lift the entire atmosphere seemed to change. Not that Kaon could outright compare to the likes or Iacon or even Praxus, it was still volumes above its sub levels. The topside 'bots actually walked properly, had all their compartments, sported decent paint jobs, and possessed high scoring vocabularies.

Primus, Ratchet's missed the city life.

"You could fit right in up here," Megatron noted. The bedazzle in Ratchet's optic panels no doubt was a humorous sight, especially for a high-bred Iaconian.