Better Dread Than Red

NCC Medical Ward

Like its previous incarnation, this medical ward was designed with the medic in mind, with all the modern advances to make the dirty work of repairs a world easier. It is well lit, the blue and violet metal of the walls and decor is a shade paler here, and the ubiquitous filigree is missing, all to assist in ease of cleaning. Still, the place veritably sparkles. In the furniture, there is a subtle motif of blades and sharp edges, as if to evoke the scalpel of a surgeon, although it is all quite safe. Around two dozen beds, more comfortable than their sharp looks would suggest, fill the medical ward, laid out in a tidy grid, and more can be flipped out of the walls should emergency demand it. A set of tracks on the ceiling mirror the grid of beds, allowing advanced scanning equipment and tolls to be swivelled around to the various beds. Computer terminals and cabinets are moulded right into the walls at intervals, and while there are the normal medical security cameras, it appears as if someone has set some of the cameras specifically to watch the cabinets.

Redshift arrives from the steel-spun tunnel from the NCC Spinal Pathway to the south.

Dreadwind is on a med table apparently having received some minor repairs quite recently, for some reason he's still here, perhaps he's on another exciting mental holiday in bleak town.

The stylish and well-polished form of Redshift saunters into the medical bay; He's clearly not in need of repairs, as his immaculate exterior will attest. Why else could he be here? His red eyes fall upon Dreadwind, and he approaches the master of gloom. "Ah, Dreadwind, just the machine I was looking for."

Dreadwind was off in the horrible clinging darkness of the abyss staring into its depths looking for whatever it was that was staring back at him and then an annoying voice interrupted. The darkness swirled and dissipated and then the horrible ceiling of the medbay reasserted itself, "You, want me? Nobody ever wants me, unless it's to increase my suffering."

"I do want you, oh yes." Redshift replies. Oh god this is starting to sound like bad fiction. "I know that you are tired of your mistreatment at the hands of the Decepticons... So many that don't understand you. I want to change that."

Dreadwind sighs and struggles to a siting position, his cold yellow optics staring through Redshift, "Tired, it is beyond tiredness. Hmmm Hinder said much the same thing less than a cycle ago, but she didn't want to talk about it just use me as something to hide behind when Quickswitch came to torment me some more."

Redshift meets Dreadwind's distant, yellow gaze with a sharp glare of his own, his red eyes gleaming hungrily. "As you should be aware, myself and Blueshift are in a struggle for a top-tier position in the ranks. Only one of us can win; Blueshift is too shortsighted to understand all of the implications of such a position, the /priviledges/ such a rank has to offer. Advantages that Blueshift will simply HOARD.. But I am not so shortsighted as my brother. If I were to be your commanding officer, I would be in a position to extend certain priviledges to you."

At the mention of the word competition Dreadwind's shoulders slump, "Competition, being pitted against being, each struggling futilely to be better than the other in a meaningless frenzy of activity that ultimately results in nothing but suffering. You would be far better off, forgetting any such competition you will only end up maimed or worse." Dreadwind is however unaware of the on going competition though Blueshift had mentioned some nonsense about Olympics, "Privileges, there are none that you could promise that would have any meaning in this pained existence."

"Name your price then, Dreadwind." Redshift replies steadily, in the face of the impending gloom. "I will do anything in my power if you do but render one small favour unto me."

There is a long, long, long, looooong pause as Dreadwind considers what he wants, especially since no one has ever asked him what he wanted ever, hell he was even volunteered for the experiment that made him part of Dreadwing. "I don't want anything, nothing is worth the effort it would take to actually achieve it."

Redshift sighs as Dreadwind lives up to his reputation, and is about as easy to reason with as a refridgeration unit. "Nothing at all, Dreadwind? There must be something you want, something you need..."

Dreadwind slowly moves his head once to the left and then the right in his approximation of a shake of the head, "When you have peered beyond the veil to the truth of existence itself there is nothing left in this world that could possibly be of enticement to action. All things merely lead to more suffering heaped upon you until you meet the inevitable excruciating end."

Redshift should have went after Andi Lassiter's frying pan instead. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Dreadwind." Redshift replies, his voice flattening. His red eyes narrow as Dreadwind continues to display his usual obstinance.

Dreadwind sees the narrowing of optics and the ever so slight tensing of Redshift's body and knows what's coming next, but he makes no move to prepare. It's not as if he hasn't seen it millions of times before, most recently from Scorponok, "Like I ever have a choice in anything, always i am put upon, berated, forced into pointless endeavours with meaningless outcomes. All coupled with an increase of my pain and suffering and yet i am never released, existence won't allow it."

Redshift can see that this is going nowhere, and he doesn't wish to completely estrange himself from Dreadwind. Redshift forces himself to calm down, and takes a step back from the ever-gloomy Decepticon. "It's simple, Dread: All you have to do is compete in the Gladiatorial event in the Olympic Games. Not win, not even survive; Just show up. A simple task to please your soon-to-be-commander. What will happen if you /don't/ is best left unsaid, Dreadwind."

Dreadwind notices the relaxation of some of the tension within Redshift, but he expects it to flare up suddenly culminating in him being shot any moment now... okay maybe slightly later. "So what you want me to do is travel all the way to the Olympics, which are a waste of time and energy. Then you want me to willingly take part in life threatening combat for an even more inane reason than the pointless missions of conquest that I am already forced to do?" It goes without saying that Dreadwind isn't a crowd or even an individual pleaser, he sighs heavily, "Life, you just can't like it." This may be an agreement but then again this is Dreadwind speaking.

Redshift looks at Dreadwind quizzically, for a moment, unsure if Dreadwind's reply is an agreement or a dismissal. "This is the life we're stuck with, Dread. The difference between us is I'm trying to DO something about it." He adds, and turns his back on the gloomicon, leaving Dreadwind to his misery.

Dreadwind watches as Redshift heads out leaving him to his misery, "The difference is you are blind to the truth."