Home again, home again...~

[The feed shows a certain doctor who has been missing for some time. Or is it? Since when did Pharma start smiling like that?]

Death always seems to lead me back here. I thank my former nurse's latest efforts for proving that theory for me.

[He gently touches the side of his own face, and the hands he has now are not the ones given to him during his last stay in the Haven.]

Thankfully, an entire head doesn't seem to be something you can return here without.

[There are no bars in the shot this time. Pharma hasn't been in a cell for a while now- merely under house arrest at his patron's temple. The camera shows the good doctor standing over something that looks like this:



He very carefully lines up his shot and gives the ball a gentle tap. It rolls along the green, bouncing off one side at the calculated angle and tips into the cup. Pharma smirks, leaning the club over one shoulder.]

Not a very challenging course. But satisfying, all the same.

I have to say, the speed and efficiency of the law system around here has definitely given me time to improve my game.

[The transmission opens on Knock Out, and for anyone who's interacted with him before, this is a bit different. He's been sticking mostly to voice, or limited video, pretty much since he got here, but this is a wide-open shot showing quite a bit of everyone's favorite red sports car. Why? Because he's actually worth looking at again! Between Swindle's paint, Blurr's buffer, wax from the labs at Liege Maximo's temple, and the return of his assistant, he's finally managed to get his finish back to a pristine state he's happy to be seen in.

So why doesn't he look happy right now? Well, that would be because of the jet medic standing behind him. Pharma is clearly visible behind Knock Out, his arms crossed and his expression forboding.

Knock Out utters a little cough of his vents that sounds remarkably like a throat clearing, and starts.] I know we've had our fair share of traumatic injuries since we've all come to be sharing space in this delightful wasteland, but... [He trails off and glances back at Pharma, who gestures shortly for him to keep going. KO heaves a sigh and turns back to the Link device that's recording him.] I don't suppose anyone out there needs medical care now? It doesn't even have to be anything particularly life-threatening-- that knock in your engine you always meant to check out, or those glitched sensors you need reset...

[He trails off again. That's all he need to say, right? At least until Pharma drums his fingers pointedly against his arm behind Knock Out. Fine.] Pharma here seems to think my, ah, medical technique needs a little... work. And he's oh-so-graciously agreed to observe me at work and offer advice, but to do that I need someone to work on.

So. Any takers~?

[Pharma waves a finger from behind KO.] But make sure you don't pick up any Decepticons. I'm not having their kind in my lab.

[...Awkward. KO's slowly turns to face the other doctor.] Ah... What about the one who's already here?

Excuse me?

[KO spreads his hands with a shrug.] Did I, ahah, forget to mention...?

Forget to mention what....exactly?

Well... my faction. It never really came up, and it seemed a bit unnecessary to, you know, make a big deal of it...

...Get out.

What?!

You heard me.

But you said you were going to teach me! [And as much as it hurts his pride to admit it, Knock Out knows he needs the help, so he's starting to sound a bit agitated.]

Not anymore. I refuse to work with a Decepticon ever again! [And Knock Out's not the only one who's agitated. The force of Pharma's sudden ire is enough to send Knock Out stumbling back. He bumps into the table he'd set his Link on for the broadcast, bumping it hard enough that the device falls from its perch with a clatter.

End transmission.]

[Pharma is busy putting away tools when the video turns on. His acolyte, who's usually bustling around while the medic addresses the camera is no where to be seen.

It should be worth noting that Pharma is actually holding the tools he's putting away.]

I'm afraid the vast repertoire of hand jokes are no longer going to be relevant. Loathe as I am to take away everyone's fun, I thought you should all know that I'm now better equipped to treat patients.

[The new hands are sleek and well crafted, just the right shade of blue, and.... claws.]

Not that I wasn't capable before. But it's much more convenient this way.