Cade's Medic
Rating: T
Genera: Movieverse
Characters: Barricade/Ratchet, Lennox, Ironhide, Twins
A/N: Take this with a grain of salt. The entirety of this story practically wrote itself. It has many plot holes that may or may not be explained in the future. Please read at your own risk.Thank you.
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The N.E.S.T base of operations was in the middle of the desert. With no life for thousands of miles around, save for a few desert cacti and reptiles, it was the perfect place to keep the Autobot base a secret. No one in their right mind traveled that far out, and those that did and reported back strange findings were written off as having a touch of sun madness.
Five miles out from the base, the sand erupted, and a scorpion mech appeared on the horizon. The symbiote chirped sadly, it was badly damaged in both body and processor but it wasn’t damaged enough not to realize the danger.
Alone was bad. Decepticons that stayed alone too long were forgotten. His damaged radar and radio had picked up signals from this area. Decepticon Barricade was here, allied with humans? Humans were not a target then--couldn’t have a target without orders. No more boss, no more orders. He chirped sadly but perked up as he saw a group of humans running. Most of his battle programming was glitching as he searched for a course of action, Play?---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He wasn’t an Autobot. He would work with them since he had no other choice, but he did not like them, and he wouldn’t go out of his way for them. Not even after being on base for the past three months; sure they had not been hostile--mostly--towards him but, that wasn’t enough to make him change his entire ideology.
He still believed in the original Decepticon cause, the reason the war had began. Megatron however, had fallen into insanity after the Fallen’s offlining, and lost sight of that original goal. Pit, maybe the entire army had lost sight of that vorns ago. Regardless, his arrangement with the Autobots was one of survival and convenience.
He tracked the medic’s movement across the room with his optics. Yes; survival, convenience, and maybe a little lust. He doubted many would blame him if they knew what medics and their servos could do as well as he did. Still, he wasn’t trusted, and he wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in harm’s way by making any deeper connections with mechs—who could betray him in a moment—than he already had.
Rowdy laugher filled the rec room, and he watched warily as Sunstreaker entered with his twin. Keeping his face emotionless as they shot him a glare was hard, but this was not the time or place to start something. Maybe some deeper connections would be good after all, for protection. Not that he needed protecting, but allies were always good on the battle field. Was that his life now? A battlefield?
He finished his ration and stood; time to do what he was good at.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He’d noticed a few days ago—the mech was actually incredibly obvious. The thing that made it strange was he wouldn’t have noticed if Barricade hadn’t wanted him to notice. “Hey, Cade, what is wrong with you? Do you have a crush on the medic or something?”
Humans were delightfully predictable. “I don’t know what you are talking about, fleshling” he replied quickly.
Lennox frowned, “Whatever, man. You’ve just been watching him like a love sick puppy for the past few days--weeks really, and I thought I would ask.”
Barricade didn’t reply, he just sent his gaze back at the medic who was currently speaking quite animatedly with Ironhide. ‘Come on, fleshing, give me a nibble,’ he thought furtively. He didn’t like the fleshlings, but he knew that he would never get close to the medic without allies.
“Why don’t you just talk to him?”
He allowed his face to “fall” slightly, an exaggerated reaction copied from the human’s own media. “I don’t know what you are talking about. And even if I did, I am a Decepticon and I always will be. A nice bot like him deserves another bot.” He stood and left quickly, leaving half his ration behind in his “rush.”
Once back in his own quarters he smirked; now to see if the fleshlings took the bait. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Not that he believed it for a moment, but Barricade’s actions deserved some looking into. He certainly didn’t believe the fake “he deserves better” crap, but he did believe that Barricade actually liked the medic, and was looking for help. He was drawn out of his thoughts when Optimus entered the rec room, and Jolt jumped to his peds with an excited clatter.
He watched a few moments more as Jolt made a few strange gestures, speaking in what he guessed was Cybertronian. “Hey, Hide, what is Jolt doing?”
Ironhide grunted and looked up, following Lennox’s gaze. He hummed and said a few words in Cybertronian before returning to cleaning his weapons.
“What?” He liked Ironhide--he really did--but at times the old mech was frustrating.
Ironhide shifted; great, another “explanations” talk. Why couldn’t humans just use data bursts? Still, he tried not to begrudge his partner too much for being organic--at least not most of the time. “It doesn’t translate well. The closest I can get is ‘courting’ in your language.”
Lennox perked up slightly, “So Jolt and Prime are dating?” It was a little scandalous to tell the truth, but the Autobot military system—and society for that matter—were different from their own. He had learned that the hard way.
Ironhide made another deep humming sound; a sound that Lennox had come to understand meant the bot was thinking over his answer, and probably trying to translate it into terms he could understand. It seemed a sound reserved solely for interacting with humans, as they often spoke quickly and in broken sentences with each other. Something about data bursts and internal comm lines.
“They aren’t dating in your terms; Jolt is trying to prove to Prime that he cares for him, and that his intentions are good. It is different because since our species doesn’t mate to reproduce—a mech may be courted by several mechs at once with no social stigma attached, and there are different types of courting. The specific gestures and type of courting speak to the mech’s intentions, background, and desires.”
Lennox pondered that for a moment, watching as Jolt offered Optimus a sip from his ration—which Optimus accepted hesitantly. Maybe he could use this information to help out Barricade, for a price. “So they are dating.”
His shoulder’s sagged, “Sure, you can call it that.” It was probably as close as he was going to get with the humans, which was annoying, “But you could say Prime and Prowl are also dating, if that is the case, and that Prime and I are dating. I would also be dating Ratchet, and at times the twins. Courting is more than that. It can be as big as a desire to join sparks, a desire to share intimacy, to an appeal for friendship. Courting, or displaying, is bigger than simple dating.”
“Ok, Hide, relax; I get it. So what does that mean? Jolt sharing his energon?” Ironhide got testy when he thought his culture was being disrespected or ignored. He could be amusing to tease, but Lennox knew not to let it go too far.
Ironhide grunted into his energon, glad he had made his point, “Jolt wants to exchange electrons with him.”
Exchange electrons—where had he heard that term? Oh yes, with the twins, “That is like a kiss, right?”
“Yeah, kind of.” He was too old for this. He finished cleaning his weapons and stood, offering his hand so his human partner wouldn’t have to walk.
Lennox climbed on and allowed Ironhide to place him on his shoulder. Very interesting; he was already planning how he could use this. “So, Hide, have you talked to Optimus about the problems my teams have been having out in the desert? Past deciding they were no threat.”---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barricade wasn’t sure if he should be happy the fleshling had taken the bait, or annoyed he had broken into his quarters. “I suppose there is a good reason you are here, and that I shouldn’t step on you.”
Lennox waved a hand, “Look, it is clear to us you like Ratchet—a lot. So I want to help you.”
He moved quickly so that his face was suddenly very close to the soldier’s own. “And why would you want to help me, fleshling. I have killed many of your kind.” A bluff, one most humans accepted as true. With his position after arriving on Earth, he couldn’t afford to blow his cover by killing any of the fleshlings, though he had been sourly tempted a time or two.
Lennox held his ground, “Because no matter how many times you say that, we can’t connect a single human death to you. Because you are working with the Autobots now, and because you stopped that mech from hurting my family.” Lennox cut the distance between them in half, and grinned.
After a long moment, he pulled back slowly and moved to sit on his berth. Smart fleshling. “Pure chance.” He sighed, “And how do you propose to help me, fleshling?”
Lennox smiled, “You just need to do what Jolt is doing.”
He frowned, what the whip master was doing? Primus, maybe he had overestimated the fleshlings, and their ability to help him. “You mean make an idiot out of myself in public?”
“No, you should try courting the medic.” Really, how dense was Barricade exactly?
He scoffed, then laughed soundly. “I sincerely doubt Ratchet would enjoy me bringing him a mech’s head on a platter.” He let himself relax, at least the fleshlings were amusing, if useless. “Current Autobot courting is different from Decepticon courting, and I am not an Autobot.”
Lennox gave a teasing smile, “And here I thought you were bragging about being adaptable.”
Barricade frowned, he suddenly wanted to squish him again. “Is that a challenge?”
Lennox smirked, “It just might be. My men and I’ll do the recon work for you—you just have to pull it off.”
He would be angrier, if he hadn’t planned something like this all along. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit manipulated—and as a manipulator, that wasn’t a good thing. “Very well, fleshling.”
“That is another thing; I don’t call you ‘metalloid’, so drop the ‘fleshling’ thing. And don’t think for a second that I am doing this without expecting something in return.”
He bared his dentia, all four optics cycling down in frustration, “Very well, human. And what is it you will expect in return?”
“It is a start, and we will worry about that later; I promise it will be an equal trade. You just have to trust me.”
Maybe allying himself with the fleshies hadn’t been such a good idea.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The soldiers tried not to look scared as they prepared for their morning run. Lennox’s face was hard though, and they knew they weren’t going to get out of it.
Halfway through the run, it appeared—eliciting a scream from the back of the line. They picked up their pace as the scorpion mech chased them, stealing packs whenever it managed to catch one of them.
They knew shooting at it would do no good—the thing treated it like a game, burying under the sand and appearing in a different location. However, since it hadn’t been really aggressive, or shown itself to any of the Autobots, they were stuck with it for now.
Lennox grimaced; Ironhide seemed to feel it was a good training exercise, and had gotten Optimus to agree to allow the drone to continue its “harmless antics.”
When the run was over and the scorpion finally relented, the soldiers collapsed from exhaustion.
Lenox lay panting and frowned, mentally going over the lost gear. While it was a good exercise, the lost gear was getting to be too expensive for this to continue. He needed a way to get rid of the symbiote.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ratchet first started to suspect that something was going on the third time it happened. This time it took the form of another group of dead, organic plants, carried in by one of the NEST soldiers—who, when questioned, would smile and say they were from an admirer.
He was going to kill whoever this admirer was—the dead organic life was not something he wanted cluttering up his medbay, corny organic significance or not.
He was an old fashioned mech, who liked an old fashioned courting, and he made sure to say as much to the next messenger who came bearing dead organics.
Lennox nodded, “I’ll tell your admirer then—but I am supposed to ask you how old.”
Ratchet scoffed, “Ancient, compared to you humans. And I don’t appreciate anyone intruding on my personal life.” He was a highly personal mech when it came to such things, and he knew how much the soldiers gossiped. They were as bad as Ironhide—not that the old warrior would admit it.
Lennox grinned, “So, old as possible; got it, Ratchet.” He gave a half wave and left quickly, not giving Ratchet time to think about what he had just set himself up for.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barricade stared blankly. He hated flesh--humans, “I told you, no dead organics, human. Any idiot would know that the medic wouldn’t appreciate something like that.”
“And I told you the flowers were just a ploy to get him to tell us what he wants. He wants an ancient courting, whatever that means.”
Barricade froze, “He said what?”
“The oldest system of courting there is. I guess that predates factions, correct?” Barricade’s face had taken on a peculiar expression. It wasn’t something he recognized as human—though from his time with Ironhide, he guessed it was a form of surprise.
His processor was spinning; the medic wanted him to, and, well, who was he to refuse such a chance? “The medic has no idea what he is in for. Thank you, human.”
“Welcome, Con. Now we can talk payment.” He had a problem that Ironhide thought was way too amusing to take care of.
Maybe he had more in common with the humans than he thought.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He entered the medbay with as smirk, "Greetings Ratchet." He placed the three high-grade cubes on the counter, kneeling beside them; energon, to represent wealth. "I've come to seeking you out."
Ratchet looked up from his patient, confused. He was about to ask what the frag was going on when he was pressed up against the far wall with surprising strength.
Barricade smirked again; second step, to show he was the stronger of the pair. Everything was going well with his courting request so far—now for the third part, and his declaration of intent. He opened his mouth to speak, and froze as he heard the sound of a blaster powering up behind him.
Ironhide glared, “Put him down, Con and back away slowly.”
Barricade offlined his optics. Stupid; why hadn’t he taken the time to wait until Ratchet was alone? “Frag you, asshat, you are interrupting my courting here.”
He onlined his optics, and met Ratchet’s own before reciting the memorized lines of ancient Cybertronian, ignoring the sputtering behind him.
Ratchet waited for Barricade to finish before breaking free and, withdrawing his wrench, smacked him over the head. “Out of my medbay. Courting accepted, but if I see one more group of dead, organic flowers, I will reformat you into a scooter.”
Barricade left, tossing Ironhide a smirk. He was dented, but the medic had accepted.
Another wrench clanged into his helm, “Don’t look so smug about it. Out!”
He loved that medic.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He stared down at the symbiote and backed away slowly. “No.”
Lennox grinned, “I am tired of it following us around when we run patrols.”
Scorponok ducked down—a bit like a puppy—and reared back playfully, scurrying closer to Barricade. Soon, it was going to have a new master and it was sooooooooo happy.
Barricade stepped back again. “Anything but this, human. I’ve had a drone before, I don’t want another.” They were a lot of work,
Lennox frowned, “Hey, you owe me! I don’t want this thing freaking out any more of my soldiers! So you are going to take it with you and do whatever you do with a drone to make it behave.”
Scorponok drew small circles in the sand, drawing itself up small; its new master didn’t like him. It bristled up—it was DECEPTICON! It was a Decepticon, and it would fight for what it wanted!
“Look human no means--gah!” Scorponok launched himself at Barricade, clinging to his chest and cycling his energy signature to match Barricade’s. There was a ping, and Scorponok cooed as the energy signatures synced.
Lennox laughed, “I will take it that this means he is your problem now.” He walked off happily to tell their suppliers that they wouldn’t have any more missing packs. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ratchet tried not to laugh as he scanned the symbiote. “I think it is cute.”
Barricade--who wasn’t pouting--frowned deeper. “You try taking care of a symbiote, then tell me how cute it is.” Still, he could use this to his advantage. He slid closer to Ratchet, looking over his shoulder. “Is it functioning properly?”
Ratchet nodded, offering the scorpion drone a piece of energon crystal. “Yes; he is low on energy, but otherwise fine. I’ve disabled its weapons for now—most of them were damaged anyway, this will give them a chance to self-repair offline. It appears that Ironhide was right about the drone’s battle programming being damaged; if you want him to fight again, you will have to retrain him.”
Barricade purred and leaned forward more, resting his chin on the medic’s shoulder. “I guess I should thank you then.” Retraining a drone wasn’t a fun experience, but it meant that he would get to spend more time in the medbay.
Ratchet froze for a moment, then relaxed a bit. Barricade was officially courting him, and since he had accepted, the mech was well within his rights. “There is no need for that; I thought you didn’t like your new symbiote.”
Barricade placed his servos on Ratchet’s hips and chuckled deeply, trying to match the frequency to Ratchet’s natural frequencies, reveling in the medic’s shiver. Seekers, it seemed, had good techniques after all.
Ratchet leaned back into Barricade. Moving his servo to the side of Barricade’s face, he twisted, moving to kiss the former Decepticon warrior.
Yes, Barricade chuckled. If the medic kissed him it meant his courting was free to advance to the next level. He offlined his optics and leaned in.
The medbay doors opened.
Simmons stood gaping while Lennox simply laughed
Ratchet jerked away, “This isn’t what it looks like!” He didn’t want the humans talking any more than they were generally apt to do.
Barricade smirked back at the humans, nodding to Lennox, “This is exactly what it looks like.”
Ratchet hit him, and he and Scorponok soon found themselves out in the hallway while the two humans stood gaping.
“I think I hate you again, human.” Barricade growled, disappointed in the fact he had been so close.
“You’ll get over it, Con, you’ll get over it.” Lennox grabbed Simmons’ arm and pulled him away from the medbay.
“You interrupted us.” Barricade hissed, following them down the hall, Scorponok on his heels.
“And you ran over my daughter’s bike. Consider us even.”
Vindictive; oh yes he had a lot in common with this human. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ratchet tried to ignore Ironhide’s looks, but eventually enough was enough. “Spit it out, you grumpy old slagger. What has your processor in a glitch?”
Ironhide sighed, and glanced around to make sure they were alone before shoving Ratchet into the nearest supply closet.
Ratchet gasped as he felt Ironhide’s mouth on his neck, and his knee between his legs. He gave a soft moan before pushing Ironhide back a bit. “Hide, not that I don’t like it, but this isn’t the explanation I wanted.”
Ironhide growled, “You are going to let that filthy Con touch you.” He leaned in and nipped at Ratchet’s neck again. “You are going to let him compete for your spark.”
Ratchet leaned into Ironhide and moaned, “Why should I not? You’ve been doing this for vorns, revving my engine then putting me on the back burner. Maybe he will be a mech that will put me first.”
Ironhide pulled back suddenly, optics dim. “Do you really think you don’t mean anything to me?”
Ratchet sighed, leaning his head onto Ironhide’s shoulder. “No, Hide. I don’t think that, but I think you don’t know what you want from me. I think you have a warrior’s spark, and because of that, I don’t think you will ever be happy with just one mech.”
Ironhide growled, “I could be happy with you.” He clutched Ratchet tight to his chest, unwilling to let the medic go.
He shook his head, and after a moment, pulled away. “No, Hide. I don’t think you can anymore.” He opened the door to the supply closet, and looked back over his shoulder, “I will always love you, Hide, but I need more than what you can give me. I don’t know if Barricade can give me what I am looking for, but I know this isn’t enough.”
Ironhide watched as Ratchet walked away from him, and his spark broke a bit in his chest. Ratchet was right though; he wasn’t sure he could ever give the medic more.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barricade frowned as he found himself cornered by the weapon specialist. Looking for an escape route he found none, though he did notice Ironhide had backed him into a corner where they were both clearly visible on the security cameras.
Good. If Ironhide attacked him, then he could defend himself--and for that reason he knew it wasn’t Ironhide’s plan to attack. “Do you have a problem, Autobot?”
“Not one that can’t be taken care of by taking you out, Con.” Ironhide growled. He needed to scare the Decepticon a bit, make sure the mech was truly serious.
Barricade hesitated, maybe he had miscalculated. “I doubt my leaving will do anything to fix that ugly face of yours, Autobot.” If he was going to go down, he was going to go down bravely. He shifted a bit; not bringing out his weaponry, but preparing himself for attack.
Ironhide scoffed and stalked forward. “YOU are courting Ratchet—why? If it is because you think he is some easy frag, or you are planning on hurting him, I will offline you where you stand.”
Oh—Barricade thought back on Ratchet’s interactions with the weapon specialist. He really needed to download a packet on Autobot courting; he had almost missed it. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
Ironhide moved surprisingly quickly for an old mech. “Listen to me, and listen well; Ratchet and I have shared something that is beyond words for vorns, but I can’t give him what he truly desires. I’m too much of a warrior for that. So, if you are just toying with him, or using him…” he powered up his cannon, and fired at the wall to their left, blasting a Barricade-sized hole in it. “Do you understand me?”
Barricade growled, offended by the implication. “Look, you fragger, I don’t know about you Autobots, but real Decepticons don’t court unless they are sincere in their intent. I like Ratchet, I like him enough to want to get to know him, to be willing to sync energy signatures with him if he is willing. So frag off.”
Ironhide jerked, a bit surprised; to sync energy signatures with a mech meant you were willing to be exclusive with them, even if they weren’t willing to be exclusive with you. It was an old gesture, and one that couldn’t be seen as anything but honest. He tried to cut it with the fact that who else would be willing to frag the Con, but he knew that wasn’t the point. It was showing a type of devotion that most mechs were unwilling to show these days. He stepped back and nodded. “Good luck then.” He had a brig to report to because of the damage.
Barricade watched him go, and then turned to the damaged wall. Fragging cannon-crazy Autobots. He was glad the medic had such loyal friends, though; He had often wished for such friends himself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ratchet frowned as he entered the medbay, and was met with sudden silence. He glanced around and his optics widened in surprise.
Barricade smiled over at the medic—he had managed to find out the medic’s favorite energon grade and treats by speaking with Wheeljack—a feat he was not willing to attempt again any time soon. He thought Hook would get “involved” in his projects, but the mech had nothing on Wheeljack. Some begging with Red Alert, and agreeing to allow the mech to place a personal tracker on him--creepy--had gotten him the extra rations he needed to make all the treats.
He stepped forward and offered his servo to Ratchet, “Will you do me the honor?”
Ratchet laughed a bit, he felt like a young spark being treated to something like this. He ignored the curious optics following them, and allowed Barricade to seat him and offer him a bright pink cube. “Wheeljack told me what grades you like; I hope this is ok. I did the filtering myself.” Primus, he was nervous. He was never nervous! If courting was going to throw him off his game this much, he didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea in the first place.
Ratchet smiled and sipped the cube slowly, “It is good. You didn’t have to do all of this.” Not that he was going to complain, “Are those oil cakes?”
Barricade grinned sheepishly, “Yes, they are.” He passed one to Ratchet, his optics down, “And actually, since this is an older version of courting and I offended you before, yes I did. I would have done it anyway though, I thought it was a little...” He wasn’t sure what to call it—silly, maybe?
Ratchet smiled, “Romantic? A little, also a little corny as the humans say, but I appreciate the gesture.” He took a bite of the oil cake, and almost moaned as it melted on his glossia. “Primus if you can mix like this I might just lock you in my quarters and have you mix for me every night until my lines get clogged.”
Barricade grinned, flirting a little with the medic, “You might not have to lock me in.” He leaned forward, enjoying watching the medic consume what he had created. “You learn to mix your own energon really fast in the Decepticon ranks. It lowers your risk of poisoning.”
Ratchet raised an optic ridge, “But you still say the Decepticons are in the right?” That was what confused him about Barricade—well, one of the things that confused him.
Barricade grunted, suddenly very aware of all the optics on them. “It wasn’t like that in the beginning. You are old enough to know we started out peacefully. We started out wanting equal rights for the factions. Megatron—however insane he is now, however much you can berate his tactics during this war—the intentions of our cause were good in the beginning.” He kept his optics on the floor, “We weren’t always the motley, insane, disheveled faction you know now. The name ‘Decepticon’ had honor once.” Maybe it never would again, but he couldn’t give up on it.
Ratchet reached over the table and took Barricade’s servo in his own. He didn’t know what to say to Barricade. He hadn’t known how much pride the mech still held within his spark until now, and it was… it was a revaluation into the mech’s inner workings that no medical exam could ever give him.
He was suddenly self conscious. “I didn’t do this to talk about me, though. I wanted to ask you something.” Don’t lose it now--he had shown too much of his hand, and he could feel himself losing control. “I wanted to know if you would allow me to sync energy signatures with you.”
Ratchet had been expecting many things, but not that. It took him a klick to focus enough to be able to respond. “Are you teasing me?”
Barricade shook his head, “No, my offer is genuine.” When he didn’t receive a response he pulled back, “I am sorry; I shouldn’t have asked.”
Suddenly the medic was right in front of him, and their lip components were locked in a kiss. Never one to give up an opportunity like this, he kissed him back for all he was worth, practically pulling the medic into his lap.
When they broke apart, he grinned, enjoying the shocked looks they were receiving. “So was that a yes?”
Ratchet laughed again and purred, shifting his energy field for the sync, “If you didn’t understand the first time, do you need me to repeat my answer?” Primus, he was like a youngling again; his spark felt light, pulsing hard against its casing.
Barricade smirked, clutching Ratchet tightly, “Well they say with repetition, you learn. I certainly would like to learn as much as I can.” This mech was so beautiful, a part of him was awed that he got to hold him like this. It made him puff up a bit in pride. Take that, all you others; you can look, but his attention is all on me.
Ratchet grinned, “Well I will make sure to teach you all you need to know then.”-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was disgusting. His twin reflected his opinion across their bond. It was disgusting that Ratchet would allow the Con to touch him. That he would initiate the contact. They had been trying for vorns to get the medic’s permission for them to court him, and then that Decepticon waltzes in and steals away their medic without even trying. It wasn’t done. They wouldn’t allow it if it was the last thing they did.
Ironhide kept a watchful optic on the twins. He didn’t like Barricade, but he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt Ratchet by hurting the Con. Especially not the twins, after all the slag they had put Ratchet through over the years.
He sent Lennox a text message; his partner was already on the Con’s side, he could help him keep an optic on the developments.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(End for now...)
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What Makes Logic
