[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Science Is Violent and Violence Is Fun! [Closed]

[Knock Out]

Episode 2 | Week 4 | Day 1
-

Today looked to be the same as any other day. Boring, with not a whole lot going on. Which suited Knock Out just fine – it meant he could be by himself to work on one of the many projects he'd started and hadn't found time to finish. The peace and quiet meant he could finally get some work done. Things were perfect.

He made his way lazily down the hallway toward the Medbay. Datapad in one hand, a small mug of hot energon in the other. He'd done his daily rounds of gossip-gathering from the Vehicons; there was nothing juicy today which was disappointing. Although a few had snickered no sooner had Knock Out left their sights. They knew something he didn't, and wanted the medic to find out for himself.

He'd lift the Datapad briefly, holding the corner of it in his mouth as his now free servo tapped on the keypad outside the door. The door slid open and Knock Out strode into the medbay, retrieving the datapad from his mouth and peering at it. The door closed behind him. Everything was normal. Just another day.

He hummed curiously, and lazily glanced up from the screen. Brilliant red optics peered around the room. Something seemed out of place. The medbay itself was spotless, which was to be expected from a perfectionist such as Knock Out. It was something else. Roulette. The femme who so often frequented the Medbay for patching up, was once again in here. Sitting sheepishly on one of the examination tables, her legs swinging under her, and she seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

“Morning, Roulette.” He said it so casually, like it hadn't fully sunk in yet that she was in the room. That it was normal her being here. His attention shifting back to whatever was on the datapad, taking a sip of the hot energon from the mug. Things were still perfect.

It took him a second, and then he did a double take. His mouth hung open a moment, and he'd turn to look at the door, scowl, then back at Roulette, quirking a brow. Couldn't she have waited until after he'd settled a little for the day? Maybe she came in here early to avoid Flatline. He wouldn't have blamed her for that. Maybe she was in here because of Flatline. Who knows.

“Again, Roulette? You're in here again?” He sighed, a long-suffering 'I'm not going to get any work done for myself today, am I?' sigh. It came off a little more exasperated than he'd intended, and he would clear his throat immediately after. It was too early for this. He took another sip of his drink and moved closer into the room, where he'd gently set down the datapad on a nearby table – long slender fingers tapping the screen and powering it off.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” he purred, leaning on one elbow and peering at her curiously. At first glance he couldn't tell what was wrong, but boy oh boy was Knock Out curious as to just why she was in here.

[Deleted]

To be fair, Roulette didn't want to go to the medbay in the first place. She was starting to hate the place as much as Shockwave's stupid labs. It wasn't the necessity of the place. The femme was quite aware what a luxury the working medical bay was. They probably had the most advanced medicine in the entire dwindling population of the Decepticon and Autobot forces combined. That didn't mean she still didn't hate the place for being what it was.

If left to her own devices, she would have just skipped the medbay and patched herself up. More painful, yes, but then she could have avoided this situation entirely. It wasn't even a major emergency. She'd had far closer calls than this. But no, no, she was pushed to go get herself patched up. Again. And that's probably what rankled her the most. She couldn't seem to stay out of the medbay lately. Some wiseasses were likely attributing the run of luck to her being sweet on the doc. Which was so far from the truth...

"What can I say? I just missed the smell of solvent and misery in the morning," she deadpanned. She looked up to give him a dour look but the gesture was probably lost in the ah...well, her face was pretty. But it wasn't that distracting. However, the shrapnel peppering one side of her face and near her optic was rather eye catching.

Besides the small trickle of fluid streaking down the side of her face, into her lap, she appeared to be fine. However, there was one large splintered piece of metal stabbed into the optical unit incredibly close to the actual lens housing. It hurt like a mother and if not for the time it took to access the damage, freak out, and then be coerced to visit the medbay, Roulette would have been a hysterical mess.

At the moment the pain was bothersome, certainly, but not life ending. She just couldn't move her optic too much. And every shift brought a stress line of pain across her mouth. She'd managed to pick most of the debris out with tweezers and a shaking hand. Flicker had fled for help the minute the accident had happened (such use as she was) and the sharpshooter had been left on her own to collect herself and get over the first initial horror that was a misfire from the very weapon she trusted with her life.

To put it lightly, the femme was grumpy.

[Flatline]

While some were just starting their days, Flatline was still trudging along from the one that was supposed to be yesterday. He had yet to recharge for the night, still tinkering away at his personal projects and a few that were appointed to him by Shockwave. He seemed to get so wrapped up in them, that sleep just... didn't happen... but oh well, he was functional enough and wasn't on the verge of failing or anything, he just needed to refuel and pick up something which took him out of the mini domain of his lab.

Leaving the labs and taking the side 'roads' to get to his intended goal, Flatline really wasn't in a state of mind to be social. He avoided the busy paths where vehicons roamed, and didn’t so much as make optic contact with the scarce others that roamed said tunnels all the way to the dispensers that would give him his ration for the morning. On the way back though, he could not take the same rout back, and had to make a quick detour to pick up something from the Medical wing.

He did not enjoy going to this part of the Nemesis, when he rightfully should. It was his sort of domain, and had the most advanced medical tools on the ship that his own lab lacked. Flatline knew he could always find the compounds or chemicals he needed, and he knew that if he had to he could probably go in and use one of the machines momentarily to put a final touch on a part he had to construct. But... it had that arrogant little piece of trash running it.

Flatline hoped that Knock Out would not be there, he hoped the little red thing was gone on a quick errand like himself somewhere else. Sadly, it didn't seem he would be so lucky.

The moment Roulette had displayed her shrapnel peppered face to the Medic, the doors to the Medical Wing swung aside with a snarled hiss to reveal the larger black and red Cybertronian. He just stood in the doorway a moment, left primary hand clutching onto a cube of half finished rations, while right was hung limp at his side as if he couldn't even be bothered to hold it at proper rest.

The first thing Flatline processed, was the fact Knock Out was there, the obnoxious colored fool standing out like a sore thumb. The second thing was the fact Roulette was there. While not being intolerable like Knock Out, Roulette and himself didn't exactly get along all the time, and clashed like two children about to have a slap fight. This said, she was growing on him, mostly because he was trapped working with her under Shockwave's thumb and it was cope or be miserable.

To not let his disappointment, and the control they had over his emotions show, Flatline permitted a broad grin to form. The smile was malicious, and gnarled in mocking amusement, displaying his jagged teeth dangerously. It mixed well with the calm expression on the rest of his features.

"You know, if you perform a face-lift Knock Out, you are meant to remove and tighten paneling and attachments on the outer edges, not just drill holes in it to make it overall lighter."

Dull sarcastic bite, he strode into the room as if he partly owned it, walking over to the cabinet that held a lot of the cleaning supplies used to make sure the Medical Bay remained sterile. Using a single hooked finger on his right hand, he pulled open the door to try to find what he was looking for.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out tsk'd softly at her answer. He didn't move straight away from the comfortable position of leaning on his elbow, just looking her over from a distance as he took another sip from the mug in thought. He was still in the process of waking up fully at this point, so was a little slow with his wit and usual charm.

“I think you just enjoy my company,” he finally spoke. Lips curving into a faint smirk, quirking a brow at her and shifting to stand up straight. “I really can't blame you, however, given who you work with.” he couldn't imagine what it was like working with Flatline, no wonder the poor femme seemed to be in here a lot, any excuse to get away from that cunning little slag. Then again, it wasn't like he thought about that much. Things were pretty much perfect in the Medbay. He had it good and wouldn't change it for the world. It was mostly calm, and even when it wasn't? He took great pride and an odd amount of joy in the rush of emergencies.

Which this was not.

His optics narrowed slightly as she turned to look at him. Other than that, his expression was mostly neutral. A thing he'd learned was that he had to remain expressionless, as flying into a panic or even hinting that things were bad usually didn't bode well the patient in question. He noted the trickle of fluid and the pepper of shrapnel, before his gaze moved upwards to look at her optic. Eesh. That had to hurt. At least it didn't look like she was in any danger of losing the optic, at least from what he could see from all the way over here.

He opened his mouth to ask just what the hell she'd managed to do to herself this time. Working in the medbay came with the added bonus of hearing ridiculous stories of how people had injured themselves, and this one looked to be a doozy. Sadly he couldn't get a word out as the door swung open behind him, his mouth snapped shut. The footfalls of whoever it was were too light and dainty to be that of Breakdown, or a vehicon coming in for a checkup; so he sighed and turned to see exactly who it was.

Ugh. Flatline. Why.

He couldn't help but roll his optics dramatically, complete with a small groan of disappointment, turning his attention back to looking at Roulette. It was too early for both of them to be in here. Where was Breakdown when he needed him..? Again, he went to ask Roulette what happened, when Flatline spoke. Another disgruntled groan, another optic roll as Knock Out turned to face the offending Mech, leaning back on the bench casually and took another sip of his drink, watching Flatline stride into the room.

“Moi?” he mock gasped, fingertips daintily touching his chassis like he were oh so totally offended. “You think I did this? Please. Here was I thinking she'd come in here to hide after you were attempting to play medic with her!” A low blow. He kept going. “Either that or you got a little too frisky, mm?” He winked, and would begin to make little kissing motions, biting at the air as if mocking Flatline's weird, crooked teeth; before finishing the rest of the contents of his mug and setting it down on the table beside him.

That was a rumor that'd been around the grapevine a few times, one that he'd heard from the Vehicons more often than not, and so he ran with it. He didn't even care if they were a thing or not; it was just juicy gossip for him. His lips curved into a wicked smirk, gaze not leaving Flatline. He was watching him closely, ready to scold him for even daring to go through the cabinet. There was no way he'd allow the other Mech to leave with anything although he was free to rummage – if only as a stinging reminder as to how much better things were here in the medbay.

He'd lazily roll his helm to look at Roulette.

“A little tip. Next time he tries to kiss-- Bite your face off, grab one of his.. Secondary limbs and snap it backwards, alright? Then you wont have to look like you've been savaged half to death by a shredder, mm?” He winked. “But no really, what did you end up doing to yourself now?”

[Deleted]

The cycle could not be rolling downhill this fast. It had barely begun! Though maybe if she started at a low point there was only so far she had to go until she went up? It was an entirely positive thought that Roulette couldn't even begin to pretend she believed. Realistically, this was going to be an unpleasant situation. And then there was Flatline.

The two proxies weren't exactly the perfect team. She wouldn't trust him near her face if she could help it. Then again, she barely trusted the doc and he was the doc on the ship. Which brought up several questions. One of which was, skill aside, how desperate had Megatron been to fill the position with Knockout? She couldn't envision a meeting between the two going all that smoothly. Not with the medic's run on mouth and Megatron's permanent stick up the tail pipe disposition...

She was pulled from her musings by the beginning of what was probably going to be a hilarious squabble. Flatline liked to believe he was above the menial doings of lower class but he was dragged into any verbal sparring with the easiest of promptings. But she still hadn't quite gotten him down just yet. She knew what type of mech he projected to be but she doubt an idiot would have gotten this far in life and on the ship's hierarchy. Like the medic, Flatline was intelligent, mean, and just as cunning as the rest of lot. But there was something else there that Roulette couldn't quite put her finger on. Yet.

She liked a puzzle.

Her optic sent a steady pulse of pain signals straight into her head when she started snickering at their words. Fortunately, she was content to watch the other proxy bristle in indignation at Knockout's words. It wasn't very often she found someone sassier than she was. At a point, Roulette found a line and balked before crossing it. Knockout strutted over it.

"Prototype blew up." Rather spectacularly. If it hadn't been for the makeshift shield she'd been leaning on, her body probably would have been peppered by that pesky shrapnel. Not enough to grievously injure but it would have been hell on the paint job. That she'd just corrected. Again. "It's ok though, I caught most of the mess with my face. Easy clean up."

[Flatline]

Flatline peered through the cabinet curiously, not instantly seeing what it was he needed. To try to rectify this, an extended pointer finger poked absently at some of the bottles and other vessels in the supplies cabinet, nudging them around and out of the way to try to find exactly what he was looking for. There was an added bonus that it would probably drive Knock Out insane to have everything askew, yet to complain to a higher up about it would seem so trivial and childish that Knock Out would look to be the one who was a troublemaker.

"I would offer to help, since she is Shockwaves proxy, as am I-"

He perhaps rubbed this in Knock Outs face a bit, shoving it up there that Shockwave has him work directly beneath him with Roulette, while Knock Out got demoted from the science wing to stick solely to medicine.

"-but it looks like she'd rather place her trust with a madman with an inbound drill."

He found the obscene corkscrew drill to be ridiculous, clumsy, and over the top. If you needed to make a hole in a patient for some reason, you tailor the hole to be as small and least intrusive as possible, not just punch holes around the place like someone trying to turn white cheddar into swiss.

Finding what he needed, Flatline prodded his pointer onto an adjacent jar, and tilted it enough to pivot it upon its outer edge. He turned the other compound around so that its label was facing the wrong way, before he snatched the bottle he needed that held a very powerful degreaser concentrate that Knock Out had multiples of. While Flatline had plenty of his own supplies, this mixture would rip through what he needed to clean with far more strength and save time off the monotonous task. With the bottle handed off to his left secondary, he turned about to observe the others.

"Trust me, if I had tried to maul her face in with my teeth, you can rest assured she wouldn't have much of a faceplate left."

He grumbled out. He had never tried to... you know... actually bite someone in an attack, always having a hand free to slash or claw or a foot available to punch out in a kick, but who knows? Maybe it would make a good weapon, despite never intending to use such a tactic. It was below him, far too primitive, but who knows... He just knew to not make a fuss about the OBVIOUSLY untrue and frankly disgusting rumors less Knock Out focus on them.

When Roulette spoke about what actually happened, he reached his left primary up to take a sip out of his rations. His wicked smile had since long faded, and his gaze was now half lidded, displaying some boredom and exhaustion while he actually tried to get a good look at what was going on. Now that he had a moment to absorb what he saw, he eyed the shrapnel in her optic warily.

"Really you did? I can hardly tell..."

He droned this out with sarcasm that was so thick it nearly clogged the words up.

"I am unsure about an EASY fix, considering it looks like the focus ring got punctured from over here. Probably need to replace the entire ring and file the channels it runs so there are no snags."

[Knock Out]

Knock Out turned his attention back to Flatline as he heard him nudging things this way and that to find whatever it was he was looking for. Sadly he couldn't see into the cabinet from where he was stood, so would be in for an unpleasant surprise later to find things messed up, even if only just slightly. Then again he expected as much - Flatline sure had some nerve when Breakdown wasn't around. Then again, if Roulette wasn't here and Flatline had tried this? Knock Out would've made some attempt to stop him himself.

“If she wanted, or trusted you to help, she would've asked you first, I'm sure.” He smiled, setting down his drink and not letting the little jab about Shockwave get to him. It really didn't. He had it good here in the Med Bay, and while he'd love to make use of the science wing to tinker with his weapons projects? He made do. He wasn't about to let Flatline ruin his morning. “Rather, she made a special trip here to see me, and I can't blame her one bit. I know I would do the same, if given the choice.” He'd raise one servo, using his thumb to idly pick at the tips of his other digits. 

“And don't forget, Flatline, that this 'madman' is the Chief Medical Officer on this ship for a reason.” He winked, aah he loved using his full title in front of the other Mech, it never got old.

“Also, you can go ahead and put that degreaser back. I am sure you have your own back in your lab.”

The comment about mauling Roulette's face made that smile on his face curve into a smirk and he'd lower his servo, reaching over to grab a handheld scanner and powering it on. As much as he would love to stand here and bicker with Flatline all day, he did have a job to do. Although luckily for him? He could do both.

“Aah. So you weren't trying, then. Forgive me. Mm, still, be more gentle next time, please. Roulette is in here enough without you getting too rough with her.”

Speaking of Roulette, he finally turned his attention back to her when she spoke. Here she was sitting patiently with an injury to her optic and Knock Out had been mostly ignoring her. He was a terrible host. He quirked a brow at her response, optics narrowing just slightly in thought.

“Well that's rather vague.” He hummed, pushing himself up and away from the table he'd been leaning on. “You're lucky it didn't do more damage.” Unlike Flatline who's voice was dripping with sarcasm at her answer, Knock Out sounded somewhat relieved and slightly concerned. At least he did until Flatline spoke, and he'd roll his optics.

“Thank you for your valuable input and diagnosis of which I did not need, nor ask for. Anyone with half a processor could come to that conclusion; but I do believe that replacing the entire ring is somewhat unnecessary.” He moved over toward Roulette, leaning in rather close to get a good look at her face, specifically the damaged optic. A servo moving to gently grab under her chin, angling her helm up and to one side. “...You did a terrible job at picking out the debris, you know. Still, an effort was made and for that I commend you for trying.”

He'd glance over his shoulder at Flatline, making sure the little frag hadn't snuck off with that degreaser while his back was briefly turned.

“Come here and look at this.” He hummed smugly. He didn't think it needed replacing at all. Taking out and filing down where the shrapnel had hit, yes. But replacing..? No. The puncture would have to be repaired of course; he could fix that quite easily, but due to how delicate optics were, it would no doubt have to be patched and her auto-repair would have to heal the rest over time. Maybe. He would be able to tell more once he looked at it further, but for now he just wanted to prove Flatline wrong at first glance.

[Deleted]

So this is a glimpse of what the pit looks like. Ah.

Roulette had to fight the urge to scoot off of the berth and out the door. He probably hadn't locked the medbay doors, right? Doc Knock wasn't like Shockwave who locked everything near Roulette. (Like she was a damn sparkling prone to getting into everything. Or a specimen escaping...) There was a good chance she could sneak out while they were arguing over each other. Honestly, how did they just...not get along?

She understood the contention for Flatline. The mech was so sour, he'd probably fight with his reflection. But Knockout seemed to get along with anyone whether they liked it or not. Was it just her or was there some jealously coming from both mechs? Or were they trying their damnedest to make the other jealous? Roulette couldn't find one thing she envied the two. Not even the nice paint job.

"Hey, if you two want me to leave you alone so you can kiss and make up, I'm all for it. I can probably pluck this sucker on out with a set of tongs." She had debated it but Flicker's frantic hand waving had stopped her from doing so. The very vivid image of her just pulling out the lens of the optic with it stopped her from the very rash decision. However, if she had to put up with these two to get healed...she'd rather just risk maiming herself. She could learn to shoot with one functioning optic.

[Flatline]

Flatline would still be doing what he was doing if Breakdown was present. The larger mech had the capability to put him to the ground with one strike, but such infighting had to be poorly looked upon. It was inefficient for the Decepticons as a whole, and was petty and childish to get into a physical brawl. It was this illusion that Breakdown would be smart enough to not HURT him that would have made him act exactly the same with perhaps a few additional words to be said on the situation.

Either way, Flatline brushed off the previous commentary, pretending almost like he had not even heard it to begin with. If he reacted to Knock Out's jab about being Chief Medical Officer, than that meant he would have to admit to hearing the order to put the chemical back, and he wasn't going to do that. He was going to play ignorant, looking off to the side with that distant gazed look of someone answering a comm or addressing something that popped up on their HUD. It lasted only a moment before be focused in on the conversation once more.

As Knock Out sarcastically thanked him for his input, Flatline interjected a very fast and quiet 'You're Welcome' into the middle of the Chief Medical Officer's words. It was muted, almost a mutter, but he held a smug little look of joy after he had done so. He tried to hide this behind another sip of his rations, the container now about only half way full at this point. It was then he was summoned over.

Flatline's steps clicked lightly on the slick floor below, sounding far lighter than they should have for a mech his size as he approached Knock Out's side in order to carefully view Roulette. Now able to see the damage in much better detail, his red optics skirted over the injuries a second and third time to make a better assessment of it. It all looked frankly horrible up close, not that it really bothered him any, his gaze lingering on the shard jutting out of the optic most of all for obvious reasons. He permitted a bit of a sneer to form, the top corner of his lip peeling up enough for a flash of teeth to be seen.

"Well I mean yeah, if you want to do a slack job you can just patch the ring and file the channel only, but why do something lazy when dealing with a SHARPSHOOTER?"

He droned this out, sounding profoundly disappointed as if he were trying to teach a rookie medic and had witnessed them take two steps backwards in their progress. Honestly, patching it was a viable thing, it was something that could work, but Flatline was of the mindset that if you have something broken, than patching it was setting it up to weakness down the line. It was a personal preference sort of thing.

"But no, go ahead, try to hammer that thing straight again and patch it up with some filler. No one will notice the discoloration and warp to it. Maybe if you paint it a ton with enamel it can at least look fabulous while she blindly limps off to her post."

He then focused on Roulette.

"Yeah... you don't want to do that. I believe even shiny-aft here can agree that that'd rip some stuff out in the process."

Flatline was choosing to ignore the comments about Knock Out and him kissing and making up... but... try as he might to brush over this and not even address it with a real retort, he did make a look of disgust that was so violently appalled it might as well have curdled the Energon in his tanks. It was almost as if he had taken personal affront to it on a core spark level. He didn't speak, but that expression said everything he could have ever uttered and then some, his free secondary even tucking up under his chest plating as if to hide.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out, thankfully, didn't hear the sarcastic little 'You're Welcome' from the other Mech. Not that he would've really done much if he had; just continued on with his sentence as normal. He was the Chief Medical Officer and wouldn't let anyone, let alone Flatline talk over him. So Flatline could have his little 'victory' – if it could even be called that. It's the little things. If only he were brave enough to say it so Knock Out could hear.

He would take a half step back as Flatline moved over and leaned in to inspect the damage, his servo releasing Roulette's helm and he'd loop his arms gently behind his back, rocking on his pedes some as he waited for Flatline's stupid opinion on the matter.

“Except I would not do a slack job, because I am not you.” He hummed cheerily, red optics turning to look at Flatline as he pulled his arms from behind his back to fold them across his chassis. “You seem to forget that I have many vorns of training under my belt, and that sometimes the most simple of solutions are the most effective. Replacing the entire ring is more of a risk, one which does not need to be taken. The Shutter and Micrometer Order Circuits may reject the entire thing, meaning our dear little Sharpshooter here would have to wait on either a donor optic or for you to.. Do whatever it is you do.” His lip curled up into a half sneer. If it weren't for the fact they were arguing and didn't get along at the best of times, Knock Out would actually be impressed by the work that Flatline did, maybe even stooping so low as to ask him to show him a few things here and there.

“If the shrapnel was a little more over to the left, or had gone in any deeper? Then maybe we would have to take that route you so helpfully suggested, but looking at this? Simply repairing the ring should be enough.” He would again reach out to gently take Roulette's helm, tilting it so Flatline could see.

“You see? While it looks awful – it will be easier to patch what we can. The filler will help with the self-repair, which, yes, might make recovery a little slow – it's a lot less risk than replacing the entire thing.” He didn't know why Flatline even suggested it. To show off his skills? That he could do such a complicated task? Knock Out could too, but there was no need to go to such measures when the fix should be simple enough.

That sneer curved into a smirk, and he again turned his attention back to Flatline.

“She will look fabulous when I'm done with her, no matter what it is I end up doing. Which will be to fix the ring.” He would remove his servo from Roulette's cheek, confident with his decision in the matter, and would move over to gather some of the tools needed for the procedure.

“Flatline is right, you know. You'd do more harm than good, just sit tight a while longer, it wont take long.” His back was turned to the pair as he reached up to pluck various tweezer looking tools from their hooks on the wall.

“As for kissing? I don't want to end up looking like you, my dear, no offense.” He'd flash a cheeky grin as he made his way back over, noting Flatline's disgusted look. “Although if he's game I am.” He'd wink for good measure, just to rub it in. He sounded dead serious, too.

“Flatline, if you'd be willing to assist, and see what I mean about my way being the right way, then I may let you take that jar of degreaser which I noticed you still haven't put back.”

[Deleted]

It was at this moment that Roulette figured out what was worse than being under the scrutiny of one medic. Two medics. That didn't get along. This was shaping up to be a truly uncomfortable situation. And that wasn't even involving the shard of metal sticking in her optic. These two were going to try and out do one another and probably mutilate her in the process.

Was it too late to call Shockwave for help? The worst he'd do is dissect her again.

"Hey, I got this crazy idea." She held up her hands and leaned away from both of them. Whatever silly banter they were bandying about was easily overlooked. "I let you two consult together and I just go back to my room to ah..rest."

Like frag she was going back to her room to rest. If she managed to get out of the medbay she was going to flee and hide somewhere until she got the stupid shrapnel out without assistance from the uber team here. Shockwave probably had plenty of things in his lab to use. Hell, he'd probably do it for nothing! The challenge of it would titillate him. Which was downright disturbing, really...

"So, you know. As soon as you get the diagnostic or plan down, you two can just ping me to come back!" She started to scoot backward on the berth with an awkward scissor of her legs.

[Flatline]

While Knock Out tried to school him in medicine, Flatline looked about as impressed as if he was being shown a doodle that the other Medic wanted pasted on the blast chiller. There were truths to what was being said however, what had been proposed wasn't total lunacy. The path Knock Out wanted to do in this repair would be the easiest one, and would work good enough. The issue was it was a quicker job as far as Flatline was concerned, and taking a bit more time to do it correctly in full could leave Roulette with something better than risking it being just 'good enough'.

"Ok, look, I dare to remind that it would only be a risk if you don't have experience behind you, but alas... I neither have the time nor crayons to explain to you why when a RING snaps on one side why there would be weakness and warping on the other that just cant be buffed away..."

Flatline stated this bluntly without the tiniest hint of remorse or tact. He wasn't going to soften his blows, or try to step around the issue when he was being belittled so earnestly. He was being attacked, so he would draw his own talons and bring them to battle, even if he had to scrape one down one of the others shiny domed shoulder pads.

Alas, despite overwhelming temptation, he kept his claws where they were, and further chose to selectively ignore the kissing commentary and jokes with a deaf ear. If he honored them with any reply, he knew they would keep coming, the jokes flowing rapid fire as if they found some sort of weakness that got underneath his plating. Any sort of response would make it SO fun for the peacock and the gopher, so he kept quiet.

It was then Knock Out asked if he'd be willing to assist, and Flatline couldn't help but let out a scoffing noise. The idea of being an assistant didn't bother him really, his ego wasn't so inflated that the concept was appalling, no... the issue was the fact it was being used as a demonstration on why he was 'wrong' when it wasn't the case.

"Really? I thought you were such a CAPABLE medic you could work solo. I suppose Breakdown isn't a boon he's a necessity?"

While he asked this, Roulette seemed to be trying to make some kind of grand escape. This would be all fine and dandy if she wasn't sandwiched between a so called pissing contest, and because of this? She would not be permitted to depart. Without so much as sparing Roulette a glance, Flatline's gaze locked onto Knock Out lazily, his free hand raised and clasped down firmly over her shoulder armor. Slender bladed fingertips crooked over armor plating, finding a firm holding by snagging onto the edges of plates. If his hand on her shoulder wasn't a decisive enough demand for her to stay put, the fact the weaponry mounted on his back activated would be a solid warning.

The two harpoons that jutted out from their launchers on either side of his spine both activated with a click. Metal posts were aimed up towards the ceiling, the rods twisting a bit to prime them in their sockets, and angle the sharp pongs that would expand and lock inside of someone's internals if they were to strike. It was an absolutely barbaric weapon, and was a very clear warning.

'Run and you will have more to get repaired'

"Whatever, yeah, I will hang around, just to watch Roulette's optic flood and short out under your watch."

[Knock Out]

Knock Out's attention was fully on Flatline once more as the annoying black and red Mech continued to do that talking thing. And Knock Out thought he was bad sometimes. One servo raising to his faceplate as if pinching the bridge of his nose as he vented out a very long, very drawn out sigh.

“I am more than aware what happens when a ring snaps, having replaced many a snapped focus ring in my time. But if you'd just look at it; you would see that it hasn't actually snapped. The shrapnel grazed it, hence why I said if it were over to the left mm.. A millimeter or so more? Then yes, it would've bitten right through and snapped the entire thing. This? Small puncture. But the surrounding area is very much intact, and so is quite easily fixed. She is very, very lucky.”

Imbecile.

Then he heard Flatline scoff, which meant the other Mech still wasn't done. He'd turn his attention away briefly to quickly spritz the pair of tweezers with some sanitizing fluid – nothing like poking around near a delicate, wounded optic with dirty tools! Not that the tools were dirty.. This entire room was so utterly sanitary and sterile that the chance of any foreign lifeforms surviving in here were slim to none. But Knock Out was nothing short of a perfectionist and kept everything very routine.

“I can work solo. Quite often do, infact. Breakdown earns his keep in helping me with the more menial tasks when needed; just as you will earn that degreaser by standing there and watching, handing me things if I should need them.”

Breakdown didn't really do much in the grand scheme of things. He cleaned up the Medical Bay so it was upto Knock Out's ridiculously high standards, sorted the tools, he talked to some of the more scardey-cat Vehicons as they got their checkups done. He could do basic medical procedures with supervision - just from watching the Chief Medical Officer and learning, but everything else? Knock Out did alone. Nor would that ever change. That was how he liked it.

He glanced up from inspecting the tweezers at the sight of movement out the corner of his own optic. His attention turning to Roulette as she spoke, and he scoffed quietly.

“Or, crazier idea! You could stay righ--” He quirked a brow. “Ah. Flatline's got the right idea. Probably the first good one he's had all week.”

He smirked. While Knock Out didn't go to quite the theatrical display of flaring out his weapons in warning... Because he didn't have any... He did step forward and move his servo to rest on Roulette's shoulder that Flatline hadn't grabbed, gently trying to push Roulette back. Was this considered teamwork? Were they working together on something? A miracle!

He didn't keep his hold on her long, Flatline more than had that covered – especially with the threat of weaponry now in play. He'd pull open a drawer next to the berth on which the Femme sat, pulling out what looked to be a small stun-gun piece of equipment. Flatline may recognize it as something that temporarily shocked pain receptors so they went numb, allowing basic medical tasks to be done without putting a patient under stasis, or having to poke around at wiring to disable things for a little while longer. He hadn't expected this to take long, or he would've chosen to do the latter.

He ignored Flatline's comment about her optic shorting out; it wasn't going to. He would be ashamed to call himself a medic and show himself out of a damn airlock should that actually happen.

“You'll need to lay down once I've numbed the area, Roulette. Makes poking around in there a little easier, and that way the lighting will be on your beautiful faceplate! Well. I mean, it's filled with shrapnel and looks a mess right now, but when I'm done? Good as new!”

With a couple of confident steps, he moved back over to the pair, raising his servo with the stunning device to Roulette's helm. There would be a small click, then he'd lower it a little to her cheek. Click. Then the bottom of her jaw. Click. Roulette would feel the tiniest of little zaps as he worked; they would probably tickle for the briefest of moments before that side of her face would go oh so very numb.

Knock Out would then turn to Flatline and offering out the tool. He hesitated, looking at Flatline's secondary arm that wasn't holding the degreaser. Should he just shove it at him and hope his little arm grabs it? He opted not to, holding it out for one of his primaries to take, not wanting to make things awkward.

“Guess what you get to be in charge of!” He sounded so cheery as he spoke.

This could either go really well or really bad, hopefully Flatline wasn't the sort to zap others at random. Especially as Knock Out would have his back turned to the other Mech during the procedure.

Once the tool was handed over, he would swivel around on his heel to look at Roulette.

[Deleted]

When MECH held Roulette hostage, and that wasn't something she liked to be reminded of but here she was, they were up front about their intentions. They were going to test her and then dissect her. Simple, brutal and efficient. She'd know upon waking that she was going to be off-lined. Rather badly, if they'd gotten their way. The knowledge had been a very hard factual tidbit to process while dealing with the torture they inflicted. But it had been there, in her thoughts, while she sat in the chair and endured the small banter humans seemed to love. 

This situation was actually worse in comparison. Oh, she didn't think Flatline and Knockout were going to kill her. That would certainly earn them the wrath of whoever put a value on her hide. She supposed, flinching under the double touch of the both of them, that the swan would miss her. Shockwave would probably be upset by the sheer void she'd leave him. It wasn't like he could actually muster the feelings for her. She was useful. It would be like him losing one of his favorite, reliable tools. He would feel the loss, react accordingly, and then move on. 

No, she didn't think the two idiots would manage to fumble something so badly and get her killed. That wouldn't be professional and it was painfully obvious these two thought of themselves as such. Valued it, even. Which was ludicrous to her. What was there to be proud of now? There was no societal accolades anymore unless you counted other medics or scientists. The bar wasn't even that high anymore! They didn't have a home planet or any academic colleagues to impress. Unless one counted the Decepticon leader and he just wanted things not broken. That was a broad spectrum, really. 

"I need an adult," she muttered but dutifully moved back onto the berth under their guidance and laid down. The tension in her grew as Knockout reached for the numbing agent. She didn't like medbays in general. But she always ended up in there some way or the other. Perhaps she was just accident prone. It wasn't like her job was safe.

This situation, however, felt different. The animosity between the two bled into her field and she found herself indulging in a bit of what was probably a panic attack. Which was silly. She wasn't under attack. She was getting the opposite treatment, in fact. It wasn't even supposed to be painful. But her field nearly crackled as her optics darted from mech to mech. 

[Flatline]

Even when he could critique and whine and complain, this felt like a colossal waste of time that would accomplish nothing. Knock Out had his head shoved so far up his own exhaust that nothing would change, and he'd just be forced to listen to his boasting and bragging. Alas, he was stuck here for now, and worked in tandem with the medic to gently push Roulette down onto the medical slab so that she could start to get repaired.

After she was downed, Flatline rolled his weight over onto his fully functional leg, and lifted the recently damaged one to curl the two hoof like prongs of his ped down. After this, he rocked his weight back momentarily, to apply pressure onto the 'knuckle' of the joint to stretch the cables and wires within. The foot still felt stiff and ridged, needing time to settle fully into place. This rocking from foot to foot to put strain on it, was an attempt to expedite the process.

"Don't be such a child Roulette."

Flatline droned this back, swiftly nicking into Roulette's complaint with another organic term that technically didn't apply to them like it would an organic. Oh, he understood it, and the point was simple. She wanted someone mature to be there and tending to her injuries, while he was calling her incapable of coping with the hand she was dealt. Alas, he didn’t so much as pass her a second comment then, watching Knock Out work with disgusted displeasure while he numbed the femme's face.

He had no comment upon the use of the tool, as it is actually a fast and easy way to do what was needed. His silence was simply the wordless approval for the matter, but that was as far as that would go. All things considered, he knew Knock Out wouldn't REALLY flood out her optic or anything, but he still disagreed fully with the fact the arrogant sports car wasn't going to replace the ring. His look of distaste at this fact, only grew bolder when the other medic went to shove the tool at him, and Flatline saw and recognized the look of hesitation.

He was used to his secondaries being questioned and looked at as weird. It was simply something that always would be a thing, since what he possessed was not typical and could be rather creepy looking. He was well aware insecticons traditionally were the ones with more than one set of arms, and how he was some odd anomaly, and normally? He didn't care. But Knock Out hesitating as if he was weirded out by them rankled him, and caused the quills on his spine to bristle a bit.

"They are smaller but they are still functional."

He growled back, reaching the empty secondary forward to sharply snatch the numbing gun out of Knock Out's hand with a clank of metal against metal. The secondary flicked the gun around in its grasp until he was properly holding it, a tiny spindly finger curled over the trigger with a hungry need to let that thing snap a couple times. Knock Out was right in wondering if it was a good idea to hand it over.

"I have half a mind to just drive this thing up your dorsal vent."

A hollow threat, he wouldn't blindly ASSAULT the so called 'Chief Medical Officer' ((gag)) but it showed some of his ire, the words paired with a couple clicking snaps from the gun having its trigger pulled while aimed at the ceiling.

"So tell me, do you need anything while you so kindly have me held hostage here? Maybe the tools and raw material to make a new ring?"

Sarcasm was thick and lancing.