[ti]Flashback[/ti]Welcome To The Show [ Closed | Knockout ]

[Knock Out]

The Medical Bay in which Knock Out worked was actually quite clean, considering they were in the middle of a war and things were pretty much non-stop crazy around here. While this room wasn't as spotless as the other Medical Bays in this building, it was still well-kept and sterile – at least in the areas where patients would be worked on. The reason for this was that Knock Out worked alone – most of the other medics (those that were left, anyway) had assistants and worked together. They could share the workload, taking shifts so it wasn't all on one mech.

Knock Out, though? He had nobody. That was his own choice and he preferred it this way. He couldn't stand working with others – he didn't have the patience or time for them, and found he worked better alone. The downsides of this were numerous. He was always on call. He was always working. He had very little time to recharge and wind down. Yet he was still functional – if a little unhinged – and was still one of the best trauma surgeons and medics they had - which was part of why he got the 'special treatment' of his own tiny Medical Bay and got away with driving away three previous bodyguards. The truth was the higher ups had expected him to crack under the pressure of working alone and beg for an assistant, but it never happened, so they just left him to it. 

There was method to his madness, and while the room looked cluttered and in total disarray to an outsider? It was mostly just organized chaos. Knock Out knew where everything was, which was another reason for him working alone – nobody else could probably function with the way he ran things – that, and his personality wasn't exactly pleasant to work with for even the shortest periods of time, let alone working with him full time. Sadly for Breakdown, he'd arrived after a non-stop twelve hour stint of working on patient after patient – so the room, and the cherry-red mech, were a little messier than normal. He did take great pride in his appearance and the state of his Medical Bay, given he was in here for the majority of his time. No sooner had he repaired one patient and got them going again, another would be thrown at him – the last one being the Seeker that remained on the medical berth in stasis – but who knew when the next would arrive.

Such were the joys of war.

It was no wonder Knock Out had such a short temper, and looked beyond exhausted. But still? This was how he liked things. There was a certain rush, a thrill even, from being on the go almost non-stop. He was better than everyone, and could do more than everyone. He knew it, and would flaunt it. For every patient the others saved? He tried to save at least three or four if he was lucky. He was good at his job. Really good. Which is why he knew he had no place out on the field.

Defects like Breakdown deserved to be out on the field. Mechs that nobody cared about. Mechs whose loss wouldn't mean anything to anyone.

He hadn't always been this way. So totally uncaring that is. When he first realized he had some kind of actual medical talent, he'd lost so many lives in the early days – which had been a horribly sobering and an entirely terrifying wake up call as to just what this line of work involved. They'd said it was no use, that they were too far gone and there was nothing he could've done - but it haunted him. While Knock Out had always thought he was above everyone - he had cared at one point about his patients, a trickle down effect from his days in the Autoshop when he cared, and was familiar with the many customers he serviced. He'd gotten to know his patients. But after losing so many lives when he was supposed to be the one saving them? It'd numbed him. He didn't want to be close to anyone. He'd lost so many, so it was just easier to act like he was above everyone (which he was) and push people away rather than make friends. This was a war. He had a job to do, and he would do it.

...He just didn't want to go out on the field. Being offlined actually terrified him, he'd seen it first hand so many times. While he hid behind his narcissism, gigantic ego and blasé personality, he was actually pretty scared of getting hurt. Like a lot of things, however, he was good at hiding it.

Just like he would hide what he knew of Breakdown. At least until the opportune moment came along and he could use it against him and have him discharged from the role of 'bodyguard'. Until then though? He would play nice – knowing it wouldn't last long.

He'd watch with an unamused expression as Breakdown began to move over to him. The smile fading from his face as he leaned his elbow on the bench, resting his chin on his servo as his gaze continued to stare at the other mech. He wasn't up to anything. Not yet, anyway. The moment he jabbed the Energon Prod against Breakdown in its current state, it would probably buckle – and he wanted to keep this thing around as he was proud of it, and supplies were limited so he couldn't make another - not that he'd even have the time to! Hence why he wanted to spend some time reinforcing the damn thing so it could be used against bigger mechs.

“How about if I describe it for you instead, Boltdown? You may learn faster that way,” He droned. This was a nice compromise, right? Pity he still couldn't be bothered to call the other mech by his correct designation. “It's silver, and it looks sort of like a gun.” With his free servo he would curl his pinky and ring fingers into his palm, holding his two remaining digits out and sticking his thumb up – mimicking a small gun just incase Breakdown was that stupid. He'd aim this finger gun at the wall with the tools, and pretend to shoot. “Should be on the right side somewhere. You can work it out, surely?”

[Breakdown]

     "Yeah, okay. I guess." Breakdown wasn't going to argue. "Guess that would make it a bit easier." Except that there were MULTIPLE things that could look like how he was describing. There was no doubt that Knock Out was making him out to be a complete fool but there was no sense in starting a fight over it. Breakdown didn't want this bodyguard job to last any longer than it absolutely had to and he really didn't want to deal with it being any more difficult than the medic was already making it. He figured that just staying civil would at least make the time go by.

     'Just make it bearable for now. The smoother this goes, the faster the time passes, the quicker I can get outta here and back where I belong.' 

     Breakdown looked in the direction that the medic indicated and made his way over to look at the various other silver tools that stared back at him. At least he knew the basics so he could cross off a mental checklist of what didn't look like that stupid drill Knock Out wanted. There were some other colors here, others that had a mix of different colors that probably were some sort of custom tool that the medic had come up with when he didn't have what he needed for some procedure. A lot of these tools made Breakdown's internal mechanisms squirm some. He was used to seeing very primitive tools out on the field but things like this? After all, cannon fodder didn't get to waste the time of medical personnel who had much more advanced equipment at their disposal. Those medics had much more important patients to tend to than ones that weren't supposed to function more than a few decacycles ( if they were lucky ). These things that Knock Out had? They looked more like torture devices than actual tools of the trade. Maybe Knock Out was into other things that Breakdown just shouldn't - and wouldn't- even ask about. He probably didn't want to know the answer ( actually, no, he really DIDN'T want to know the answer to). 

     The more he looked, the more foolish he felt just staring between the table and the wall. He picked up this tool and that one that had the shape of a gun, but... what sort of gun? Guns Breakdown had seen, been up close and personal with whether it was in use by those on his team or staring up the barrel of one by the enemy. Some of these looked like they could fit the bill. Knock Out was giving him just basic descriptions! Probably was a way of throwing him off and making him look even more incompetent. He must have been taking notes of all of these things just to argue for his sake that Breakdown couldn't do the job he was assigned. That, or he was getting a good laugh out of all of this. Sure, he had some bits and pieces that probably needed to be looked over since he'd hadn't been to a competent medic since he'd had the frame upgrade- and that guy was only labeled 'competent' in comparison to the throw-away field medics that barely had enough time to do more than look you over and wave a servo to say you're fine to continue fighting- but that didn't mean he was completely stupid. Just simple. You go on the field, you fight, you don't do anything stupid and you should be able to come home from your mission. It was easy. 

     Something clicked then.

     'Basic descriptions. Right. Knock Out hasn't been on the field before so maybe he hasn't seen all the weapons out there yet...'

     At least, that was what Breakdown was counting on. So he looked again and found two tools that had the gun shape that the red mech may have been talking about. He plucked up the two, one in each of his servos, and made his way back to him with the prizes in his palms. He could only hope that maybe he'd figured it out this time. Though the price of finding the RIGHT one may have as much of a degrading response as finding the wrong one...

     Sure enough, in his left servo was the drill. In the right? A similar shaped tool, probably some sort of laser scalpel or something like that. Breakdown didn't say anything, just stood there waiting to see what the result of this would be.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out visibly shuddered at Breakdown's words, lowering the servo that he'd formed into a gun and held his helm with both servos - venting out a long, drawn out sigh as he stared down at the bench. He was quiet, almost as if silently telling himself not to snap at the other mech. Then Breakdown would have more ammunition to use against Knock Out, which was something he didn't want or need – especially as he was trying to build up a case of reasons why he wanted him gone. Not that Breakdown's word would've meant much to anyone, but it wouldn't help Knock Out any if they learned he'd been yelling and screaming over phrases that he didn't like.

The sooner he got Breakdown out of here the better. Knock Out was very particular with his mannerisms after being around a lot of the higher casters back before this war. He knew what he did and did not like – and there were a few choice phrases that made him cringe - 'I guess' being one of them. It was too wishy-washy. It wasn't a proper way of speaking. Sure, Breakdown was below him and could be excused for talking as such, but if he was going to be working around Knock Out he'd have to learn a little finesse – even if he hopefully wouldn't be around him long.

Not that it would probably work, Breakdown was no doubt set in his ways, and it would be habit by now - but if it helped annoy Breakdown to the point he drove him away and made him quit? Knock Out would at least try – especially as his previous efforts had only earned him backchat (which he was slightly impressed with) and the General telling him to deal with it.

The other mech was irritating him in general – it wasn't just the way he spoke, it was everything - and it quickly reminded Knock Out why he preferred to work alone. It wasn't just a case of the fear of getting close to people because chances are they would die? No.. It was because everyone else was annoying as slag.

“Don't say 'I guess'. Say 'I suppose' instead. 'I guess' makes no sense,” He made the motion of pinching the bridge of his nose, before glancing up and resting his arms on the bench infront of him. Honestly the phrase was fine, and nobody else would've cared. But Knock Out was beyond picky. “It will make it easier, though. Hence why I suggested it.”

He would watch quietly as Breakdown stood infront of the tools. He was right in thinking that a lot of them were custom made. Knock Out loved tinkering and making things, and anything that'd improve his quality of life? He'd do it. A good selection of the tools looked to be particularly terrifying, and there was every chance that some of them had been used for some not so wholesome things, but Knock Out would never tell or divulge as to what exactly. It wouldn't help that the tools that were displayed seemed to have no rhyme nor reason being where they were – there was no sense of order, they weren't categorized by type or size. It looked to be completely random infact.

Or at least it would to an outsider. Which made it all the more amusing to watch Breakdown struggle.

The Medic wasn't taking any physical notes of Breakdown failing to do yet another simple task, but mental notes? Oh he'd been keeping track of nearly everything since the big blue lughead had entered the room. He was fairly confident that the things on Breakdown's file would be enough to get him discharged and possibly thrown out onto the field to be disposed of, but just incase it didn't? He wanted to prove that he was incompetent and unworthy of this job.

While Knock Out had been overly simple with his terminology for what the drill looked like? It wasn't because he didn't know what he was talking about. He had vast knowledge about weapons, probably more than Breakdown infact – especially as he'd created hundreds of weapons and modifications prior to the war, and was part of why he'd gotten this position to begin with and hadn't been thrown out onto the front lines to end up dead in two nano-kliks.

He quirked a brow as Breakdown chose two tools from the wall. Aside from that? His facial expression remained neutral, giving no hint nor clue as to if Breakdown was correct in his choice. As the bigger mech moved over, he would sit up straight in the chair and look at the tools as they were presented.

“Well, you got it right. Congratulations, Backdown, you aren't totally useless like I thought,” He smirked, reaching up to take the correct tool from Breakdowns left servo, setting it down onto the bench. Then again, his description had been so basic that a damn sparkling could've worked it out. He'd then lean up to take the other gun shaped tool, setting it down also. He'd motion to it with one servo though, figuring he might as well teach Breakdown what was what so maybe he'd learn something of use in the short time he was here.

“This one is a laser scalpel, and while I do not need it just yet? I would've probably asked you to bring it over eventually, so good job.” He sounded amused. That was a lucky pick from the other mech. Not that it'd sway Knock Out's opinion of him any. “Now then, if you go back over to the incinerator which you found before? There's some drawers to the left of it. I need some bonding agent. Just one tube should do. I'll give you a hint. It's also silver.”

While he waited on that, he'd start pulling apart the Energon Prod on the bench infront of him.

[Breakdown]

     Breakdown had given up trying to correct the medic. He knew that he was aware of what his real designation was by this point. It was just a game to him, probably an attempt to try and irritate him. Luckily for Breakdown he knew better, because at this point? If they were on equal grounds out on the field? He would have been clobbered by now- either by his own servo or by those of his squad. Out there he was team leader which was a title of respect that earned him one of the best seats at the table when all the frontliners gathered. But here- within these walls where the higher ups hid behind their veil of superiority that kept them safe from harm while sending those below them out to sacrifice themselves for the Decepticon cause- Breakdown was a nothing. Knock Out could have been the lowest ranked officer in the building and Breakdown would have not been even worth a glance by him. For that reason he had to just take what was being handed to him. There was just no place for him here and there never would be. Once they found a worthy replacement? He would be gone, tossed out like trash, to who knows where. That was the fate he signed up for and just had to take it in stride.

     That didn't mean the arguments in his head over all of this would be any less mouthy. 

     'He has a problem with how I worded things? Perfect. Now I'm gonna get a speaking lesson ontop of everything else!'
     Should just end this suffering now and take the punishment for it later.

     So when Knock Out continued to belittle him, talking to him in the tone he seemed to favor, Breakdown didn't even have a reaction to it. Instead he listened to what was being said, eyeing the tool as it was given it's name. A laser scalpel. Breakdown would take note of this the same way he took note of everything else, standing there silently while the other spoke until he was ordered to fetch something else like some obedient pet. He hated this, there was no denying that, but if there wasn't anything he could do about it there was no sense in giving the other any further ammo to make it even more miserable. 

     Then the order came. Bonding agent. That one Breakdown actually knew! He was familiar with it from the medics he dealt with as it was one of the things they commonly used. He just nodded as he was told where to go to retrieve it and off he went. He remembered where the incinerator was at least, so from there it was just finding the drawers. Once he got to it he looked, seeing each one of the drawers just where Knock Out said they would be. He started to open them one at a time- starting from the top- and was greeted by even MORE tools. How many of these things did the medic have?! Did he even use all of them? Well, questions for later that probably would never be asked. Fourth drawer down he spotted a few tubes of the bonding agent, some used, others still sealed, and grabbed up one of them for the medic. He closed the drawer then made his way back over to him and held it out to him to take whenever he needed it.

     "I suppose that's gonna need to be how you tell me what you need since I'm not familiar with your tools." He didn't use the word in a nasty tone, just mellow, with a struggled emphasis on 'suppose' like he made a conscious effort to use it as Knock Out had requested.

     'This is gonna suck more than I originally thought...'

[Knock Out]

It really was little more than a game to Knock Out at this point. While he knew he had more than enough ammunition in what he found on Breakdown's file to plead a damning case against him? He wouldn't let up with this petty attempt to drive the other mech to breaking point. Anything else he could use against Breakdown would be worth it, including the risk of being lashed out on. He was half hoping that Breakdown would snap at him because of this little game – he'd already seen that Breakdown was more than capable of backchat, but if he could just push him into reacting and lashing out... Well, that'd just be the nail in the coffin for Breakdown. He'd be able to send him back to whatever pit he crawled out of, and Knock Out could go back to being by himself.

It was so unbelievably childish for someone of his rank and status to be acting this way, but he'd grown incredibly impatient towards others as of late - to the point of reducing himself to acting like a brat – especially toward those that they tried to throw at him as bodyguards. Sure he'd always been supercilious but there was something about the three that'd been sent to work alongside him that'd just pissed him off to no end. And now with Breakdown being the fourth? Well he was no different.

Not that Knock Out really had a rank yet. He'd moved up from being a simple common 'Medic', to 'Medical Officer' to being the Head Trauma Surgeon quickly – faster than anyone in this field had ever ranked up, infact - but it held no real authority to those who weren't medics below him. Although his work, despite his terrible anti-social and imperious attitude? Had been noticed by those that mattered, including Megatron himself - and he was more than overdue for a promotion to CMO. If he attended the various meetings, he would've known this. He was cruel, unforgiving – and damn good at everything he did. The perfect Decepticon. The higher ups just wanted to see how he fared out on the field – which if he had his way, he would not be visiting.

He grunted some as he yanked apart the Energon Prod. It was already well built, as Knock Out had made it himself, but there was no way it could take on a big mech such as Breakdown and remain intact. No. He needed to reinforce it so that even if Breakdown somehow managed to snatch it? It wouldn't snap easily, nor would it buckle in on itself when he stabbed the other mechs heavily armored plating with it. It'd been separated into three sections, and he set them down neatly on the bench before him as he waited for Breakdown to bring over the bonding agent. Watching, judging, as Breakdown took what seemed like forever. The tools that Breakdown had found were all pristine and well kept just like those that were on display, some looked scarier than the tools that were on the wall! Which was probably part of the reason they were kept safely tucked away in a drawer out of sight.

“I suppose I can do that for you - if only so you do not waste my time in future because you are incapable of working things out for yourself, Burndown.” He snorted, reaching out to snatch the tube of bonding agent from Breakdown's servo. He set it down before pulling himself up to his pedes and moving to one side of the room - where he'd pull out a drawer which was located inside the wall, pulling out two long Ardite rods. They were plain. Simple. Silver with a slight blue-ish hue. The metal was common on Cybertron and Knock Out used it in making weapons in his spare time. Which sadly? He had none of anymore. But thankfully this little order had given him the perfect excuse to tinker with the Energon Prod. While he wouldn't get the thrill that came with creating something new, reinforcing the Energon Prod and then stabbing Breakdown would no doubt be satisfactory enough.

He'd move back to the chair, sitting down and placing down the two rods. There would be a hiss of hydraulics as his right servo would shift into his arm, replaced by a large saw in the blink of an optic. From here, he would begin slicing the rods into smaller chunks.

“So, Burndown. Why not tell me a little about yourself, since we're going to be spending so much time together!” He smirked, gaze not lifting from the rod as he sliced it into smaller pieces. It didn't take him long, while Ardite was a strong metal, the saw which was attached to Knock Out would slice through it like butter. He was being charming with the way he spoke. His voice surprisingly held no malice or sarcasm, although it was obvious he would care very little for whatever answer was given.

“Actually, while you do that. Fetch me the parallel clamps, would you?”

He'd pause then, glancing up and narrowing his optics at the other mech.

“Mm. Surely you don't need me to describe those to you, too?”

He did not have high hopes.

[Breakdown]

     He stood there, watching the smaller mech as he fumbled around with the thing he was working on, clearly having some difficulty in taking it apart by the strain he showed through the actions done and sounds made. He would have offered to help should Knock Out have been just a little less of an aft, but hey, since he didn't ask? He wasn't going to offer. Though he figured that the other wouldn't dare ruin the little game he was playing by actually having some decency now. No. Whatever question was asked of him would come across as having some underlying tone of 'fetch' attached to it. Honestly, the less the other talked, the better. So this quiet while he worked was welcomed.

     Oh, but Knock Out had more jokes! The silence was broken by yet again another belittling comment as he took the bonding agent that was still laying in Breakdown's servo. With it now gone he lowered it and backed away a couple of paces. Best to not keep himself within swinging distance should something be said or done that Breakdown just had an overwhelming urge to bash the medic's helm in for ( the wrong designation thing was old now ). Or knock some sense into him. Whichever argument came to be more useful to him. 

     "There's nothing more to say other than what you can access through my file... which I know you've already done. Anything you need to know is in there, including the proper way to say my designation. Which, by the way, that joke is old and dead. By still doing it you're only showing a really embarrassing level of immaturity unfit for someone who's supposed to hold a position of respect, such as a medic."

     Breakdown wasn't as stupid as he may have looked and seemed. He knew that Knock Out had been reading up on him while he was poking around, even if he hadn't been periodically staring at him and making little noises and remarks towards him while doing so. He'd seen reactions when others looked through his file, checked his stats and such. It wasn't new to him. He was actually more surprised that Knock Out hadn't made some snarky comment about the change in frame which he was actually much more accustomed to. Comments of 'your original one wasn't good enough' or 'you just wanna try to play with the big mechs' were common. Of course, what he had witnessed so far with the medic's nasty little personality was that he was brewing up something good in that thick helm of his and was probably just waiting on the perfect time to use it. The time when he felt it would affect Breakdown the most, just to get him riled up. He was used to all of that. At this point, that sort of stuff just didn't matter to him. After all, he had to have a steel frame and encased spark to not be effected by the much more crude comments about the status of his faulty processor. So really? Knock Out wasn't doing more than irritating him which was no where near the point where he would flip one of the medical berths or haul him out of a window.

     Though somewhere in the less logical side of his processor, that seemed like an amazing idea.

     Within the side of his processor that told him 'no'? Even that part was starting to agree.

     At this point, Breakdown was just being a solder. As a soldier he had been given an order to keep Knock Out protected until the mech who was actually supposed to be assigned to this job arrived. It probably wouldn't take long for that switch to happen, so all he could do was just breathe ad keep his cool until it did. He was needed on the field where the action was, to be the guinea pig sent out to clear out dangers before the others would move in so they wouldn't keep him from it for long. Heck, maybe they would change their minds once they realized themselves how clearly unfit Knock out was for the field and would keep him in  their safe little abode and send Breakdown on his way much sooner. 

     Let the one who was supposed to be the sparksitter deal with this mess.

     Speaking of jobs, however? Right now, Breakdown's job was to get the clamps. He knew what they looked like and remembered seeing them when he was looking for that... other thing Knock Out needed before. He went back to the first spot and glance around until he spotted five or six of them laying on the table just off to the left side, gathered them up in a single fisted servo, then walked back to Knock Out and set them down at his side...

     You could take him out at this range. One swing and he's done for. Tada! One less ranked holier-than-thou aft to belittle you...

    ... then Breakdown stood up and turned to walk away, safely putting distance between himself and Knock Out again. There was a place to sit just off to the side but Breakdown opted not to, since he figured he'd still have lackey duty to do while Knock Out tinkered and fumbled around.

[Knock Out]

The only reason that Knock Out had briefly struggled taking apart the Energon Prod was because... He'd built it so well. It wasn't supposed to come apart. He made a lot of weapons back before he became a Medic – it was his knowledge of installing these weapons and modifications that'd gotten him the position of Medic in the first place – that and his ability to upsell himself and his skills to the point that he could be somewhat convincing. These weapons were also why he'd needed a weapon to protect himself in the first place, as a good percentage of the more... Illegal weapons that he made? Weren't exactly functional and had a bad habit of exploding or backfiring horribly when used. Which meant angry customers. Which meant people tracking Knock Out down and demanding their money back – which of course the flashy cherry-red mech would've already spent. The Energon Prod was his prized possession. He was prouder of this than anything he'd made; it'd helped defend Knock Out from some very large, very angry people.

But that was before the war. Breakdown was built well, and Knock Out wanted to be doubly sure that his weapon wouldn't snap in half once rammed into Breakdown's armor plating. Because he planned to down him hopefully long enough to find somewhere to hide – thus making his 'bodyguard' fail his mission.

He wouldn't look up as Breakdown spoke to him, as he cared very little as to what he had to say. He did, however, have that little smirk that was a frequent sight on his faceplate.

“If I'm so immature and unfit to do my job, please. I implore you. Take it up with my superiors. Report me! Please!” His tone was whiny, pleading almost. And if it weren't for the obvious fact it were laced with sarcasm? Who could even tell if he were joking. He followed it with a laugh, as if to cement that he had the upper hand here and was being an ass simply because he could. He knew that if Breakdown complained about him, nothing would get done. Hell, Breakdown would probably get into trouble for daring to complain! Yes, he was being immature. Very much so; even he could admit that... But it was all part of his little game. Sure the designation thing was getting old, but Knock Out was enjoying himself.

He hadn't commented on what he'd seen in Breakdown's file, though. Which might've been surprising to anyone that knew Knock Out well – which was to say, not many people, given how quickly he drove others away. Breakdown was correct in that he was brewing up something good. The opportune moment to crush and destroy Breakdown mentally hadn't arose yet, but Knock Out knew it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge, and he knew exactly what to say when that time came.

He was simply toying with Breakdown at this point, testing his patience. Making him do mundane, menial tasks like fetching objects which... Quite frankly? Knock Out didn't even need.

With the Ardite now sliced into chunks, he would shift his servo back into his arm – replacing it with the soldiering iron. He'd insert a chunk or two of the metal into the holes from pulling apart the Energon Prod, and would warm them with the soldering iron. Once they'd become liquid? He would piece parts of the Energon Prod back together, holding it firmly so that it'd set. A boring task, but once it set? It would reinforce the prod from the inside. Then he could focus on strengthening the outside.

As he was holding the pieces of rod in place, Breakdown walked over with the clamps and set them down. Knock Out would glance up briefly, narrowing his optics. He wouldn't thank the other mech, nor comment on how it took him long enough to get such a simple item. His look said it all. He wasn't impressed. The servo which was currently the soldering iron would shift back into his servo and he'd point at Breakdown.

“Ah-ah!” He'd start, before Breakdown managed to get too far away from him. “I'm not sure where you're going, Brakelight. I didn't give you permission to walk away.”

With his free servo, the one not being used to hold the rod firmly so it could set, he would reach out pick up the clamps one by one, before slamming each one down in turn on the bench– as if making a point at how many were brought over.

“How many is this? Five. Why. Why would I need five?”

He actually didn't need any of them, as evidenced by the fact he could easily hold the rod while it set. It wasn't like they were going to be sending him anymore patients tonight, as they would've assumed he'd be getting ready for his fun-filled day out on the field tomorrow – or in reality, freaking out and thinking up every possible way to get out of said fun-filled day out on the field tomorrow.

“I need all the space I can get here, take these ones back. And put them back properly,”

And with that? He'd reach out over the bench he was working with, opening his servo and dropping three of the clamps onto the floor.

“And fetch me a ration cube while you're there, would you? I believe I have one over there I have barely touched.”

He'd sit back in his chair and give a cautionary yank on the newly reinforced piece of Energon Prod to see if held, before repeating the motion of sliding a chunk of Ardite into the holes of the rod, heating them, and setting them.

He would only act worse the longer time went on. Every passing klik would quickly turn into a breem, and soon it would be a new cycle. Which meant going out onto the field. With every klik that passed? Knock Out would panic more and become more irrational with his words, actions and stupid demands to try and hide the fact he was scared. Sure, he had every confidence in being able to down Breakdown with the Energon Prod and run away and hide, but maybe his luck really had ran out here with this new bodyguard. This one was stubborn. He sassed Knock Out back. He had attitude. Knock Out would have to play it smart to get out of going out tomorrow – he didn't have the luxury of driving away Breakdown over the course of a few joors like the last three bodyguards...

It was going to be an interesting, and very long night.

[Breakdown]

     As he heard Knock Out mention that he didn't have permission to walk away, he felt a little tug of irritation rise to his faceplate. He stayed facing away so it wouldn't be seen and he managed to keep his frame steady. Take the other clamps back? Was he serious? The sound of three metallic clanks hitting the floor behind him told him that it wasn't. Slowly he looked over his shoulder, his upper frame turning slightly so he could see what the sound was even though he already knew what it was without his optics settling on it. There on the floor were three of the clamps, laying still now as they waited to be collected and taken back to where they belonged.

     Oh, AND he was supposed to 'fetch' Knock Out's energon cube? Fetch. Like he was some lowly...

     Well, it wasn't so far from the truth. Again, he'd heard worse. Just the other ones he could walk away from before it became physical. This situation was different. This one he was stuck in. Maybe it wouldn't have seemed like it to one looking from the outside but to someone like Breakdown who was just a stubborn as he was solid? He was stuck. This medic was getting on his nerves the more he stuck around. But he had his duty so he would just have to deal with it. As difficult as it was, he had no choice.

     Breakdown had been silent, just staring at the clamps as if he couldn't quite believe that Knock Out would just keep dropping himself further and further down the stoop to the various levels of low. Then again, he shouldn't be. This medic obviously hadn't been out in the field before, hadn't needed to face daily shots from opponents. No, he was safely tucked away in these walls for probably as long as he had this profession to call his own. Knock Out had all the personality and mannerisms of someone who was an entitled little snob. Breakdown hated these kinds of mechs and all hopes of being assigned to someone who had some tiny smidgen of sense about them had been dashed the moment he had walked into the room.

     Now he finally moved, turning his helm away to stare ahead to where he needed to go. Then he spoke, but probably not the response that Knock Out was probably expecting.

     "I'll get your ration, only because you're busy and can't leave your current position. But those clamps? That's on you. You make a mess, you clean up after yourself. Medics are supposed to have more sense. Have some respect for your trade's tools." He scoffed slightly. "I'm your bodyguard, not your cleaning crew."

     Breakdown continued on, figuring that 'go get this' was permission granted to walk away as Knock Out had stated moments before. He looked around on the flat surfaces to look for the energon cube then finally spotted it off to the side just a few paces away. He picked it up then carried it on over and set it on the bench at Knock Out's side. Breakdown didn't stick around either, figuring that the other mech would be pissed enough from the previous comment about not being part of the cleaning crew that he would probably either throw the full cube at him, or finish off the energon first then throw it. He at least wasn't going to let him have a clear shot at his optics. So he stood straight and turned on his heels to move to a different area of the room.

     Just because he was out of striking range didn't mean he was out of speaking range.

     "Don't stay up too late working on that. You'll need a full recharge for when you're on the field. It won't do the unfortunate patients any good if you're so drained that you can't tell your helm from your aft. I'm not carrying you if you slip into stasis out there."

[Knock Out]

Knock Out couldn't help but smirk as he watched Breakdown slowly turn. The smirk wouldn't leave his faceplate as Breakdown just... Stared down at the clamps like some kind of half-wit. Was this it? Had he gotten to the point where he'd broken this new 'Bodyguard' of his? He'd barely even had to try! ...Alright so that may have been a little understatement – he'd been ridiculously childish and petty, even by his standards. But it'd worked. Breakdown was no more! Knock Out could stay here in the safety of his Medical Bay and continue to do what he did best away from the front lines!

Or so he thought.

Movement. Breakdown turned his helm. Then he spoke. What Knock Out had been expecting was Breakdown saying that enough was enough and he couldn't handle any more of this crap... What he got? Well... It wiped the smirk off his faceplate, that's for sure.

Oh, he had some damn nerve!

Knock Out's field remained level, and creepily calm – although there were traces of anger bubbling up – which he would quickly hide beneath this eerie silence and relative stillness of his field. Knock Out had been spoken down to in his lifetime, sure, that'd come with his line of work before this war – before he'd made a name for himself and gotten himself in with the higher crowds, anyway. But to be spoken down to like this from someone so very beneath him? Well, it was a first.

He watched in silence as Breakdown retrieved the ration, optics fixed into a disapproving glare. It was a good thing he couldn't burn a hole into someone with a hateful look alone, because he sure would've with the way he was glaring daggers at Breakdown. He would avert his gaze as Breakdown began making his way back, focusing once more on the Energon Prod.

He accepted this challenge. He would break this other Mech. Maybe not today. But soon.

First things first, though – he had to get out of going onto the front-lines tomorrow. He was still silent as Breakdown came back to the bench and sat down the cube. He didn't look at him, nor acknowledge him. He didn't thank him for retrieving the rations. Nor did he bark out another order at him not to walk away once more.

He'd tug firmly on the Energon Prod now that the reinforced metal had cooled and hardened. He was testing its strength – and while he'd love to reinforce it further? That would take time he simply did not have. Once he was certain that it was strong enough, he would reassemble it quickly. There would be a short noise of transformation as the welder would shift back into his arm, replaced by his servo.

He'd lean across to grab the ration cube, holding it to his lips as he took a sip. While he could very well throw the entire thing at Breakdown, it wouldn't end well for a number of reasons. One – his aim was terrible. He would've thrown it and it would've bounced off some important equipment or gone half a foot before dropping onto the floor. Two – he would probably need the energy given from the contents of the cube – as what he was planning on doing? Well, he didn't know when he'd be getting his next ration cube.

“Ah, do not worry. I may not be professionally trained at some medical school – but I can assure you I can tell my helm from my aft no matter my status or state. Both are amazingly attractive, though, so I can see why it may be confusing to some.” he purred, before chugging down the contents of his cube. He was acting normal as he spoke, but was using it to quiet the fact he had shifted into a stand.

He wouldn't throw the cube at Breakdown, no... But he would use it as a decoy. Another distraction. While Knock Out wasn't a fighter, he was smart - and knew how to be underhanded and sneaky. Well, sort of. He was acting out of desperation right now, simply because Breakdown was stubborn and he couldn't think of anything else to get rid of him.

This would either go really well or really bad – and he'd only have one shot at it, so he hoped it was the former!

With a grunt, he would throw the cube as hard as he could to the left-hand side of the room. As it shattered and made all manner of noise, he would duck right and charge forwards – grabbing the Energon Prod off the bench and powering it on. There would be a tell-tale crackle of energy as it turned on – and with a swift, subtle movement he would crank up the power so it would deliver more than just an annoying little zap.

Even if Breakdown wasn't distracted by the shattering cube, Knock Out intended to follow through with his attack regardless. His plan simple. Jab the Energon Prod into Breakdown – he wasn't aiming for anywhere in particular, he hadn't thought that far ahead – then when the big mech was temporarily incapacitated? Knock Out was going to run away.

He charged forwards, lunging at Breakdown with all the strength he could muster. He had one shot at this, so he wanted to make it count – and would jab at the other mech with the Energon Prod.

[Breakdown]

     Breakdown may have made a mistake by turning his back on Knock Out. In his time on the field he had sworn himself against doing such a thing since it opened a wide blind spot for someone to take advantage of. He didn't trust anyone ( unless they were on his field team and even that took some time to work on), especially if they were on his own faction. He was quite aware of the opportunistic nature of most of those who bore the Decepticon insignia, so he had just gotten into the habit of always looking over his shoulder.

     That was no different now, and while Knock Out may have thought Breakdown's guard was down? Oh no, it wasn't that easy. He for sure wasn't about to give the cherry red medic a chance to get one over on him. Now if he had just been quiet about it he may have had a better chance of bolting for the door but the shattering glass had only given him the start of a movement that pretty much ruined those chances.

     When the sound of the broken glass rang in his audials, Breakdown turned his helm in that direction to see what had happened. He figured that the medic was having another little tantrum- yes, he HAD seen the smirk drop from his faceplate and was expecting some form of retaliation- and stared at where the broken pieces of the glass were just starting to settle. Fixating on that wouldn't be for long, noticing a sharp movement out of the corner of his optic and hearing another sound that drew his attention. 

     Breakdown was nowhere near as fast as the medic but since he had been in mid turn to look at the glass he was already pivoting on his pedes when Knock Out had begun his next move. He spotted the medic coming his way, his energon prod armed and at the ready. He saw the thrust and on pure impulse he attempted to counter the best that he could. He knew that his reinforced frame would only protect him for so long against a shock that the weapon could possibly deliver and if there was a strike placed in just the right spot between the couple of gaps in his overlapping layers of metal? He would feel it for certain.

     One arm raised in an attempt to shield himself from the strike- the arm closest to the threatening weapon. Metal shifted, hydraulics hissing as his servo was flipped out of sight and his hammer folded out into place around it, turning a jointed limb into a literal battering ram. Breakdown wouldn't be able to avoid the strike but a deflection or a reduce in damage could be in his favor. The arm came up to intersect the thrust and meet close to his own frame. While contact would happen, his arm was certainly the ideal place for it to happen- at least for him and not so much for Knock Out. His arms were layers upon layers of thick panels of overlapped metal, separated by impact resistant material that was ideal for what he used his hammers for. It wouldn't do to have one's arms rendered immobilized because a single direct blow with something solid would cause such a recoil that he wouldn't be almost completely disabled. So when Breakdown's forearm swung up to make contact with the metal of the energon prod? 

     It was virtually painless. There was a bit of a tickle, though.

     Breakdown glared at he smaller mech with a look of malice blazing through those neutral toned yellow optics. He was no longer looking at a comrade, and much less someone that he was ordered to keep protected above all else. That comfortable place was out the window! No, unfortunately for Knock Out, Breakdown was looking at the medic the same way he would look at an opponent on the field. Something had been triggered within the deep recesses of Breakdown's processor. Something that Breakdown tried very hard to keep locked up. And that was just a dangerous situation for the smaller mech to be in.

     There was still another servo to be accounted for, which Knock Out may or may not have taken into account. Breakdown took a very easy step forward, forcing Knock Out back, and swung his other arm out from the side. It wasn't a move to knock his lights out ( though he really did deserve it ), but instead it was to grab for either Knock Out's servo or the prod. In which case, either would be crushed at the connecting joint by the much larger one from the dark blue mech. For Knock Out's sake, one would hope he would have enough sense to let go of the prod and just sacrifice it instead of being foolish and holding on. 

     "You sorry pile of scrap. I outta rip you limb from limb..." he growled under his breath. 

     Creepy voice alert! Anyone listening? Knock Out probably should have been.

     Right. So maybe Breakdown was a tiny bit angry. And Knock Out pretty much better hope he could stay on the opposite side of the room while Breakdown had that look in his optics.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out charged forwards with aplomb. This was it. He was going to down this moron and flee. Morning would come, and he would be nowhere to be found. Breakdown would be asked to leave, and probably disposed of for failing to do his job. Everything was going so perfectly to plan.

Except he hadn't counted on Breakdown to be so fast. He was huge, how did he have such good reaction times? Then again, the big blue Mech spent the majority of his time out on the field – he had to have some wits about him or he simply would not survive. He'd left his back exposed, which Knock Out had taken advantage of – but it seemed Breakdown was fully aware of what he was doing.

He heard the sound of transformation, but it was too late to stop his attack – and the Energon Prod made contact with Breakdown's arm.

Maybe he'd rushed things just a little. The thing had barely had time to set with the reinforcements, or get up to the level of power needed to hurt such a huge mech – so when it seemed to do nothing? Knock Out realized he'd made a mistake. More improvements had to be made on the prod, including a way to get it upto the right strength setting faster. But that would have to wait – considering he was now being glared at.

He stood still, the Energon Prod still pushed against Breakdown even though it was doing nothing.

While Knock Out hadn't really ever been in a proper fight, he knew straight away that he'd messed up here and that Breakdown was mad. At least the cherry-red Medic had speed and size on his side here – and so the moment that Breakdown swung his other arm? Knock Out ducked down and sidestepped away with ease. He let go of the Energon Prod – it was easily repairable and clearly needed more work done on it anyway, so he didn't really care if Breakdown snapped it in half or broke it.

Standing up straight a few paces away, he'd smugly use the backs of his digits to brush his chassis.

“You are more than welcome to try!”

He taunted – knowing that there was no way that Breakdown could catch him in what he was about to do. He'd side stepped closer to the door, and he knew the layout of this place pretty well for someone that practically lived in this one room.

Staying on the opposite side of his room? How about opposite side of this entire building.

And with that? Knock Out would turn and bolt for the door, fingertips quickly typing in the code to unlock the door and then running as fast as he could. The door would spiral shut behind him, automatically locking to buy himself more time.

Attacking Breakdown hadn't worked, but running away and hiding? There was no way this could go wrong. 

[Breakdown]

     Out on the field none of his team were what one would consider 'quick'. They were damn good at stalking, though, that was for sure. They could track their target for days without end. While everyone else was recovering and needing recharge? Breakdown and his team would tirelessly trek on until they found the one they were looking for. They were efficient in that regard. Hunters.

     The Energon Rod was thrown to the side once Breakdown had dislodged it from where it had slightly sunk into his arm, leaving a scratch behind in his armor by one of the prongs. It clanked to the floor and shut off now that it wasn't actively being operated and lay there, ignored by the large mech as he turned to see where the medic had run off to.

     'Oh, so that's how this is gonna be...'

     In short, when the smaller mech took off running out of the medbay? Oh, the game was on. He had triggered Breakdown's temper and now very little would be able to stop him since his target had been tagged. The medic could run all he wanted to, because Breakdown knew that eventually he would tire out- just as the whole lot of them always did- and he would be able to locate him. Without the skittish mech being able to go outside of the building without probably emptying his fuel reserves, that would leave him to the confines of the complex and there were but only so many places he could go off to.

     He made the an attempt to delay Breakdown by closing the door to the medbay. It had been a smart move, but Knock Out hadn't dealt with the likes of Breakdown before. One of his servos changed into the hammer and he drew it back as he started to run for the locked doors, not so much as bothering to try and open them the logical way- he opened them HIS way. That meant barreling right on through with his hammer used as a battering ram that smashed through the center seam of the doors as though they were made of rusted metal. Then he slowed his pace to a walk and started on his way in the direction the medic surely would have had to take.

     Breakdown would haul the medic back to his quarters one way or another, kicking or screaming or acting like a mature mech was fine to him. Breakdown had no reputation to uphold in the optics of those around him so if Knock Out wanted to make a fool of himself playing these stupid games? That was up to him. He'd be the only one with a tally to try and erase.

     It would only be a matter of time, really. The longer Knock Out ran, the more of a game this became for Breakdown. Because what else was he honestly going to do? 'Watch over Knock Out' was part of his orders, so this was easily regarded as pat of his job description. May as well see everything there was to see in HQ while he was at it.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out had been a little more than halfway down the corridor when he heard an almighty smash from behind him that made him yelp in surprise and speed up, flinging himself around a corner quickly as he sprinted away. So much for that plan of locking the doors to slow down the much bigger mech. It'd been a good plan on paper, and would've stopped almost anyone else – he was sure of that. At least now if he was caught, he could shriek about how Breakdown had damaged property and threatened him – which was the complete opposite of what a bodyguard should do.

He hadn't bothered to look over his shoulder to see if Breakdown was running after him, and so had no idea just how close behind him he was. This fear only spurred him on, though, and he wouldn't stop running. This wasn't a game to him like it was Breakdown, this was him running for his very life. If he got caught? He'd have no choice to go out onto the battlefield tomorrow – where he knew damn well he wouldn't survive more than two nano-kliks!

He just had to outsmart and outrun the bigger mech for... A few breems. That's all. He could do that. This was something that would be no doubt easy to do. At least it sounded easy. He just had to stay one step ahead of him, and he already knew from looking at Breakdown's file that moving fast was not on his list of skills.

Despite the fact he spent most of his time sheltered away in his small Medical Bay, he knew the layout of HQ like the back of his servo. There sadly weren't too many places to hide – he could risk running and barricading himself in someone's office, but as he'd learned moments earlier? No door or barricade could stop Breakdown from smashing his way through to him. He just had to keep running, just had to keep one step ahead.

A door slid open to Knock Out's right, and through it would step another Medical personnel. They were distracted, wiping their Energon-covered servos clean on a small mesh – and so had no time to sidestep or move out the way of the cherry-red mech that was hurtling toward him at a reasonable speed.

Likewise, Knock Out had no time to even react – he hadn't even seen the other mech until he was practically on top of him, by which time it was far too late to divert his course, and so a split second later he found himself in a tangled mess of limbs on the floor with the other mech.

“K-Knock Out, Sir! I apologize! I didn't see you!” Came the quick, stammered apology of the other mech as Knock Out furiously shoved at him in an attempt to push himself up and away before Breakdown inevitably caught up.

“Stop talking and get off me!” Snapped Knock Out with a growl, trying to wiggle himself out from under the other mech who seemed too stunned by the entire thing to do much of anything, let alone move.

[Breakdown]

      Breakdown wasn’t as fast as Knock Out was, but at least the paths didn’t seem too confusing or difficult to navigate. Knock Out could have run through the entire building and Breakdown wouldn’t have been that far behind. Sometimes speed wasn’t always your best friend. In the case of Knock Out? Yeah, it definitely wasn’t. By the time Breakdown rounded the corner he spotted the heap of arms and legs twisted around in an attempt to free themselves and the dark blue mech just chuckled to himself as he made his way over.

     “Seems like you’re in a bit of a mess, sir. Here, let me assist you.” Breakdown reached down to take hold of Knock Out by the back panel where his tires attached. It was strong enough that he could do what he needed, which included forcibly yanking Knock Out from under the other medical officer. He held him off to the side, keeping a firm hold on him while he reached down with the other free servo and assisted the other mech off the floor. “My apologizes. He’s been scared all day about his field work next cycle. I’ll try to keep him confined from here on out.” Not that Breakdown held any reserve about making it known that Knock Out was scared about going out the next cycle. Payback, really.

      The next step now that his attention was fully on the cherry red medic? Getting him back where he belonged. This involved half shove, half carrying him by that panel if he resisted and the iron grip he had on him would have prevented a repeat of the incident they had just finished with. In the time that it took for him to return Knock Out to his medical bay he had calmed down considerably and the rage he had towards the medic seemed to have dissipated. Not enough to prevent him from giving him a shove back into the room through the badly dented door and pointing to his corner where clearly he seemed to be staying in like one would do to a punished sparkling, but at least he wasn’t looking like he was about to rip him into pieces.

      “Recharge. It would be dangerous for you to go out there without rest. And no, they won’t reassign you just because of that so best to just deal with it.” Breakdown stood right in the makeshift exitway he had made out of the ruined door, arms crossed, watching the medic with an expression of indifference. Good luck for Knock Out to get out now.

[Knock Out]

Every time Knock Out wiggled or tried to pull himself out from under the other medical personnel, the mech would move against him in an attempt to be helpful – but all it managed to do was hinder any progress that was being made in getting the prissy Medic free. They were a tangled mess of limbs, and Knock Out was furious – as evident by his growls and groans as he tried to forcibly shove the other mech off him.

A last ditch and desperate attempt was made as he saw Breakdown coming toward them – but it was no use. The other mech, in his panicked flailing, just made things worse.

“No! No, I'm fin-- Argh! Unhand me!” Knock Out squawked as he was forcibly dragged out from under the other mech, swinging wildly with his elbows in an attempt to jab at Breakdown – but that, too, did not work. It seemed slow and steady did win the race sometimes, and this was sadly one of those times.

The other mech was much more welcoming and appreciative of the assistance given, and would pull himself up with Breakdown's aid, brushing himself down lightly with a servo.

“Understandable!” He nodded and gave the squirming Knock Out a sympathetic smile. They all had to do it, he'd been there – and would be out there again tomorrow himself. It had sadly just become part of the job. The first time was always a little scary, especially this far into the war – and Knock Out had a bit of a reputation as being something of a prissy snob, so it was no wonder he was freaking the frag out. Still, he'd heard rumors of an upcoming promotion for the cherry red mech, and while he wasn't a gossip like Knock Out, he began to wonder if it was true – given the behavior he'd just witnessed. “I wish you two all the best out there, stay safe!” He'd give a half wave, before turning back into the room from which he came – probably to clean himself up a little more, or to silently contemplate why someone like Knock Out was in line for promotion to CMO...

Knock Out, meanwhile, would whine in protest like a petulant child as he was moved back to his own Medical Bay. Thankfully nobody else was around to lay witness to these events, which included Knock Out managing to break free from Breakdown's grasp for all of half a second before he was snatched back and half carried half dragged back. Not the behavior that one would expect from an accomplished Medic such as Knock Out, but then again he was used to getting his own way.

As he was shoved back into the room he'd stumble forwards before turning on his heel to stare up at Breakdown almost defiantly. He didn't speak, but his look said it all. How dare Breakdown handle him the way he had. While Breakdown had calmed down considerably, this had only riled Knock Out up further – and the agitation from his field showed as such, as did his servos that were now curled into tight fists.

Recharge. Everyone has to do that at some point, right? Including Breakdown. He said it himself – it'd be dangerous to go out there without rest. Knock Out was used to running days on end with minimal recharge, it came with the job! So all he'd have to do was stay still, quiet, and pretend that he was recharging. Then the moment that Breakdown let down his guard? Knock Out would take his chance. A big guy like him probably needed a decent amount of sleep, so hopefully he'd be out like a light.

“I know they won't, I'm not an idiot,” He droned, smearing one servo down his faceplate with a sigh. “And you don't have to point, I am well aware of where I recharge in my own office.” He moved over to said corner begrudgingly, with heavy steps. Honestly Knock Out recharged wherever, sometimes exhaustion took him while he was sitting at his desk, but the small out the way corner with the small berth that looked too tiny to be of use for anything medical related was probably his 'official' sleeping quarters.

He'd flop down onto the berth, curling onto his side facing the doorway – and closed his optics.

But he did not slip into recharge. How could he? Thoughts about tomorrow riddled his processor, and while he was outwardly calm? He was fighting a losing battle of nerves.

--

What felt like hours passed, and he'd half open one optic to sneak a peek across the room – to see if Breakdown had finally given up and fallen into recharge himself.

He couldn't tell – Breakdown seemed to be vacantly staring across the room, but he couldn't see Breakdown's optics from here. Was he awake? Or was he asl--

Breakdown turned to look at him, and Knock Out's optic snapped shut. He lay still. Very still. He was asleep, honest. Totally asleep. After what he considered to be a safe amount of time had passed, he'd slowly open one optic once more to watch.

Fall asleep already.

This went on for hours. Knock Out feigning recharge, with the occasional, sneaky glance across at his 'bodyguard' to see if he was sleeping yet. Sometimes Knock Out would shift position, to make his 'performance' seem more legit, but otherwise, he was quiet. Sleep for the big blue mech never came, though, much to Knock Out's displeasure.

Knock Out was exhausted, but it was too little too late for any real attempt at recharge – morning had arrived.