[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Question & Answer (Closed)
Oct 8, 2023 21:47:23 GMT -5
Post by Knock Out on Oct 8, 2023 21:47:23 GMT -5
At Prowl’s comment about the half ration, Knock Out chuckled, easing his wrists against the restraints once more, humming quietly in thought before he replied.
“Oh, I’m sure I’d find a way to manage.”
He knew his own frame well, and while a half ration would be annoying - a constant state of hunger that wasn’t quite painful, yet enough to occupy one's processor - he could conserve his energy. It wasn’t like he’d be working or out racing where he’d burn through his own reserves, and compared to what the Decepticons would offer to a prisoner of their own? It sounded almost luxurious.
The isolation would get to him first, he was sure. He craved attention, longed for conversation - and while he could probably find humor in talking to himself, it’d get old very quickly. The inability to go racing would be devastating. Stuck in root mode, unable to feel the asphalt beneath his tires as he weaved in and out of traffic at blisteringly fast speeds?
His processor lingered on these thoughts, barely registering Prowl’s question until the words ‘Chief Medical Officer’ were said - and it was then he’d frown.
“I mean, I suppose so. Things will keep going in my absence, I’m sure. Unlike you Autobots, we don’t lose our Medics left and right to MECH - we have plenty.” that part was a lie, of course, though he would take any opportunity to make it sound like the Decepticons were a lot more threatening than they actually were.
Though it did have him thinking.
Had Flatline taken his position already, he wondered. The other mech had made no secret over the years that he thought himself worthy of it, and with his own absence, it was the perfect opportunity for the black and red mech to take that which he thought he rightly deserved.
Maybe he had more honor than that. Holding out hope of Knock Out’s return, refusing to take the position and all the responsibility that came with it until it was all but confirmed the cherry-red mech wouldn’t be coming back.
Ah, if only he knew the truth of it.
The laugh at his suggestion was met with a gentle tsk.
“Suit yourself. I’m not asking for carte blanche, you moron. I’d expect to be fully supervised, and under strict regulation regarding what I could do, but even then - Medics, yes even Decepticon ones such as myself - have to abide by a code of ethics. Meaning no funny business, nor sabotage, as tempting as it would be. I’m insulted you think I have no honor!” he vented out an overly dramatic sigh, wishing he could splay his long fingertips across his chassis to show just how offended he actually was.
While it would certainly been seen as odd, if not flat-out traitorous to help repair the enemy team, especially during war, perhaps some good could come from it - should he ever be allowed to do so. Being able to see more of the Autobot base would be beneficial, as well as trying to get an exact number of how many actually resided here. While Soundwave probably had a rough estimate, having exact details would be a boon indeed.
Hopefully, Prowl would rethink things. The loss of their two medics had to hurt them sooner or later, and that patch job on the Enforcer’s frame was mediocre at best. Like a sparkling with a bandmesh - it was painful to even look at.
Maybe when it stopped doing its job and he found himself bleeding to death, he’d come crawling down to the brig, begging for aid.
That’d be the day, one that he hoped would come sooner, rather than later.
At Prowl’s next words, he’d shrug.
“I wouldn’t put it past him.” he spoke casually, almost as if he fully expected it to probably be the case already. “You never know, maybe some of those craftier Autobots would do some dodgy deals behind the scenes if they thought it would give them the upper hand. MECH are advancing in leaps and bounds by all accounts, ah, the things we could achieve if we worked alongside them.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’d find a way to manage.”
He knew his own frame well, and while a half ration would be annoying - a constant state of hunger that wasn’t quite painful, yet enough to occupy one's processor - he could conserve his energy. It wasn’t like he’d be working or out racing where he’d burn through his own reserves, and compared to what the Decepticons would offer to a prisoner of their own? It sounded almost luxurious.
The isolation would get to him first, he was sure. He craved attention, longed for conversation - and while he could probably find humor in talking to himself, it’d get old very quickly. The inability to go racing would be devastating. Stuck in root mode, unable to feel the asphalt beneath his tires as he weaved in and out of traffic at blisteringly fast speeds?
His processor lingered on these thoughts, barely registering Prowl’s question until the words ‘Chief Medical Officer’ were said - and it was then he’d frown.
“I mean, I suppose so. Things will keep going in my absence, I’m sure. Unlike you Autobots, we don’t lose our Medics left and right to MECH - we have plenty.” that part was a lie, of course, though he would take any opportunity to make it sound like the Decepticons were a lot more threatening than they actually were.
Though it did have him thinking.
Had Flatline taken his position already, he wondered. The other mech had made no secret over the years that he thought himself worthy of it, and with his own absence, it was the perfect opportunity for the black and red mech to take that which he thought he rightly deserved.
Maybe he had more honor than that. Holding out hope of Knock Out’s return, refusing to take the position and all the responsibility that came with it until it was all but confirmed the cherry-red mech wouldn’t be coming back.
Ah, if only he knew the truth of it.
The laugh at his suggestion was met with a gentle tsk.
“Suit yourself. I’m not asking for carte blanche, you moron. I’d expect to be fully supervised, and under strict regulation regarding what I could do, but even then - Medics, yes even Decepticon ones such as myself - have to abide by a code of ethics. Meaning no funny business, nor sabotage, as tempting as it would be. I’m insulted you think I have no honor!” he vented out an overly dramatic sigh, wishing he could splay his long fingertips across his chassis to show just how offended he actually was.
While it would certainly been seen as odd, if not flat-out traitorous to help repair the enemy team, especially during war, perhaps some good could come from it - should he ever be allowed to do so. Being able to see more of the Autobot base would be beneficial, as well as trying to get an exact number of how many actually resided here. While Soundwave probably had a rough estimate, having exact details would be a boon indeed.
Hopefully, Prowl would rethink things. The loss of their two medics had to hurt them sooner or later, and that patch job on the Enforcer’s frame was mediocre at best. Like a sparkling with a bandmesh - it was painful to even look at.
Maybe when it stopped doing its job and he found himself bleeding to death, he’d come crawling down to the brig, begging for aid.
That’d be the day, one that he hoped would come sooner, rather than later.
At Prowl’s next words, he’d shrug.
“I wouldn’t put it past him.” he spoke casually, almost as if he fully expected it to probably be the case already. “You never know, maybe some of those craftier Autobots would do some dodgy deals behind the scenes if they thought it would give them the upper hand. MECH are advancing in leaps and bounds by all accounts, ah, the things we could achieve if we worked alongside them.”