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

[Knock Out]

Knock Out wouldn't reply to Flatline's growl about his secondary arms, not wanting to say something that'd offend the other mech further, ((which he probably would)) especially now he was in possession of the stun-gun like apparatus and was stood behind Knock Out. He was now fully leant over Roulette to get a good look at the optic, before humming in thought. He'd grab the tweezers that he'd pulled out of the drawer earlier, and would begin to gently ease some of the larger pieces of shrapnel from the now numbed side of Roulette's face.

“By the way... Did you by chance hit your helm when that thing exploded on you, Roulette? You don't seem to be your usual peppy self today!” He smiled at her as he spoke. Which was probably kinda creepy, considering he was looming down over her faceplate to see what he was doing.

Roulette was being awfully quiet today, Knock Out had decided. At least compared to usual. Then again, she could be forgiven for that. He wouldn't be too thrilled if he had taken an explosion to the face – not that it'd make him stop being his usual charming self, but everyone was different! Plus there was the fact that nobody really liked Medical Bays, and it must be truly awful having to witness the pissing contest going on infront of oneself. That, and it was still ridiculously early, at least by Knock Out's standards. Still, he was surprised she wasn't chiming in with her own sass.

There were tiny 'clinks' as he removed chunks of metal, depositing them into a small metal tray to be disposed of later. He wanted to get the area cleaned as best he could before he started to work on the actual optic itself, then once it was repaired fully, he'd flush the whole thing out with solvent to try and free up the tinier slithers of metal. With his free servo, he'd dab gently to clean up fresh energon that oozed from the wounds.

“And Flatline, you could drive it up my dorsal vent if you so wish, if you're into that kind of thing anyway. I mean I'll try anything once... But just remember that you would be the only one qualified to get it back out!”

That would be fun.

He would visibly flinch each time the gun was fired at the ceiling, pausing the meticulous picking-out-of-shrapnel, not wanting to jerk and stab Roulette in the optic. The poor thing had enough holes in her faceplate already without another.

“Mm. I need you to stop doing that, for a start. But ah, in all seriousness... If you want to waste your time and make a new ring, be my guest. As long as you do it in here, so I know you aren't going to sneak off with that degreaser. I'm sure in the future when we actually need one, it'll be nice to have one on hand.”

Clink.

He'd continue to dab away energon as it dribbled from the now shrapnel-free-holes, trying to get this done as quickly as possible so the both of them could go back to their side of the Nemesis and out of his Medical Bay. His optics narrowed into a frown.

“Roulette, dear. Next time you decide to have a thing explode in your face, come to me before trying to pry slag out yourself, alright? You've made this much worse, and take so much longer than it ever needed to be. Let me know if you start to regain feeling in your faceplate, so my wonderful assistant over there can make himself useful.”

Clink.

[Deleted]

Honestly, Roulette missed half of their witty banter. She was too busy trying to mentally talk herself through the irrational urge to draw on them. How weird. Of course, they were irritating enough to make one think they wanted to shoot them. But she never would have before. That was something one would say flippantly while probably laughing to themselves. But her hand actually twitched toward her thighs before she made them clench the side of the berth. It wasn't a particularly hard clench. The joints didn't even strain in their housing. She just...wasn't sure what she was doing.

Why? What's wrong with me? Why do I feel like this? It's just Flatline and Knockout. I've been around them before. They're no more annoying than the Vehicons. Shockwave is far worse. 

She wasn't so sure. Oh, she was sure Shockwave was the worse evil between the three. But, irrationally, at the moment she wanted to flee back to his lab and lock herself in there where everything was familiar. Nothing ever really changed in that sterile environment. And while the medbay wasn't a chaotic location, it just...it didn't feel good right now. Maybe it was the two idiots trying to fix her. Maybe it was the tools and the berth. Maybe it was someone fiddling with her face and optic again. That thought sent a stab of anxiety roiling through her field like an ugly storm. 

"I...I don't feel well," she managed to mutter just loud enough for the medic to hear. It was the truth. She felt horrible. Just not physically. 

[Flatline]

"You are the worst"

He growled at Knock Out after his lewd commentary. When it came to such crass jokes, the two medics couldn't be further from one another. Knock Out was tactless and perverse, while Flatline disliked anything even like that. Of sure, he wasn't above making his own commentary if he felt the need, but his were more sideways jabs to antagonize than some kind of weird flirty action at anything with two feet. Alas, Knock Out continued to speak, and Flatline's scowl had flicked away some.

The corner of his mouth twitched up, a flinched movement that tried to form a grin, but held back and thought better of it, making the amused look more of a smirk. He found the fact the numbing gun was making Knock Out twitch to be absolutely fabulous, as it conveyed he may have actually thought he would follow through with his threat... but... twitching when working on a patient was bad, so he complied rather than pushed the other doctor's buttons that much more.

Because of this, Flatline's secondary lowered down in its socket, gingerly folding up near his chest to rest alongside the other. Tiny fingers still held onto the gun of course, it's pointer resting over the trigger, but the other secondary handed off the degreaser to a primary, before the tiny appendage rested its palm over the top edge of the gun. This left it aiming down towards the ground, making it a platform to rest his small limb on.

He was considering what he could do or say next, debating how he would reply to the statement he could waste his time, but then... everything changed rather fast.

Roulette's words hit Flatline hard, and he suddenly became painfully aware of her field that was a rolling miasma of anxiety and distress. This wasn't the Roulette he knew, this wasn't the femme he had to work beside, this voice was so... quiet... meek... did he dare consider it scared? This was wrong, and while he didn't know her for very long, he knew this was bad and it instantly bothered him.

A calmness folded over Flatline then, sharp eyes softening from their hard glare into something more somber, while his angled features evened out. His own field that had been projecting amusement from Knock Out's suffering before, pulled back and flattened, to not bombard or harass Roulette with needless input that didn't actually solve or fix anything. There was no edge of worry in it, even though he felt it, masking it well to not influence.

"You will be fixed up well Roulette... this really won't take much longer..."

Stepping back and away momentarily, Flatline walked over to a nearby table and sat down the degreaser and his half empty cube of Energon, intending to get them out of the way since they didn't actually help anything. With the objects out of his grasp, he would move back over with a calm gate, intending to place himself at Knock Outs side that had the tools strewn out across the thin metal tray.

Without a word, without harassing Knock Out on what he was doing, or making his own commentary on how he was taking a cheap path, Flatline opted to just help and stop boasting. This displayed itself in his silence that formed, and the fact he set the numbing gun down on the far corner of the tray Knock Out had put tools on, before the tiny hands quickly started to organize the tweezers and bonding agents into a clean display. Things sorted by size, and function, strewn evenly on the tray for ease of access. He made sure to not touch anywhere that truly mattered as well. While Flatline's small hands weren't FILTHY, and he kept himself clean, there was no need to force Knock Out to re-sanitize something because he touched the working end of it.

He was willing to work now, and looked for anything he could do.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out should've been paying more attention. He should've spent less time in this pathetic pissing contest with Flatline to prove he was the better Medic (he was) and more time on his patient. Her field had been telling them all along that something wasn't quite right, and it shouldn't have taken the fact she wasn't being her normal sassy self for Knock Out – Or Flatline – to notice this.

They were both at fault.

Knock Out because it was his job to notice things like this. Flatline because he spent so much time with Roulette and should've picked up on the change in personality. Her quietness. Her field. Neither of them had. They'd both failed.

Knock Out's own field was still level and calm, unchanging from when he'd first entered the room. Even when he'd been taunting and teasing Flatline? It hadn't rippled with any hint of amusement or shifted to show ire when the other mech threw witty comebacks at him, despite his facial expressions and body language stating that he felt otherwise.

It was something he'd learned due to his years of experience. Not to show emotion. Not to show any hint of anything when you were working on a patient; not on your face, and especially not in your field. People picked up on things like that, and if you were staring down at them with a panicked expression while your field radiated nervousness? That wouldn't end well.

Sure, one could tell when the cherry-red mech was in a good mood and being playful like today, due to the tone of his voice and his actions. But when he was in the Medical Bay? His field would always be level no matter his tone or facial expression; even when he wasn't working. It was a habit he'd grown into, and one that wouldn't change. Outside the Medical Bay was a different story, of course; but inside the Medical Bay? It was hard to tell what Knock Out was feeling if you were to go off field reading alone.

He'd broken one of his own protocols by smiling at Roulette as he worked on her, and gently teased her about not being herself. Things had been so casual and lighthearted up until now, that he'd slipped up there. He thought this would be such a routine, easy job that he hadn't really stepped into 'medic mode' fully. That smile would quickly fade from his faceplate, and he'd pause picking out the shrapnel to give Roulette a look of genuine concern. He heard Flatline speak from somewhere over his shoulder, and he'd give a reassuring nod to Roulette in reply.

“Flatline is correct, this wont take long. I am worried, though. What do you mean by you don't feel well? Does somewhere else hurt?”

Okay so maybe he was mostly at fault (not that he'd ever admit that). He shouldn't have been so distracted by Flatline and instead followed proper procedures, linking Roulette upto the diagnostic screen to see if there was something else wrong – even if it didn't look like there was. In his defense, she hadn't complained about anywhere else hurting; nor did it look like the blast from the whatever-it-was exploding had hurt her anywhere other than her faceplate and optic. It had to be something else. But what?

He would glance briefly to Flatline as he in turn got all serious, starting to organize the tools without Knock Out asking him to. He'd nod in silent thanks. Together they could make quite the team, once they set aside their differences, anyway. His attention turning back to Roulette, although he didn't return to picking out shrapnel. Not just yet. He was worried now, and ashamed that he hadn't picked up on things being wrong sooner.

[Deleted]

Which was worse? Their distracted disregard and comfortable, if not mean, banter with one another? Or their laser focus on her, the apparent patient? The femme was facing this dilemma. She hadn't wanted to be in this situation in the first place and having them suddenly act..like this was important, as if she had any value unnerved her more than it should have. The feelings of violation retreated but an unhealthy realization that she was the center of attention for the moment took its place. Was she ever going to just be ok?!

She grimaced and looked away from the both of them with a disgusted sound. "I'm not some fragile piece of glass." The minute the words left her mouth she wasn't so sure they weren't for her own benefit. They knew that about her. Hell, she was an accomplished enough femme and could take care of herself. Even if at the moment, her aim would be shaky and as troubled as her mind.

There is something wrong with me. This isn't normal. This isn't sane. I never feel like this. The only thing I fear is Shockwave.

Even the threat of his name didn't make her shudder. That definitely wasn't right! So what had changed? She'd recovered from her brush with MECH. They'd barely hurt her. Well, perhaps that was a stretch. But she was whole and sane. Ish. So what was wrong in this moment now? 

For the life of her, she couldn't say what.

"...I just...I don't like my face being messed with." That was as close to admitting to the incident as she would allow herself. Let them think her vain or stubborn. Better than weak. 

[Flatline]

Roulette did have value, and that was the bottom line. It wasn't just a case of the fact Cybertronians as a whole were at the end of their numbers, and Decepticons needed all the help they could get to maintain their clear lead in the war, but she had talents and skills somewhere locked in her helm that made her good enough or useful enough for Shockwave to grasp onto. If she was surprised or unnerved at this revelation... well, it may be something shed have to cope with since it now seemed both medics were keen to help her rather than hinder, Flatline focused down and actually trying to evaluate the situation beyond surface injury, listening to her words with care.

"I am fairly certain if you were, you would be long dead by now."

A comment that could have been said snarkily in return, was far more calm. Reassuring.

No... This was not just about her face being messed with. Something else was going on as far as Flatline could tell. Out of everyone on this ship, he had spent the most time around Roulette, and liked to think he knew enough of her to make sound judgment calls or assumptions. She was bold, strong, one to speak her mind and step forth without care. She was a capable femme that didn’t let her smaller stature even be an issue, and if something was out of line or wrong she didn't seem above commenting on it with the bluntness of a cudgel. This dainty more passive Roulette... no... it was wrong.

There were two things that this could mean from first impulse. Either the shockwave blast from the weapon exploding jostled something internal to make her disoriented and not fully in her right mind, or she wasn't sharing with them the issue in full. The way she spoke about her face being messed with, and her distaste, well... it didn't really read to him as vanity. It didn’t remind him of Knock Out and as such he tried to scrabble for things that may have happened to her face that could incur this sort of response to. Sadly, he didn’t have the knowledge to know what MECH had done, so that conclusion was far from his grasp.

"Roulette, would you be opposed to a medical link so I could look for internal damages that the blast may have created?"

The medical link should permit him to sift through readouts and information straight from her system, allowing him to quickly zero in on anything that could be wrong. It was intuitive, driven by reflex in a way, and Flatline always found it quicker and more efficient. Then again, he had mostly worked on frames that weren't even given life yet through the All-Spark, or those that were so decimated in the war effort that every fraction of time lost was a potential loss of life. There was no time to wait for the slower scans of a computer readout that needed time to sift through the data and derive where a fault may be. Handheld scanners were quicker, but... they tended to seem more vague and generalized.

Either way, Flatline was keen to save time if she would let him. Do a manual scan through the line, pinpoint if there is an issue, and by then Knock Out should possibly be on to her eye and then she could get out of here and back on her merry way. That is... if she indeed didn't have anything jostled up in her helm. If that was the case than the two medics would be in for a far more problematic issue, unless it was something that rest and auto-repair would tackle on its own in time.

"We can then try to get you out of here sooner..."

[Knock Out]

“We know you aren't, Roulette.” Came the reassuring reply from Knock Out as he continued to lean over her, not plucking out more shrapnel just yet. He wasn't judging her. All things considered? She was taking this like an absolute champ. If Knock Out had something explode in his face? There would be screaming, flailing and no shortage of panic. If it weren't for her field telling them otherwise? She was handling this pretty well.

Sort of.

Knock Out didn't quite believe that this was simply her being finicky about her face being touched. He had been the one to fix her up after her encounter with MECH – where he'd done work repairing and checking over her optic after they'd had the nerve to hijack a hard line into it, as well as fixing up and patching up the armored plating that they'd removed where they'd poked and prodded around to learn more about their kind. There had been no real complaints there about him being near her faceplate or optic then, he remembered.

Then again, this random fear could've come after that encounter, once she'd had time to process everything that'd gone on. It wasn't unheard of, especially if she hadn't talked to anyone about what'd happened aside from the bare minimum. She most definitely hadn't spoken to him about it, and he severely doubted that she'd confide in Shockwave or Flatline if she were scared. To show fear or any sign of weakness as a Decepticon never ended well. Breakdown had been through similar in regards to his optic – after all, he'd lost his to MECH, but he'd been able to sit with Knock Out and talk about it, clear things up... Clear his processor some, to help move on. At first he'd been wary with having his faceplate touched, but with time? He trusted Knock Out again. The nightmares still lingered, though. Maybe it was the same for Roulette.

Had it not been enough time? Should he have asked Roulette how she was doing? How she was really doing? Not that she'd ever confide in him. He was known as a gossip, and he'd never outright deny that! But if a patient ever wanted to confide in him about a sensitive matter? He could keep his mouth shut. Doctor-patient confidentially clause and all that.

Unfortunately for Roulette, however, she'd taken an explosion to the face – so even if it hadn't been enough time to mentally get over everything? He had no choice but to repair her face now! Less she wanted to walk around with her face peppered with holes, and he couldn't in good conscious allow that to happen.

“I understand, but sadly I have to 'mess' with your face in order to fix the damage that has been inflicted. It really wont take long, though. I will do my best to be as quick and effective as possible, and with Flatline here? It'll go in double time, I'm sure!”

A wary glance was made Flatline's way as the other Mech spoke, and Knock Out couldn't help but quirk a brow. While he liked seeing the other Medic take some initiative, this was his Medical Lab, and he was the Chief Medical Officer here! But... It was a good idea.

“It probably would be beneficial to do a medical link, it will get things moving along faster.” He'd add, just incase Roulette needed a little extra convincing.

[Deleted]

Ew. Flatline fishing around in her looking for answers. The thought wasn't a pleasant one but not entirely out of the question. Truth was, Roulette had been to the medic so often that this was fairly routine. No doubt humans would find the trait horrifying that they could link up so easily with one another. But their kind had the ability and it was second nature to create such informational paths. That was the beauty of her kind, they communicated on many layers. Not just verbal. Fields were an artful dance conveying emotion and intent. Some gifted could hold an entire conversation with not speaking a word of their language. 

So the thought of a medical feed wasn't unheard of or abhorrent. It was really just annoying. Like having any doc ask one to bend over and cough. But it would make things go loads faster. And the sooner she was out of this sterile place and away to whatever part of the ship she could hide in, the better. Then she could get a hold of herself and stop being so...useless. Besides, she'd let Shockwave do worse to her. His touch wasn't so much a caring evaluation as so much a blunt force battering into the psyche and every external bit she had. The scientist probably knew more about her body than she did. Quite literally.

"Yes. Fine. Do whatever." The words were airy but didn't seem to carry well when out in the medbay. They came out terse and disjointed as if she were under fire. Great, now she couldn't even control the way she spoke! Maybe the explosion had rattled something loose in her head. Actually, she liked the idea of that better. If that was the cause, it was an easy fix. If not, the alternative was...a lot harder to define. 

"That is, if you two can get along long enough." Ah, that was starting to feel a little more familiar. More banter and less edgy, snapping words. She was neatly laying down a gauntlet for them all to focus on and to bleed out some of the tension as if she were excising a wound. 

[Flatline]

"I ASSUME Knock Out is professional enough to be able to work with me for this task."

Roulette's goal hit spot on, and she manipulated Flatline right into the direction she wanted him to go. It really wasn't hard though, given his venomous distaste to the other professional. Professional? Was that even the way to describe the flashy showboating mech who played a role like a theater performance? Hardly. It was ill fitting and... and there went Flatline's thoughts into how much he disliked the red mech. But while his innermost thoughts were now stuck in the little hate merry go round he clutched onto ((Instead of pondering Roulette's change in attitude)), his mind was put onto the task of actually figuring out if there was damages.

Carefully once he had gotten the go-ahead to do so, Flatline reached his right primary down near Roulette's helm, looking at Knock Out so that he would be aware and back off momentarily. He wasn't going to just MOVE her when he had his tools poking around, and as such it was only when he retreated for a moment, that he snaked his hand beneath her head and gently lifted it a small amount.

It didn't require much room to plug in the diagnostic cable, one of his secondary's unreeling it from the crook of his elbow and snapping it into place with a small click. Once the cable was secured in place, Flatline would let her helm lower down once more, though the palm of his hand was still cupped behind it, holding her steady as his processor drifted elsewhere.

Typical readouts.

Typical responses.

A few small errors jumped up first, readouts sharing that a relay or a neural cluster was pulled apart, or that there was a breach to a system. It was all scarier terminology for there just being the small cuts and injuries she had on her faceplate. There were reports about optic problems, which, was also a known variable. No medic worth their credits would be able to MISS that thing. From there however it was all just... nothing...

Oh they all had some issues here or there. War tended to make things a bit cobbled over time. Replacement pieces not perfectly lining up to what the original blueprint was, or a few crossed lines that now serve a new purpose as they were re-directed to a new location. Some typical wear and tear for joints and internal organs, and a few complaints about some scarred over mesh. Nothing that causes anything noticeable mind you, just... fractions. Flecks of information. It was relieving and also troubling that those minuscule and negligible things would even drift forward first.

The fact processor issues weren’t coming up first, meant there had to not be any, or... he was searching improperly.

Flatline's gaze was a bit distant as he filtered through the information, blankly staring across the way while he tried to actually understand what was being flung at him. He really wouldn't react to anything that Knock Out or Roulette would say, at least not right away, his response times delayed greatly under the flow of data. But... he HAD to find something. If there was nothing and he declared nothing, and then Knock Out found something? Oh no nono... he can't have that. No way, he CAN'T. It is because of this he pushed a bit harder, trying to claw in and find something of an excuse.

The medical link only worked for physical attributes. At least, Flatline's did. He couldn't access thoughts or memories, and couldn't even pick up emotions through it. He could derive some however, picking up on the state of one's body and the stresses being applied to them. This meant that Roulette's anxiety could almost be felt in a way, dictated back to him in the most arbitrary of data. But why was she stressed?

Flatline worked on soulless shells mostly. He never got the foundation training to deal with psychological issues for his patients. He understood psychology of a new spark, and he dabbled in some reading to sate curiosity when it came to adult frames, but he had no formal training, and wouldn't even know where to start in this situation.

Finally seeming to shake off the trance like state he fell into, he spoke slower, still picking at small bits of data which made his speech lag.

"I am- not finding anything. It didn't- breach past- the optic- wall.

[Knock Out]

“You assume correctly, given that I asked you to assist.” He'd scoff at Flatline. His tone remained flat, lip curled into a subtle sneer. While he hadn't asked Flatline to step in fully and take over like he seemed to be doing, he had asked for assistance – if only to make the other mech earn what he had tried to steal. Plus this way he may get a little insight as to how Flatline did things, even though this was so very routine. The other mech made no secret of the fact he thought he was better at things than Knock Out, and maybe the Chief Medical Officer could work out if this were true (it wasn't).

Oh sure, he could work with Flatline, and if the two of them were on better terms? The things they could achieve together would be actually quite terrifyingly amazing. They could build and work on things that'd give the Decepticon cause a bigger advantage than it already had over the Autobots... But, sadly the pair of Medics couldn't get along for that long. The fact they'd remained civil enough right now was almost a miracle in itself.

As Flatline reached forward, Knock Out would set down the pair of tweezers and take a half step back to allow the other mech room to work. He'd fold his arms across his chassis, gaze not leaving Flatline as he moved into position and plugged in the diagnostic cable. He was watching his technique, not that there was really a wrong way to do such a simple procedure, but if he could pinpoint anything to mock Flatline later for? He was all for it.

Sadly it all went to plan, and all Knock Out could do was stand in awkward silence and wait for the cable to relay the data back to Flatline, who would then hopefully inform him what was actually wrong – if anything. He was only silent as he didn't want to distract, plus this way it could be done faster and they could both leave Knock Out to his work.

His gaze would shift to Roulette, watching for signs that anything was wrong – despite him not being linked to her through the diagnostic cable. As Flatline spoke, Knock Out would unfold his arms and turn his attention back to him.

“That's it?” He asked, unimpressed. He stared deadpan at Flatline as if trying to read his processor and work out what Flatline had seen exactly through the cable readouts. No, there had to be more. There had to be some reason why she was being so oddly quiet and unlike herself. While it was a good thing that the shrapnel hadn't done more damage, surely there was some underlying reason for the personality change.

“Would you like me to have a look myself?” He knew he should've done that from the onset... “Since what Flatline has given us is of little help into the.. Ah, other issues.”

It was up to Roulette, really, and so he'd look back at her as he asked the question. If she was troubled by anything? Now would be the time to speak up about it if she wanted it looked at in more depth. Knock Out couldn't look into things if she didn't want him to, and she had only come in here to get her faceplate and optic fixed, after all.

[Deleted]

Two was a party. Three was becoming a crowd. Roulette was accepting that in medical procedures, sometimes a datalink was common place. That didn't mean she liked it anymore than the next mecha. Having to endure it twice in one setting was asking for a bit much. It wasn't like she could feel the other mech more than just a perfunctory presence sifting through neural feed. But the whole uncomfortable start to this sham was because she was uncomfortable with the presence being there. Or being probed at. 

Sure, it wasn't blunt force like MECH when they had-

Her optics widened as she thought on that little epiphany. Of course...she really was being an idiot. How could she not have connected the very two things? Even Shockwave would have pointed this out in the banal of terms. Something about stress related blah blah blah. Gods, already she was bored with this tone and she wasn't even speaking to him. 

"I...don't think a second opinion would help. I'll trust Flatline in this. I think it would be rude to question his...credentials." And now to let them stew over that while she debated if she should tell them. They were medics and, by rights, should know about this...weird hysteria she was suffering from every time she had to undergo some observation. But that would be a gigantic weakness she would be admitting to. To basically two mechs who could be her enemy at any point in time. 

No, better to let them think it a weird happenstance with no explanation than for them to see her as anything but what she presented. She'd keep quiet now.