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

[Breakdown]

Timeline:
During the war. Long before the Exodus.

---

     Kaon was a city not known for aesthetics. It served its purpose as the main city controlled by the warring Decepticon faction. It housed many reminders of their past; a past they had fought against for so long now that it was almost hard to remember what things were before everything had become so chaotic. For those who were among the last sparked, however? War was all they knew. 

     Breakdown was one of those few. He had been sparked when the war was already underway. All he knew was the chaos, the orders, the way things were now. The stories of the past were just that- stories told to the young to give them something to look forward to 'once the war was over', warped in whatever way to suit the storyteller. The older mech who had been around before the outbreak often subjected Breakdown to such stories. At first he had been created to suit the needs of the neutral Enforcement team, but his defect led him down a much different path. The Decepticons had picked him up, and thrown him to the front lines where it was nothing BUT old stories from the mechs. War stories this, background that. Some were interesting. Others were not. 

     The front line, the first ones in, the 'throw away teams', were full of defective mechs or those who had just lost their usefulness. Breakdown's paranoia had lead him here, and his particular team's success under his leadership had now brought him elsewhere. This new place was hardly what he hoped for. His team said that he was lucky, that he should take the opportunity being given to him. They encouraged him to go, to take this once in a lifecycle chance to get out of the pit they were all trapped in. He wouldn't be a throwaway as long as he was able to pull off this assignment. They had tried to offer their support but Breakdown was paranoid, not stupid, and all of them knew better than to think anything more of this little 'vacation'. He was still disposable.

     The pair walked, the one in front leading the second through the corridors of Decepticon Headquarters in Kaon. What was happening wasn't unheard of, but it served as entertainment for those who were witness to it all the same. The reason behind this strange situation was a spectacle himself, which made this even more interesting and possibly a bit more strange, because those already stationed at HQ knew something the bulky dark blue mech didn't.

     The General walked ahead of him, keeping mostly quiet, but when he did talk with that gruff voice of his the tone was as condescending as they came. It was to be expected, really, considering there was no reason for Breakdown to have earned any level of respect. Among his team he was their equal, but here? Oh, these halls were full of mechs who paraded around their superiority, staring at him like he was violating some sacred air just by being here. He didn't carry a brand like they did which right away told them of his status. Even through the voices in his own head he could hear them talking, whispering around him. They made jokes at his expense, chatting among themselves, and he knew they were aware he heard their words. Popular opinion seemed to be that he wouldn't make it longer than a metacycle at best.

     "Are you paying attention?"

     No, not really, is what he wanted to say. Instead he had to remind himself that as irritating as this situation was, this was still a superior officer and he couldn't mouth off. He needed a different attitude for this... 'situation'.

     "Yes, sir."

     In spite of his thoughts being elsewhere- as they normally were- Breakdown had been paying close enough attention to know what was being said. He just kept his optics to the floor and followed the General around a turn and down another corridor that led to the medical hall, filled with sounds much different than before. Of course, they were just as uncomfortable but in a different way. 

     "Don't assume that just because you're being given this assignment, that it gives you some sort of... special treatment. This is only temporary and the moment that a qualified member of the faction arrives, you will be relieved from your post and dropped back in.. whatever pit you were pulled from. Understood?"

     Breakdown held back a growl. "Yes sir."

     "Good," he responded with a nod and turned again. This time it was to stop before a door leading to one of the rooms. He motioned to it, staring at Breakdown. "I would advise for you to keep your actual status to yourself, just to ensure this transition goes smoothly. If he were to find out we had assigned someone of such a low class to guard him? He may just decide to scrap you himself. Try not to fail this assignment too quickly, yes?"

     "Yes, sir..."

     When the Captain passed him by, Breakdown lowered his helm and kept his optics to the floor, leaving him before the doors to enter on his own. It was only when he was gone that Breakdown started to relax and lifted his gaze to what was before him. He was going to prove them wrong; he was going to succeed in this assignment and shut all of them up. With a deep inhale he stepped through the doors and into the medbay of one...

     "Medical Officer Knock Out? Breakdown reporting for duty. I have been assigned as your personal bodyguard. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir..."

[Knock Out]

Knock Out wouldn't turn at the sound of the door opening. Nor would he turn at the sound of the heavy footfalls that entered his Medical Bay. Not even the voice addressing him by his title as well as his name made him turn to see who it was that was speaking to him. He was busy. Why did they always decide to do this to him when he was busy?!

Breakdown had walked into a rather messed up looking Medical Bay. It was the middle of a war, after all, so Knock Out could be forgiven for not having any time today to clean up after himself. Breakdown would be greeted with the sight of a rather disheveled cherry-red Mech with his arm elbow-deep inside the chassis of a rather unfortunate seeker who looked like he'd hugged a grenade or ten. The usually shiny finish of the medic was splattered with various shades of blue energon and neon green coolant.

There was one word that came out of the others mouth that made him visibly bristle angrily and tense up.

Bodyguard.

“For frags.. Grr!! How many times have I told you I do not WANT or NEED a damn bodyguard?!” He growled out loudly to nobody in particular, harshly yanking a broken piston from inside the seeker's chassis and coating himself with a fresh splatter of spilled energon in the process, not even flinching. He didn't stop there, turning and hurling the piston with one swift movement, straight at the annoyingly huge blue mech as he moved to storm past this new 'addition' to his Medical Bay. Good thing the piston would easily be replaced and was already broken beyond repair, and that the seeker was in a medical stasis... Because that would've hurt. Not that Knock Out cared. Nor did he care if he hit or missed the blue mech that was just standing there. He'd been here less than a klik and already Knock Out hated him.

He'd yank the door open, glaring left down the corridor, then right. The General, or whoever it was that'd sent this idiot to him was long gone. Probably for the best. They knew damn well that Knock Out didn't want a bodyguard and would've high-tailed it out of there before they were on the receiving end of a screaming match. He didn't need this. He didn't want this. But unfortunately for the cherry-red Mech? What he wanted was of no concern to the higher ups. The medics were dropping like flies – they were being specifically targeted while out on the field, hence why they had to have someone watching out for them at all times.

Knock Out found the whole thing to be redundant. He was one of the very best medics they had. Self taught. He'd risen up the ranks quicker than anyone, even himself – because he'd started out as winging most've it, could've anticipated. He was an amazing trauma surgeon, and as of yet? He hadn't been out on the field. Hence why he insisted that he had no need for a bodyguard.

This poor unfortunate soul was Knock Out's fourth. To say that he was a pain to work with would be an understatement. The first one had lasted just over two Orns before Knock Out's attitude had made him seek a transfer elsewhere. The second lasted a little longer, but eventually quit for the same reason. The third? The third had to be some kind of record. He'd lasted half a Joor. Knock Out was oddly proud of that.

Maybe this one would last even less. Knock Out hoped so.

With a frustrated growl of a sigh, he would close the door and move back into the Medical Bay, back to the seeker that he'd been working on. It was easy to see why they kept him around despite his attitude – within moments he'd reached into a cabinet, pulled out a spare piston and inserted it into the chassis of the seeker. The energon leak was patched and welded, the part replaced and was as good as new. Knock Out was good at his job. A perfectionist. There was a reason he hadn't been sent out onto the field (yet) – his place was in the Medical Bay doing more complex life saving procedures. He didn't need help.

Speaking of... He finally turned to look at Breakdown, wiping his servos clean of spilled energon with a rag as he sized the much taller mech up, scoffing in displeasure at what he saw. Was this some kind of joke? His lips curling into an unamused sneer. He may have had to look up at the mech, due to his short stature, but his tone of voice and cocky arrogance meant he sure was speaking down to him.

“As you can probably see I have no need, want, or time for a bodyguard. Feel free to leave, Brokenwad, or whatever you said your name was.”

Sadly for Knock Out, and unbeknownst to Knock Out.. He did, or at least would, infact need a bodyguard, as his cushy lifestyle of hiding away in the Medical Bay would soon be about to end. With medics being picked off? They needed more out in the field – even their more valuable and higher ranking trauma surgeons and doctors like Knock Out. 

[Breakdown]

     While the medic was having his little tantrum, something was hurled his way. It didn't seem particularly threatening so instead of hitting it away and risking it being reflected back ( which probably would have caused a whole heap of other trouble ) he just let it strike him. It hit the thick corner of his protruding chassis- leaving a speck of energon behind- and bounced off the solid metal about a foot or so away before gravity took over and the part clattered to the floor and then came to a silent stop. Breakdown took note of where it had come to rest before letting his optics follow the medic around, first to the door where he seemed to be looking for the one who had dropped him off, then around the medical bay once he had moved to return to the patient.

     The moment of studying Knock Out's work would last, finding the movements from the other curiously intriguing to him. He had seen many medics out on the field but he had never had the opportunity to actually see what the procedure was. Breakdown was told that each medic, while learning the same trade, each had their own signature when it came to how they worked. It was a way they they could decipher one medical officer from another, and sometimes being worked on the rumored best was almost as good of bragging rights as how many kills one had to their designation depending on the group. It would be interesting to see if Breakdown could figure out this ones signature, but with being stuck at Knock Out's side, he would probably end up remembering each patient worked on. It was just the odd way that Breakdown's faulty system operated. 

     The medic was finished with the procedure almost as quickly as he had started, at least from the time lapse that Breakdown was working with. One moment he was elbows deep in the seeker's chassis, and now he was wiping his dirty servos off on a rag. Breakdown half expected him to throw that at him as well. Instead- at least for now- it was words that were hurled his way. Clearly the red mech didn't understand the severity of the situation. Breakdown had been briefed on it just so he knew what they were about to go up against. It seemed his charge had not been in on the same meeting. 

     Oh, this one had some spite behind him. PERFECT! This was going to be perfect. Only not really. It was at least worth a roll of his optics.

     "Breakdown, sir. As much as I would like to leave, my orders come from someone ranked higher than the both of us combined. So, your command for me to leave fall on deaf audials, I'm afraid. My duty is done when the higher ups command it or in the case that one, or both, of us are offlined."

     Until then I'm stuck with you...

     "Until then I am to guard you from outside dangers, sir. Or yourself, should that be an issue."

     Or I could just decide to leave you to rot somewhere you arrogant son of a-

     "Once we are sent out on the field, you don't need to worry. I'll have your back."

     Only because I have to.

     Breakdown didn't know when they were going to be sent out on the field, but when the time came and Knock Out was called out to duty, Breakdown would be right there to watch his back. Even if the pompous jerk of a medic didn't think he 'needed' one. Unfortunately, Breakdown didn't have an option in the matter of sticking around in spite of how easy it was for Knock Out to disregard him.

     While his thoughts were traveling elsewhere, Breakdown took the two steps to the small part on the floor that had been thrown at him the moment he had stepped foot in the medbay. He picked it up then turned to Knock Out with his outstretched servo turned palm up with the piston laying there, still coated in tacky energon, being offered back to Knock Out.

     "Here. I think you accidentally dropped this."

[Knock Out]

Knock Out rolled his optics as Breakdown replied to him. Why was he still here? Didn't he get the hint that he wasn't wanted or needed here? Not that it mattered any, Knock Out would get him to leave before the joor was over; or at least would make a damn good effort at trying. As Breakdown spoke, he'd turn back to the fallen seeker, getting back to his work at patching up the other. Sure he'd replaced the piston with ease, but he still had a lot of work to do to get this guy up and running.

“The orders may have come from someone higher than myself, but that doesn't mean I personally have to agree with them, Brokendown. I wont think less of you if you decide to do the right thing and leave. Nor will I think less of the next one they send me who leaves. Nor do I think less of the three that came before you.”

Why did he sound so proud of that fact? Mostly because he could get away with it. He was needed. He was valuable. There was no way they would send him out onto the field and onto the front lines, no matter how bad things got. They'd train up other medics that could be replaced, surely. If he could wing it and become one of the top, most prestigious surgeons? Others could too. At least to the point that they could do some basic field patch-up and get the wounded up here to the actual Medical Bay where they could be fixed properly, surely.

Unfortunately, Knock Out didn't know the half of it. He wasn't aware just how bad things had gotten. Things shifted quickly in wars. That was the thing about wars. He hadn't attended said meeting where plans had been laid out, where graphic slides had been shown of what was happening to every medic who dared enter the field alone. It wasn't like he had time to sit in on meetings when he was saving sparks. Once upon a time he had attended the meetings dutifully, but before long he found them to be a waste of his time, and so stopped showing up.

He was damn lucky that he was so very good at his job. That was the only reason he got away with most of the things he did, or didn't do.

Tossing the dirty rag to sit on his shoulder, he'd lean over the seeker. Arm pushing into the open cavity of the seekers chassis to do more repair work. Sparks would fly from inside the seeker, illuminating the cherry-red mech in a soft glow. It showed just how dirty he was, and how tired he looked. This job was non-stop, and was pretty full on and not for the weak of spark. He was covered in various fluids. Energon, coolant, oil. His expression was tired, yet he had to remain alert – the medics were on call pretty much 24/7 now. If only Knock Out wasn't so stubborn or a pain to work with, or he would've got to work in shifts with his teammates. But instead? He worked in solitude. He liked it this way. He preferred it this way. Anything was better than working with others. Including this moron who'd been assigned to work with him.

Speaking of, the sound of footfalls drew his attention away from the seeker and he'd glare over his shoulder to see Breakdown standing there with his servo outstretched, offering the piston.

“I threw it at you for a reason. So you knew straight away that I do not want you here. But obviously you don't seem to get hints, as you really are as dense as you look; so I will tell you again, Brokendown. Leave. Now. Quit while you're ahead.”

He'd turn, briefly, to swat the piston out of Breakdown's hand with a rumbled growl. It clattered across the room noisily. Then would turn back to the seeker to continue his work.

[Breakdown]

     "Even if they may not give the orders I wanna hear sometimes, that doesn't mean I'm foolish enough not to follow them when they are handed down." Ah, well, at least there was one thing they could both agree on. "You just do what you are told... at least when told be the correct level of authority," he quickly added before Knock Out could make a comment about the lack of his 'doing as told' when the medic ordered for him to leave. "They won't be sending a replacement, sir, I assure you. I am the best they could find to take care of your safety while out in the field. And it's Breakdown, sir." He spoke his designation with a bit more force though he still managed to hold back the irritation from reflecting in his tone. Really, was the medic just doing this on purpose at this point or was he malfunctioning in his memory core?

     'Probably wouldn't be the best idea to ask that.'

     When the piston was swatted out of servo Breakdown just stood there, holding back the urge to take the opportunity of a free servo to smack it upside the helm of the medic. He could blame it on a reactive impulse, that all his time on the field had perfectly solidified the 'every action has an opposite reaction' theory, but it probably wouldn't end well. Knock Out would probably freak out even more on him and contact the higher ups to have him removed from the premises which would then probably result in him being offlined and his chassis thrown away like the poor part that had landed on the floor again.

     'Oh, but it would be so worth it...'
     'Ugh! No, stop it, you.'

     Again, Breakdown picked up the part and held it in his servo, staring at Knock Out as he turned his attention back to his patient. Instead of bothering the busy doctor while he was tending to his important work, Breakdown moved past off to the left side to where a collection of shelves were. He studied where everything was while looking for a place to put the part. He smirked briefly to himself as things clicked. Quickly he straightened out his expression then started to stretch his arm up. WAY up.

     "It's alright, sir. I would hate for this little part to be laying on the floor and you accidentally slip on it or something. So, I'll just set it up here-" he said while placing the discarded part on one of the upper shelves, decent height for him and clearly too high for Knock Out to reach, "-until you need it. Safely high up and out of your way." There was a bit of weight put on the 'high up' portion of his sentence, as if to underhandedly poke at the red mech's obvious height deficiencies. Much nicer of a way to put the comment them coming out with 'out of the way where your tiny self can't reach' as he probably would have should he not have been as mindful of his words. Breakdown may have not had much going for him skill wise outside of wrecking havoc and smashing things up, but at least there wasn't anything in the room that he wouldn't be able to at least touch the shelf of. The medic's short stature was probably the reason most of everything was stored pretty much on the first two- maybe three here and there- shelf level.

     Once the piston was safely put away, Breakdown stepped over to the right side of the door and stood with his servos at his sides while watching what was unfolding before him. For the moment he was content with what he had done even though he was certain the spitfire medic would have some way of getting him back for that.

[Knock Out]

Why was this moron still talking? Why was he even still here?

Knock Out could only roll his optics as Breakdown not only continued to talk, but had the audacity to correct him. His goal and plan the very moment that Breakdown had entered the room was to start things in motion of getting him to leave. Be it through quitting because he couldn't stand Knock Out's attitude like the three that came before him, or quitting because he had his sad little feelings hurt by the fact that Knock Out cared so very little about him; to the point that he couldn't be bothered to get his designation right. He was, of course, doing it on purpose - and would continue to do so. Hopefully it helped give the impression that he simply did not give two slags about this 'bodyguard'. It was actually quite amazing he was going to the effort of addressing him by a name at all.

“They will not be sending me a replacement after you, no,” He stated this as if it were fact. “Because one would think that after four of you? They would get the damn hint,” He snarled. “And if you're the best they could find? They really must be scraping the bottom of the pit.”

That was good news at least. After this one left? There shouldn't be another to take his place. They would get the hint after the fourth, surely. They wouldn't waste time or resources in locating a fifth. One thing was for sure, though. They must be so very desperate if this was considered the 'best'. Either that or this other mech had an ego like Knock Out... Although that was highly doubtful.

He wouldn't react as he heard Breakdown move across the room. He didn't care what the other mech was doing, and for the tiniest, briefest of moments? He had a faint glimmer of hope that the other mech had gotten the hint and was leaving. Sadly it was not to be, and his field rippled with annoyance once again as Breakdown continued to do that talking thing. Ohohoo.. This was good. Was he trying to one up Knock Out? To undermine him?!

At least this one would be fun to break.

“Let me introduce a word to your pathetic little processor,” He began, not looking up from his work on the seeker. “It's called a ladder. Get that? Lad-der,” He accentuated slowly, implying that Breakdown was an imbecile who couldn't understand simple words. “A ladder is used to climb up to high places when one can't quite reach! So if you want to try my patience by being frivolous and putting things up high on the shelves? By all means. You won't last long, Breakout. I'll see to that personally.”

At least he wouldn't need a ladder to smack Breakdown upside the helm, should he ever feel the need to. The other mech would've been told to obey every order given by Knock Out no matter what (Aside from the order to leave..), which meant he could just order the other to kneel before delivering a swat to the helm. Failing that? He had his energon prod within reach at all times, should Breakdown decide to exasperate him further.

Although in Breakdown's defense? Knock Out found his slight attitude rather... Refreshing. He was more interesting than the three who had come before him. He had some moxie at least. The others? They were dull. Both in appearance and in personality. Plus, at least this one, for the few moments Knock Out had looked at him? Had been easier on the optics.

A shame he wouldn't be around long.

He was quiet for a moment as he concentrated, soldering up more broken energon lines on the seeker. He'd test a couple of neural cables, making sure they were all in working order – before closing the chassis of the seeker. He'd pull the rag from his shoulder, wiping off his servos before moving over to the screen which was hooked up to his patient, typing into it.

“...So, if you'd like to quit while you're ahead, you'll retrieve that piece of scrap and put it into the incinerator where it belongs. It's no good to anybody like that, and is only taking up precious space on the shelf.”

Not that he was using the upper shelves, but it was the principle of the thing. The part was broken, and having been thrown across the room? It really would be a waste of precious time repairing it. He'd flick one servo toward the back of the room briefly, not indicating to anywhere in particular – just the general area. He was barely paying attention to Breakdown or what was done with the snapped piston, all his focus was on the screen now as he slid his digits over it carefully and precisely as he typed.

Somewhere near the back of the room where he'd sort-of indicated, was a small incinerator. They were needed in Medical Bays due to the sometimes hazardous materials that were worked with.

“It really is in your best interest to stay on my good side, should you stupidly decide to stick around. So far you have failed, by the way. In all of five kliks. You are lucky that I am too busy to report you right now, but rest assured? I wont be busy for long, once I'm done here. So lets not increase my workload further by giving me a long list of things to report, mm?”

[Breakdown]

     Breakdown had been taken from his position as field captain to handle the task of guarding THIS pesky mech? Even if he had been talked out of thinking of this new order was some kind of poorly done joke before, he certainly had no qualms with thinking that way now no matter what his team would say about it. Promotion? Right. This was probably worse than being sent to the Pits. Heck, Breakdown would have rather that at this point if not for his own stubborn mindset of 'I'm going to prove those arrogant higher ups wrong'. He'd have to reevaluate the status of the level of damage to his processor later. For now he was trying to hold back every impulse to pound this arrogant snot into the ground. If this was how he treated the others before him it was a wonder he was even still functional. Though it did bring to light something they could at least agree on.

     "Yeah, they're pretty desperate," Breakdown agreed aloud, though it was hardly directed to himself. The Decepticon faction had to be pretty desperate for medics if one like this- skilled or not- was allowed to parade around this sort of attitude and not stand corrected, much less be standing in one piece. Or had the Decepticons just sunk low enough that this sort of discourteous behavior was deemed appropriate? Breakdown didn't accept this from HIS troops, but they were also more or less left to their own devices as long as they got their jobs done. So, perhaps things really had become this mismanaged. 

     The dark blue mech would have made a quip about being talked to like he was some idiot, but it wasn't the first time he'd received that and knew it by far would not be the last. That didn't mean that it didn't annoy him, though, and he narrowed his optics slightly for a split klik while the medic was talking, but the expression eased off before it could have been noticed. No point in talking back when the receiving party was so high up on their platform that the air was too thin to circulate it properly through the vents. So instead of making a big deal out of it, Breakdown did the adult thing and let it go. Not that he figured the cherry red mech would do the same.

     'Annoying little half-pint pain in the aft...'

     The incinerator was somewhere in the general proximity of where the medic had waved to. So with the broken part in servo, he made his way over and started to look around. Breakdown didn't ask for assistance with locating the incinerator, even though he really didn't have a clue what he was looking for exactly, but it wasn't out of pride that kept his vocoder silent. No, it was the fact that Knock Out was still talking, going on about reporting him. As much as Breakdown didn't want that, he also knew that he hadn't really done anything that would get him removed. What would he report? Rant about how he was annoying him? That Breakdown wasn't listening to him about LEAVING? The other three had done just that- left on their own accord when they couldn't take anymore. Breakdown was bound and determined to prove that he was made of sterner stuff than that. He was certain that there wasn't much that the half-pint medic could do to him that he hadn't already experienced tenfold ( within a margin that would cross the lines of even Decepticon standard and put even the medic at risk of serious backlash ). 

     Breakdown wouldn't give Knock Out the satisfaction of winning this game he was playing.

     He also would't give him the satisfaction of having to tell him right where the incinerator was.

     Well, maybe the second one would happen, because as Breakdown was wandering around the back area he just could not find the stupid thing. At least not until he had passed his optics over and felt around a second time. The machine was small, easily overlooked by someone who hadn't seen one before, but the heat coming from it when Breakdown got close told him he'd finally found it. If this wasn't it? He was sure Knock Out would correct him. So he opened the door and dropped the part in, then let go of the door-

     "Scrap-!"

     - which he wasn't aware was on a spring that yanked it shut with a loud CLANK that made him take a step back from it. The curse he had made was low in volume, short and quick, able to be brushed off as little more than a 'wasn't expecting that' reaction. With the piston now gone, he walked back to the door and returned to his post just to the left of it, standing guard like some bulky blue brick wall.

     

[Knock Out]

Knock Out wouldn't reply to Breakdown's comment about them being desperate, although his lip would curl up into a sneer of distaste. At this point he was done even humoring the idiot with conversation. He'd wasted enough of his time talking as it already was; and he wasn't about to continue making idle chit-chat. Then the moron might get the wrong idea and get attached or something equally ridiculous, and Knock Out didn't want that – considering once he was typing in this data? He was going to tell them to find someone else.

Not that there was anyone else. They'd already sent him the best they had to offer, and he'd made them leave. Even the higher ups had their limits of patience, and Knock Out had no doubt worn them thin. Sure, he wasn't expendable, far from infact! He was so very valuable to the point they put up with him and his demands, but they did have a war to win and couldn't spend their time catering to Knock Out just because he was an anti-social priss who couldn't get along with anyone but himself. Besides, anyone they did manage to find to replace Breakdown temporarily would probably be even worse. Still, this was just a game to Knock Out. Trying to get each bodyguard to leave faster than the last, and Breakdown was no exception.

The higher ups knew what was best, and if Knock Out had only been paying attention and attending the meetings? He would be more than aware that he should be doing everything in his power to keep Breakdown around. He was going to need him.

For right now, though, Knock Out would finish inputting whatever it was into the screen he was working at. The Seeker's body would jolt just slightly, before going limp once more. Knock Out planned to keep him in the medical induced stasis for right now, but was checking a few things over on the screen. Done with this task, he'd move to lean on the medical berth where the seeker lay, folding his arms across his chassis and watching Breakdown.

He could do the right thing. He could be nice. He could be helpful and tell the other mech where the incinerator was, as it was beyond evident after only a few seconds that the blue mech had zero clue on what he was even looking for. But he chose to watch in smug silence as Breakdown struggled to find what he was looking for. Was he really that incompetent? This had gone beyond insulting. At least the other three knew what they were doing. It was just something to add to the list of things he'd report, including the fact Breakdown had put 'valuable' equipment out of reach, and had insulted Knock Out's person.

He was lost in thought, trying to work out what other little things he could make sound a lot worse than they actually were, when the moron found the incinerator and hadn't realized it was on a spring. The noise startled Knock Out and he was quickly torn from his thoughts, optics narrowing at the other mech.

“You incompetent LUGHEAD,” He growled, unfolding his arms and striding over toward Breakdown, his field filled with anger and his delicate servos curled into tight fists. He could add damaging equipment and being a horrible distraction to that list. “What if I had been in the middle of delicate surgery?! What if I needed absolute silence? What the fr-”

He didn't get to finish his rant, as a rough voice would boom over the comm and interrupt him with perfect timing. He was startled into silence as he listened. While he acted like an arrogant aft around those he considered below him? He showed respect for those who were above.

::Medical Officer Knock Out. Please report to me immediately.::

Whoever it was didn't sound pleased, then again it was hard to tell with the higher ups if they were ever in a good mood. Even on the best of days they sounded agitated, angry and rough, no doubt to keep the troops in line with the use of fear. None of them ever seemed to be in good moods. Ever. The voice was enough to make Knock Out tense up just slightly, although he'd quickly roll his shoulders and smirk. He'd gently clear his throat, before folding his arms once more.

“Well well well, it looks like I may get to file that report sooner than I'd hoped. Come along, Brakeline.”

Knock Out would move from the Medical Bay and down the corridor, he knew exactly who had called over the comm and wasted no time in making his way there. He moved with purpose, striding quickly and not caring if Breakdown could keep up or not. If he couldn't? Well that was just one more thing for him to report.

It wasn't a long walk, and soon the pair would find themselves at a heavy door. Knock Out would raise one servo and knock twice.

“Enter.”

Once given permission, he would slide the door aside and step into the room. He'd stand at attention, giving a firm salute to the General inside before lowering his arm to his side. He stood alert, posture straight. The one that Knock Out addressed was a rough looking mech, missing an optic which he hadn't bothered to cover with a patch, his face scratched and scarred, chassis and frame dented and scuffed. He looked like he'd seen more than his fair share of war, which was probably part of why he was in the position he was. His desk was littered with what looked to be battle plans, reports, and datapads. He was a busy mech.

“You requested to see me, Sir?”

His field was calm and level now. The air of arrogance that usually surrounded him was gone. His tone of voice was different, too. No longer biting with venom and snark, instead filled with respect for the one he spoke to.

“I appreciate you making your way here as fast as you have, Knock Out. I hope there have been no issues with the one we assigned you?”

The General leaned back in his chair, a browridge quirking as he asked his question. He hadn't even looked at Breakdown since he entered the room, his attention fully on the Medic. Breakdown was beneath him. He was cannon fodder, disposable, and therefore wasn't worth the time of day.

“Well, actually. There have been some issues already, Sir. You see-”

Knock Out started, looping his arms behind his back as he spoke. But he was quickly cut off.

“Good. Tomorrow you and he have been assigned onto the field. We meant to send you out sooner, but due to your lack of bodyguard? We were unable. We need medical troops out there urgently, and now you have a capable bodyguard by your side to watch your back? I wish you all the best. That's all. You are dismissed.”

He'd flick a servo toward Knock Out a few times, as if dismissing him, before he'd glance back down to one of the many data-pads that littered his desk.

“S-Sir, with all due respect! I'm a trauma s-”

Knock Out again, started. There was a hint of fear in his voice, and it wavered slightly as he spoke. There was no way he was going out on the field. None at all! He wasn't a field medic! He didn't want to die, and this sounded like a very certain death!!

“I said that's all!” Came a booming yell of a reply that made Knock Out flinch. The General's field filled with anger and impatience, and he snapped his helm up from his data-pad to glare at Knock Out. His remaining red optic stared the medic down aggressively, and it was evident that he wasn't going to argue this further.

Knock Out hesitated, opening his mouth and holding it agape as if he was going to protest further. But he wisely decided against it, closing his mouth. His field still calm, although it was forced. He was panicking. There was no way he was going out on the field. None at all. His place was here, in the safety of the Headquarters, in his Medical Bay. Doing surgery and saving lives. Not doing basic patch-up and getting blown to pieces!!

"Yes, Sir." 

He'd salute the General once more, before turning on his heel and making his way from the room. Again, he moved with purpose back toward the Medical Bay, and once he and Breakdown were inside? He'd frantically move to lock the door. Breakdown wouldn't have known that he was going to do it so would've been unable to stop him - and hopefully the idiot wouldn't question it. Regardless? He wasn't going to open the door, no matter what. He'd recharge in here if he had to, even put up with Breakdown all night if it meant he could get away with not going onto the field tomorrow.

He wasn't going out there. No way.

[Breakdown]

     Hearing the cry from Knock Out after the incinerator door slammed shut was like a piercing shrill cutting through the air. He was surprised his audials weren't ringing but he still rubbed them slightly just to make sure they were operational. He was still doing so when he was approached by the rather irate little cherry red nuisance who right away started laying into him. 

     Blah blah blah, surgery. Blah blah blah blah, silence. Blah blah blah...

     Breakdown just stared. There wasn't much else he could do in the situation but let the medic rant on and only take in the bits and pieces he needed. Breakdown made a note that this would probably be the best way to deal with the medic in the future- let him talk and complain about whatever he felt like and just pick out the key words while ignoring the rest. He just had to make sure he didn't let his optics wander elsewhere... which they did, scanning over to the wall just past the medic.

     Then the comm came in. Oh, the beloved comm! While Breakdown wouldn't usually be happy to hear about superiors calling him in, this was just a gentle grace from Primus himself! Then again, Knock Out was the one being called, not him. Well, he knew where this was going. Whereas he hadn't been called by name he knew that he would be expected as an audience to the meeting, even if he wouldn't have words directed to him. Being told by Knock Out to 'come along' had only made it that much more certain that he would tag along for this briefing.

     If the stupid medic would call him by his DESIGNATION. Really, it wasn't that hard. If Breakdown didn't know that Knock Out was doing this on purpose he would assume he had maybe inhaled too many fumes from the mechs he operated on or handled too much of whatever kind of solvents the medics used.

     "Breakdown," he corrected again and followed silently after that.

     Sure enough when they arrived Knock Out didn't even get much of a chance to complain about the dark blue soldier assigned as his bodyguard. The question was probably rhetorical considering how fast the General went into his own talk about why the medic's presence had been requested. Breakdown stood off at the back away from the pair, beside the door with his servos folded behind his back. He knew his place with someone of this rank and wouldn't dare try to interject or make his attendance known. 'Do not be seen, do not be heard' was a rule he followed quite well. So as he stood there listening, a small movement came to him. A smirk had crept up when he heard Knock Out being delivered the good news. Knock Out could protest it, sure, but it wouldn't get him very far. The assertive tone of the General's dismissal made it clear that there would be no further discussion on the matter.

     So they left. Or rather, Knock Out left and Breakdown followed as his loyal shadow. He was resisting the urge to let out a 'told you so' mockery to the smaller mech- not that he would listen anyway. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, probably panicking about the prospect of being OUT THERE where all the fighting was. Breakdown knew those lands but the medic? He was probably a pampered little priss and had never stepped a single pede onto soiled ground. 

     Oh, but he would learn.

    ... Right after Breakdown led him out of the med bay, which he was currently locked in with Knock Out. He looked at the doors and raised an optic ridge then glanced over at Knock Out. He pointed a thumb digit over his shoulder towards said doors, looking quite confused.

     "So... you're going to lock yourself in here and hope they forget they're sending you out? You realize they probably have codes to override whatever security lock you try to put on the doors, right?"

[Knock Out]

Knock Out leant with his back against the door for a moment to try and compose himself. He was trying to keep his field level, and surprisingly? It was working. While he wasn't outwardly showing signs of panic - aside from the slight wavering of his voice and failed attempt at protest back in the Generals office which had betrayed him some - the fact he'd stormed back here and instantly locked the door might've given away the fact that he wasn't planning on going out tomorrow, and that he might be stressing out juuuuust a little bit more than he was intending to let on.

“What!?” He squawked at Breakdown, optics narrowing. “That's.. No! That isn't what I'm doing.” He scoffed, venting inwards sharply and pushing himself off the door.

In hindsight, he should've made the big lug wait outside, but then when morning came and Knock Out was nowhere to be found? He knew that Breakdown would've been ordered to smash down the door. At least in here, Knock Out could arm himself some. He knew where everything was in the small Medical Bay, and was confident that he could subdue the bigger Mech once he no doubt tried to remove Knock Out with force. Be it through undignified carrying, or whatever other creative means the other mech came up with.

He made his way back over to the Seeker who remained in the medical stasis with large, confident strides. Maybe he could... Cause some kind of emergency. His processor was racing as he tried to conjure up ways to getting out of being sent onto the field. It wouldn't take much to make the Seeker's systems suddenly fail without warning. All it'd take was a button press on the console to do so, and then he could pretend to be fixing him up... Then he'd have a valid and legit reason not to go out onto the field. Surely the higher ups would understand?

No... They wouldn't. They'd argue that it was just one soldier. When out on the field? Knock Out had the chance and the ability to save many, many more troops. Their lives would outweigh that of this single Seeker. Hell the higher ups would probably pull the plug on the Seeker themselves just to prove this point, if it meant Knock Out would get out there and do his job.

He'd drum his talons on the side of the medical berth. Maybe locking himself in here wasn't the best idea. Running sounded good. Very good. He doubted Breakdown could keep up with him should he choose to flee. Infact he knew Breakdown couldn't keep up with him should he choose to flee. But leaving this room ran the risk of running into one of the higher ups, and half of them could fly. So. That wouldn't end well.

His processor was spinning as he weighed up the pros and cons of every situation. Stay? Go? Stay. Definitely stay. At least for now. Tomorrow he could open the doors, feign like he was going onto the field.. And run.

“I just want to get ready for tomorrow without being bothered, that's all!” He finally admitted why he'd locked the door, even though it was nothing more than a lie. He'd stride over to an empty bench, leaning up to grab his precious Energon Prod, and setting it down onto the bench.

“This thing needs reinforcing if I am to go out onto the field, wouldn't you say?” More like reinforcing for when he attacked Breakdown with it later... “Make yourself useful and hand me that pneumatic drill, would you?” He could use his own built-in drill, but that thing was far too clunky to work on such a delicate tool. That and he wanted to see Breakdown flail.

“Tick tock. We don't have all night, Breakdance.”

[Breakdown]

     "Breakdown."

     He was getting tired of correcting the other and knew that at this point it was probably just a mindless game to him. Breakdown just couldn't let the other win, even if it wasn't anything where one or the other could come out entirely victorious. Considering he had a feeling that they were going to be partnered up for a while ( since, you know, no one wanted to be partnered up with the arrogant little snot ) he knew that if he kept trying to come up with slick names for him that wasn't his own he'd run out of them eventually and would just have to say 'Breakdown'. Which then would be a point for him. Then he'd win, and Knock Out would have to admit defeat- even if he refused to verbalize it. Breakdown would forever know that he had scored the first point in this pointless back and forth match.

     Now he was faced with a delicate task. He had been asked to hand over some stupid drill and he didn't even know where to start. There was a bunch of tools all over the blasted place so as far as he knew Knock Out could have been just making another attempted to make him out to be a complete fool. Breakdown was just as determined to win this one. Though... this task was a lot harder than basing things off sight. So here he was, looking at everything from the table to the wall to... wherever else the cherry red medic had things hiding in plain sight. Eventually he vented in frustration and squinted in irritation at it all, as though that would scare the mysterious tool into coming to him. Yeah, that was wishful thinking.

     He finally spotted what looked like it could be the drill Knock Out was looking for. Sure, he may have not known the name of it but it at least looked like a similar weapon that he'd spotted being used on the field by both sides. Breakdown grabbed it up and walked over to Knock Out then dropped it in the medic's lap. He didn't bother to see if it landed on its intended mark or struck Knock Out in the helm or whatever. He just went to his spot on the other side of the room and crossed his arms.

     Now as for the tool that was delivered? It was barely even close. The soldering gun had the same general shape but anyone with some level of education would have been able to tell the difference between what had been asked for and what had been handed over. Breakdown only had a slight bit of hope that he had grabbed the correct tool since it looked like it was something that was used often judging by the wear on it. If it were the incorrect one? He figured Knock Out would just get annoyed and grab what he needed himself and call it a day. He seemed distracted enough. Maybe Breakdown could get away from this one without a long strain of insults to follow.

     At least if Knock Out tore into him he could just bring up going out to the field at the rise of the next cycle and he would go away. 

     'Or I could just leave you out in the middle of nowhere to die.'
     Well, no, they'd know.
     'Your life is in my servos, you helpless piece of scrap.'
     The higher ups will dismantle me while I'm still functioning.
     'But I will win. Because I'd have shut you up permanently. '

[Knock Out]

Knock Out was taking great pleasure in having this idiot repeat his name over and over. Every time he came up with some new, hilarious name that was so close and yet so far? The big blue lug would correct him. It was almost like he thought Knock Out would call him by the right name if he said it enough! Sadly for Breakdown, Knock Out could keep this up for a few Deca-cycles at least. Not that Breakdown would even last that long. He still fully intended to have the other mech removed from his presence once he'd sorted out this little mistake that was the order to go out onto the field.

He couldn't help but smirk as Breakdown lingered at the other side of the room. He knew it! The idiot didn't know what a pneumatic drill was! Oh this was too good! He made no attempts at hiding said arrogant smirk as the other mech looked around everywhere for the simple tool. Warm.. Waaaarmer.. Collld... Colder.. Freezing.. What are.. Idiot. Complete and utter idiot.

He watched as Breakdown strolled over. He seemed confident with his choice, or at least that's what Knock Out got from the fact the tool was half-dropped-half-thrown at him. It clattered onto the bench and Knock Out had to reach out quickly to stop it rolling onto the floor. He allowed Breakdown to walk away, waiting for him to settle at the other side of the room.

He wouldn't move from beside the bench. He wouldn't make any attempts to go get the tool himself, nor would he look in the general direction of said tool, or give Breakdown any hint whatsoever as to where or what it was. No. He kept his attention firmly fixed on the big blue mech. He may have seemed 'distracted' to Breakdown, but he was really anything but.

“Try again, Beatdown. I asked a simple task of my bodyguard and I expect him to be able to hand me the most basic of tools.”

He'd hold up the soldering gun.

“Time to introduce yet another word into your pathetic processor!” He sounded so cheery as he spoke down to the other Mech. He'd motion to the wrong tool with his other servo, like he was some hostess on a gameshow, keeping his furious gaze on Breakdown. “This is called a soldering gun. Got that? Sollll-derrrr-ing gun,” Again, he would accentuate slowly like had done for the word 'ladder' only moments earlier. “Which means? You are WRONG and are WASTING. MY. TIME. Now, hand me the pneumatic drill. We can't go out onto the field or do much of anything until I get this rod strengthened!”

Honestly, how were they expecting these two to be a good pair out on the field if Breakdown couldn't even recognize the most basic of tools?

[Breakdown]

     'Beatdown? Close. Because I'm about to Beat YOU down, right into the-'

     "Oh, you were closer that time. It's Breakdown."

     'Bravo, you irritating fool-'

     "Knowing your tools isn't part of my job description. You have two servos and pedes that are fully operational. You can get your own tools. I am just here to make sure you don't screw up and get yourself offlined. Since, you know, you'll be OUT THERE, on the FRONT LINES. That's usually right where a majority of the patients are. Right in clear line of fire from the enemy." Just to make his point clear, Breakdown closed one optic and held up his thumb digits where he covered Knock Out from view. The motion was similar to how one would line up a target in their scope. Then he let that servo drop and he returned to crossing his arms while he leaned against his claimed portion of the wall beside the door. "Though I'm certain you'll be perfectly fine out there. I'll be there making sure you don't blow up."

     'Better hope I don't decide to take my optic off you. It would be so worth it, in spite of the consequences. Pint-sized little-'

     "At long as you don't step on any explosives. The bots like to plant them under the surface, beneath debris where you wouldn't look. Or set up trip wires. Those are always fun. I've watched mechs go from one solid piece to several tiny bits in a mere klik because they just weren't careful. But I'm certain you'll be okay." 

     Breakdown was aware by his actions that the cherry red mech was scared of going out on the field, even if he tried to hide it. He'd seen the same body language on several occassions in the past. At that point there were only two options: Get over it and live, or don't and die before the end of the first cycle. It didn't matter to him much which way Knock Out took it, or at least he told himself that. He was wanting to prove the belittling idiots wrong and show that he could be useful to the cause as more than just cannon fodder but was this really worth it? Breakdown wasn't about to walk away from it, but he WAS tempted to ensure that he and the little mech were separated for at least a small period of time, just to make sure to scare him a bit. 

[Knock Out]

Just like before, Knock Out wouldn't acknowledge the correction of the other mechs name.

Breakdown was beneath him. He wasn't worth the time of day as far as Knock Out was concerned, and should be honored that Knock Out had conversed with him as much as he already had! He opened his mouth to call Breakdown some other wrong name, as that was the most fun he'd had all day – when Breakdown continued to speak.

Displeasure rippled through Knock Out's field as his gaze locked onto those of the other mech, and he closed his mouth as if in disbelief at what he was hearing. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to Knock Out that way? Here he was, the lowest of absolute low and he was giving Knock Out backchat!?

He would gently tap the tips of his long slender digits on the metal bench in a rhythmic pattern, before giving a soft hum of thought. If they'd sent this moron to be his bodyguard? It meant he'd be in the system, which meant there would be a file on him. A file that Knock Out could access, due to his profession. Aah the joys of having the keys for the personal and medical data of nearly everyone he wanted to snoop on. Time to find out a little about exactly who they'd sent him, hopefully Knock Out could find something to use against him, ways to break him or send him fleeing. He wanted him gone before, and even more so now.

He'd pull away from the bench as Breakdown continued to go on about explosives, making a point to pick up the Energon Prod as he did, and moved over to a desk at the far side of the room. It, like the Generals desk earlier, was littered with datapads and scattered cubes of Energon, some empty, some half full. He moved to sit, angling the Energon Prod so the nasty end was pointing at Breakdown as if silently warning him to stay away, and would pick up a datapad.

A few slides of his thumb, and a few things gently typed into the screen and Knock Out seemed to find what he was looking for. He wouldn't make a point of hiding that he was looking up Breakdown's file, as he would occasionally look up and across to the other mech, then back down to the screen. The nice thing was that Breakdown would have zero clue what exactly was on this file, so who even knows what kind of things the Medic was currently looking at.

The background check was boring. Enforcers academy, discharge papers... Blah blah... He'd keep scrolling, looking for more details.

And details he did find!

Oh, wow. He hadn't been expecting this. This was good. There were records here of what appeared to be Breakdown's original frame, as well as the one he had now... Had he undergone a complete frame overhaul? It sure seemed that way! Ha. No wonder he'd lasted so long! He scrolled further. A memory core wipe? Wow. There were lots of medic notes which were boring and mostly standard... But then he found something that made his optics narrow just slightly. A defect that'd never been fixed? Outbursts? Unstable? Discharged and sent from job to job because of it, hence the frame change, reassignment and memory core wipe? They'd sent this mech to be his bodyguard!? This walking DEFECT!? Sure there was a lot of good stuff in here, things like how Breakdown had led a small team, and seemed to be quite good at it... But of course Knock Out only focused on the negatives, of which these were major negatives as far as he was concerned. They really were scraping the bottom of the pits when they found this guy! Which is where he should've been thrown shortly after being sparked!

“Interesting!” He hummed, powering off the datapad and setting it down. He'd give no clue as to what he'd read, nor tell of what information he knew. The only real hint was the faintest of smirks on his face, which would dissolve into a neutral expression as he once again stood up, picking up the Energon Prod and resting it on his shoulder and holding it – the nasty end still pointing forwards at Breakdown.

“Now then.” He started, moving back over to the bench he was working at before, setting down the weapon. “Knowing my tools is part of your job description, Bringdown. While you are my bodyguard or what have you, you need to earn your keep when we are not out on the field. Understand? That means assisting me in my day to day work. Passing me tools or whatever I need, as I need them. Because yes, while I have my own two pedes and my own two servos – very observant of you to notice, by the way – it'll save time and hopefully more lives if I have you hand me things. Understand?”

He'd lean onto the bench, optics not leaving Breakdown. Giving the sweetest, nicest most genuine smile he could. Nothing like lulling Breakdown into some weird false sense of security, acting like he actually had value and a purpose here – when Knock Out knew the truth about him, and once he'd downed Breakdown with the Energon Prod he was about to reinforce? He'd demand someone else. ANYONE else. Just not this defective piece of slag who did NOT belong here.

“Now, please hand me the pneumatic drill.”

He said please. Breakdown couldn't argue with that.

[Breakdown]

     While Knock Out was busying himself with whatever interesting reading material he found on his datapad, Breakdown was finally taking the time to look at the place that would be his prison for who really knew how long. It was such a tight space, hardly sufficient as a medical center for more than a couple patients at a time. But Knock Out was merely one medic so how many could he really have on berths at any given moment? Breakdown had already seen some bit of his work, how he just tossed things around without a single care in the world. It wasn't only the actions of this 'Medical Officer' ( that was a laugh. Medic.) that had him a little on edge. This facility? WOW. It wasn't just a tight space because of the room size but as well as the just... clutter! This place was a mess, with parts here and there in some strange manner of organization that could only be labeled as chaotic at best. Was this guy really the most competent medic they had on their side? Well, no wonder they were screwed. Perhaps Knock Out should have been less worried about a body guard and be more worried about having a personal organizer sent in to try and do something about this place. Sure, everything had its place and the tools seemed clean enough ( he wouldn't expect for that to go uncared for- at least, he prayed that was the case ) but as for everything else? The layout and the complete disarray he saw just from his standing there? And... who knew where spilled energon may have dried up at on the floor.

     'This place makes my frame crawl. How can he WORK like this? This guy is a complete whack job! How come I'm the one labeled as defective and he's not?! This place is ridiculous! Does he not see the-'

     When he heard the shorter mech shout he turned his helm and locked optics on him. He was waiting for more insults, a lash from the other, some sort of degradation that would further exacerbate this situation.
He studied him, watching for unusual body language or some sort of gesture that would hint to what was coming. 

     'Alright, time to pay attention. He's staring at me. He's up to something for sure. What are you planning you despicable little oil skid?'

     Though there was very little of it this time ( the designation thing was just not even annoying at this point since he knew it was intentional, but he had no quarrel with repeating his REAL designation as often as Knock Out purposely called him something else ) but it was instead something else that made him twitch and he could have sworn he felt some of the energon in his lines go cold. 

     Earn his keep? This guy wasn't serious, was he? Breakdown didn't 'earn his keep'! This was an assignment, one that he didn't have a choice to ignore and not one that the medic could do anything about. This wasn't him wanting to study under him, be taken under his careful care to be shown the ropes in which to better himself and to better serve the Decepticon cause! This sort of stuff was pure scrap! He would have been happy to just clobber the mech across the room from him then walk out and deal with the repercussions. Oh, this was definitely rich!  If he thought for one nanoklik he was going to work for him like some sort of lackey who would have a cup of energon waiting at the beginning of the cycle when he woke from recharge and a spotless medical facility ready for him to carry on with his daily procedures in, then he had more than a couple of screws loose. Probably some faulty wiring in there somewhere. That had to explain it if that was really what he assumed was going to be this working arrangement.

     Please? PLEASE?! NOW he wants to say please? What does he want?
     'Maybe he's just trying to be polite so that I don't smash that snarky little faceplate of his in...'

     Okay, he had said 'please', for what it was worth. That in and of itself was unusual and it made him vent in frustration because as much as he wanted to just pick up one of these berths and throw it at the medic, he knew that he couldn't. He had to keep his temper in check. He had something to prove. He should his helm and started to make his way over slowly... VERY slowly considering that not only was this place a trap for his bulky frame, but he knew that the other just had to be up to something. You don't go from being a knot in the neck cables to saying 'please' and smiling as though the past few minutes hadn't even happened. 

     Right. So he had to be up to something. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything that Breakdown wouldn't be able to hand.

     Better way to think of that in a more correct way would be 'Hopefully it wouldn't be anything that Knock Out wouldn't be able to handle the reaction to.'

     "You know I have no clue what that is. I'm not a medic. I'm a soldier. So if you wanna SHOW me what these things are, feel free. Otherwise, you're on your own with grabbin' your stuff."