[ti]Ep 2[/ti]Walk of Shame [Closed]

[Flatline]

Flatline's features contorted wildly at the implication of the other mech 'sleeping' his way to the top, but he didn't comment. He wasn't that easy to bait, and while he was prudish and found the idea horrible that Knock Out would probably use such rancid means, he would not have been surprised entirely. It is because of this he cast it aside completely, choosing to focus instead on the following words so he didn’t have to waste his time calling the red and gold mech what everyone already knew.

While Knock Out continued to speak, Flatline would pick and claw at the cured surface of the foam, thinking about how deep the material was, and if it would be cured enough at this point or not. That said, while he did not directly look at the other mech, he was listening, letting out a low hum to show he was thinking about what had been said, and did not simply ignore him completely.

"This is the most time sensitive yet."

A thoughtful grumble, Flatline lifted his talon away to look on its underside and see if any of the matter stuck to it. Seemingly pleased, he would flex out his forearm then, one of the red patches on his armor flaring out. As with many of his smaller tools, a few of them were stored within his proportionately long arms, making them easy to grab and on call at a moment's notice. This action would end with him holding a small laser scalpel.

"I am typically allotted more time to figure out the most effective means to accomplish my goals. Not just bludgeon my way through them, but rather craft something with more finesse and function."

Carefully, the black and red mech would turn on the scalpel, and would gingerly cut at the temporary seam that joined the metal frame together that was around the wheel. He would work in small passes, just surpassing the sealant into the molding material, before he sat the tool aside, and gripped firmly onto its frame. A moment later, Flatline would let out a snarled grunt while he wrenched back forcibly, tearing the scrap panels off of the table and ripping it away from the foaming material within.

This revealed a short square shape that retained its structure well. All the edges that had met flush with the scrap metal, appeared smooth and slick, picking up on all of the subtle details and dings that were on its surface. Flatline would continue the process, before he fully exposed the mold. With one final slam, he rammed his forearm along the box's side, dislodging it entirely from the slab with a crack and lifting it up so you could see the posts the wheel had been suspended upon that were now peeking out from the bottom of the shape. Now that the light could touch it on both sides, a faded outline of the structure could be seen inside as a shadow.

"But bludgeoning forward does serve a purpose at times."

Final mused words, offering nothing of real VALUE in a reply, not being baited.

After he said this, he would pick back up the scalpel, and start to carefully slice into the mold with controlled passes. He never once turned away from his task while he did so, focused intently on not double slicing the same spot, and trying to determine where to cut by occasionally lifting it to the light.

[Knock Out]

Flatline may not have responded verbally to the comment – but that look? Ohh it was worth saying just for that, and there would be a smug hum of approval at getting a reaction at all. Knock Out may have been a flirt, but he had dignity and class - and as much as Flatline liked to believe that Knock Out would've lowered himself to that just to get ahead? It was so far from the truth. It was all skill – and that probably hurt Flatline more than anything else.

He could get over it though.

It wasn't like Flatline was entirely useless or lacking in talent – after all, he was doing something almost impossible right now! Friendly competition was a good thing, even if at times it was anything but amiable. Knock Out found it refreshing though, even if at times he wanted to strangle Flatline and kick him out an airlock.

He gave another quiet hum in response to Flatline's words. They didn't really reveal anything, which was disappointing. Ah well, it just meant he'd have to tackle it from a different angle – but how? If he was working on things for Shockwave he was probably sworn to secrecy on whatever projects he'd been tasked with doing... and his earlier snooping hadn't exactly given too much away.

Silently he'd curse himself for not looking harder while he'd had the chance to do so, it was unlikely he'd get another.

He wouldn't do much other than watch Flatline as he worked. While he couldn't do this himself – at least, not this quickly – it was interesting to see how the other mech worked. His gaze would linger on the faded outline of the structure, before he'd turn back to the other mech.

“Can't say I do much bludgeoning forward in my line of work.” He chuckled. “I mean, I could – but I doubt Big M would appreciate me doing rush jobs on his troops. Even Breakdown takes care with what he does.” Maybe more care than Knock Out did, at times. He took the time to check up on the Vehicons and chatted to them about things, whereas Knock Out didn't care much for them once they were outside his Medical Bay.

“Curious though that it serves a purpose for you – I would've thought Shockwave was a stickler for details and things being done properly with time and care?”

Another indirect nudge for information or even the tiniest clue; if this attempt failed? He'd have to use a more direct approach.

[Flatline]

Flatline lowered the wheel mold.

"Don't call him that..."

An annoyed grumble, the black and red medic cast Knock Out a sideways glare at how he had dared to refer to Megatron as 'Big M' like he did, his lips twisting and pulling back a bit to form a grimace. This wouldn't have been a big deal since he was always making such a face it seemed around the other mech... but this time it wasn't exactly the same. Instead of being a look of offense, and instead of it being a look of anger that Knock Out had dared to call their leader such a thing, it was almost a sort of secondhand embarrassment, the quills on his back rattling slightly.

It was no surprise Knock Out got himself hurt by their lord.

Picking back up the encased wheel, Flatline went back to work with the scalpel, moving almost painfully slow. The cuts were smooth, meticulous, using the upmost control his smaller secondaries could provide him. Despite this, the channel he was cutting occasionally zigged or zagged, creating odd 'wavers' that would later act as keys for the mold. As random as they appeared, they would serve a purpose.

Flatline was eager to change subjects, even if he recognized what was happening.

"Shockwave expects perfection. It is better to produce something immaculate, but needing a longer time to manufacture, than it is to present something subpar, and made quick."

Flatline paused with what he was saying then, to look over the object with a careful eye, going so far as to close his left optic while he did so. He raised the box to the lights above, rotating it around very carefully, using the nail of his secondaries to idly trace the near invisible incisions that etched around at odd angles. The ghosted shadow of the wheel remained nestled within, suspended in the pale material.

"Tiny parts need to be milled, components need to be processed, chemicals need to be mixed..."

Flatline rumbled these last offered words, before he grabbed onto the framing metal he had used earlier to help create the box initially to contain the fluid, and roughly wedged one inside one of the cracks. Nothing really happened at this... nothing changed, Flatline continuing to ease a second piece of metal in to the other side within another fissure. With the box now looking like it had a pair of horribly cobbled 'wings', the medic grabbed onto one of the plates, lifting up the object into the air.

With a dip and a wedge, Flatline lodged the far 'wing' underneath a portion of the table, pinning it beneath the slab, and one of the connectors that helped make the structure adjustable. With it loosely gripped in the horribly makeshift vice, he twisted with a snarled grunt, putting some real force behind the motion. The flat pieces of metal bowed and bent slightly, but what pressure they didn't absorb was transferred cleanly to the mold. There was a cracking sound, a snarled suck of air being pulled in through thin gaps, before the mold broke apart and fell to the ground. Half of the mold was completely free from the wheel, clattering down to the ground below with a dull thud. However, when it hit, they appeared to 'break' along clean lines into multiple chunks. The other half, continued to hold onto the wheel itself, until it collided with the ground, and it popped free from the jostled impact.

Knock Out's golden wheel rim started to roll along the ground on its side, threatening to try to make some 'grand escape', before Flatline's sharp prong of a ped clipped down on top of it, halting it in his action before it got too far.

"Anndd... now we have a mold."

Smug words, amused, Flatline reached down to pick up Knock Out's wheel, brushing his hand over it to clean off whatever may have remained. He then moved and handed it over to the red mech. The wheel looked ok, no residue grit or particles stuck on its surface, but there was a slight almost greasy film, and then there were tiny hairline 'cuts' that would be visible through the clear coat on the paint, where the scalpel had sliced down to sever the mold's portions.

"When you have to paint the new wheel, it shouldn't be an issue touching this one back up."

An evil grin, Flatline knowing full well this would happen.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out couldn't help but quirk a brow as Flatline grumbled about his nickname for Megatron. He didn't see the harm in it, and while he'd never actually say it to Megatron's face, he had addressed him as such over the comm... Course there wasn't a reply to that, the Warlord no doubt seething in a quiet rage because of it but it never actually got brought up again.

As such, he'd tsk quietly and roll his optics in response.

Flatline was no fun. And he had to remember that Knock Out wasn't the only one around here who'd been hurt by their Warlord...

The awkward silence didn't last – thankfully, and it was back to the subject of trying to work out what it was Flatline did.

“Shockwave expects perfection? Well I never...” he droned sarcastically. Ugh, even that approach didn't offer any insight, only that Flatline worked slowly at things. The temptation to call Shockwave 'Big S' was there, but after seeing how Flatline had reacted to the earlier nickname for Megatron? Well, he did still want to leave here with a functioning wheel...

“What kind of things do you produce for him?” There. A direct question. Even if it was waffled away with generic terms it might open up a broader picture. Or so he hoped. C'mon Flatline, give him something!

He kept his gaze on the other mech, watching what he was doing the entire time. Was this part done already? Well he had told him to work quickly, so it was to be expected but... Huh. It was midly impressive for a moment, until what happened next was anything but...

The cracking sound made him flinch and he'd tense his frame, watching closer. His gaze immediately snapping to the portion that fell onto the ground – namely the shiny golden wheel rim. Hey! That.. Hey!

And Flatline just stepped on it.

“Be careful with that!” he squawked out – not caring that they had a mold, his gaze on Flatline's pede as it rested atop his wheel rim like it was trash. It was picked up and handed back, and Knock Out's optics would widen in horror as he looked it over.

What had he done to it?! It was disgusting! He'd awkwardly hold it out at arms length, using the very tips of his thumb and index digit almost like it was going to bite him – it had a nasty, greasy residue and the cracks – while hairline and wouldn't be noticed by anyone? Knock Out noticed them instantly. And he was not happy.

There was silence as Flatline spoke, Knock Out's gaze on the wheel rim, tilting it slightly in the light as if coming to terms with it all, holding back as best he could. 

“Thanks, Flatline.” his reply was flat, face stony. He noted the evil, smugass grin but wouldn't react. He couldn't really screech about the state of his wheel rim, Flatline was helping him after all. Outside he was calm. Inside? Absolutely seething, though.

He'd get Flatline back for this somehow.

“So, what's next...”

[Flatline]

"This and that."

A frameless reply that Flatline KNEW would absolutely drive Knock Out insane.

Things moved fast after that, as Flatline couldn't exactly wait around to see what Knock Out felt about his dismissive reply. He had a wheel to make in a very short amount of time, and he had to do it with a good show of skill and finesse, even if he had to cut corners. For example, he would normally have not let the mold fall like he had, instead splitting it enough for his fingertips to wedge in, so he could pry apart with a lot more care. That would have prevented any shattering that was not planned, and could prevent damage to the actual mold in full. However, he was relying on the material to be dense enough that it held true, even if the exterior got a bit dinged from the fall.

"It is a piece of metal, not glass."

Flatline spoke flippantly when scolded to be careful about the wheel, before moving on, kneeling down to start to pick up the mold pieces after his hands were freed. Using his secondary's to wrap and loop around the collected pieces, the black and red mech was able to gather everything in one pass, before depositing them upon the table where he started to wedge and wiggle the temporary pipes out from the material, so that nothing remained but the compound itself.

"You may use the sink to clean it if you're that appalled. Anyway, next we strap and brace the mold to accept the liquid metal."

Simple sounding, but potentially troublesome.

Putting rigid molds back together was a task that could be obnoxious and tragic. If the mold wasn't put in place smoothly, the small gaps would not only mean the final product comes out flawed, but it also meant that the material ((in this case molten metal)) would ooze and seep out. It could make a dangerous mess and waste coveted matter.

That said, good pre-planning was the solution here.

Because Flatline had cut the mold apart with some jagged lines and zig zags, when he started to loosely place the pieces back together, the chunks almost 'fell' into the correct positions. There were soft clicks, light shifts, it seemed almost as if the mold wanted to be put back how it had been, and did so clean enough that a few of the seams seemed to vanish if you were not up close to it to see the division.

"I have got to say Knock Out, this is a rather pleasant challenge. One that requires effort, but not so much so that it becomes potentially impossible to accomplish in time."

A bit of normality, tipping hand a small amount. He was slipping in some pleasantries between being a bit of a pain, since this was an interesting project. While he finished saying such things, he tapped the last piece of the mold into place, the cube settling down to look as it had before the wheel was extracted.

[Knock Out]

Ugh. Why did he expect Flatline to give an actual answer? They hated one another, it wasn't like the black and red mech was about to divulge in depth all the projects he was working on. Although he'd expected him to at least drop some hint that was more than what'd been given. Something for him to really think about and dwell on. 'This and that' was... vague enough to rouse curiosity, yes, but it had no substance or value; he couldn't mull over what possible things he and Shockwave were working on in secret.

Still, Knock Out would roll his optics in response – not dignifying it with a vocal response aside from a soft, unimpressed grunt.

Whatever. He didn't have to know. It probably wasn't very exciting.

Oh now he was dwelling on it! Damnit Flatline!

Thankfully his thoughts were pulled away momentarily when Flatline made a flippant comment about his reaction to the wheel rim falling on the floor.

“That piece of metal has more love and care put into making it look presentable than most everyone else here on the ship!” he squawked, somewhat offended. Just a piece of metal? Did he know how long it took to get that thing looking as shiny and pristine as he did? Obviously not!

Tsk.. Some mechs...

He offered a scowl in response to Flatline's next comment, and marched over to the sink, wheel rim clutched firmly in tow. He was indeed appalled, and no amount of water would probably reverse the scuff marks from it being dropped and then stepped on by one of Flatline's weird pedes. Still, he'd try to rinse off as much of the dirt as he could and made a mental note to go over it with the polish and buffer later.

He did try to keep his attention on Flatline and what he was doing as he rinsed the wheel rim, but it was a little hard given he was such a perfectionist. Even if he was the only one who gave two slags about the state of his frame, he would know that the rim was dirty and he couldn't stand for that.

A quiet huff, an annoyed vent of a sigh – he'd gotten it as clean as he could with basic water alone. It still felt dirty and tainted almost, but it'd have to do.

“Oh, is that so? Well I'll be sure to give Megatron more backhanded compliments in future so we can do this more often!” his tone was dry, laced with his usual sarcasm – but he was smiling. Obviously he was joking, he didn't want to go through all this again, although if it meant he'd get to snoop around Flatline's lab for longer next time? Who knows.

“Really, though. I do appreciate you helping me with this, given the time constraints.”

[Flatline]

"You know that level of obsession could be unhealthy for you?"

An angular brow crooked up at these words, red eyes casting a glance over to the other Cybertronian. Flatline could understand not wanting to be an absolute slob of an individual, he himself did not wish to have mud all over his plating, especially when he had work that he wanted to do that needed to be clean. That said, being clean and tidy was one thing, while obsessing over the smallest of chips in paint or a bit of a dulled surface from scuffs or scratches was something else all together. It was who Knock Out was though, and Flatline wondered how well it interfered with his medical skills. Would he do something a slower way, simply to save his finish at the patients expense?...

His mind swam over these thoughts a moment while he tried to put the mold back together, almost missing Knock Out's commentary that happened a moment later through the sound of running water. The black and red mech tilted his helm at this, a slight incline though his gaze remained downcast, showing he was listening even if he did not directly look up at him in the process.

"You're welcome, but look... I am skilled but I can't raise the dead!"

Flatline actually seemed amused while he said this, finding some humor for the moment. It helped that he was so occupied, his mind unable to 'read into' Knock Out's words too deeply to find reason to hate or be offended out of nothing. This caused a sort of smile to pull back in the process, trying to imagine the trouble the other medic could get into if he were to be sassy even more so.

"I will happily take the upgrade in the Decepticon hierarchy however, so by all means."

Purred out, Flatline's grin continued, now peeling back fully to expose the more gnarled dental plating. It was then he was fully satisfied with the mold, picking back up the metal plates that had once contained it when it was wet. With a few slaps, Flatline caged the metal around it once again in the same points, starting to glue it all back together with the adhesive from before.

"In the cabinet below the sink is degreasers and other things. While it won't be to your obscene standards, it may help."

Flatline offered this simply while he held onto the metal pieces, waiting for the adhesive to dry again.

[Knock Out]

“Oh, and is that your professional opinion on the matter?” he chuckled lowly, shaking his helm as he looked over the wheel rim as if inspecting it. While he was overly pedantic when it came to cleanliness, he wouldn't call it unhealthy. As a Medic – and the Chief Medical Officer at that – he had certain standards that he liked to adhere to. Sure he'd always been nitpicky about his own frame to the point others saw it as crazy, but he was all for keeping up appearances and looking fantastic. Both of which he excelled at.

While Flatline mused on if it affected his work any? It honestly didn't – not that Flatline would believe that, probably. He'd lost count of the times after a long day in the Med Bay he'd been covered in Primus only knows what from day to day surgeries. Vehicons seemed to have a knack for tracking in filth and grime, one even managed to get all manner of sludge into his tanks that'd so beautifully exploded all over Knock Out when he'd gone to take a look. Getting covered in all manner of vile and repulsive liquid was just part of the job, and it just made the shower at the end of the day that much more rewarding.

“Mm? What do you do then?” he smirked, amusement in his tone as his attention shifted over to the disembodied Vehicon arm that was elevated on a stand on across the room. Another not so subtle attempt at finding out just what it was Flatline was working on over here this side of the Nemesis where he normally did not stray without good reason.

He couldn't help but bark out a good humored laugh at Flatline's next comment, turning his gaze back to the black and red mech.

“Oh please, I don't think you'd last a day in my position, Flatline – and besides, if Megatron didn't offline me for earlier, I like to think I'm fairly safe.” a flash of a wink, another chuckle that tapered off as he found his attention drawn back to the wheel rim – it was still filthy, the water alone had gotten off most of the dirt but it felt greasy and disgusting still.

Flatline seemed to pick up on this; and whether it was simply him being nice, or preemptively stopping the CMO from freaking out over the wheel later on, he let up the location of where he kept the degreasers.

“Ah, I am sure I can make do – thank you.”

Back to the sink he went, lowering into a crouch to open the cabinet that'd been pointed out. Lip curling into an unimpressed sneer at that contents within – ugh these were all so basic and low-end. Generic quality things. Still, though, Flatline didn't have to offer, and he was thankful that he now had access to something that'd help.

Rummaging around a moment, he pulled out a small tube of degreaser as well as something that vaguely looked like some sort of polish. While he wanted nothing more than to go over the wheel-rim with his own fancy polish and buffer, after this he simply would not have time. It was already late, he needed to recharge and then go to the... uh... mine. Yeah.

Standing up then he'd once again run the water, applying a generous amount of degreaser and started to scrub.

[Flatline]

While Knock Out was still frantically trying to scrabble for clues on just what his job was on the ship, Flatline's attention was soundly snapped in a new direction by the red medic's words, his shoulders shifting back some, while the quills that ran down his spinal strut seemed to twitch and rattle with newfound interest and a bit of excitement at the idea he just had. Did Knock Out surly think he wouldn't last a day in his position? Did he truly believe his job was THAT terrible? The challenge nicked and snagged at his interest, brows hooking up high while he looked down at the mold, holding it steady while the glue cured.

"Oh really now? I bet you I could easily do your job for a day."

He raised his voice a bit while he said this, so that he could be easily heard from across the room while Knock Out turned on the water at the sink and started to clean.

"Do we feel like making a little trade?"

Breaking his gaze finally from the box, Flatline peered over at the other mech, finding a bit of sadistic joy in the fact their height differences meant that the other Cybertronian looked a little bit like a toddler trying to work in an oversized basin. While it was still functional, the laboratory was set up to accommodate an individual of his height, and not so much one on the shorter side of things. Part of him wanted to ask if he needed a box to stand on, but he would just silently mull over the sight while he spoke more.

"For one day I do everything on your list of tasks, while you can try to make some feeble attempt to pick at my challenges and chores."

Getting enough of watching Knock Out clean, Flatline turned and moved back over to the forge, setting the mold down atop a thermal protective plate so that the floor didn't get unnecessarily heated up and damaged if the mold were to leak. It also meant that if the mold DID leak, he only had to peel up the plate and not need to replace a panel on the floor all together. He then grabbed the handle on the forge, and pulled it back out with a hum of electricity and blast of heat, the churning mass of metal fully prepared and ready to go.

"If you cannot even make a wheel in a day, it should surely be entertaining..."

[Knock Out]

Flatline's response caught the cherry-red Mech off guard, and he'd pause his scrubbing just for a moment to chuckle, tsk'ing and giving a quick shake of his helm before he went right back to what he was doing. The usage of the word 'easily' made him roll his optics, an unseen smirk on his faceplate.

“Easily, mm? I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

While from an outsiders perspective it probably didn't look like Knock Out did much? It was, in fact, quite the opposite. The Vehicons had routine and regular maintenance that took up a good portion of his day, and while he was lying about his little trip to the Mines tomorrow, he did occasionally have to go down to various outposts to do checkups. There were also complicated surgeries to be carried out here on the Nemesis at times, with lots and lots of overtime and very little recharge that came with it. Megatron himself came in often as well - over-diligent about his checkups, wanting to be in the best possible shape he could be at all times. Not to mention the paperwork and logs that needed to be filled out, inventories that needed to be checked, counted and logged... Then there were the time-wasting cretins that came in because boohoo they'd rolled a joint wrong or thought they had something in their optic, or that one time one came in in a panic because he'd forgot how to fly, yet wasn't even a flier to begin with... That was fun to explain and wasted a good two and a half hours...

“A trade?”

Another pause. This time was because it was a little awkward for him to wash the rim in this ridiculous oversized basin without overexerting himself due to awkward angles. He made it work, of course he did, but being on the shorter side of the spectrum compared to other Decepticons sure did have its downsides sometimes. Still, he was too stubborn and full of pride to even think of making it easier for himself by dragging over a box or asking Flatline for something to help.

“I'm interested. If only because I know I'll dazzle and surprise you with how much I get done.” he turned to glance over his shoulder to flash a cheeky wink, before he went back to scrubbing. “That, and you may find yourself eating your words there, Flatline – my job here on the Nemesis is no walk in the park, and I think you will flounder.”

A quiet mental note was made there to push all his rather mundane and rather annoying tasks onto one day – ones that would hopefully have Flatline realize just how shitty his job actually was, and would maybe earn him some respect from the black and red mech for doing that kind of thing all the time. He didn't think Flatline had the patience for it. Even Knock Out didn't at times. Hm. A couple of complicated surgeries could be scheduled for that day, too – let's see you get through those without crying for help, Flatline! A backlog of paperwork? A few things hidden from inventory? Ahh yes, he would make the day fun indeed for the other mech.

He tsk'd softly again.

“I'm sure given the equipment I technically could, but my Medical Bay is lacking in a lot of things that you have here.” he droned, gently shrugging his shoulders. Flatline had an unfair advantage - his lab was set up for things like that. Knock Out's medical bay? Not so much. 

"Mm. Do you have a specific day in mind?" 

[Flatline]

While the setup on pouring metals and forging his own things was rather sloppy considering he didn’t have too much of a dedicated area and was doing this on the floor... it did seem to be functional enough to help manage his limited space and not need to go down to the actual forge. It was so much more convenient as far as he was concerned, and worked just fine for his smaller scale projects. The hubcap he was making was actually the largest thing he has made with this setup however, and it showed in the way the crucible was basically full to the brim with molten metal's.

"I will become your personal gopher should you manage to 'dazzle' me."

Flatline eased down with a hiss of hydraulics once he pulled the container free from its mounting and the heating elements, his digitigrade legs folding gently together so that the barbed 'heel' of his hock plates actually touched the ground, the action causing a thin red wire to curl out of the way in the process. This squatting sit, even transferred to the rest of his limb, where he sat the wheels of his upper legs, down upon what was the equivalent of his calves with a soft tap of rubber against metal. Once steadied, he moved his limbs down to angle the crucible directly above the small hole in the center of the mold.

"No specific day in mind off hand, I feel we will need to compare our schedules and see what two days are 'disposable' for me to lose out on progress."

Another tease, Flatline did not look up at Knock Out while he said this, but he did grin again, an amused smile while he carefully started to move his arms. The action that followed was as careful and delicate as he could muster, while still exerting the strength needed to support the weight of the crucible and the molten metal's within. It made some of the movements slightly shaky, but overall, it was rather steady as only a small dribble of metal peppered the outside of the mold's opening, before starting to pour in carefully.

While he could pour the metals in much faster, Flatline seemed to stall out and keep the stream as thin as he could so that the mold could fill at a gradual pace to help prevent air pockets from being formed in the process. It was a bordering agonizing thing, his weaker arms wanting to give up and not comply with his desire to hold the heavy metals up and away from his body as he was. Not letting his limbs ruin things, Flatline continued to power forward despite this, red optics latched down with extreme focus on the point the liquid vanished.

Something Knock Out had said however, did trouble Flatline.

He had assumed that he would get to use the Medical Bay if he was going to be doing Knock Out's job, but in contrast that implied that the red mech would get to use HIS laboratory to try to do his job, which... made sense, but it was horrifying. Who knows what would be done in his absence, and who knows what could be changed or ruined while he was gone? There was also the fact his personal living quarters were attached to this area, and it would not be difficult for someone like Knock Out to use his medical override to simply snoop around at what lies beyond.

Flatline's lips pressed together into a thin line while he considered this, not directly commenting while he focused on trying to get every last drop of metal out from the chamber.

[Knock Out]

This scrubbing was becoming rather tedious and annoying – Flatline didn't have the same quality cleaners that Knock Out was used to, and he was having to put in actual effort for a very slow payoff. It was for the greater good though, it'd get the wheel rim clean and shiny eventually, and it kept him out of the way of Flatline where he risked getting splattered with molten metal which was a big noooo thank you after the day he'd had.

“Personal gopher? Oooh, incentive.” he purred, grinning. “I do already have one, but another wouldn't hurt.” nothing against Breakdown there at all, but oh the things he'd have Flatline do if he had him as an errand boy, even if it was only for a day or so – although with the way he'd phrased it? It could be taken as a long-term thing.

Then again with how Flatline was, it'd be hard to 'dazzle' him to the point of him admitting that he was actually dazzled, especially with something like that on the line now.

Still though, challenge accepted.

Another quiet hum of thought given, he'd turn the wheel rim this way and that, inspecting it. It wasn't to his particular liking but it'd sadly have to do – he could go over it again later with his own supplies if it really, truly bothered him. Maybe after he was done in the 'mine' tomorrow he could take a cruise through a human car wash. Those things were always relaxing, almost like a massage!

“Oh aren't you cute,” he smirked, turning the water off then and swiveling on his heel to face Flatline, mostly-clean and dripping wet wheel rim in servo, letting it air dry as he didn't trust any cloths given to him by Flatline not to scratch and ruin things further. “At least you'd only need two days. Given the nature of my work I'd have to set aside an entire week after you're done in there – see who comes crawling back in with injuries caused by your hand.” he winked, even though Flatline wasn't looking.

“Aah, yes - I hope you're ready to become my personal gopher, Flatline.”

His mind hadn't wandered to the same thoughts that Flatline had – he had nothing of personal value in his Medical Bay, and those small things that were – like his expensive wax collection and buffer? Were locked securely in cabinets and out the way. His living quarters were – thankfully – entirely separate from his work area.

“Speaking of, I assume you'd want Breakdown to stick around and act as your assistant if you are to take my place for a day there? Or do you think you're good enough to go without?” it was only fair he'd ask – and while he was sure Breakdown wouldn't be too thrilled with the idea, it'd keep things equal.

He didn't move closer to the other mech, not while he was working with molten metals that could splash and ruin his paint job – but would just simply lean back against the awkwardly oversized sink and watch what was going on from afar.

[Flatline]

Flatline let out a half snort at Knock Out's words, not really bothering to do the loud scoff he really wanted to do. He couldn’t afford to jostle himself too much making flippant sound effects, when he was still pouring the molten metal... but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking it with the way the medic implied he'd botch up his work. What kind of hack did he think he was!?

Red optics latched down fiercely to the small opening at the top of the mold, the crucible slowly emptying out its contents one ounce at a time. The process really was slow, but it would produce finer results all things considered. A few extra minutes here, could save ample amounts of filling and sanding in the future. It all added up to a more stable product.

"And have him sabotage me so you look better? Not ever."

Flatline simply did not trust a personal assistant to Knock Out to not ruin his work. Passive small actions could add up and simply paint him as an inferior surgeon! Then again, maybe Breakdown was more honorable than that and would be more than happy to help. Maybe he didn’t care about the squabble and simply would want to see those who came into the Medical Bay properly cared for. Honestly, that would, impress Flatline if the brute was able to look past the bickering to do what was right, while he was concerned Knock Out and himself couldn’t say the same.

Sure, Flatline wouldn’t let anyone DIE, but he would be a pain if tables were turned.

Finishing up, Flatline eased back as silver started to bubble out from the vents he had installed earlier. Bits leaking up and flowing a couple inches away from the opening, though didn’t go any further as Flatline stopped pouring and back off, eyeing the container a moment to make sure it wasn’t a rogue air bubble and that things truly were filled. With a tiny bit of top off to double check and make certain, Flatline then made a loud 'tsk' and hefted himself upright.

He was not the strongest individual, so going from a complete sit to his peds while holding a heavy piece of machinery away from himself put a bit of a strain on his slender legs. He rocked himself forward with a push, before a hiss of hydraulics strained within his limbs. A quick clip of a ped snapping down to catch his balance from his new position... another push to then rock him back and center his weight... he soon was upright again, moving with the machinery which he slotted back within the wall, glancing over at Knock Out finally.

"You done with the sink? Can you fill it three quarters with room temp water please?"

A simple request, figuring the other mech was done with the basin since he was holding the wheel away from himself out from the water. After Flatline asked this, he slotted the crucible back within its holder, before slamming it inside the aperture that contained it. The system sealed shut and he started to start a self clean that should strip out the remaining scraps of metal and allow him to collect it later as an ingot.

[Knock Out]

“Oh please, Breakdown knows the meaning of honor. He wouldn't sabotage you just because we don't get along.” he scoffed, rolling his optics. Even if Knock Out asked Breakdown to ruin Flatline's day in this little wager, he wouldn't. Heck he'd probably get annoyed at Knock Out for even suggesting it! Breakdown was loyal to Knock Out that was for sure, but the petty squabbles between the cherry-red Mech and Flatline were something he tried not to involve himself with.

Probably for the best.

“Alas, he'd do everything in his power to help you – just to keep things fair.” there was a tiny amount of disgust in his tone, but eh. It'd be interesting to get a report back from Breakdown as to how Flatline worked under normal circumstance – aside from this moment here where he was under a horrible time constraint? Knock Out realized he hadn't actually seen Flatline work before.

He was quiet as Flatline worked, letting the other mech focus and concentrate on pouring – he didn't want the other mech to mess up now, not after they were hopefully so close to being done! The tiniest of smirks crept onto his face as Flatline moved upright. Part of him, a tiny part, realized he could offer to help – not that he was much stronger, probably, but aah – there was a certain sense of joy in watching him struggle and strain a moment.

The smirk quickly faded as he was addressed, and he'd nod.

“Ah, sure.” a quiet hum of thought, paired with a quick glance around for somewhere clean to put down the now mostly-clean rim he was still holding. He'd take a step forward to gently place it onto an empty bench, before he made his way back to the sink.

“If only because you said please~” he purred, chuckling as he leaned up to turn on the faucet once more – poking at the water with the tip of a digit to make sure it was the correct temperature. A small adjustment here, another there.. it didn't take long for the sink to fill with the required amount, and he'd take a swift step to the side to allow Flatline room to do whatever it was he planned.

[Flatline]

The disgust in Knock Out's voice was not lost to him.

Perhaps it was true Breakdown truly WAS above such things, maybe it was a fact he would honestly be a good helper even if he wasn’t fond of the interactions. It was so hard to say, Knock Out may be lying to gain a better hand, maybe it was truth, at this point it was a fifty fifty chance. He would maybe need to interact with the blue and silver mech at some point just to try to make his own judgments on the matter. But that was neither here nor there.

Flatline watched as Knock Out filled the sink, busying himself by moving over to then clean off his hands on a work rag that was stationed nearby. He wasn’t properly CLEANING his hands as if he were going to do surgery, but it was knocking off some of the bits of grease and chemicals from his previous tasks, while also rubbing his joints that were a bit irritated from the earlier strain.

"We have about ten minutes or so, and then we quench it to take down the heat."

Perhaps he jumped the gun getting the other mech to fill the sink so soon, but it was simply Flatline's nature to look ahead at the next stage and get it perfectly ready before it was actually needed. He didn't want to get caught up in conversation, only to need the water and have to wait for it to properly fill, thus delaying things further.

He knew Knock Out would need all the time he could to polish and paint.

"If we were using the metals for its intended purpose, you would then slowly re-heat in an oven and let it cook for twelve hours to strengthen the bonds... but given your situation this should suffice."

Informative, he didn't recall if he had said this exactly already, but it was worth mentioning.

"I still find it borderline insulting to use such metals like this, not letting them reach their full potential and effectively crippling them... but you can replace the wheel properly later on and they can be re-used better."

Unless Knock Out DID want to make it into a shield wheel or something and properly hardened it later on. While it would be heavier, as stated before in their conversations, it could make a potentially strong plate of metal to deflect things, if the medic was fast enough to hold it up in time that is... Chances are he'd just ding up his forearm trying. OH WELL.

"You are aware this will need a lot of polishing and cleanup work correct?"

He warned.

"Even for my standards, let alone yours."