[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Against All Odds [Knock Out]
Feb 13, 2021 0:56:09 GMT -5
Post by Flatline on Feb 13, 2021 0:56:09 GMT -5
"I'm sure any effort we put in to gathering supplies will at least garner us some favor with Pyrotech and Starscream,"
Favor.
These words really burned into Flatline's tired and half drugged mind. If he could gain favor, then it could help muddle down his immense failures. Start making a few careful steps forward to become truly valuable once more. Not a liability, not a problem... he wanted things to go back to how they once were, and if he had to labor like some common Vehicon and make some field trips to do so? He would do it in a heartbeat. It would never be TRULY back to how it was, but things could be better... they had to be able to get better.
Flatline's gaze cast down a bit further, both in dismay as his thoughts shifted around, and also to keep a close eye on the floor ahead. His right hand slid along the wall with care for support and safety, fingers curling around the corner when the hallway broke off from the main fairway to lead to the Commander's quarters. With a soft push off this edge, Flatline would walk completely separated from his safety net, more weight planting onto his cane.
There was a passing glance down the corridor. It looked similar to the main sleeping area for others, but he knew they had to be nicer, and he knew Knock Out got to go down there because of his fancy title. A fleeting thought snapped through Flatline's mind then, wondering if he would get to move up to such placement if Knock Out were... not around. Get to be separated from the rabble, not need to share a room with a borderline deranged monster. He could be FREE.
Yet Knock Out was essentially his only ally.
Far too late to the discussion, Flatline seemed to tune back in to what was being said, having checked out a moment to his own inner voice. His helm would crook over to glance at the other mech, a sort of confused look while he tried to catch up.
"What?... Ah... yes, they are not worth salvaging."
He sounded confused, before the words about the circular saw were dropped down and his expression snapped from blank disorientation to straight up disapproval and judgement.
"Really."
Flat words, unimpressed Knock Out was taking such a route.
"My arm is nearly twice as long as yours."
Despite this, Flatline was still mildly impressed ((though also questioned the truth of)) the fact that Knock Out had used his circular saw to remove what little remained of his secondary arms. To use such a brashly violent tool meant for major surgeries in Flatline's opinion, for something that was delicate in nature? Well... it was to be commended as the raw talent it was. A steady hand was everything, as a bump or lurch when hitting a weaker or more dense material could cause the violently serrated edge to sheer at an odd angle.
Favor.
These words really burned into Flatline's tired and half drugged mind. If he could gain favor, then it could help muddle down his immense failures. Start making a few careful steps forward to become truly valuable once more. Not a liability, not a problem... he wanted things to go back to how they once were, and if he had to labor like some common Vehicon and make some field trips to do so? He would do it in a heartbeat. It would never be TRULY back to how it was, but things could be better... they had to be able to get better.
Flatline's gaze cast down a bit further, both in dismay as his thoughts shifted around, and also to keep a close eye on the floor ahead. His right hand slid along the wall with care for support and safety, fingers curling around the corner when the hallway broke off from the main fairway to lead to the Commander's quarters. With a soft push off this edge, Flatline would walk completely separated from his safety net, more weight planting onto his cane.
There was a passing glance down the corridor. It looked similar to the main sleeping area for others, but he knew they had to be nicer, and he knew Knock Out got to go down there because of his fancy title. A fleeting thought snapped through Flatline's mind then, wondering if he would get to move up to such placement if Knock Out were... not around. Get to be separated from the rabble, not need to share a room with a borderline deranged monster. He could be FREE.
Yet Knock Out was essentially his only ally.
Far too late to the discussion, Flatline seemed to tune back in to what was being said, having checked out a moment to his own inner voice. His helm would crook over to glance at the other mech, a sort of confused look while he tried to catch up.
"What?... Ah... yes, they are not worth salvaging."
He sounded confused, before the words about the circular saw were dropped down and his expression snapped from blank disorientation to straight up disapproval and judgement.
"Really."
Flat words, unimpressed Knock Out was taking such a route.
"My arm is nearly twice as long as yours."
Just because his forearm was longer, did not mean the circular saw actually filled that entire void however. In fact, Flatline may be set up to lose this wager simply because his forearms both housed the saw, and the basic maintenance tools such as the pliers and soldering gun. That didn't mean he would admit to this outright though, plenty willing to boast as if his entire limb housed a large saw for amputations and major surgeries more so than fiddly detail work if it would throw Knock Out's joke back in his face.
Or would that just make more banter? Did he shoot himself in his good knee by his comment? Would it get a brow waggle and grin in return?... Primus...
Despite this, Flatline was still mildly impressed ((though also questioned the truth of)) the fact that Knock Out had used his circular saw to remove what little remained of his secondary arms. To use such a brashly violent tool meant for major surgeries in Flatline's opinion, for something that was delicate in nature? Well... it was to be commended as the raw talent it was. A steady hand was everything, as a bump or lurch when hitting a weaker or more dense material could cause the violently serrated edge to sheer at an odd angle.