[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Poetry in Motion [Knock Out and Pipette]

[Pipette]

Episode 3: Week 3, Day 2, Early morning

Starting in Blackridge Medical then moving to the asphalt somewhere down the road.



Pipette stretched, one wheel first, then slowly her other three as she emerged to full consciousness after her recharge. Slowly and with zero fanfare, the dark gunmetal grey Dodge Challenger shifted components around a central mass, until sitting on her berth, Pipette, the humanoid metal based alien took shape. During the transformation, her hood, goggles and mask slid into position like good P.P.E. as was her habit. She recalled the events of the previous evening and smiled under her mask. One painful tiny detail drew her attention down to the gouge on her left hand. Skilled medical attention was clearly required if she was to not further damage her precious digits. She audibly sighed with annoyance. It meant further interaction with people, and that she would have to impose, neither which was currently enticing. She had experiments to conduct and chemicals to manufacture, though fairly none of it was urgent. Pipette sighed again and made up her mind to grab a quick cube down the hall and go bother one of the two medics.

Drinking down a small cube of energon from a dispenser was done with complete lack of any ceremony, pure function and need as the chemist’s mind wandered over chemical equations. Sated for the meantime, she sought the door to medical in the halls and demurely pushed the unlocked door open.

“Excuse me, may I bother someone?” She asked out loud. A flat monotonous tone with an underlying current of embarrassment.

[Knock Out]

Early starts were something that Knock Out had never gotten used to. Since his arrival to this planet when tasked to bring Megatron back from the very brink of death, his days had started far, far earlier than he’d ever of liked.

To say he wasn’t a morning person would be an understatement.

He’d trudged to the Medical Bay, just like he always did upon a new day, optics bleary - a ration of Energon in hand. A ration that he intended to sip slowly while catching up on paperwork from the night before, checking the schedule to see which troops needed general maintenance - all in some attempt to wake himself up to the point he was somewhat functional.

Though mornings were not his thing, he could at least appreciate the quiet before the hustle and bustle of the day truly started. Oh yes, while there were Eradicons and Vehicons patrolling the halls at all hours, the general populace wouldn’t be out and about for a while yet. Or at least, not to the point of bothering him for anything.

Both Flatline and Breakdown would be here before too long - and while he had learned to work in harmony with the black and red mech, even to the point of delegating him some actual medical work now, he did sometimes miss when it was just himself and Breakdown occupying the room.

Easing into a sit at his simple, boring looking desk - he would set his ration down, leaning forward to pull a datapad closer to himself to start his tasks for the day.

It was a good ten or so minutes of peace and quiet, at any rate.

He heard the door, though did not look up - assuming that Flatline had merely started his day early, he kept his attention on the small screen in front of himself, a thumb sliding to open up the correct application.

Only for a voice that certainly was not Flatline to catch him off guard.

At the question, he would look up to see just who it was - biting his tongue to stop himself retorting that she already had, though would give his cheeriest smile, or at least, somewhat pleasant, considering the time of day.

“My, you’re an early bird. What can I do for you?”

He couldn’t help but look her over from where he sat - a scrutinous gaze, almost - trying to see any obvious signs of injury. Anyone up and about at this hour was obviously having some sort of medical crisis or emergency, or were simply smart to get something routinely mundane over and done with as early as possible - given the fact this room would be busy with an influx of Vehicons in just a few short hours.

She was probably the latter, given she did not appear to be dying.

[Pipette]

"Early bird..." She whispered to herself under her breath. It was yet another unknown iota of the spoken language. Was it a moniker like Starkrieger would create, perhaps an idiom, or even a compound of both? Pipette didn't know, but in context it seemed not so important. She mentally put it aside for later inspection. She stepped inside the room and gently closed the door behind herself. 

She was glad to see Knock Out was on duty. She liked Flatline for his professionalism, but the concept of a doctor with a limp left her with just a touch of doubt in her mind. A highly vain doctor hopefully took pride in their work. She considered a suitably pleasant greeting was required as correct decorum, before making an imposition of herself.

"Greetings Chief Medical Officer Knock Out. I hope you endure fortunate circumstances this day." She gave a curt nod of respect but otherwise remained fairly still. There was a simple economy to her motions, almost entirely bereft of body language and gesticulation. She wasn't being deliberately cold, time around aliens, combined with her poor visual awareness and subpar gyroscope had taught her to keep her motions minimal. 

That seemed to suffice, now on to her own needs.

"I have sustained a gouge to the epidermal plating on the outer edge of my fifth digit of my left hand, and possible impact damage from the dislocation of the first knuckle servo of the fifth and fourth digits of the same hand." She paused for a moment as she considered that Knock Out looked busy as his desk.

"The injury is not debilitating, am I required to arrange an appointment?" To even assume she might be seen immediately would have been overly self centered even for her.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out didn’t hear the whispered, repeated phrase. His attention drifting briefly to the datapad screen once more as he powered the device off, before looking back at the femme as she spoke.

“I’d say the same for you but, well, given you’re here…”

He’d gesture vaguely in her direction. Nobody liked being in this room, there was nothing ‘fortunate’ about being here.

“Still though, can only get better from here I suppose!”

Well, that depended on what the issue was. There were no visible signs of leaking Energon, nor did she seem to be in any sort of distress - though her movements were a little strange. Deliberate, almost. Maybe that was some generalized fear of the Medical Bay manifesting itself in a physical way. Regardless, he wouldn’t question it further than this initial observance, bobbing his helm as she began describing what was wrong.

Oh it was far too early for such specific details, and he could only blink. The gentle scrape of his chair against rock sounded as he pushed himself up and into a stand.

“Ah, servo injury - got it.”

At least that should be easy to fix. Or at the very least, he could drag this out with conversation and have Flatline look at it. 

“As for an appointment, nah, no need - might as well get it out the way now. Here, have a seat-”

With that said, he would move across the Medical Bay to pick up the only other chair in the room. This one sat at the desk belonging to Flatline, and eh - it wasn’t like he was here to use it right now. Should he arrive early? He would just have to stand up.

Placing the chair down on the opposite side of his own desk, the cherry-red mech would then move to sit back down in his own seat - peering at Pipette.

“So what did you do? Impact damage, mm? Punch someone?” there was a smirk paired with this question.

He hoped it was something fun like that - Primus knew he needed some excitement and change from the same old ‘mining injuries’ the Vehicons brought in.

[Pipette]

"Philosophical diatribe aside, I endeavor to make every day fortunate." Rational through and through - almost - Pipette was neither optimist or pessimist, she planned for the future and accepted whatever circumstances came her way. Whether the day indeed got better was marginally in Knock Out's hands.

She moved over to the proffered seat, eyeing the medical equipment with simple curiosity, and sat down with little grace or fanfare. "Thank you." After a moment's hesitation, her hood, mask and goggles retracted away. She was the patient here, and the feeling of vulnerability she felt was expected and normalised.

"Impact injury, correct, I am not prone to using my hands aggressively. I simply tripped and fell over yester-evening while outside in the dark." She deliberately held back mentioning Starkrieger as she had yet to completely understand and accept her feelings about the mech. If Knock Out were to ask her however, what she was doing, she would be honest about the facts. If her theories held true, medics had Seen-it-all.

She did recognise the smirk on Knock Out's face for what it was but failed to intuit the medics own feelings. Such nuances were currently beyond her. Based on the flow of conversation, it sounded like he enjoyed the prospect of in-fighting, but that did not seem very logical to the chemist.

With nothing else to add, she held out her left hand, edge outwards for Knock Out to inspect.

[Knock Out]

“Oh? How’s that working out for you?”

It was a good mindset to have - if a little too optimistic and unrealistic in his opinion - though he could only wonder how long something like that would last around here at Blackridge before she simply gave up on the idea. While this place wasn’t exactly soul-destroying, the lack of any real natural lights and the fact they seemed to be stagnating did little for morale and one’s mood.

Or at least, Knock Out’s morale and mood. What was fortunate about this place? Not a whole lot. A day where he did the bare minimum without it being obvious as to draw attention? That was pretty lucky, but every day seemed to melt into the next - same old, same old…

Eh, some days were better than others. Though that could be said for anyone, he was sure.

At the explanation for the injury, he seemed to pout a little - tsking gently.

“Aw. Well, that’s nowhere near as fun.”

Was it unprofessional of him to want some juicy gossip to go along with the injury? Probably - and while Flatline was not here to judge, Knock Out could almost feel a scrutinous glare from the black and red mech from wherever he was right now.

“What were you doing outside, if I may inquire? For curiosity’s sake - nothing more. I didn’t think there was anything to do out there. Especially in the dark.”

Though, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she was simply out there walking to get away from the drab and dreary corridors of Blackridge for a while. Sometimes a bit of fresh air circulating the vents was a good thing, and while he didn’t really care for the organic life on this planet, there were sometimes wild horses that roamed the nearby area, especially when things were quiet. It could be considered peaceful, if the distant sounds of cicadas and other insects cutting through the still, quiet air were your thing.

With a thoughtful hum, he would lean forward to gently grasp Pipette’s servo in one of his own - so he could carefully maneuver the injured limb if need be, and to hold it steady. His touch was light, delicate - optics narrowing some as he looked over the damage. A seriousness coming into play, if only for a moment.

“Mm, well, the gouge is thankfully superficial at best. Still, given the filth of the organic dirt outside, we’ll do a thorough cleaning - nothing worse than the feeling of grit and dust.” he shuddered at the thought, then would carefully release her servo.

“Dislocation appears to be only minor, with no real bending or deformities of note. I can probably pop those back in for you - though you’ll have to take it easy with that servo for a day or so, with splints applied to make doubly sure you don’t inadvertently bend and worsen the injury. I apologize - what line of work are you in here at Blackridge?”

The hood, mask, and goggles were a fairly obvious clue indeed - though this was the perfect excuse for conversation.

[Pipette]

"I am functional and I have a laboratory. My present circumstances are entirely acceptable." These two facets were enough for her, anything else was a bonus. She was still a million years or more away from breaking the secrets of electrum so her pet project was always a good backup for times when other work was lacking. Once again she was thankful to her creators that she was made just so.


Knock Out's next question was hardly surprising, smart individuals tended to be curious and she doubted the medic was lacking in the processor department. "I was initiating an experiment of self discovery relating to social bonding with a seeker." Her tone and expression were thoughtful. The idea of Starkrieger being a seeker was amusing, a seeker prone to getting lost. She Had found him after all and not the other way around.

The chemist was glad for the Medic's diagnosis. She had believed she had correctly reset the joints herself the previous night but was evidently incorrect. Had she not bothered Knock Out, the injury might have potentially worsened. She had done her best to clean the injury as well, but it was in an awkward place to reach.

"I am simply a chemist. Anything from Alpha particles, to Omega 12 poly-magnetic pharmaceuticals. I live for the reconfiguration of the atomic elements." If her speech sounded rehearsed, it was because it was. Having a default introduction readily available had proved fortunate many times over.

She felt she should add something to the conversation then merely answering professional questions, but was thus far lacking in ideas.

[Knock Out]

“A laboratory? Well, color me impressed! Here at Blackridge, or did they lump you off-site somewhere out the way?”

While he had been aware of the expansion going on at the base - after all who wouldn’t be, given the noise and excess dust - he hadn’t made a point of wandering the corridors to find out just what was being worked on. By all accounts he had assumed it was merely sleeping quarters and some extra storage rooms, but given he’d heard no word on the Nemesis, meaning the likelihood of them going back there anytime soon was slim? It wouldn’t surprise him if other rooms had been made. Did she hold some sort of rank to have her own lab? He wasn’t sure.

Honestly he was just thankful that the Medical Bay was here at Blackridge - though the other side of that coin meant that it was here, and here was where Soundwave was. While he had managed to sneak out a few times now, there seemed to be added risk of running into the Spymaster in one of the many familiar corridors, which was always thrilling. Not that Soundwave probably cared too much, with far more important matters to worry about, but the fact he knew and watched almost everything was enough to keep Knock Out on his best behavior.

For the most part.

The reply to his question made him pause, the slightest smirk on his lip. Social bonding - with a Seeker? Well. He hadn’t expected that - he’d always seen the fliers as snobs, keeping to their own frame type because they were seemingly above the lowly grounders.

“Oooh, social bonding, mm?” he had to pry. He wouldn’t be him if he didn’t.

“How’d that work out for you, injured servo aside?”

Leaning awkwardly to the side a moment, dainty fingertips would scrabble to grab a simple cloth that was almost out of reach. With this retrieved, he would pull open a rather beaten up looking filing cabinet under his desk - the furniture used in lieu of proper drawers, no doubt, pulling out a bottle of what looked to be nothing more than basic isopropyl alcohol. No fancy salves here, with supplies dwindling? They simply had to make do with what was on Earth.

“Reconfiguration of elements? Huh. What kinds of things can you do with that?”

He was a medic, not a scientist; and while it could be argued that the two could overlap in part, her line of work - at least as she had just described it - was simply alien to him. Regardless, he did sound intrigued as he asked the question.

Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, he would swirl the contents some - if only for some sort of dramatic flair, before dabbing it onto the cloth.

[Pipette]

"The laboratory is an adjunct of Shockwave's own." Pipette would have been nonplussed if it had been offsite somewhere. There were positives and negatives to both potentialities. The simple fact that such a laboratory existed for her use was all that really mattered to her.

The chemist only gave brief consideration to the next question, since the topic more or less was occupying a great deal of her processor. "I surmised it would be more complex and problematic but thus far, fortunate circumstances abound." She paused in obvious thought and recollection, a slight smile on her face. "It is working out quite well I think. I am unusually happy, and I am learning quite a substantial amount." For a moment she was almost cheerful.

What could anyone do with atomic rearrangement? The question felt almost absurd.

"Well chemistry of course." She was ever so slightly surprised and indignant. She had thought the answer blindingly obvious. Perhaps it was something to do with what or how she had spoken. Or the medic was merely focussed on other things - like her hand - and not actually listening too much.  

But here she was, being prodded and poked by the Medic, and not her injured hand, but instead the medic was prodding her mentality with questions. As awkward as it was, she felt a desire to reciprocate, to re-bond with her kin that she had been separated from for millions of years. But what to ask? Pipette wasn't normally that curious about other people. To her mostly they were just there, interaction was minimal. She thought back to her previous evening with Starkrieger. There was something more there wasn't there? She had felt joy in that interaction, some unfathomable sense of wholeness. Well that was it then, she would make an effort with this Knock Out who was proving far more sociable and friendly than was the average Decepticon.
But what to ask?

She drew from what little experience she had, and found sudden inspiration from the night before. It had not gone unnoticed that Knock Out was a grounder like herself, and judging by his immaculate bright red paintwork, she surmised he was one who revelled in the fact of having wheels, like a certain seeker with wings.

"Knock Out, do you actively enjoy driving?" 

[Knock Out]

“Near Shockwave’s? Oooh lucky you. Bet you hear all kinds of wonderful things from in there, mm?”

Then again, knowing the head of Science? He had the sense to have some sort of soundproofing and a door. Not that it bothered Knock Out, with the lab being offsite it meant he was kept very much out of sight, out of mind.

To be fair, Shockwave wasn’t all bad. Creepy, yes - but a brilliant mind and an asset to the Decepticon cause. One that the cherry-red mech intended to stay on the good side of, and as such he would refrain from talking ill of him.

The response to his question made him quietly scoff, chuckling.

“Aw, well, it’s early days! Give it time for the problems to wriggle their way to the surface - then even longer for the more complex problems after that.”

It wasn’t that he wanted to put her off whatever this ‘social bonding’ was - but like all good things, there was a honeymoon period where everything seemed perfect. He was lucky to have Breakdown, having been together through so much at this point that it’d take a lot to shake things up - though even they weren’t without their issues.

“I am happy for you, though!” there was some sincerity to his words. With all the doom and gloom of this seemingly never ending war, it was nice to hear about something good for once. 

With the cloth saturated, he would once again carefully take her servo with one of his - moving to gently dab the areas that’d looked to have been scraped. It was times like this he missed the Nemesis, what with its specialized tools and equipment for doing tasks such as this. It wasn’t that he was so inept and unable to do these things by hand, but it sure saved a lot of time and made certain things were done properly.

The slight indignance that paired with her second answer made him quirk a brow, though he did not look up from the task at hand.

“Ah, my apologies. Chemistry isn’t really my forté - at least, not to the level that you yourself can do.” the earlier answer had been simple enough, he realized, but some examples would’ve probably helped him understand a little more just what her skillset actually was.

Ah well, no matter - it allowed him to focus rather than dwell, and ever-so-carefully he would remove some of the gravel that’d embedded itself into the more fiddly parts of her servo. With each bit removed, he would shift the cloth so he was working with a clean area before repeating the process.

There was a gentle hum of thought in response to her question, and while he wouldn’t look up from what he was doing, he would smile.

“I do, yes - why do you think I picked such a fabulous alternate mode?”

It certainly wasn’t for hiding himself away in this dusty hovel, that was for sure.

“Why do you ask?”

[Pipette]

"There are certainly some fascinating sounds that emit from his laboratory though I would not quantify them as wonderful." It was an odd choice of word she thought. Though fairly, any appeal was subjective. Most of the sounds she recalled were however the operation of machinery and power tools - simple background noise.

Pipette note how precisely the medic removed previously embedded debris from her digit. There was ease and skill in the deft gentle movements. She appreciated the display of professional art currently on display.

"I have yet to behold your altmode, so I am unqualified to quantify how fabulous it may be. Though I may offer that that your color format has subjective aesthetic appeal." Black, white, silver, and a very bold shade of red, the combination was simple and yet elegant, very easy on the optics.

"I ask because...well..." It was rare that Pipette struggled to put her thoughts into words but now was one such moment of weakness. She looked away from Knock Out as she sought an appropriate phrase.

"I desire to learn." She blurted. Damn that Star-kun for putting the concept to her last night. She was slightly embarrassed that she had never really driven for fun in her million years plus existence. She had only ever driven if she needed to go somewhere else, or simply to clear her mind and approach a difficult problem from a new vector. The chemist could not remember the last time she had even used her full throttle.

She chose to elaborate a little. "I would like to experience joy in the activity of driving."

The chemist was not hedonistic in the classical sense. She was a sentient creature and did however seek to be happy, which was for her was primarily chemistry, obviously. She was open however to other means.

[Knock Out]

The quite literal response to his words made him chuckle, and he could only assume that his usage of sarcasm had either gone undetected, or Pipette was far too polite to really gripe about the Head of Science and the… wonderful noises that possibly emanate from his laboratory.

Knock Out hadn’t been in the new lab since they’d arrived at Blackridge and Shockwave had settled himself off-site. Heck, even on the Nemesis he’d made a point of avoiding that area of the ship. Of course, that was partly due to the fact that Flatline also resided in that area, and back then they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Any business with the black and red mech, such as him stealing from the Medical Bay? Breakdown was sent to deal with it.

As such, his processor wandered to all sorts of horrors. Maybe he’d seen far too many spooky movies, but there had to be a reason Shockwave kept himself cooped up the way he did.

“Well, just as long as you keep your curiosity to yourself, I suppose. Fascinating or not, I wouldn’t dare peek to see what he was doing in there.”

Anyone else? Fair game. Shockwave? No way.

At her comment and the compliment, he would chuckle again - pairing the noise with an appreciative bob of his helm.

“You’ll just have to take my word for it then, I suppose - and thank you!” he sounded genuinely pleased by the compliment, and would smile. “Not many around here who can pull off cherry-red, but I like to think I manage.”

With a gentle hum, he would carefully maneuver the cloth in his servos, dabbing more of the liquid onto a clean, dry area before delicately continuing his work. There may have been the most minimal sting as he worked, however it wouldn’t be particularly painful nor distracting.

The slight hesitation in her voice made him pause in his movements, and his gaze would shift to look at her as she averted her attention.

Learn how to… drive? Or did she mean more- learn how to have fun while driving. Going from point a to point b wasn’t exactly thrilling, but there were certainly ways to make it more enjoyable.

A feat made easy for him even when he wasn't seeking out the thrill of a race, his altmode was particularly flashy and expensive - and so even on the most mundane trip, he found himself at the center of attention.

“I’m sure that can be arranged!”

Flashing her a wink, he would lean back some, still holding onto the cloth - not letting it touch the desk, as that would mean starting over with a new one entirely.

“Could even say it’s ‘Doctor’s Orders’, if you want - helping you adjust to life here on this dustball of a planet.”

It’d certainly be more for his sake than anything else. Sneaking out - especially to aimlessly drive around or even race? Frowned upon. Leaving the base under the guise of helping someone find their footing? Well, it was genius!

[Pipette]

Cherry Red, an interesting descriptor. Both imprecise and precise intertwined by her own classification. And yes, he did pull it off. It went with the natural warmth of personality she thought.

While Knock Out worked, part of Pipette's processor was firmly watching his movements and the results with analytical fascination. She always endeavored to be a good patient for good doctors - favorable symbiosis she supposed. Her scientific leaning helped with precision delf diagnosis and error reporting, as well as understanding the treatment provided, and following post care instructions. It was the wink that had her momentarily perplexed. After a moment, she surmised that Knock Out found some personal benefit to a drive that she could indirectly provide. Symbiosis it was then.

"I...would appreciate that, yes." Pipette had zero qualms about accepting help from others outside of her laboratory. Her ego and pride weren't so easily dented by admitting she wasn't perfect in every quantifiable aspect.

"I wouldn't go as far as to classify this planet as a dust ball, but I understand the sentiment." In her experience, the vast majority of planets that harbored life were far from dust balls. "But I would certainly gain from further exploration." The more she understood the chemical resources of Earth, the better she would be able to acquire them. "What time would be most readily available in your schedule Doctor for this remedial treatment?"

[Knock Out]

Bobbing his helm at her words, it was then that Knock Out seemed to relax more, making a point to ease further back in his chair. While yes, it could be argued that he had a job to do here - it wasn’t exactly a life-saving surgery, and the atmosphere was relaxed enough for casual conversation that could afford pauses in the task at hand.

A gentle tsk escaped him at her comment about the planet, followed by a chuckle.

“Ah, see - you say that, but just you wait till you’ve driven around a while. I may look good, but the amount of work and effort it takes in keeping myself this way certainly increased tenfold since arriving on this planet.”

Probably even more so now they were here at Blackridge Hold. Though that was a gripe for another time.

While it could be argued that the planet’s surface had more water than anything else, and therefore technically wasn’t a dustball or even close to it, the amount of dirt and grime he seemed to pick up simply by driving around areas that could be considered ‘urban’ in nature? Ridiculous.

Then again, he was rather neurotic about such things. Breakdown on the other hand was simply unfazed by dust and general dirt - though made a point to keep himself clean to avoid the nagging that would occur should Knock Out see him in that state.

Nagging that - while it did not extend to others (usually) - Knock Out certainly judged those at Blackridge on how they kept themselves.

Another nod was given, agreeing with her statement about gaining from exploring further. This planet - as unfortunate as it was - was their home now, and they did need to familiarize themselves with not only the general area, but the mannerisms of the natives when out and about.

At the question, he would hum. Absently mulling it over, making it look like he was actually putting some thought into it.

“Weell…”

Leaning to one side, he would move to grab a datapad with his free servo - still clutching the cloth with his other, making a point of holding it up so it didn’t touch anything. Keeping the screen facing his direction so the femme couldn’t see anything that could be considered ‘confidential’, he would scroll absently with his thumb.

“Uh, now, actually.” he mused, still looking at the screen, though would spare a glance to her as he continued. “-If that’s good for you, anyway? Well - once we’ve applied that splint to your servo. Or, we can see how you feel once we get back?”

The suggestion of the splint had only been a precautionary measure as to not make things worse, but given the lack of excitement around here? Unless she found herself punching a wall or falling over again? She would probably be fine.

[Pipette]

Pipette wasn't sure what work Knock Out needed to remain looking pristine. Her own routine was a good wash and that was it. It had been so long since her plating needed anything along the line of extra protective finishes that she usually forgot that others needed them. Aside from dust and dirt, she was not aware of any other negative environment effect. It only then occurred to her that Knock Out could be exaggerating.

"I believe a splint will be unnecessary, thank you." Her hands were safely tucked away when she was in her alt, as had been the case last night. A splint would potentially be more troublesome than protective too when in her lab. She needed every one of her digits as prehensile as possible.

Now? That was surprisingly convenient, but surely not suspicious. For a brief moment, she mentally checked if any of her ongoing concoctions would need checking in on, but no. They should all be in stable equilibrium where she had left them previously.

"So, shall we roll out?" She gestured to the exit. People said that right? She was sure she had overheard a vehicon say it, but she had previously noted that some of them appeared to have screws loose. Not that she was judging, but maybe they weren't the best people to emulate. Oh well, too late to take back the words. Entropy ruled all.