[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Sleep is for the Weak [Closed]

[Flatline]

"I'm not letting you get more of a rise out of me Knock Out."

Flatline's voice pitched up as he said this instantly after the other mech's final statements, his hand flicking out with a cutting motion as if he were trying to hack the conversation short and clip the topic away. The turrets on his shoulders angled in an irritated motion that paired with it, the barrels crooking forward slightly in a faint inkling of hostility, though would not be anywhere close enough to aim forward as a true threat. While the harpoons within were missing, still lost somewhere on the Nemesis, the cylinders that partly jutted up from the back of his shoulder plates still looked like armaments of a more traditional form. To contradict this, however, a soft rattling was heard within, the low spooling of chains that clunked around their reel points to try to pull in a weapon that wasn't there.

He wasn't going to react again about the paint. He was dead set and determined. Could this ambition change? Of course. He knew he could be easy to irritate, but it was what it was and he would try his best. Thankfully Nokta seemed to be on the same wavelength of letting things move on, though it was hard to say just who he may believe in between the two of them. Given what little the new mech had seen of them both, there was a decent chance that it would fall in his favor. Hopefully.

As the topic shifted and Knock Out was addressed directly, Flatline's brow would hike slightly while turning to glance back at him, curious how he would handle the reveal of just how awful things were. Some of them were luckier than others depending on their personal rankings within the war effort, getting options that many would long for. Such as doors. Though it was hard to say if the mech before them would be worthy of such a blessing. Flatline sure as the pit wasn't, though that was not a large problem given how he lived.

The sleeping spot that had been assigned to him was seldom used for more than one reason. The first major one was the fact that it tended to clash with his overly ambitious and workaholic nature. He wanted to be busy, he wanted to be useful, and he wanted to make sure he kept his place where he very much was alive and functional. To be lazy was detrimental to this. There was also the issue that he shared a living space with Coldwind, which was a horrible experience given her distaste for his more passive and subdued nature. Weakness. Pathetic. Pitiful. He knew that he annoyed her but there was little that he could do. Whatever the case, the process of choosing to stop, get up, walk all the way to the room, lie down, and try to find sleep felt so futile in an odd way. He did so, of course he did, though more often than not he slept in the Medical Bay.

Leaning so far back in his chair that it was a miracle it didn’t topple, or sitting hooked forward onto his work table beside whatever he had been puttering on with arms curled across his head... he was almost as much of a staple of the room as the very tools that found a home inside of it.

Easing upright, Flatline would reach out and start to detach Nokta from the scanning tools, a simple button press on the side of the connectors letting their light magnetic clips detach without leaving any marks in their wake.

He would quietly work while they spoke for now.

[Knock Out]

Venting out a gentle sigh, Knock Out could only chuckle at Flatline’s words. To be fair, he’d been a pretty good sport about everything thus far, and he didn’t want to annoy the other medic much further. After all, he did have to work with him on a daily basis - and he quite enjoyed things remaining civil, even if was usually laced with a bit of friendly sass.

It was nice to tease him, though - everything had been so serious as of late that it was refreshing to revert to being a little slag. Would’ve been far more fun if Flatline had played along a little more - as he did usually give as good as he got - but ah, he was ever the professional.

“Fine, fine.” he smiled, waving a servo. “I’ll stop, for now - anyway.”

Should he see opportunity to rile Flatline up again, he would absolutely take it - but for the moment, he would withhold any further comments about paint, even if it pained him to do so.

The change of topic from Nokta was a welcome one, if only because he didn’t want to sit in awkward silence after backing down so quickly. Despite this, he wouldn’t answer immediately, watching Flatline - almost as if silently wishing for his chair to topple, because that would be hilarious - before he would hum quietly, shifting his gaze back to Nokta.

“Well, I hope you like having a roommate!” he started, cheerily, before continuing. “High Command - myself included - get private quarters. Then there’s the rest of you, shared rooms housing up to… Uh, three, I believe. Then the poor, unfortunate Vehicons who are all lumped together in one area.”

Tapping a slender digit on the desk in absent thought, he’d continue.

“Your belongings should be fine, though it’s hard to say, given the lack of door, and who you get as a roomie, obviously.”

He hadn’t realized how much he missed having a door and some semblance of privacy until they’d arrived here at Blackridge and he’d been without. A bit of griping to Breakdown had fixed that almost immediately, before they’d been given one as standard in their ‘luxury suite’. Though honestly, there was nothing special about his own quarters compared to the majority - though having it be away from the main hustle and bustle of everyone else was probably the main benefit.

“I’m not sure of the protocol regarding rooms, however.” mostly because it didn’t concern him in the slightest. “I assume you can just claim a berth as your own, should it not already be taken. Maybe there’s more to it, though - including how roommates are assigned. Flatline ended up with a delightful roommate, to the point he spends the majority of his time in here!”

To be fair, he wouldn’t want to share a room with Coldwind either, and he wondered - albeit for only a moment - if he could somehow pull some strings to get Flatline reassigned. Even if he didn’t mind walking in here every other day to see the other mech slumped over his desk, it would be nice to have some alone time in those early mornings.

“I’m sure Flatline can walk you through it, as he has been through the process. Though, speaking of… How did you end up with Coldwind as a roommate, anyway?” turning his attention to Flatline then, he would smile. It was such a strange pairing indeed, he could only wonder how it even transpired.

[Nokta]

White lens plates angled back and forth between the two mecha as they had their little spat. He didn’t know who to ‘believe’ on the matter of Flatline’s paintjob, but frankly, he didn’t care. The way these two mecha carried themselves around one another was beyond strange, and besides that he didn’t know either of them well enough to parse hidden meanings and truths– if there even were any.

Only a fleeting glance was given to the scanners detaching from his frame as Knock Out continued to speak. If anything this just meant he was that much closer to getting out of here. His helm turned to face Knock Out again as the cherry medic made a proclamation addressed to him.

So, eventually he’d be sharing a room with someone. Nokta sighed. Lovely. He supposed that was to be expected. And at the very least, it was better than being stuck with Vehicons for the duration of his stay at Blackridge. Even the steeliest mech could shudder at the unhygienic state of any one of those dormitories.

Nonetheless, the longer he put off dealing with that bureaucratic drivel, the better. So long as there wasn’t anything ridiculous like a curfew to abide by he’d be content with what he got. But talk of when, where, and how he might handle finding a room quickly began to bore him. Agitation nagging at the back of his helm since he’d woken up had begun to flare once more. There were more important things to worry about.

“I’ve slept enough,” The mech spoke, the last word leaving him as a sigh of exasperation, optical lens plates hovering to the ceiling in muted agitation. He didn’t even want to think about spending another night in any berth. He couldn’t know it so soon, but he and Flatline were more similar than not in both their ambition and their mistaking rest for ‘laziness.’ Just how similar remained to be seen.

Taking it slowly at first, the mech sat up on the medical slab, with any luck, neither of the doctors had accidentally severed connections in his legs while he was out, and he’d finally be able to stand. After finding that he was fully capable of wiggling either of his peds, he slid both legs over the edge of the berth until his peds hit the floor and he began to put his weight on them.

Not wanting a repeat of his tumble out of his stasis pod aboard the ship that brought him to Earth, he kept a servo bracing against the medical slab, until he was fully sure he could stand on his own. A brief look of relief finally passed over his face once he did, easing the slight scowl that had been growing on his expression.

[Flatline]

A snort scoff was thrown out as Knock Out addressed him.

"There isn't anything TO walk him through."

What did he expect? Formal applications and a rigorous screening process to assign someone their little living hovel fraction?

"When we flooded Blackridge it was a 'grab what you can, deposit whatever pitiful scrap you managed to get, and go to work' mindset."

Or, it probably was for the majority of them. Flatline's own removal from the Nemesis was involuntary and without warning, and his arrival to Blackridge was a simple drop-off once they were certain he wouldn’t go feral and attack someone. He had absolutely nothing to his name. No belongings, no trinkets, no memories or other sentimental crap that someone could hang onto like some charm through the years... He didn't even have functional objects like some tools he was familiar with in his lab that were comfortable in his hand and would have appreciated having. Nothing. Nada. Nil.

He wouldn't be surprised if someone unintentionally took his space while he was in the Medical Bay, mistaking it for being open due to its prolonged vacancy.

"I don't think Coldwind even knew what she was getting into."

Dry words, the femme's name spoken as though even imagining her had sucked the life out of him into a weakened miserable state. After this though his focus pulled back to Nokta, observing how he already seemed to be protesting the idea of recharge mere moments after being told he needed to find rest and relax. While it could have been taken as 'I am tired of doing nothing and am bored', with his experience with Decepticons, Flatline assumed it was more in line with 'I am going back to my duties and sleep is for the worthless'.

While he said nothing as though what he was doing was of no concern, Flatline was indeed watching the way Nokta moved, zeroing in on any waver or twitch to be seen, trying to note how plating slid against itself and what points bore weight more than others. Knowing a mech's general schematic was one thing, while being able to see it in motion to get familiar with was another. He wanted to learn what he could so that if something went wrong later, he would have a better baseline of what was normal.

That and he wanted to make sure he didn't collapse.

Thankfully, Nokta seemed to be stable, and Flatline wouldn't need to try to stop his fall with an all too helpful 'whoa!' and a push away to not get his knee bashed in at the cost of the other mech faceplanting.

[Knock Out]

”There isn’t anything TO walk him through.”

“Well I don’t know!” he hissed, splaying the digits of one servo across his chassis in mock offense. “I had the privilege of not needing to deal with any of that stuff. For all I know there’s paperwork involved!”

If there had been, he would’ve had Breakdown sort that out - he had enough of the damn stuff without extra on top. But thankfully, his position among the Decepticons meant it’d been pretty cut and dry. Some strategic planning had been taken into account when picking his room, not wanting to room right next to Soundwave, for example, but he wasn’t sure the navy mech even slept in his quarters to begin with.

Shifting his gaze briefly to Nokta as he began to move after some grumbled (but probably justified) words, his attention would shift back to Flatline as he continued.

“Interesting choice of words there.” he purred, teasing.

Flooded. That was apt, given what Flatline had done to the Nemesis. Well, Soundwave had crashed it, but the mech before him in this moment was the cause. Ah, but the other medic knew all about that - they’d been down there just weeks earlier on an ‘adventure’. Something he’d rather forget about, though he couldn’t resist the jab regardless.

“As for Coldwind…” he hummed, pursing his lips together. “I won’t even comment.”

He had a lot of things to say about that brute of a femme, though would refrain for the moment as his attention shifted back to Nokta.

“Good to see you managed that on your own. You’re leaving, I assume?”

His optics drifted to Flatline, gesturing with one servo as if looking for some sort of explanation or at least the other mech's approval on what was going on. While Nokta was ‘their’ patient, he’d all but shifted the responsibility to Flatline - meaning that should he keel over and die the moment he left the medical bay?

Well, it’d be Flatline’s fault for letting him go.

[Nokta]

Slowly, he let go of the medical slab, and placed firmly his weight on either of his legs. A soft sigh escaped him, and he took turns lifting either ped a few feet from the ground, settling them exactly where they were once he was convinced there were no further issues.

He then took a step, and then another, and then a few more until he was standing in the middle of the room between them as they continued to speak. He didn’t know who this ‘Coldwind’ was that they were so suddenly preoccupied over, and he didn’t quite care. "Commendable work bringing me back to form, doctors." He would then speak, as if to wedge himself between the pair verbally just as much as he had done physically.

He turned his helm to Knock Out, giving the mech a single firm nod in response to his question. "I wish to know where I will be working in lieu of the Nemesis." There was a short downward lilt there with that ‘in lieu,’ his palpable disappointment over the apparent fate of the warship showing only briefly in his tone. Otherwise though, he seemed mostly up to form despite the small aches that were to be expected after such a long period of stasis. He wouldn’t have any problems hiding such perceived weakness abroad, as there had been much graver injuries he’d been forced to tend with in the past.

Swiveling his limber upper body to partially face Flatline, without turning his peds from their front facing position to the med bay door, he’d cock a brow-ridge.


"I will be seeing you in future, should any further abnormalities develop?" The lieutenant waved a servo towards his helm as he phrased his question more like a statement. Having been the one to take charge, at this point it seemed Flatline had the better handle on any irregularities regarding the health of his processor than his partner, but truthfully he would take what he could get. It was a blessing there were medical personnel at Blackridge even capable of determining such things in the first place, after all.

[Flatline]

"I had the privilege of not needing to deal with any of that stuff. For all I know there’s paperwork involved!"

Flatline rolled his eyes hard at this remark, finding it frustrating how Knock Out could be so incredibly formal at one moment thinking that there would be a lot of effort for soldiers to simply find a hole to sleep in, while in contrast being so flippantly casual about things that actually mattered. It was a large 'go figure' that he flipped priorities in such a way, a grumbled wish behind it all that he could spin whatever connector was tweaked back into proper alignment. Processors were magically complex, however, and the moron's brain could adapt and re-flip wrong just to spite him or something else ridiculous.

This train of thought completely derailed at the next statement that was offered.

There was a pause that dragged out then, an entire story forming that could be read across Flatline's expressions with ease. At first, there was confusion, considering what had been uttered and then replaying what he had said to try to figure out the connection, before things gradually snapped into place. An eerily calm distorting, tired eyes widening as clarity started to root itself down, horror playing out from the unconscious layering beneath what he had declared. All this happened at a lazy pace, before quickly dropping down to irritation, a sort of aggressive self-defense flaring as his lips peeled back into a sneer at the other mech, exposing his chipped and almost jagged dental plate.

While Flatline didn't growl at Knock Out, there certainly was a low noise, something as close to a snarl as it could go without being able to be classified as it. It meant no words were needed to properly convey the emotion that was thrown despite the fact that he wanted to bottle it away in front of the Lieutenant to hopefully not be seen as a concern he would need to pass on.

Trying to quell this, Flatline forced his mouth to close, though the top edge of one side was still lifted slightly, glancing over at Nokta as the mech moved to act as a wedge between them so a verbal fight didn’t break out.

The first question that had been asked was directed at Knock Out, and as such he ignored it; however, he could address the latter.

"I more likely than not will be here, however, Knock Out is acceptable if not."

His absence was rare given he slept more in the Medical Bay than he did in his own corner.

"I will make a profile of the scan settings I used that work with your system."

Really, he needed it as well. It took enough effort to luck stumble across the levels needed, and he didn't wish to lose them.

"If you experience even a minor anomaly, it is better to note it and do a scan snapshot. Should only take a few minutes of your day and will help with long-term monitoring. Even if all seems well, weaving them between assigned tasks to monitor may give you that deadline you seek."

If they got a readout once a day, they could see if self-repair was making progress, and how fast it may be going... if it was even adapting at all. For all they knew, new memories could start to override what the body may think is free data space, which would be unfortunate, though there wasn't much they could do about it with the tools they had available to them.

Flatline had gestured some with his right hand as he spoke, however once done his bladed fingers curled, his pointer finger tapping twice towards his wrist in an idle motion.

[Knock Out]

The low noise from Flatline - even if it wasn’t quite a growl - was heard, and while Knock Out didn’t smile or draw much attention to any sort of reaction of his own, he would sit up a little straighter, almost with an air of smugness because ah, it’d finally clicked with the other mech.

He’d probably pay for it later. Actually, this entire encounter now that he thought about it, but it wasn’t as if Flatline could really do anything because of a little bit of sass. It made their - or at least his - days all the more exciting, and while he did have a tendency to push things a little too far at times, it wasn’t done out of actual malice. They’d long since moved past such things, and the other medic quite often gave as good as he got.

Well, usually when there weren’t patients laying witness to it all, anyway.

His unprofessionalism toward Flatline aside, he would nod at Nokta’s words - keeping up at least some formality as he addressed the other mech.

“I’m sure it won't take you long to find Soundwave or Starscream to get an assignment, then. The former is usually lurking around the Control Room, Starscream is anyone’s guess.” he’d offer a light shrug as he spoke.

Honestly, it was good to have newcomers who seemed eager to get to work. The fewer folks they had lingering around Blackridge Hold the better, though he had no say in where people were sent off to. For all he knew Nokta would be a constant presence in these gloomy halls, and they’d be seeing more of one another far sooner than he’d like.

If only because it may mean doing more work. Nokta had only just woken up after all, and pushing oneself was never a good thing.

Letting the two converse, he would shift his attention back to the monitor at his desk - slender fingers moving to quietly type. There was no vocal retort to being called acceptable, though - curiously, he seemed to hit backspace a couple of times once it’d been said.